Dream Camp (Part 6)

The troop had planned a ten mile hike for that day, around the large lake that the campground was butting up against. The hike was technically optional–Eric and Alex were going to stick around camp and work on some badge requirements with any scouts who didn’t want to go, and several of them stayed–although they were less interested in learning about knots and more desperate to latch onto Alex’s tits and suck the young man dry when they got the chance. The other adult–Saul–stuck around as well. In fact, he’d been with Eric almost all morning, his mouth latched onto his tits, spasming every few minutes as another orgasm ripped through him, his flat stomach already forming a round gut. Poor guy was gonna be stuck in Eric’s harem if he kept that up–just one more obese, empty headed titsucker, like all the others Eric kept at his home. Barry shivered a bit, thinking about how…nice that would be, to just lay around, sucking down Eric’s delicious milk, not having to think about anything else ever again…but he had Christian to think of too. Maybe…maybe when he was older, and out on his own, then maybe Barry would take Eric up on his standing offer he would occasionally try to tempt him with.

That left Barry, Kyle, Christian and most of the older scouts to go on the hike. They all made their lunches, put together their day packs, and got to the trailhead around noon. The weather had turned clear, at least, thought it was still cold and a bit blustery. Barry was thankful for his new body, however–he felt so energetic! Usually he wouldn’t have gone on a hike like this at all, because he would have collapsed before the first mile. Now, however, even though he was still very fat, he also had a much longer stride and the endurance to fuck his cock hungry boy all night long. In fact, by the end of the first mile, he didn’t feel the least bit winded–though he had begun to sweat profusely, soaking his hairy body, the pits of his uniform shirt dark with sweat, and it was hard keeping his head clear when his stinking musk kept distracting him, and making him horny as hell. Christian wasn’t helping much either, walking in front of him, swinging his chubby ass right in his dad’s face. He’d started sweating too–Barry could smell–and see–the sweat collecting in his son’s crack especially, imagining how smelly it might be, thinking about how much he wanted to shove his face in there and eat out his filthy hole.

By the time they reached the five mile marker, where they had planned on eating lunch, both Barry and Christian had their uniforms soaked to the skin, their cocks fully erect and leaking, the scouts around them all trying to keep their own heads clear in the musk of them both. Max, in particular, was in heaven. He’d…always kind of liked how guys smelled, in the locker room after practice. He’d never dared tell his dad something like that–he’d assume his tough boy was some kind of fag–but even Max had never imagined anyone could smell as good as Barry or Christian did. He…he wanted them, there was no use denying it. He wanted their sweat coating his body, he wanted to lick them clean, to bathe in their musk and cum and…and what the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t some fucking fag! Sure, he’d always…kind of wondered, but he couldn’t. His dad would kill him, if he found out Max had even thought of something like that.

Kyle called a long break for lunch, and looked around, but Barry and Christian had already thrown their packs down to the ground and were storming off into the woods, hungry for each other, Barry shoving his son up against a tree, yanking down his pants and burying his bearded face in between Christian’s ass cheeks, tongue probing his loose hole, tasting his loads of cum from earlier still leaking their way free from his ass. Christian bore down and blew a wet fart right in his father’s face, the stench hitting him like a freight train, cock spurting in his uniform pants, driving him into a frenzy of eating and licking as Christian moaned, and farted again. Barry couldn’t wait anymore, he couldn’t resist anymore. He stood up, not even realizing he was growling, shoved down his pants and rammed his cock into Christian in a single thrust. Before, he’d been horny, but still conscious of himself. This fuck however–he felt like an animal. He pulled Christian close to him, raking his nails across his fat gut, slamming his cock in deep, biting down on his shoulder, sucking at the skin, licking at it, marking him. He was his, all his. His forever. He came, a load even more massive than earlier, but kept fucking, feeling it squelch out, dribbling to the forest floor below them, one hand reaching around and milking his boy’s cock until he too shot up and down the trunk of the tree. Only then did his mind return, and he was able to pull away, legs trembling, and they collapsed together–Barry sitting against the tree, Christian in his lap between his legs, his daddy hugging him close against his belly, and they saw Max behind a tree a few yards away, watching them, cock hanging from his pants, drooling.

The amulet was warm against his hair, just like the sun, but he still had enough energy to beckon Max closer. He could see the need on his face, the reluctance, the fear and the desire. He kept stroking, Barry leaned forward and licked the side of his son’s neck, biting at his earlobe gently, never taking his eyes from Max, even as his own eyelids began to droop. He was so tired, all of a sudden, but he was coming closer, coming to them. Yeah, come on boy, come to me, come to us, where you know you belong…

Dream Camp (Part 5)

Barry had to fuck his boy twice–he couldn’t help it, it was like he was on autopilot. As he woke up and realized what must have happened, that the wrong dream had come true, he tried to stop himself, but he simply couldn’t. His boy needed a good, proper loving after all, and Barry was the only one who could give it to him. Even though they had woken up ahead of the rest of the troop, they were some of the last people out of the tent, Barry having to get used to his new size…but he only realized just how large he’d become once he stepped outside, standing to his new height of eight feet for the first time.

Everyone around them treated him like normal, but he felt like a freak, wearing this adult uniform bulging with his fat body, his cock shoved down one leg of his pants…still leaking. Everyone….everyone just seemed so damn small, all of a sudden. Christian followed after him, and his boy was shorter than him as well, but still taller than all of the other scouts–even Max and Mr. Hoffson. “Thanks dad–I’ll see you after breakfast? Before the hike?” Christian asked.

