House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 11)

“M-Mr. Fields?” Raury muttered, seeing hints of the older man in the stranger’s face, but so much was different as well.

“Don’t worry–we have a little while. You have a room here, don’t you? Is there anyone there?”

Raury shook his head no.

“Good. Take me up there, with you, and we can talk about what a bad thing you did, and how you can make it up to Master.”

Raury knew he should run, but it was so much better to…obey. He had to do what the smoke said, after all…didn’t he? He turned around and unlocked the door to the dorm while Hunter gathered up the bags of food, and followed him inside. Raury’s room was down in the basement, and thankfully they didn’t pass anyone along the way. Raury opened up his room, and Hunter pushed him inside, immediately letting loose a long exhale, smoke pouring from his nose and mouth into the air of the small room, and he breathed a little easier. Once it was dark, they would return to Master together, which gave him plenty of time to punish him properly.

“Did…did Eric do this to you?” Raury said to Hunter, fondling himself without even realizing he was doing it. “What…what did he do to us?”

“Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing with that mouth of yours?” Hunter said, pulling a wrapped hamburger from one of the bags. He took off the paper, walked to where Raury was standing, and pushed it to his mouth. Raury devoured it, and somehow it tasted…better than it had back in the dining hall. Something about the smoke in the air, something about the smoke the stranger had fed him, he ate it in five or six bites, and felt his stomach growl in need…and swell slightly larger.

He shook his head, “No…I don’t…don’t make me bigger, please…”

“No? Then why did you have all of this with you? What were you going to do with it then?”

He fed him more before Raury could find words to speak, and after that, Raury didn’t seem to be able to find anything to say at all. He just…ate, and ate, and ate, whatever the man gave him, did whatever he told him to do, his mind slowing to a crawl, the man telling him he was stupid. So stupid for leaving, so dumb for forsaking their master. Just an animal–too stupid to talk, too stupid to run anymore, too stupid to think for himself–from now on, the only thoughts he was going to have were the thoughts Master allowed him to have. Hunter told him how handsome he was becoming, how much Master was going to enjoy him, all of him, how proud he should be of himself and his gluttony.

Before too much longer, the clothes he was trying to wear were ripped away from him, and Raury found himself shoved over the side of the bed, and then Hunter was inside him, raping him, fucking him–what did it matter? He was stupid, dumb, couldn’t be trusted to think for himself. It was good Hunter had come to get him, after all, he didn’t even know what was good for him. Didn’t understand how much Master loved him, didn’t understand how much he needed him. He felt…terrible, remembering what he did back at the house, running away like that. He’d never run again, no–no, he didn’t want to run again, he just wanted to go back.

Hunter came deep inside Raury’s ass, and then Hunter pulled his clothes on and took Raury’s keycard and phone, before pushing a bit more smoke out into the air of the room. “Stay here–I’ll be back in half an hour or so. Don’t make me hunt you down again–you know how much that will upset Master.”

Raury nodded from the bed, and then Hunter slipped out, leaving him alone again…and he thought. Or rather, he tried to think. He tried to make his mind do…anything, but he couldn’t seem to do much of anything at all. He rolled up, forcing himself up to a sitting position, and couldn’t believe how…huge he was now, even larger than he’d been back at the dining hall, but it didn’t terrify him anymore. This…was how he was supposed to look. How a stupid pig like him should look…though he still didn’t look quite right. He was too…young still, but Master would fix that, probably. Master could do anything, after all. Master was so smart, and handsome, and the most important being in the entire world. He found some cold food still in the bags and ate it, feeling his body swell a bit larger still, and it wasn’t long before Hunter returned with a shopping bag of clothing–some for him, and something much larger for Raury. It was dark out at this point, so they got dressed–Raury struggled, both with how slow his mind was running, and how big he had become, and so Hunter had to help him out, but when they were dressed, they left.

Around midnight, they arrived back at the house, and once inside, Hunter breathed a great sigh of relief, the remaining smoke pouring out of him into the already hazy air. He’d made it. He’d made it, and he’d…succeeded. Raury, too, felt better being back here. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he’d even left in the first place. He still hadn’t learned what game it was that Master wanted to play with him–and while he wasn’t sure he was smart enough to play it, he would try, for him. He’d do anything for him, after all–Hunter told him he had to, after all, and whatever Hunter told him to think…he’d think.

House of Marvels (Part 10)

“Raury would you get a fucking hold of yourself?” Sam shouted at him, “I just watched you pack on…I don’t fucking know how many pounds, and the only thing you can say is that it feels good? What the fuck happened in there? What did he do to you?”

“He didn’t…I mean, he…” Raury said, trying to focus, and trying to pull his hands away from himself, but it just felt so…good. “I don’t really remember. He…kissed me, and blew all this smoke into me from that pipe, and I ran. I haven’t felt right since, but…but I do feel a lot better now, than when I was coming here.”

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at what just happened to you!”

“I don’t know, alright! I don’t…I can’t explain it, and I’m still hungry, and…and horny too…” Raury was groping himself more now, one hand still on his gut, while the other had moved beneath it, fishing around for his cock. It was a bit harder to find, buried as it was with all of this new fat, but that, too, sent a little thrill through him, and only made him hornier still. “You, uh, wanna go fill up another tray for me?” he asked Sam.

“You need help, Raury, we need to get you to a doctor, and figure out what the hell happened to you, and we need to get Eric help too. That wasn’t normal, what was happening down there. I’ve never seen Eric smoke a pipe before–do you know where he got it?”

“I…I think Jamie mentioned…something…fuck, if…if I had some more food, I could think better, I’m already hungry again…”

“Come on, get up. Let’s at least get you to the clinic.”

“No, I’m…I’m ok, honest, I think it’ll go away on its own.”

“How in the hell could you possibly know that?” Sam said, “This–this is insane, you realize that, right?”

“Just…just leave me alone, alright? I don’t know what’s happening, and you’re not fucking helping.”

“Raury, come on, let me take you to a hospital.”