“Huh?” Barry growled, “Oh, of course–you know how I get when I don’t give my boy a good fuck every few hours.” He grinned, but he wanted to scream. The words were falling out so naturally. Christian looked happy as could be, and went off to join the rest of his patrol in cooking breakfast. Barry took a step or two to follow him, but realized that he didn’t belong there, not anymore. No…he was a leader now. In fact, he was the assistant scoutmaster, second to Mr. Hoffson, though he knew all the scouts liked him better.

He looked over and saw the adults had congregated around their own set up–a much nicer one, he’d always noticed, and were busy cooking their own meal, or rather, Eric was cooking–he was the best at it, and enjoyed it the most. Barry lumbered over, poured himself a big mug of coffee, and tried to sit at the picnic bench, but he couldn’t bend his legs under the table. He ended up turning around and sitting backwards on the bench instead, though his knees still came uncomfortably high, the wood groaning loudly under his weight. He had no idea how heavy he might be–even at his new height and build he had a substantial apron of fat hanging off of him. If he had to guess, he was probably somewhere around 600 pounds.

“Need some cream in there?” Eric asked, taking a break from cooking to come around in front of him, his uniform shirt hiked up over his lower set of tits. Barry grunted, but put his cup under a nipple, letting Alex shoot a bit of his milk into his coffee. He swirled it a bit and gave it a sip–immediately his cock was hard, his skin felt flushed. Fuck, if that’s what a real man’s milk could do, no wonder Eric was careful about not letting just anyone drink straight from the tap. He could almost feel Mr. Hoffson’s scowl (or rather Kyle Hoffson–he had always just been Kyle to Barry now) drilling into the back of his neck. It was much, much easier to shrug off the disapproval, now that he knew how much bigger he was than him, and Kyle knew it too. Barry looked over his shoulder and met his now fellow leader’s gaze for a moment, until Kyle looked away, cheeks reddening slightly, and he could…smell something, coming off him. Something else that was making him a bit horny all of a sudden, though not as much as Eric’s cream, of course. He took another sip, enjoying the jolt now that he could anticipate it, and looked over at the patrols getting ready for the rest of the day, the amulet heavy around his neck. Was he…happy about this? What about his own dad and mom? What about his old life? He didn’t know how to be an adult–hell, he barely knew how to be a teenager. It did feel good though, and looking at his boy over there…fuck, he was handsome. Best thing in his whole damn life. He didn’t want to go back–then what would Christian do without him? The amulet seemed to be pretty good at sorting things out, so he’d just have to wait and see.

The patrols finished their breakfast, and while they were cleaning up, Barry felt the need rising up in him again, pulled his boy into their tent and gave him another deep fuck. Everyone knew what they were doing, but for whatever reason it didn’t faze them in the slightest–the only person who seemed to recognize anything strange about the whole thing was Kyle, but even he couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, was the matter. Barry could sense his resistance, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. Still, something was gonna have to be done about him–just like Barry had always planned, but had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought. The amulet…it didn’t give him a good feeling–when he was near him, it turned cold. Still, Kyle wouldn’t be a problem for too long, he figured, and Barry unloaded another massive load into his son’s hungry hole with a growl heard throughout the campsite. A growl which made more than a few scouts unexpectedly horny, even though few were willing to admit it to themselves. There was one scout who had remained focused on the tent the entire time, however–Max, Kyle’s buff son, had been staring and licking his lips, trying to understand the raging hardon he had and the…the musky smell in the air. He…he needed something, he needed it bad. He caught his dad staring at him staring at the tent, and he looked away, embarrassed, but he had the strangest feeling in his gut, that something was going to happen. It might be good or bad, but either way, he wanted it, and he wanted it bad–whatever it was.

Dream Camp (Part 4)

For a long while, nothing. Barry is there, and yet he isn’t, because you can’t be nowhere. He can sense this nowhere is his space, that nothing will happen tonight, that he will just sleep, but something is coming. He can feel it, drawing closer, the sensation of two universes colliding, and then they do. He is now somewhere, but he doesn’t know where. It feel alien. He feels like an intruder. This isn’t his, he knows that, but doesn’t know what it means.

A voice, someone crying. He looks up, and Christian comes through a doorway, eyes red.

“Have you seen my daddy?”

Something is wrong. He shouldn’t be here. Barry can’t move, but his lips are moving, he is speaking.

“I don’t know where he went.”

Christian is close now, no longer crying.

“That’s ok, you’re here. You can be my daddy now.”

Barry tries to tell him that he can’t, but he can’t respond. He can, however, feel himself changing. Growing taller, growing older. He is naked suddenly. He sees his gut sprouting hair, first brown, like his, then changing black, matching Christian’s hair, then sprinkled with white. He feels so strong, but also so out of proportion.

“You’ll be the biggest daddy, the manliest daddy. You’ll never leave me.”

More hair is filling in, so thick down the center of his gut that he can’t see the skin, tingling all over his back and down to his ass. His cock is growing, now close to a foot long, his balls heavy and churning with cum. He’s growing taller as well, the room growing with him, but Christian is small. Small, so small, he needs to be taken care of, his son, he needs to care for his son.

“You love me daddy. You love me so much, more than anyone else, ever.”

Care for him. Love him. Make love to him. Kiss him. Kiss his son, taste him, make him feel safe, make him feel good. He loses track of what happens, but his boy is with him, and his boy is safe. He loves him, he loves him so much, he’ll love him forever…

Barry wasn’t sure what time it was–from inside the tent, it looked like morning twilight, but Barry couldn’t hear anyone outside, which meant, thankfully, that it wasn’t quite time to get up yet, and he rolled over, finding his son in the sleeping bag next to him, and pulled him close. He knew that it was wrong, that whatever had happened in their dreams, that he needed to try and fight this, but why would he? he loved Christian, he loved him more than anything…but he felt…small, though his son didn’t stay that way for long. As Barry embraced him, he felt his son start expanding–becoming taller, thicker, hairier. Still not as big or hairy as his dad, but he had most of puberty left to get through, after all. Slowly, gently, he pressed the head of his huge cock to his boy’s pucker, slipping it inside, his son accustomed to taking his dad’s massive girth–hell, Christian was the only man Barry had ever fucked to the hilt, who’d had enough practice to take all fourteen inches of his cock, but that was only because the two of them fucked day and night. Neither of them could help it–their heavy, brimming balls demanded it.