“No, just…just…I just need some space, and I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, when I feel better, alright? We’ll…we’ll figure out what to do then.” Raury coughed again, a deep hacking cough this time, and again, a tiny wisp of smoke escaped him, slid through the air, and into Sam’s mouth. The taste was slight, barely even noticeable, but Sam felt a sudden sense of ease wash over him, the same as he’d felt down in that basement, but far fainter. He didn’t know why he was arguing with his friend, really–Raury would probably be fine the next day. If he wanted to be left alone…then he’d do that.

“Alright, but tomorrow, ok? Meet me for breakfast at nine, and if you aren’t…smaller, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“Ok, ok,” Raury said, “But it’s going to be fine, I…I promise.”

He didn’t sound particularly confident about that, but Sam was already turning to leave. Raury didn’t really understand his friend’s sudden change of attitude, but it was a relief. He…had needs, and he didn’t really want Sam to witness them–or anyone to witness them. He got up and went to the dining hall again, made a second round through, getting just as much food, but taking it all to go this time, and then left, heading for his dorm room. He’d gotten lucky this year, and managed to snag a single for himself, and the privacy was amazing. He hurried as quickly as he could, breathing heavily, thighs rubbing, horribly aware of just how ill fitting his clothes were now, but that all could wait. He needed to eat, and he needed to jack off–after that, he could worry about the rest.

He was so preoccupied, that he didn’t notice Hunter behind him on the path, steely eyed, a bit of smoke escaping his mouth every time he exhaled. Hunter had found him easily, but hadn’t wanted to risk confronting him in the dining hall, especially with the other one there. He would have to be taken care of at some point, of course, but he wasn’t his target just yet. Thankfully the other one had left, and now Raury was alone–and once Hunter got his hands on him, he knew he would have no trouble convincing the big man to come back to their Master’s lair, and stay there for a good, long while. Of course, he needed to be punished for his escape, and Hunter could take care of that as well. He felt his cock swelling in the front of his tight sweatpants, a couple of students staring at it as he passed, but Hunter didn’t notice. All of his attention was on his prey.

Raury had to set his food down to find his keycard for the dorm. Hunter checked for an witnesses, saw none, and he swept in, shoving Raury against the brick and pressing his mouth to his before he could scream, pushing the smoke master had given him into his mouth. Raury tried to cough, but Hunter was too forceful–Raury felt the flood of pleasure, moaned into Hunter’s smoky mouth and began kissing him back, the smoke taking all of his other fears and concerns away.

“Found you–you didn’t think you’d be able to get away, did you?” Hunter said.

The Fetish Gun is Loose! (Part 6) [Interactive]

Well it looks like we have a power struggle! The votes (on both polls!) were tied between Rick and the bouncer, so we’re going to have a little skirmish between the two and see what happens.

The bouncer, named Parker, hadn’t been able to believe what he’d seen happening in the bar over there. Some chubby guy, on the younger side, wearing a diaper, and some older, much filthier old man, also wearing a diaper of his own–though his was much fuller and sagging around his waist–on his hands and knees, sucking the young man off. Parker had no interest in letting play like that happen here in this bar–but as he went over to eject them both, something strange happened. The young man saw him coming, held up a strange looking gun, and before Parker could try and dodge it, it fired a yellow ray of light that engulfed him…and when it faded, he felt…decidedly differently about what he was seeing than he had before.

He walked over, taking the flogger from his belt (a flogger he both knew he always carried with him in the bar for fun like this, but which he also couldn’t ever remember having in his life) and started laying into the old faggot’s back with it, laughing as he moaned and cringed in pain–but he deserved it. Anthony was such a fucking pig slut–Parker had beaten him multiple times before, always with Rick’s blessing of course. Anthony’s son had some…strange tastes in play, but Parker wasn’t going to question it, so long as he got to hurt someone. After beating him for a few minutes, Rick shot Parker again, and a whole new set of ideas filled his head–disgusting, wonderful ideas.

He hauled down Anthony’s full diaper and started fisting the old man’s shitty hole, Parker’s own cock throbbing in the front of his own filthy, leather pants. Part of his was still reeling, however, and he looked at the gun Rick was holding. Everytime he shot him with that thing…something changed. About him, about what he wanted. Rick kept fucking his father’s face while Parker fisted him, leering at him. “Fuck, look at you, you nasty piece of work. Can’t decide if I want to keep you as some fucking bruiser, or turn you into my diaper for a few days–or maybe you’d rather be my dad’s diaper–he could use a new one at this point.”

One thing was for sure, and that was that Parker had no intention of doing what anyone else wanted him to do. He was in charge! He hauled his fist out and lunged for the gun, grabbing hold of the barrel before Rick could fire it at him. They fell to the ground, fighting for it, the dial spinning around in their hands.

((Gun fires randomly! Setting C [objectification]))

Rick thought he had Parker in his sights, but he hadn’t realized the dial had spun to setting C, objectification. He fired a bit wildly, and hit Parker in his biker boot–it glowed for a moment, but did nothing else. Confused, he went to fire it again, but Parker shoved the barrel to the side, and the beam struck Anthony instead. They both watched as he moaned, and shrank in on himself, the ray not dissipating until all that remained where Anthony had been was a filthy looking boot, lying on the ground.

“That was my daddy, you fucker!” Rick shouted, trying to wrench the gun away from Parker once and for all, and they kept fighting, the dial getting spun around once more.

((gun fires randomly! Setting E [absorption]))

Parker, however, had both height, and strength on him, and at last, he hauled the gun away from Rick, turned it around, and shot him, not realizing that the gun was on setting E, absorption. He held it down, and then released it–both of them confused that Rick hadn’t seemed to have changed at all. He fired again, holding it down longer, but he didn’t realize that the one changing wasn’t just Rick–but them both. Rick charged him then, and the gun got knocked from Parker’s hands, but he was…confused. The aggression, the filth, the sadism–it felt like it was draining from his mind, the more they fought, but more than that. He’d been…big before, but suddenly, Rick was…monstrous. A huge, leather clad, heavy bearded beast, who pinned him to the ground and sent his head reeling with a punch to the face.