Barry reached around, stroking his son’s eight inch cock, feeling him stir as his dad penetrated him, groaning and grunting, pushing back, eager to feel his dad stuff him full, and Barry leaned in, next to his son’s ear, gave him a deep growl, and said “Good morning, son–I love you,” in a voice much, much deeper than he’d ever imagined coming from his throat.

“Oh…daddy…” Christian moaned, but he only really could focus on his father’s cock in his hole, how much he needed it, how happy he was to finally have a daddy who would never leave him–who would love him forever, no matter what.

Dream Camp (Part 3)

The disorientation and terror lasted for only a couple of minutes. It might have lasted longer, but the euphoria supplied by Alex’s milk made sure that neither Christian nor Barry were thinking of much for the next hour, while they drained his tits dry, both of them cumming several times over the course of their meal. Finally, however, they felt sated and sat back–both of their guts sloshing with milk, unable to believe how much they’d just consumed. Alex, too, looked a bit exhausted–he had cum several times as well, his milk production ramping up suddenly and pumping itself into both of them–that was the only way he could cum, after all, since neither of the Mendel’s had cocks, anymore. They didn’t have anything aside from a piss hole, in fact, not that they needed anything like that–their nipples gave them all the pleasure either one of them could need, after all. In fact, now that Barry was able to focus past his hunger, he saw that Alex’s nipples weren’t really nipples, but short, meaty cocks. His father’s were larger–each of the four were probably about five inches long, flaccid for the moment, but Barry knew that, at a moment’s notice, they could go hard and start leaking. He’d…tasted Eric’s milk a few times, in small doses. Too much, and he’d be an addict for the rest of his life. Alex could drink his father’s milk without worry–in fact, that was all he ate, now that Barry thought about it. Alex was still maturing–his milk not fully potent yet, hell, his second set of tits hadn’t developed to their full size, which wouldn’t happen until he was around eighteen. How Barry knew all of this, he didn’t know. How any of this was even possible, he didn’t know that either.

He looked over at Christian, who, after his momentary confusion at Alex packing on two hundred extra pounds of fat onto his body in an instant, had settled into this without further incident, like nothing strange was happening at all. Needless to say, Barry was vigilant for the rest of the ride, not daring to fall asleep again, out of fear more than anything else. After another half hour, they arrived at the campsite, and all the boys in the troop started unpacking their gear from the back of the cars. This trip was really just car camping–they were staying at a national park, though it was mostly deserted at this time of year–something Barry was thankful for, since he didn’t want this amulet affecting too many people, especially after what had just happened.

Thankfully no one was at all disturbed by the Mendels’ new appearance. In fact, most everyone treated them both normally, like they’d had plenty of time to adjust to their odd physiology. In fact, several of the scouts all took some time to suck at Alex’s tits, all of them cumming spontaneously as they did, and the other adult leaders seemed…focused on Eric: licking their lips, rubbing their gurgling guts, thinking about their own next meal. The only people who were different were The Hoffsons and the older scouts. In fact, Mr. Hoffson seemed outright hostile towards Eric, actively avoiding him, glowering at him–but Eric didn’t seem to mind, if he even noticed.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully–setting up camp, a few hours of free time for the scouts, which Barry and Christian spent playing cards and sucking more milk out of Alex, then it was time for dinner, some time spent around the campfire, and then bedtime. Barry and Christian were bunking together in one of Mr. Mendel’s very nice tents he’d bought for the patrol, and Barry finally found an opportunity to ask Christian what was wrong. His friend had spent the entire day in a funk, but he hadn’t seemed particularly willing to open up around anyone. Barry didn’t want to force him to talk about it, but he couldn’t help being worried.

“My…Dad left,” Christian said after a moment of silence.

“What do you mean?”

“My mom…well, the court has been siding with her, and my dad, he just left. No one knows where. I mean, it’s just…”

“You liked him better.”

“That’s not really fair, I know, but…yeah.”

“He didn’t tell you where he was going? At all?”

Christian shook his head, his eyes tearing up, “I thought, I mean, I guess I just thought that, if he was going to leave, he’d…like, tell me. Or take me…I mean, he couldn’t just take me, I couldn’t just leave with him, but he didn’t…tell me anything. One day he’s going to pick me up on Wednesday like usual, and then he doesn’t even show up, and he’s just gone. I…I thought he cared more about me than that.”

“I’m sure he cares about you, Christian,” Barry said, but it was clear from his friend’s eyes that his words were no real comfort.

Christian didn’t reply, he just climbed into his sleeping bag and turned out his flashlight, but neither of them slept for a while. Christian was sobbing as quietly as he could, and Barry was pretending not to hear him. He didn’t notice the amulet warming up again, against his chest, pulling him down into another slumber, and into another dream.

Dream Camp (Part 2)

After the pack check and more ribbing from some of the older scouts about his size, the troop split themselves up into small groups paired with the adult leaders, so they could all carpool to the campground. The older boys all climbed into Mr. Hoffson’s SUV. Barry ended up in a car with two other scouts–Alex Mendel and Christian Brooke–driven by Alex’s father, Eric Mendel. The three of them were all in the same patrol, but while Barry was good friends with Christian, Alex was rather cool towards him. Then again, Alex and his dad were cool towards everyone. The Mendel’s were one of the wealthier families in the troop–Eric worked at a tech start-up that was raking in capital, but he loved the outdoors as only a tech guy could, always buying the latest and fanciest gear for him and his son, and even financed new equipment for the rest of the troop as well. Alex thought the money made his farts not stink, but at least he wasn’t cruel. Christian was overweight himself, and his parents weren’t very involved in scouts. Well, his parents weren’t involved in much–they spent most of their energy tussling in divorce court. Christian liked camping because it was at least a few days away from his parents without having to stress about money, custody, or anything else a teenager shouldn’t have to deal with.