Rick stood up, amazed at how…good that had felt. Then he looked down at himself, and then down at the gun, and realized why–he had been absorbing all of the fetishes and changes he’d put into Parker while they’d been fighting. He wasn’t complaining though–but he was angry at what he’d done to his Pa, turning him into a boot like that–though he was a sexy boot for sure. In fact, so sexy, he could use a friend.

Rick turned the dial around to C, and fired at Anthony, and then turned the gun at Parker, trying to stand, blood flowing from his nose, and shot him with the gun, until he was a perfect match to Anthony–both of them new boots for Rick to wear for the rest of the evening, while he had some more fun around here, with his toy. He stepped out of his old shit kickers and into his new ones, and grinned. They felt real nice–Parker especially. He might let his dad change back in a bit, but Parker–Parker might be staying as his boot for a good long time.

He was still fucking horny though–he’d have to find someone else to play with, until his Pa changed back.

What happens with Rick and the gun next?

He decides to make himself some more clothes from the people around him.
The gun sustained some damage during the fight, and releases a few random bursts of power before returning to normal.
Davie confronts him, gets the gun away, and uses it on Rick.
Anthony and Parker both change back, but now, Parker is Anthony’s identical twin brother–the gun copied everything when it shot Anthony as a boot.

Here’s the twitter poll

Here’s the patron only poll

Voting ends on Thursday!

House of Marvels (Part 9)

Sorry for the break in the middle of the story, but thank you to everyone who has commissioned flash stories from me so far! It’s a big help with moving expenses. I’m still open, and while I might close the pot at the end of the month, everyone will (most likely) get their stories. If you want one, ask now!

Raury finally made it back to campus, and had to stop when he reached a bench near one of the classroom buildings to take a breather. He’d been moving quickly, but not running or jogging, but he was still winded somehow. The air didn’t feel right to him–no matter how hard he breathed, it felt like he was missing something. As much as he hated naming the desire, he wanted the smoke–Eric’s smoke. He could still taste it on his breath, feel it in his lungs, lingering. He forced a cough, trying hard to get it out of him, and thought he could see a few little wisps leave him as he did, and he waved them away, worried they might try to get back inside him when he inhaled again.

He pulled out his phone and texted Sam while he recovered his breath, wanting to know where he was so they could talk about what had happened. Sam was glad to hear from him, and wanted to know if Eric had come to his senses and wanted to get help. Raury told him it would be better if they talked about it in person; he honestly didn’t know where to begin with what he’d seen, and what Eric had tried to do to him down in that basement. That, and how much he still wanted to go back, and let him do it to him. Breathing wasn’t getting much easier, but Sam told him they should just meet at the dining hall nearby, so he hefted himself upright and headed in that direction, his gut growling a bit at the thought of food. The walk wasn’t far, but by the time he got there his lungs were already tired again, and he was shaking a little, licking his lips, and even a bit dizzy and nauseous. There were some chairs inside, and he sat back down in one, coughing again, harder this time, trying to dislodge whatever it was that was inside him. He was certain that something was in him now–he could almost feel it, but he was also starting to think that no amount of coughing would dislodge it. It was deeper than his lungs now, running in his veins through his flesh, infusing him. He remembered how strange Eric’s body had looked, and wondered if he was changing too. He looked down at his arms, looking for any rashes, felt around his face, but froze when he felt around his mouth, and the thick stubble that had appeared since leaving Mr. Field’s home.

He looked around, hoping for a mirror, but there was nothing nearby. He pushed himself back up, and then saw Sam enter through a door on the other side of the space and waved at him. Sam saw him wave, and looked at him with a confused look, which them turned into shock, and he hurried over. “Raury? What…what in the hell is wrong? Are you feeling alright?”

Raury wasn’t sure how Sam could know he wasn’t feeling well from across the room, but he nodded, “Yeah, I…I feel a bit sick, from that smoke I guess.”

Sam just stared at him, or at his midsection more accurately, “Raury…you’re fat.”

He looked down at himself, and sure enough, his shirt was riding up over the small gut which had sprouted while he walked to campus. He grabbed it, and could feel it pushing against his hands–it was still growing. It wasn’t air or gas either–it was fat, and it gave a loud growl of hunger as a cramp struck him, nearly bending him over. “Fuck, I’m…what the fuck?”

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No–no, I need to eat, I’m…I’m ok, I just need some food first. I can’t…afford a hospital anyway.”

Sam tried to insist, and even threatened to call for an ambulance, but Raury refused, mostly out of denial. This couldn’t be happening to him, and if he actually went to the hospital, then he’d have to actually grapple with what he’d seen…but the hunger was quickly crowding out every other concern. He went to the cafeteria, Sam following along behind him, watching as Raury piled a tray high–much higher than Raury usually did, and headed for the exit. Sam noticed a few other things about his once thin friend as they went to a table–the thick stubble around his mouth that Raury had felt before, and now forgotten about in his hunger, but also the fact that his friend’s hairline was receding slightly, and both temples had picked up a slight tinge of grey.

He kept trying to get Raury’s attention about all of this, but all his friend seemed to be focusing on was the food in front of him. He ate with a frenzy, and from his eyes, he was even scaring himself with the sheer desperate need filling him. All the while, his gut continued to expand, from a small paunch to a proper gut hanging out into his lap, the rest of his body filling out slightly as well, especially in his chest, becoming two moobs also resting on his new gut. After half an hour of stuffing himself, and with the tray of food almost exhausted, Raury let out a loud belch and finally managed to slow himself down as the hunger subsided. In fact, he felt much better all over–the nausea, exhaustion and dizziness seemed to have cleared up, and he finally felt like he could think clearly. He looked over at Sam, the first time he’d managed to acknowledge his friend sitting there, and blushed at the look of shock across his face, then looked down at himself, taking in what his self-stuffing had done to his figure.

He was…massive. His gut had expanded out over his thighs, and was falling down between them, pushing them apart. He grabbed it in his hands, kneading it, and let out a surprising groan, his cock responding immediately to the sensation. “Fuck…I didn’t…know being fat felt this fucking good…”

What Would I Do To You? #5 (Roidpig)

Today is the last day of this week of flash stories! Flash commissions will be open through the rest of the month, and likely into September. If you are interested, send me a message!

You’re in good shape, but not great shape. You like working out, go three times a week (though you skip, on occasion), but do you love it. I think you could do better, be more dedicated. You could be so much better with just a little assistance. Good thing I know just how to help–this stuff is potent though, and it’s best if we introduce it to your system gradually. I don’t tell you of course–you’ve told me what you think of those guys at the gym, the ones you’ve seen injecting each other. You just don’t understand how someone could be so obsessed with themselves, that they’d use drugs to change their bodies like that. Well, I’m obsessed with yours, so I guess you’ll find out what it’s like, one way or another. So to start with, just a couple of drops in your food at each meal–aren’t I nice, making sure you have breakfast before work? Packing you a lunch? Dinner for you when you get home? So considerate.

I see the effects before you even notice them. How restless you are, around the house. I suggest you go workout some of your energy, and you think that’s a great suggestion. You’re up to five days a week at the gym, and you’re feeling–and looking–great. I up the dosage, and then you start to notice some things feel…off. You have a hard time focusing at work–sitting behind a desk for hours on end, without doing anything? It just seems…impossible now, for some reason. You take longer breaks, and workout in the midday–it helps for now, but we’ll break you of that pesky job soon enough. You feel the same restlessness at home too–I suggest you invest in equipment for a home gym–think how much you can save overtime, by skipping the membership! You see my logic, and buy a treadmill, and a set of free weight equipment–you don’t…quite recall ordering the power rack, but you must have, right? It gets used a lot, in any case–you work out so much more, now that you live where your gym is–on occasion, when you can’t sleep, I can hear you on the bench, grunting in the middle of the night.

At some point, you begin to suspect something. Is it the hair growth? The ache in your teeth? The inability to focus? Your insatiable appetite? You accuse me–and to your surprise, I admit it. You’re furious, you want to strike me, but you resist, and just tell me to get out–I leave without argument–I know you’ll come around soon.

In less than a day, you call me. You demand to know what I put in your food–now that the withdrawal symptoms have set in. It hurts, doesn’t it? The ache in your muscles, from all that exercise? You can barely move, you’re starving, you want to die. I come home, and fix you up–but I think you’ve grown past the oral dose–I prep the needle, and make sure you see it. I make you beg me for it–and I inject it into your ass. The relief is immediate–and euphoric. There’s a reason you start off easy with this stuff–if you’d injected it without any tolerance built up…well, the results would have been interesting, but not the results we want, right? Or at least, the results you want now–after our chat. You just felt so good, after getting your injection, after all, it felt so good to agree with me, and do what I say, and believe what I want you to believe. How important it is to you to workout all the time, as much as you can. How sexy you look now. How you should be thanking me, for knowing just what to do with you. You do thank me–you suck my cock like a good little roidpig, and then you go workout, like I never even left.

It’s easier, now that you’re fully onboard. You get your injections twice a day, morning and night, and after each one, we have a good chat. You’re finding it harder to think after each one–you don’t know it it’s the drug, or if it’s me telling you how stupid you’re becoming. How helpless–how you have to depend on me for everything. You realize before too long that you holding down a job at an office is hopeless–you’re too stupid to do anything like that, after all. Best for you to focus on the important thing–working out, and pleasing me.

In a month, the results have accelerated. You’re much shorter now–five foot two, the last time we measured. It’s like, as your muscles grow, they are tugging on your bones, making them shorter, and thicker. All of you is thicker, not just with muscle (though there is plenty of muscle) but also with a thick roid gut–you love it when I rub it during our chats, feeling all that bristly hair growing in. You lost a tooth the other day–and that freaked you out, until I showed you the new one growing in under it. A week later, you have one tusk poking out the side of your mouth–but it’s brother comes in soon after.

It’s your cock and balls that worried you most, though. They’re so…small. The shorter you grow, the more they seem to shrink, like they’re withering away to nothing. You ask me what’s happening to them–well, you try to ask. You keep forgetting words, more and more these days. Grunting is just so much easier, and it gets the point across, usually. During our next chat, after one of your injections, I ask you why you even need them. You don’t fuck anything–who would want an ugly best like you to fuck them at all? No–you don’t need to worry about silly things like that–you just need to worry about working out, and being a good roidpig for me. That eases your concerns, and a few weeks later, when the husk of your cock falls off your body, you bring it to me like a trophy, full of pride, and ask me–I think–if you’ll grow another one, like your new teeth. Instead, I make you forget you ever had a cock–as far as you know, you’ve never had a cock, or balls–just a hairy crotch. Not like me. I have a cock, that’s what makes me so much better than a Roidpig like you. I’m smarter than you. I’m better looking than you. You’re a freak, but that’s alright–you like being a freak, don’t you?

I take you outside sometimes, on a leash, wearing a bright red wrestling singlet. The way people stare at you, four feet tall, wider than you are tall, lumbering about, snorting with your piggy snout and tusks, licking them while you stare at all the men’s bulges at your eye level, you hungry pig. We keep you well sated–you had to do some kind of work, right? Men pay handsomely to fuck a Roidpig like you, you make more as a whore than you ever did as a office grunt, and you’re so much happier now! We both are.

The Fetish Gun Is Loose! (Part 5) [Interactive]

So it was a tie, between giving Rick some additional humiliating fetishes, and having Anthony become his father, so we’ll do a mash up of both. Also, there’s a 42% chance that this is going to end up backfiring on Anthony–and since there’s two changes, there’s two chances it’ll backfire on whoever has the gun at the moment! So we’ll see what happens!

WARNING: SCAT

Anthony was enjoying the hell out of his diaper boy–but he wanted to push things a bit further. What he was really fantasizing about was taking him home and treating him like a stupid little boy…but why not push that in a more taboo direction, and actually become Rick’s father? He didn’t want that idea to turn him on quite as much as it was…and he wasn’t even sure if the gun could do it. Sure, it could create relationships–all he had to do was turn it to dial D–but why not just give it a shot, and see what happens? He turned the dial around to D, while Rick was still busy sucking his cock, and he pointed it at–

(Backfire save roll……Failure! Anthony’s plan backfires.)