Alex was in the passenger seat, leaving Christian and Barry in the back. It was clear from the dour look on Christian’s face that it had been a bad week with his mom or dad, and didn’t feel like talking. The Mendels were engaged in their own conversation, and Barry realized he’d left his snacks in his pack, and so he was left to stare out the window at the passing scenery, one hand gripping the amulet around his neck…and he realized it felt…warm. Warmer than it should be, from just being close to him. Even though he knew that should concern him, for some reason it just felt…comforting. The amulet had felt warm like that before, on those nights before he’d had those dreams, but that had been in the evening, but right now it was the middle of the morning. Part of him unburied the worries that he’d been having all week about the necklace–mostly the fact that he really had no idea how the thing worked. He knew that it made his dreams come true…loosely. The dreams had, so far, always involved him and the people around him nearby. He’d been pleased with the results, but it wasn’t like the dreams were things he’d…planned. Like the night before last, when out of nowhere he’d dreamed his mom had a cock and was fucking his dad, and woken up to discover she’d become a…well, a hermaphrodite. Not…Not that there was anything wrong with that, he told himself. Hell, his dad loved it, but…it had been unexpected.

He gripped his necklace tighter in his hand, feeling the warmth permeate his fist and spread into his body, making his eyes droop. Was he still sleepy from the morning, or…was the amulet making him tired? At least he wasn’t thinking as much about how hungry he was. Mid-morning naps had never really been his thing, but he was definitely tired. It was about a two and a half hour drive to the campground, so he had plenty of time for a little rest, right? He should stop worrying so much. Everything…everything was going to be…just fine…

A rumble in his guts. He was…somewhere. Indoors. Featureless, dark walls. Not much light. Doorways, but no doors. No hallways between rooms. He’s looking…looking for food, but he also knows the place is empty. Barren. He sees someone leave a room as he enters it, he chases them. Gets a better glimpse–Alex Mendel, but he’s different. Fatter. A gut, but a huge chest, full moobs jiggling. Naked, naked and running, and he…he has food, somehow Barry knows. Smell, he can smell it. Chasing him, but can’t quite keep up, he won’t slow down. Barry gives up, exhausted, so hungry now, but he can still smell the food. Looks up and there, there is Mr. Mendel. Taller, obese–with tits. Two pairs, hanging down, swollen nipples, something running down…down his fat front, something sweet smelling, he’s gesturing him closer. Barry is salivating, latches onto a nipple and starts sucking, pulling out the sweet delicious milk, something tasting between cream and cum, eyes rolling back in pleasure, Mr. Mendel stroking his head, telling him to drink as much as he’d like. Other’s now, more coming, latching onto the tits, fighting for position, he feels buried, full, eager, hungry–

Barry woke with a start, flailing for space in the car, before realizing where he was, and where he’d fallen asleep, his heart racing. What in the hell was that? These dreams had only been getting stranger, but that one lingered with him, especially that smell. Sickly sweet and yet musky–it had him drooling. He looked up, and saw Alex leaning across the middle of the front seat, his mouth wrapped around one of his father’s nipples, sucking, milk leaking out the corner of his mouth, Barry’s jaw dropped. Ripped from his dream, Eric Mendel was easily five hundred pounds, nearly all of it concentrated in his chest of four, leaking tits. Barry could smell it, and he…he wanted it. Drool leaking out of his mouth, but his throat was too dry to speak. He saw Alex glance back at him, sensing his desire, and he pulled away from his father’s nipple.

“Somebody woke up hungry,” Alex said, and pulled his own shirt off, revealing a fat body. Like his father, Alex saw four nipples, but only two breasts had filled in. Still, Barry unbuckled his seatbelt and lunged forward, wrapping his lips around Alex’s nipple. His milk was sweeter, not nearly as musky as his father’s, but Barry had no interest in objecting, his cock swelling, his hands helplessly reaching into his uniform pants to stroke his big cock off, pleasure overwhelming him, the amulet still hot against his skin.

How about you, Christian?” Alex said, one hand under his other breast, “Want some, big boy?”

Barry glanced to the side as best he could and saw Christian now drooling as well, his eyes filled with confusion but his mouth already pulling him closer, and he took Alex’s other nipple, both of them sucking, Alex groaning and moaning with pleasure, his father egging him on, Christian and Barry helplessly jacking off as they fed. A more interesting camping trip indeed, Barry thought as he spasmed, blowing a massive wad of cum across the center console, and wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Dream Camp (Part 1)

It was the camping trips that were the worst. Barry could handle the rest of the whole scouting thing–hell, some of it was even kind of fun, like learning about plants and animals, and survival skills–but it was the camping that he hated. Not the act of camping itself, of course, but it was…well, why beat around the bush? He was fat. Seventeen years old and over three hundred and fifty pounds didn’t exactly fit the usual model for a scout, and pretty much everyone in his troop was happy to remind him of that. He got pranked almost every camping trip somehow–the worst was a few months ago, when some of his fellow campers decided to rub poison ivy on his face while he slept. It didn’t help that the scoutmaster, Mr. Hoffson, turned a blind eye to the bullying, mostly because his son, Max, was the ringleader and Barry’s principal torturer. Hell, he’d tried to tell his parents that he wanted to quit, but both of them were adamant that he stick to it. As his dad often said, “If he was tired of getting bullied, then he should just lose some weight,” like it was that simple. To be honest, Barry liked being fat–hell, he more than liked being fat, he wanted to be fatter, and he found fat guys hot as hell, not that he could tell anyone that, of course. This weekend’s camping trip though, this weekend would be very, very different–thanks to the amulet he’d bought from that old woman at that flea market last weekend–hell, things had already changed for the better.