Rick. What he forgot, was that the person that gets shot with the gun first, is the person who will be more dominant in the relationship. He pulled the trigger, the ray engulfed Rick in the yellow aura, and then bounced back and swallowed him as well. It was the first time he’d experienced the gun itself–and it was…unsettling. He found all of these new ideas and memories in his mind, how he’d raised his son Rick–and he’d always hated potty training. He’d throw tantrums, insist his father put him back in diapers, and Anthony had always relented–just to get him to stop. He’d assumed he’d grow out of it–and he did, somewhat, but not out of his brashness, and his domineering attitude, and Anthony had just…never been able to say no to him.

Rick wet the bed constantly as a teenager–so much that Anthony believed he must have liked it. If he washed the sheets, then he’d come home from work to discover his own mattress soaked in piss as well. It wasn’t long after that, when Rick coaxed his father into sucking his cock one evening, while they were both drunk, and things had only spiraled out of control from there. Now, here they were–Anthony in his late fifties, and Rick in his mid-thirties, and his son had…total control over his father’s life.

He realized what he’d done, as the gun faded away, but Rick was too quick–he snatched the gun from his father’s hand, and then stood up, and Anthony…quaked. “That’s a very naughty daddy–turn around, someone needs a spanking, don’t you think?”

Anthony realized he was nearly naked in the club–Rick liked to bring him here on busy nights to humiliate his father, usually with both of them diapered. He hadn’t messed his yet–so Rick pulled it down and started spanking his fat father’s ass, and Anthony…liked it. He felt his cock getting hard, knowing his own son was punishing him, and he craved it–Rick had warped his mind so much over the years, that he was willing to do anything for him, now. When Rick was satisfied, he pulled his dad’s diaper back up into place, sat down with a squelch (his own diaper, at this point, was rather full) and ordered his father to sniff his diaper, while he examined his new toy.

He saw the dial on the side, with the settings, and had his daddy explain them to him. He considered lying…but what was the point? He’d just get punished for not telling the truth, if he did. “Well dad, did you shoot me with this earlier? Be honest now.”

Anthony nodded, his face pressed to his son’s pissy diaper. “I…I turned you into a diaper obsessed pig, son, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize daddy–you did good, but you need to be punished for using my toys without permission. If you got to change me, I think it’s only fair that I get to change you, right?”

Anthony gulped, as his son turned the dial to setting A, turned to gun on him. He fought…hard. He had to stop him, he had to regain control, and push back against this…

(Backfire check #2! The risk is still 42% percent, that things will, this time, backfire against Rick, who is holding the gun. Backfire save roll…….Success! No backfire.)

But before he could work up the will to fight for the gun, his son fired–and Anthony found himself losing the will to do…anything, really. More memories filled in, how he’d always been just as lazy as his son–if not even lazier. He…liked being a slob, and being fat, and being…being a loser. It was natural that he serve his son–after all, he was so much smarter and better than he was. When the gun stopped, Anthony had gained close to 300 pounds, kneeling there in his own oversized, saggy diaper–the same one he’d been wearing, and filling, for days at this point. He could smell himself, and he was so filthy–he loved it, and he loved his son even more for showing him just how much of a pathetic loser he could be.

The people around them were just as disgusted as they ought to be, and they’d also attracted the attention of a bouncer, who was coming over to eject them from the bar–but Rick had a plan for that. He fired the gun at the man, and instead of ejecting them, he shoved his dad down and started hitting him–lightly at first, but then harder. Rick just watched the bouncer abuse and beat his father, berating him the entire time, shooting him on occasion with the gun to push him further, until the bouncer–now a filthy, ugly bruiser obsessed with physical abuse, hauled down Anthony’s full diaper, and shoved his hand into the old man’s ass, fisting him roughly right there in the bar, while Rick watched–until he couldn’t resist joining in, fucking his father’s face while the bouncer kept fisting him, jacking off with his free hand, all of them lost in the moment–and none of them minding the gun.

No one else intervened. The longer it had gone on, the more…normal it seemed for everyone. After all, as disturbing as the trio were, they were all regular sights here, at the bar–the same with Davie and his posse of admirers on the other side, all of them worshiping his massive, monstrous cock–though none were as devoted as Phil–who had an…unhealthy obsession with Davie’s cock. But who gets a hold of the gun next?

So, now that we have a few characters involved, things can get a bit more…interesting. Who gets a hold of the gun next?

Davie recovers it–and starts modifying the three of them to suit his interests.
The brutish bouncer claims it, and uses it on Rick, making him his submissive pain slave as well.
Anthony gets hold of it again, and uses setting E on himself–so the bouncer and Rick will absorb his new fetishes.
Rick keeps hold of it, and uses it to warp some other people into permanent fixtures of the bar’s bathroom.

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A Hair Appointment

Flash commissions like this one are still open! Message me for details.

This was the place. Drew checked the address on his phone again, just to be sure, and then stepped up to the door and knocked on it, a bit timidly. It had been such a grueling process, getting here, and it was finally happening–he was here. The door opened after a moment, and…well, Drew was a bit surprised, if not a bit disappointed. From what he had heard about this guy, and what he could do, he was expecting someone a bit more, well, older maybe. The man in the door was young, probably in his early twenties, shirtless, wearing a pair of gym shorts–though he was…very hairy. His whole chest was coated in hair, which ran up his neck and nearly joined the thick, neatly trimmed beard around his face. From the hair on his shoulders, he was probably just a thickly furred on his back. “You must be Drew, right? I’m Tyler. You ready?”

Drew nodded, and stepped into the house, Tyler shutting the door behind them. There was a mirror across from the door in the entryway, and Drew hoped it would be the last time he would have to look at himself like this–his young, pudgy face, unable to grow a beard, not that he hadn’t tried for most of his life. With his blonde hair, it just looked like fuzz, and never grew into much of anything. The rest of his body was mostly smooth as well–and he hated it. He wanted what this man, Tyler, could give him, more than anything.

“Come on then, the other one is here, and waiting,” Tyler said, and climbed the stairs to the upper floor.

“The other one?” Drew asked. Tyler didn’t respond, and Drew followed him up the stairs, a bit confused.

Tyler led him into a bedroom, and there, sure enough, was…another man. Close to Drew’s age, probably, in his early thirties, wearing a business suit, and sporting a thin goatee around his mouth. He looked…nervous, about as nervous as Drew felt, and when they came in together, he looked…annoyed. “Well, shall we get started?” Tyler asked, and dropped his shorts. The hair was just as thick on his thighs and around his cock–it was big, easily seven inches long, and thick as a beer can.

“Hold on,” the man in the suit said, “Why are there two of us here? I didn’t agree to this.”

Tyler smiled, “Because I wanted you both here, of course. Why else?”

“I…No, no, this was a mistake, I need to–” the business fellow said, but Tyler stopped him.

“Now Mark, why don’t you just calm down a bit,” he said, and pushed him down to his knees, facing Tyler’s massive cock, “I’m afraid you can’t leave–either of you–until we’re finished here. But you don’t really want to leave, do you?” he asked, as he rubbed the head of his cock against Mark’s upper lip. Drew watched, astonished, as the hair there began to thicken into a thick, full mustache, hanging long over his lip, mismatched now with the thin goatee underneath. Mark felt it, moaned, and rubbed the rest of his face against Tyler’s cock, who allowed him to do it, hair growing everywhere it touched, a thick, five o’clock shadow growing all over his cheeks and face. Drew–he didn’t want to get left out, and so he got down there too, shoving his face in with Mark’s, fighting to get his face against Tyler’s cock, feeling his own cheeks tingle as the first hairs began to push out. After a couple of minutes, he looked over at a mirror, and saw that he already had a short beard all over his face–but it wasn’t the same blonde as his hair. It had darkened somewhat, and was almost red.

Obviously annoyed at having to share in the bounty, Mark pushed Drew away while he was distracted, and swallowed Tyler’s cock into his mouth. Drew tumbled backwards onto his ass, and while he was going to push his way back in–his jaw dropped at the sight of what was happening to Mark’s frame. He was…growing. His thin body was bulking up with muscle, and his neatly tailored suit wasn’t built for that kind of expansion. After half a minute, they all heard the first seam rip, and Mark just started sucking faster, feeling the hair growing all over his body now, even as his beard grew in even thicker, though the hair on his head was beginning to recede.

“You’d better get in here, if you want any of this,” Tyler said to Drew, snapping him out of his daze, “I wanted you here because…well, let’s just say I think the two of you will be a good pair, but you’re going to have to fight for it.”

So Drew did–he shoved the growing Mark out of the way, and swallowed the cock himself–and as soon as he did, he tasted the precum flowing down his throat, and his entire body started to heat up, as his fat began to melt away, and was replaced by muscle–lots of muscle, in fact, even more than Mark. He was growing taller too, he had to crouch slightly to keep sucking, before Mark shoved him away and got his mouth back around the cock. They kept fighting over him for a few minutes, each of them growing rather evenly, and they became more and more aggressive as they grew, tearing the clothes off themselves, and off each other, until they were both naked. The larger they got, the more they manhandled Tyler as well, Drew lifitng him up and throwing him onto the bed, swallowing his cock deep, until–iIn a sudden rage–Mark dragged Drew off him and threw him to the floor, determined to overwhelm him. The cock was his, the gift was his! That’s why he was here, so he could receive it, and him alone. What he hadn’t counted on, however, was that Drew had been growing slightly faster than him, and while he was caught off guard for a moment, he wrestled Mark off him, and in a couple of minutes had him pinned, face down and ass up, to the ground.

He felt…good doing that. He’d never been able to overpower anyone in his life, and it felt….so right, so right that he should be on top, that he should be in charge–so he took his much larger, much hairier cock and shoved it into Mark’s struggling ass, and as soon as he did, the hulk underneath him relaxed, moaned, and started humping back, eager to get more of Drew’s cock inside him.

“Here you go, buddy, drink up,” Tyler said, stepping beside him and pushing his cock to Drew’s lips. “You’ve earned it.”

Drew drank, and as he did now, he could feel other things changing, beyond just his body. His old life as a chubby loser was disappearing, and replaced by a new one–a life spent at the gym, constantly working out, constantly getting stronger, and larger–and helping other men do the same. He’d worked as a coach for years now, training young men to be strong like he was, and all the men he worked with…well, he had a bit of an effect on them, he liked to think. Now, though, he was in his sixties, but still going strong. His beard continued to grow throughout this, lengthening and darkening further, until it was a deep red brown–though the color didn’t stay. As he grew older, it became streaked with dark grey as well. His hair pulled back unitl it was cut into a flattop–and then came the final gush of cum from Tyler’s cock, and as Drew drank it down, feeling the man’s magic flow into him–it also flowed through him, and he came into Mark’s eager ass.

Looking down, he could feel him change as well–change into the man he wanted him to be. He’d been training his husband all his life–and it showed. Mark was just as large as Drew was, if not a bit larger. Through the hair, he could see a deep farmer’s tan forming all over him, from his years working out in the sun as a construction foreman. There, he was the big boss, ordering everyone else around, but once he got home, he knew that Drew was really in charge, and he did everything his husband said–happily, of course. After all, Drew wasn’t one to abuse his power over anyone–that’s why he’d earned it, after all.

Tyler only had a moment too look over his new creations, before they both turned on him, just as horny as ever, threw him on the bed–Mark taking his face and Drew his ass–and the two couple of muscle bears paid Tyler back for his gift, pounding at both ends until they both came again, all three of them collapsing into a sweaty, musky heap afterwards, rubbing each other’s thickly furred bodies, their pasts now…so far behind them they couldn’t even really recall ever being different. Then Tyler sent them on their way, and in hand, and looked over his list of applicants. Who next? He had appointments to fill, after all.

Pugsley’s Bachelor Party

Commissioned for @pugsleypig – Hope the big day goes well!

When Pugsley told me that he wanted a bachelor party–I knew what he really wanted. After all, he wouldn’t have asked me if he hadn’t had something in mind. I told him I’d organize the perfect party for a pig like him–that he just needed to show up at my apartment on Saturday, at two pm sharp. He arrived a bit early, he’s conscientious like that.