His dad pulled the car into the parking lot of the school, most of the other scouts were already assembled with their packs out, getting ready for their pack inspection. Barry opened the door and hopped out and went around the back of the car, opening the back and getting out his backpack, while his father opened the driver side door and started the process of hefting is now six hundred pound bulk out from behind the wheel, where he’d lodged it. Now, his dad had only been this massive behemoth for about a week now, but no one gave him a second look. As far as everyone else was concerned, including his dad, he’d always been that fat. He lumbered back around to where Barry was, waiting, pack on the pavement, huffing a bit. “Alright son, have a good weekend, I’ll miss you.”

“Heh, don’t worry dad, you have plenty of dildos for that hungry ass of yours to work on, and mom’s always happy to fuck you too.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ll always prefer my big boy’s huge cock in my hole,” he said, and groped Barry’s crotch, feeling the thick, eleven inch cock Barry recently acquired. “Make sure you get enough to eat now–I don’t want you losing any weight, alright?”

“Don’t worry dad, I’ll be fine.”

“And don’t let those other boys give you a hard time either, they’re just bullies with tiny cocks.”

“Heh, I think I’ll be fine this weekend dad, I’m not too worried.”

“Alright,” his dad said, smiling over his three chins, “I’d better get back home–mom’ll be angry if I miss breakfast.”

“Yeah, go eat–wish I could join you!” Barry said, gave his huge dad a big hug and watched him get back into the minivan, still amazed at what the amulet had done, and he gripped it with his hand. The amulet of his dreams–literally. He’d fallen asleep, and dreamed he was getting fatter–and when he woke up, he had been. That’s all it was, the first few nights, him packing on the pounds, but then he dreamed that his muscular dad was a gainer too. The next, that his dad was a total bottom for his son’s huge cock. It didn’t seem to work every single night, but often enough that he had a good feeling about this trip; he hefted his pack up onto one shoulder and joined the rest of the troop.

It was late fall, and the weather had turned sour and rainy over the last few weeks. It looked like a decent chunk of the troop had decided to bow out for the weekend–there were only about twelve people gathered in the parking lot–three adults leaders and eleven scouts, including Barry. The scoutmaster Mr. Hoffson and his son Max were there of course–they always were. Max was a few years older than he was, and his main bully in the troop, along with a few other older kids who followed him around like a puppy. Usually this would have been the worst trip imaginable–leaving Friday and coming home Sunday morning–three days and two nights–but that length of time suddenly had Barry excited. One or two good dreams–and who knew what might happen.

“Yo, lardass, are you coming or not?” Max shouted at him, “This could have actually been a good weekend if you hadn’t shown up. Sure you don’t want to go home and stuff yourself with your lardass dad?”

He really would rather be at home, fucking his fat dad while his mom stuffed their faces, but he had business to attend to first. “Nah, let’s get going–I have a feeling this is going to be a great weekend.”

Neighborhood Pub (Sketch)

“Hey! Faggot! Why don’t you get fucking lost? Ain’t no guy here wanna have you round, lookin’ at us like that,” Nick puffed up his chest and got in the stranger’s face, leering at him. No one knew who this fucker was–the pub here was really only frequented by guys from the neighborhood, guys who’d know each other for years. Sure, the occasional stranger would slip in, but they got the idea pretty quick that new folks weren’t very welcome in there. But this guy, he hadn’t gotten the hint at all this evening, and worse, it was clear the guy was a total faggot.

He was an older guy. He’d shown up a few hours previously, and ordered a beer with a bit of a lisp and the bat of an eye from Sammy, the bartender. Usually Sammy wouldn’t even bother serving freaks like this, but for some reason he’d just given the guy the beer he’d wanted, and the fucker had just made himself at home. Very, very at home. He’d spent the night wandering around the pub, busting into other people’s conversations so he could flirt and feel up the local guys…and for some reason no one was doing anything about it! Well Nick had had enough of this clown–he’d throw him out himself, since no one else could bear to do it, for some reason.

The stranger grinned at Nick, and moved in closer, pushing his gut into him. The man was older, balding, sweaty and hairy. At some point he’d lost his shirt, so nothing covered his ugly fat beyond two suspenders keeping up his pants. Nick’s first instinct was to recoil, but he wouldn’t give him the…the satisfaction of knowing he was…was scared or…or turned on…or…if he pushed closer, into the man’s gut, maybe the strange butterflies fluttering in his gut would go away. They didn’t they got worse, but that was alright, and something…something about the way the man smelled, something was…was so…good.

The bar had grown quiet. No one had known what to make of the man, no one had been able to resist him, and terrified, no one had dared challenge him. They had all secretly hoped that if they just…let him feel up their bodies, and lick their necks, and whisper…horribly, sexy things in their ears, that maybe…maybe he would leave them in some kind of peace. But Nick–fucking hotheaded Nick–the man ran one hand over Nick’s stubbly face, watching his jaw droop, eyes turning glassy. The stranger put his hand on the top of Nick’s head and applied a gentle pressure, the bar watching as he dropped to one knee, and then both, the man guiding his face to his crotch, where Nick began grinding his face into the man’s crusty jeans.

He had no control. He couldn’t…couldn’t stop himself, didn’t want to stop himself. He could…could see…visions, in his mind. Of himself, but…but different. He was wearing something…shiny and black, all over his body. It looked like rubber, but so…so reflective, black, but with yellow. Yellow…like piss. Fuck, like piss! He felt the warmth in his crotch as his bladder released into the front of his pants, running down both thighs to the floor of the pub. Everyone else could smell it too, they could smell it, and they were growing…growing hungrier, like when they’d all first smelled the stranger, and they could see what Nick was now–a urinal, a fucking tool, a dump for them to use and abuse as they wanted. The man undid his fly, pointing his cock at Nick’s face, who waited patiently, the puddle growing around his knees until the man released his own piss, and Nick drank down as much as he could, feeling everything he couldn’t get down soaking his body, his clothes so…wet now. It would be so much better if he was wearing rubber, all rubber, all the time, for…for the rest of his life, yeah, a rubber urinal, just an object.

The man finished, Nick kissed the head of his cock, and started licking up his own piss from the floor of the pub, the weaker willed men around him standing up and walking towards him, their own bladders begging to be emptied, and the man drifted off to other men, toying with them, slowly for the rest of the night, and he never returned to the pub again…not that he needed to. The pub was…different from that day on. Every man from the neighborhood would come dressed in leather and rubber, most of them smoking, all of them constantly horny. New men were always welcome–none of them could resist the heady, musky smell of the place for long, all of them ended up going home with some other patron of the club to discover the new desires brewing in their guts. Nick, however, lived in the bathroom, chained to the floor. He’d grown fatter, his gut massive, stretching the rubber bodysuit he now wore to the limit. He hadn’t left the room in months, but Sammy took good care of him, making sure he got all the nutrition he needed and stripping him out of the suit once a week to hose down his fat, and shave his body smooth. It was up to the rest of the bar to keep him full of piss and cum, to keep him happy, forever.

Hopeless (Part 3)

You stumble into the parking lot, still pumping cum out the bottom of your shorts, where it’s running down your thick, hairy legs. There’s something wrong with you. Well, of course there is something wrong with you, you’re worthless, but this is different. You’d gone so long without cumming, for weeks–or maybe even months, you couldn’t quite remember, and now that the dam had been broken, your gut was churning, your balls are aching, you’re sweating from head to toe. People stare, no–gape at you plodding to your car, mouth open, snorting, eyes wild. You throw open the door and go to climb in, but hit your head on the frame, your knees scrunched under the wheel. It isn’t until you process the fact that the space is smaller than usual that you manage to reach under your seat, past your massive cock, and shove the seat as far back as it will go. Is this even your car? Your key worked, it…smells like you, but it doesn’t feel right. You shut the door and immediately feel claustrophobic, panting and panic rising in your chest, but you have to get home, you’ll be safe at home, you aren’t safe here.

It’s a fifteen minute drive to your home from the gym, and it’s harrowing. Your bones ache, muscles pulse. More than once, a sudden, full body spasm of growth sends you speeding forward or swerving into other lanes–the fact that you don’t end up in an accident or arrested is a minor miracle. You park, throw open the car door, and manage to squeeze yourself free of the confines of the car, whimpering and moaning. The exit is anything but graceful, and you end up toppling out face first onto the pavement, but you’re free, at least. you grab the car door to help yourself up, but when you pull on it, rather than gaining any leverage, you feel the car door bend down in the frame towards you instead, the car tipping slightly to the side as you drag yourself up. It’s so…small, like one of those clown cars at the circus. You abandon it, running for your apartment, and your shorts finally can’t bear the pressure of your package and thighs, bursting at the seams, your foot and a half long cock and massive balls flopping out into the open, your shirt following soon after–you tear away the tattered remains once you reach your door, crouching in the hallway, fumbling with the keys you’d kept in your hand, but they’re so small and you’ve grown so clumsy that you can’t fit the key in the lock–in frustration you simply start pounding on the door–and it opens.

Without worrying how, you start the next task of finding some way of squeezing through the doorway, the only thought you have is making it inside. You end up pushing yourself in sideways–you’ve grown much too tall to walk in, and your shoulders are too broad. It’s close, but you squeeze inside, heaving for breath, feeling your body continue growing as you do…and you realize you’ve trapped yourself. There’s simply no way you’ll be able to fit yourself back out–but why would you want to leave? Out there, all there are are people who will stare at you, look at you like you’re a freak–because you are a freak. You don’t want to go out there, you don’t want to leave. Your trainer, who’d opened the door for you, closes it behind you but doesn’t lock it–you don’t even notice that he’s there until he standing beside you, stoking one massive, hairy arm, talking to you, calming you down bit by bit, that buzzing sound returning, and soon you’re shivering at his touch, at his words–and you realize that you are sitting down on the ground–and he’s standing next to you–but he barely comes to your shoulder. How…how big are you, really? How big is your cock? It doesn’t seem real, hanging there between your legs. You must be at least ten feet tall–far too tall for your ceilings. The only way you’ll be able to move from room to room is by crawling…but is this even your apartment? Now that you’re more calm, this doesn’t…seem familiar. The floorplan is too open, there’s almost no furniture…where did you drive yourself, anyway? Where did you just trap yourself?

“Look at you, you’re a beast–a gigantic, disgusting beast,” he says, walking around you in a wide circle, taking all of you in–the hairy body, the long beard, the massive cock and balls, “You’re going to be so popular, so many people have been waiting for you to finally blow.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t elaborate. You try to talk, but words…don’t come easily to you anymore, and he has no interest in anything you might ask or want to know. He leaves you alone–but you don’t feel abandoned. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe. The the men begin arriving. You have several visitors each day, and all of them come for one reason–to abuse your massive cock. The ride it, they worship it, the suck it, they drink your cum by the gallon. None of them care about you, about the body attached to this marvelous beast of a cock–but then, why should they? You know you’re worthless, unworthy of anyone’s attention. You’re simply happy to know that there’s one part of you which is worthy of desire and that’s enough for your simple mind. The only person who sees you is your trainer–no, your owner now–when he visits. He comes every few weeks–you look forward to those visits more than any other, because finally, he has allowed you to serve him. You pull him close, gently, lick him clean from head to toe, worship his cock and balls with your mouth, letting him know how thankful you are. How thankful you are that he has given you purpose. How thankful you are that a hopeless, giant-cocked beast like you, could ever hope to be owned by a man like him.