He was wearing his usual clothes: camo tank, shorts, boots and hat–I told him to strip out of those, he wouldn’t be needing them. Then I gave him his uniform for the party–a black leather waistcoat, crotchless and assless rubber shorts, a black bowtie, white cuffs on his wrists, knee high socks and black dress shoes. He was, I told him, going to be the waiter and service at his own bachelor party–thankfully, I had the good instinct to lock up his cock before telling him this, so I could watch his cock strain in it’s tight cage. Then I sent him into the kitchen to start cooking–guests would be arriving at seven, and he needed the appetizers ready to serve on the dot.

He worked hard–he always does. I watched him a bit, and then went to prepare another room for the poker game I had planned with a few acquaintances of mine–Pugsley might have thought it would be his friends coming by later, but I had something a bit better in mind. Seven rolled around, and as the men arrived, I made Pugsley answer the door and greet them all, and when he saw them, I could see him struggling with disgust and arousal at the same time. They weren’t, after all, his type. All four were older, in their forties to sixties, hairy, chubby, several of them smelling of smoke–not the fit, military men he usually fantasized about serving. He served well all the same though. After I got everyone seated at the table for the game, he brought out appetizers, and the men started berating him, groping him, ordering him around, and I saw he was properly enjoying himself.

For the first few hours, while we played the game, he focused on keeping everyone’s beers full and cigars lit, their feet massaged under the table, their plates supplied with food. Once everyone was a bit drunk and enjoying themselves, I moved onto the next part of the party–paused the game, and told Pugsley that it was time for his bachelor gifts. I went over to a bookcase and took down a small jewelry box, opened it, and handed the small stone inside to the first man in the group, one of the younger and fitter fellows by the name of John. Pugsley had noticed, when he’d entered, he’d smelled more strongly of smoke and booze than the others, and he was quite a bit more drunk already.

“Alright, Pugsley–my four friends are going to give you some very special gifts now, and you’re going to be a good pig and accept they all gladly, right?”

He nodded, but he still didn’t quite understand what I was talking about. John cleared his smoky throat, and said, “Alright pig–I’m gonna be giving you my two pack a day cigarette habit, and my alcoholism. I usually drink a six pack every night–so you’d better get used to it.”

The stone in the man’s hand glowed, and a ray shot out at Pugsley, striking him in the chest, and he felt new needs rise up in his chest. He’d been ambivalent about the smoking before–but he had a new need in his eyes–taking a bit of pity on him, I tapped the ash off mine into his mouth, making him thank me for it, and then took a longish butt from the table and worked it into his ass–he’d be feeling better soon, as the nicotine seeped into his system.

John passed the stone to the next man, Craig, who was by far the most heavyset of the men in the group, with a large apron of hat hanging down between his thighs. “Alright pig, I’m going to give you 300 pounds of fat, but in exchange, you’re going to give me a six inches off your height.”

Pugsley looked at me, wondering if that was allowed, but the stone glowed, another ray shot him, and in a matter of moments, the rubber shorts hand split apart on him, the buttons on the waistcoat popping off, the bowtie cutting into his flabby neck. He clawed at it until he got it undone, and heaved for breath, looking down at his five and a half foot frame, now packed with over 500 pounds of fat, hanging off him in massive rolls. A much slimmer, and taller, Craig passed the stone on to the next fellow, Rex. “Well, I’ve always had real bad B.O., you see, and a problem with belchin’ and fartin’–so why don’t you take those pig? I think they’ll suit you.”

The stone glowed again, shot out and struck Puglsey, and he belched immediately, his flabby frame shaking, making all the men laugh. He could feel the sweat rolling off him now, in all the cracks of his body–he reeked, but there was nothing he could do about it. Lastly, Peter took the stone, who was the oldest fellow, with a thick white beard. “Alright Puglsey–I’m going to give you…say, thirty years of my life, and also this impotence I’ve been struggling with a lot lately. A pig like you doesn’t need to use your dick though, right?”

I think he wanted to cry, as the years piled on his new body, his fat sagging further, hair receding and turning white, and we all heard to clink of the metal cock cage falling to the floor–his already meager cock had shrunk back so far into his flab, that it had simply fallen off. We all laughed, and turned back to the game, Pugsley trying to recover and keep serving, but he kept choking back tears. I heard him whispering, “It’s just…for tonight, just for a bit.” He’d seen me take the stone and put it back in the box–he probably thought he would get to give back his gifts–instead, I ushered all the men out into the night, making the new Pugsley thank all of them for their nice gifts for his wedding the next day–and then we were alone, and he finally let it out, sobbing in fear.

“I can’t–I can’t show up like this, I can’t–you…you can fix this, right?”

I shook my head, “I thought you wanted to serve, pig? This is service–you should be thanking me for giving you this opportunity. Besides–you’re still in there, the real you. If he loves you, he should be able to love this you as well, right?”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re going to stand at that alter tomorrow–in that ill-fitting tux, and in front of all of your friends and family, you’re going to have to ask him to love you. To prove that he’ll love you, no matter what. If he means it? Then he will. And if not…well, you can always come back here, and serve me instead. I’ll always have room for a dirty, fat, worthless pig around here, you know.”

He sucked me off, and I sent him on his way in the same short, tank and boots he’d arrived in–though he could barely fit any of the ensemble now. I knew he’d go through with it, because he knew I was right–if he loved him, truly loved him, he’d love him no matter how he looked. Besides–in 24 hours, after the ceremony, I’d fix him right up, good as he was before–and send those gifts into the void for good. But he’d know if he’d found a man–a man who could truly love a pig like him, no matter what.

Beta Test: Game Night tomorrow, August 3rd! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Just want to send this out here as well–I’m going to be running some tests with a new discord server I’m planning on running for Patrons starting in September–I’m hoping to do a test RP session for Patrons tomorrow evening. If you’re supporting me on Patreon and would like to help out, you can find more details at the link.

Beta Test: Game Night tomorrow, August 3rd! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

The Body You Deserve (Sketch) [Commission]

Flash Commissions are ongoing! Here’s another one, which was commissioned by Crazy Diamond. You can find more details here.