Hopeless (Part 2)

I have a comment I want to make on the inspiration for this story, but I felt like it would be best to wait until I posted this second part, where it becomes more obvious what I’m talking about. This story, as it ended up being written, is the fault of @noodlesandbeef and all of his recent posts on big dick humiliation. I wouldn’t say the story is *for* him necessarily, because it’s also filtered through the rest of my own perversions and came out…uh…slobby, but I’ll dedicate it to him anyway. So here’s to you–thanks for your awesome blog, and for making me think of fetishes that don’t cross my mind very often.

You watched him drive away, certain that this had to be…some cruel joke. The way he’d consoled you, he had to care about you, right? Then again, why would he care about you? You were a mess. Filthy, sweaty, stupid–so fucking stupid! How could you have just said something like that to him, to the only man in your life who cared about you. Still, he had told you to go home, so you got in your car and drove home. However, once home, you had no idea what to do.

Your apartment was filthy. You had always done a good job of cleaning up after yourself, but ever since you’d met him, you’d just…started letting things slide. First it was a bit of clutter, then you stopped doing the dishes, and now you hadn’t done laundry in weeks, everything you owned stank to high heaven, and the whole apartment was littered with empty take out, since you couldn’t even think hard enough to try and cook. You’d probably just burn everything anyway, or hurt yourself trying. Worthless…fucking worthless! Just…just a big pile of nothing.

Your cock tingled at the thought, which was odd. As turned on as you’d been lately, with your personal trainer, and all of the fantasies you’d been thinking about, you’d actually been jacking off less than usual. More often than not, it simply hadn’t occurred to you to jack off, and even when you’d been horny, thinking about him, your cock had been hard, but you hadn’t touched it. Now, however, you pushed your hand into your pants and started rubbing it, thinking…thinking again.

I’m hopeless.

Your cock was raging now, and you pushed some trash off the couch and laid down, slowly stroking your cock.

I’m a just a dumb brute with a big cock. I can’t even hold down a stupid job.

Fuck, you were so horny! Your cock was leaking as you demeaned yourself, over and over again, thinking about all of your recent failures, how hopeless you are, and it felt…it felt so damn good, but you couldn’t cum. You jacked your cock for hours and hours, but though you leaked a copious amount of precum into your nasty jock and the front of your gym shorts, you never reached any sort of satisfaction. You couldn’t even jack off right–but that thought only made you even more crazed with lust. It was only when you reached the point of exhaustion and hunger that you finally stoped, ordered some take out you can’t afford anymore, and ate. When you finished, you tried again, but it was like your balls were locked shut, and no matter what you did, you would never be able to cum. That didn’t stop you, you weren’t even sure you could stop, as you fantasized about all the ways you’re slowly ruining your life. Eventually, you collapsed back on the couch, and fell into a fitful sleep. He’s there, in your dreams. You don’t…deserve him. He’s amazing, and you’re completely worthless. A failure. No wonder he left you, you’ll never deserve him. You don’t deserve anyone–you deserve to be alone.

The next day, you arrive at the gym…late. He’s waiting for you, but he doesn’t seem surprised. If anything, he seems to be expecting you to arrive late, and the simple failure…it makes your cock leak in your nasty, crusty shorts that you didn’t even bother changing before you came. After all, you like it. You like other people seeing what a nasty thing you are. How badly you smell, how stupid you are, it makes you feel so good, and you want him, this man you love, you want…you want him to hate you, to see that he’s wasting his time on you, that you don’t deserve him, that you never deserved someone like him. That you are, and always were, a hopeless wreck.

All day, you fuck up on purpose…or maybe you can’t tell the difference anymore. You lift wrong, you plateau and backslide, you spot poorly. Still, he’s nothing but supportive and enthusiastic, his usual self. But behind his usual smile, you see it, that…sly grin of his, and that buzzing, it’s so loud in your head, you can barely hear him sometimes, what he’s telling you. He talks so much, but why talk to you? You barely understand anything that comes out of his mouth. Your workout is long today, much longer than normal. The next several days, the workouts are equally long. You know you should work on finding a job–you have some savings, but they’ll only be able to pay your bills for a few months. Soon, you think differently. You deserve to be unemployed–in fact, knowing you do nothing with yourself, that you have wasted your life doing nothing, it turns you on. Seeing what you’ve become in the mirror, fuck–your cock refuses to go down, it leaks constantly all over the benches and the machines. You’re huge now, so huge, with a thick beard all over your face, your hair down past your shoulders, massive pecs, thick legs, mouth open and drooling almost constantly. The only part of you that isn’t muscled is your gut, bulging from your constant diet of take out and pizzas, but that bit of failure only makes you look hotter, in your eyes.