“Need another drink, boy?”

Erik looked up from where he was having a conversation with a couple of friends at the man who was looming over their table. Erik did nothing to hide his obvious disdain that a guy like this–chubby, hairy, old, and reeking of cigar smoke–would have the absolute nerve to think Erik–young, slender, hairless, and perfect in every way–would so much as talk to him, much less take a drink from him. “No thanks. I don’t usually waste my time on old slobs like you,” he said, and his friends all tittered.

The bear just rolled his eyes–it was hardly the first time he’d been shot down in his life, and moved on. The twinks gossiped for a bit about him, unable to believe someone like that would ever think one of them could be in their league, and then moved onto other topics. Just as they were about to go back to the dance floor, someone tapped Erik on the shoulder roughly.

Erik looked back, half expecting the bear to have come back to try again, but it wasn’t him. It was an older fellow, muscular, and he had a glass in his hand–the same glass the bear had had a second ago. “That was rather rude of you, I think. Now, that nice man offered you a drink, and you should be gracious and accept it.”

Erik was about to tell this guy, whoever he was, to fuck right off as well, but instead, his hand reached out, took the glass from him, and Erik chugged it, while the stranger and his friends all watched in slight astonishment. Erik could hardly believe it himself–he wasn’t exactly one to tolerate being told what to do, ever, but he couldn’t stop drinking it until the glass was empty. It tasted…odd. There was definitely alcohol in it, but it wasn’t quite like any drink he’d had at this bar before. He put the empty glass down, and the man nodded, “Good–I’ll see you later,” he said, and then slipped off into the crowd.

No one said anything. Erik was red in the face–he hated being humiliated like that. He got up to tell the man off, but when he did, his guts knotted up and cramped, and he ran off towards the bathroom instead, where he doubled over in pain. The spasms in his stomach were spreading now; it felt like his whole body was on fire, being stretched out and deformed somehow. After a few minutes clutching a sink and moaning, the pain began to subside, and he could stand again–but he froze when he saw the face looking back at him in the mirror.

It wasn’t his face. He blinked, and the face blinked as well. It was the face of…that bear, the one who had offered him a drink. He looked at the chubby cheeks covered with a thick, greying beard, the heavily receding hairline, and then down at his body. The clothes he had on were filled to bursting with his thick gut and hefty chest, the waistband of his once skinny jeans groaning before the button burst, his gut sagging out another couple of inches. He could smell himself too–not just the aura of cigar around him, but also his sweat and body odor wafting around him. He had never been more disgusted in his entire life.

That drink–it had to have something to do with that stranger. He had to find him, and figure out how to get his body back! He rushed out of the bathroom, staggering out of his much too small shoes in the process, his shirt beginning to rip apart as he moved. There was no sign of the man in the bar, so he headed for the patio out back, where the crowd was thinner, and sure enough, there he was–standing by the wall with his body–his real body, in the bear’s now much too baggy clothes.

“You!” Erik said, his deeper voice booming across the space, “What the fuck did you do to me!”

“There he is, Roy, I told you he’d find us–come on over here–I think you have an apology to make to Roy here, don’t you?” the stranger said.

“You piece of shit, give me my body back right fucking now,” Erik said storming across the patio, his shirt finally giving up and tearing apart, leaving his hairy gut hanging out over his much, much too tight jeans. He looked from the older stranger over to his own body–and saw that whoever was in it now (the fat bear, he presumed, who the stranger had called Roy) was enjoying the hell out of it, and had a thick cigar clamped in his jaw. One part of him was disgusted, but another part of him…craved it. He licked his lips, eyes locked to the cigar in front of him, his cock getting a bit hard at the sight of his one time body smoking.

He realized, after a bit, he’d just been standing there, staring, for several moments, but he didn’t quite know what to say anymore. He looked from his old body to the stranger, who had an expectant look on his face. “Well?” the stranger said to him, “What are you waiting for? Apologize. You were quite rude back there, don’t you think?”

Erik turned to his old body, unable to control himself, just like before, when the man had given him the drink. “I…I’m sorry…for being rude. Now can I have my body back please?”

“I don’t think that was polite enough. This man is your superior, right? At least, you seemed to think so before. Isn’t this man’s body so much better than yours, in every way?” the stranger asked.

It…was true. Looking at his old body now, he was…enthralled. He’d always taken it for granted before, but being outside it, he could properly appreciate it. He got down on his knees, horrified, and said, “I’m sorry sir, I…I was so rude before, I didn’t think. Please forgive me sir…” He sounded so weak, and yet that just made his cock even harder in the front of his very tight pants.

“I don’t know if that’s enough–do you think he needs some punishment, Roy, to remind him of his proper place?” the man said to Eriks old body.

“I think so,” Roy said, and hearing his own voice, hos old voice…it made Erik melt a bit, it was so sexy to his ears.

Together, they dragged Erik up and shoved him against the wall. Then, the stranger handed Roy a flogger, and he started beating the old bear, focusing on his fat ass, and after two strokes, the jeans split apart, leaving Erik–in his now fat, old body–completely naked on the patio. It didn’t stay naked for long though. As Roy beat him with the flogger, things started changing about them both. New clothes appeared on them, replacing their ill fitting ones–a leather harness and tight shorts for Erik, and a full leather suit on Roy’s now young, slender frame. Lust overtook Roy before too long, and he stepped up, unzipped the ass of Erik’s leather shorts, and fucked him, his cock growing longer and thicker, topping out at ten inches, as his frame filled out with even more muscle. Erik moaned in delight as his one-time body fucked his new one, and he grew taller and fatter, until he was six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds, covered in grey fur, and utterly devoted to serving his master, inhabiting his old body. When Roy came in Erik’s hole, the final changes came, sealing them in this new life: a collar around Erik’s neck, and a steel chastity cage riveted around his tiny cock.

Roy tugged the lead connected to his massive slave’s collar, and rewarded him with a breath of smoke, before giving him the half smoked cigar he’d been smoking and lighting a new one for himself. The stranger was nowhere to be seen, but Erik no longer cared–he was right where he belonged, serving his master, in the proper body he deserved, and which Erik had wasted for too long.