Until a day comes, and you arrive at the gym, only to discover that he isn’t there–instead, the person waiting for you is the manager of the gym. He informs you that so many members of the gym had complained about your behavior and hygiene, as well as that of your friend’s, that the two of you will be permanently banned from premises. The manager telling you that, somehow it does something nothing else had been able to do, and even as he continues speaking, your balls tense up, you let out a groan, the first blast of cum erupting from your cock, soaking the front of your shorts. Your go weak and fall to your knees, and the orgasm last for what feels like an eternity, everyone in the gym turning to stare at you, the cum now leaking down your leg to the floor it an amount so copious you couldn’t even believe it was yours. The manager threatens to call the police; you stagger up and out of the building, your cock still pumping out a trail behind you, and into your car, where you pull down your soaked shorts, and discover your cock has somehow grown even more massive in the space of a minute–it’s now a foot and a half long and incredibly thick, your balls each the size of baseballs, and still pumping out cum. How could this even happen? It’s so large, you’d never be able to fuck anyone–it’s just…just obscene and pointless and nasty, like the rest of your whole life. So worthless that…that all you can only think about is going home and…and milking your worthless, disgusting cock over and over again.

Hopeless (Part 1)

You met him at the gym, but whether it was by accident, or by a choice he made, you never found out. He asked you to spot for him on the bench press so he could push his max, and you were willing to help him out. You’d seen him at the gym before, but had never thought much of him–probably in his mid 30’s, bearded with a shaved head, a bit hairy. Muscular, but with a small gut all the same. On the bench, while you guided the bar up and down, you listened to him grunt, your eyes focusing on the curve of belly that appeared, inch by inch, as he lifted, an odd…buzzing in your head, vision tunnelling slightly, until he failed, and you snapped back, helping him rack the weights back, your head still…fuzzy. You worked through a few more sets with him, and then he offered to help you, counting for you as you pressed. You couldn’t lift nearly as much as him, but he encouraged you, he made you feel…good. You parted ways with a handshake, and from that then on, you noticed him more and more, every day, and both of you struck up an acquaintance, spotting each other from day to day.

He wasn’t the first guy you’d been attracted to, but he was…different. The way he made you feel, when you were close to him, it was something you’d never felt before. At the same time, life outside of the gym started to become more…difficult. You found yourself messing up at work more often, you felt…exposed in public. Friends you’d known for years were suddenly saying strange things–that you seemed distant and disconnected, that you were quieter and didn’t talk as much. You felt hurt at their comments, and saw them less, even as you started going to the gym more. Whether that was because you simply had more time, or because, at heart, you wanted to see him more, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t quite be honest with yourself yet, could you?

Still, he never pushed you away. He never said you were too quiet, or too disconnected. Without really noticing when it had happened, he’d taken control of your workouts, almost becoming your personal trainer. You would arrive early and wait for him–the idea of working out without him felt…wrong. Scary, even. You might hurt yourself, or do something wrong, if he wasn’t there, watching over you. He pushed you away from your cardio focus, and you began lifting more, and longer. It was exhausting, but you were doing so good! You could see it, too. You were bulking faster than you’d ever imagined possible…but it was more than just muscle. You seemed…taller, too, although you convinced yourself that was probably your imagination. Your cock, too–it seemed longer. Thicker. It felt thicker when you jacked off, thinking about him, about your trainer, about…about how good he made you feel.

Without really noticing, the gym became the center of your life, and he was the center of your workout. Everything else was driver further and further to the periphery, so when your boss called you into his office, it felt like…some strange intrusion. You hoped it wasn’t more work he needed you to do today–you wouldn’t want to be late for your workout. You knew that your work had been slipping, but when he laid it all out in front of you: the missed deadlines, the simple errors, the poor presentations, your unprofessional appearance, the ill fitting clothes, your lack luster hygiene, it made you…feel so small, even though you towered over him. You wished your trainer had been there, so that you wouldn’t…have had to care. So that comfortable buzzing could have taken over, so he could have just…just told you what to do, what to say. You had no excuse, no reason to give, you could barely even speak at all. Your boss had only been planning on reprimanding you, but somewhere in the one-sided conversation he decided to just cut you loose entirely. You packed up your things, and didn’t know what to do–so you went to the gym, and you waited.

It was hours before the two of you were supposed to meet for your workout, but what else could you do? It was so hard to…to think, to make a decision. You felt paralyzed. But he…he was so confident, and he was so…such a natural leader, and you had to follow, you had to. When he arrived, you tried to tell him what happened, but getting the words out was difficult. Talking, in general, had become more and more difficult lately, and the buzzing when you were near him only made it worse, the stuttering, the words missing from your vocabulary, you couldn’t get it out, and so you just worked it out. You worked out, hoping that would help you focus, but all you felt was dimmer. It made you feel hopeless, and even more overwhelmed than before. What was wrong with you? You hadn’t always been like this. Thank goodness he was here, watching out for you, or else you would probably hurt yourself so much. At least you were looking good, looking bigger. With his help, you’d been packing on the pounds lately, and even the beard was looking better, now that you’d been growing it for a few months, though your hair was lank and greasy, and…just ugly. You stank too–when had you taken a shower last, or brushed your teeth? You hadn’t been taking care of yourself, not at all. You were disgusting, you were filthy, and ugly and…and you hated it.

You hated yourself, and there, on the bench, you started sobbing. You’d been trying to keep it inside, trying to ball it all up, but you had no guard left anymore, and you were certain, as soon as he saw how weak you really were, he’d leave. Abandon you, forget about you–worthless, hopeless you…but he didn’t. He sat down next to you, and put his arm around your now hulking shoulders, cooing at you, consoling you. The buzzing grew a bit louder, and you, slowly, calmed down. When you felt up to it, you continued your workout, and things felt…easier, for the moment, until you were finished…and he walked away from you in the parking lot.

Of course he was walking away, he had his own home, but the terror that gripped you, when he did, was something you couldn’t comprehend, and you started following him, chasing after him, and caught up to him as he climbed in. He saw you there, the desperation on your face. “Don’t….leave me…” you said, those three words so inadequate to how you felt, but the only three you could find in your empty head.

He thought for a moment, looking you over, and said, “Go home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”