Category: Uncategorized

Justin’s Lost Nights (Part 2)

Cornered, he was cornered. The heavyset man pushed his firm gut into Justin’s flat stomach. “What do you think you’re doin’ smokin’ cigars like a daddy bear, boy? Don’t you think you’re a bit young for that?” He leaned in, and through the haze of their cigars and they started sharing smoke, Justin saw the man’s tattoos shifting and moving, bear paws walking their way down the man’s chest and onto Justin’s body. Suddenly…he was feeling…aggressive. He pushed back, shoving his tongue into the man’s mouth, feeling the large man respond with both surprise, but also submission–

Justin forced himself awake from the dream, panting, his head aching. Fuck, he was too old for this Pigtown one-night-stand bullshit, he fucking knew better than to drink like he was twenty again. He heard snoring next to him in his bed, and was happy to see that the ache was worth it–he’d brought home one handsome, soft, pudgy cub. He pulled back the covers, admiring the young man’s smooth, lightly furred skin, his full, round ass. His cock was already hard again–what cub didn’t want to wake up to daddy cock, anyway? He took a moment to grab a cigar and light it, sucking it deep, stroking himself hard, lubing up, and then slid it into the cub’s hole. It was still a bit loose and greasy from the night’s activities, and the slumbering boy whimpered a bit, Justin pushing in–

Rough. Yeah, fuckin’ rough. The men were watching them, the older, chubby bear bent over, begging for “daddy’s” cock, the twink behind him, trying to imitate a gruff, older voice, making the bear beg for his thick bear cock. Justin didn’t know what had come over him–looking down, he could feel the tattoos pressing into him, see the fur starting to sprout around them, but all he could focus on was his “cub’s” ass, working a couple fingers in, sucking down smoke, and then he got to fucking. Rough–his boy needed to be taught a lesson. Across his upper back, Justin could see the thick, bold lettering of the word “DADDY”, but it seemed to be fading. At first he thought it was just the smoke, but then he felt the tingle on his back as he fucked him harder and deeper, felt the words on him, worming into his skin. The hair was all over him now, growing in thick, but rather than brown like his hair, it was looking grey like the smoke he was chuffing from his cigar. He felt bigger too, stronger, more in charge, dominant, in control. A daddy bear, through and through.

And his cub! Fuck, he couldn’t be much older than 21. He was a bit shorter now, and had lost much of his muscle, all of it packing itself onto Justin’s thick frame. Now he was chubby and soft, moaning and begging for daddy’s cock.

“Fuck yes, deeper Daddy! – Oh god, fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum!”

The cub ground his cock into the bed, spasming around Justin’s cock as he dumped a load into his daddy’s sheets. “Yeah, that’s a good bitch cub, you want daddy’s seed in your guts boy?”

“Fuck daddy, you know I do…”

“Well here it fuckin’ comes!” Justin said, buried his cock in deep, and let loose, pumping the young man full, gripping his soft flab in his old hands, and then collapsed down on him, panting, letting his cock go soft in him.

“You’d make a great alarm clock, you know.”

“Fuck boy, all I wanna do now is go back to sleep,” Justin said with a laugh, and rolled off him. The cub followed, snuggling up to him, running his hand through daddy’s thick, grey chest hair, over his hard pecs, and through his inch long beard. “Did you…tell me your name?” he eventually asked, “I don’t remember…”

“You’ve just been calling me ‘cub’ and ‘boy’ all night, not that I mind. But it’s Evan, if you want to know. Can I have some of that cigar? I need a smoke.”

Justin handed him the cigar and watched the cub puff for a moment, certain he could remember a different face, an older face, but it must have just been a trick of his head and the smoke. Once they’d smoked it down to a butt, they got up finally, shared a shower, and Daddy couldn’t resist one more turn at Evan’s cub hole, not that the boy was helping, fondling Justin’s thick cock every chance he got. Justin also sucked him off in the shower and savored his cum–nothing tasted quite as good as cubcum to him. By then it was early afternoon, and Justin had avoided looking at himself in the mirror. Something about his reflection was unnerving him–he seemed…too old for some reason. Not just a little older, not like his age was creeping up on him, but like he could almost remember being Evan’s age–that dream kept coming back to him. Hadn’t he had something like that the day before?

He grew a bit distant after they shared a meal. Evan probed, but Justin said he wasn’t looking for anything serious, and the cub, a bit disappointed, left. Without him there, however, he grew a bit antsy, and wished he could have kept him there for another night or two. He jacked off, exploring his body, looking and admiring his tattoos–his smoke sleeves, the bear paws on his chest, “DADDY” across his back. He could always head to Pigtown again. He did have work tomorrow of course, but something…something told him he needed to go back again. That something wasn’t finished. He got dressed up in jeans and a tight shirt and headed over, greeting the bouncer by name, and the bartender already knew what Justin wanted to drink when he got to the bar.

Justin’s Lost Nights (Part 1)

Justin rolled over groggily in his bed. Out too late last night, and too much to drink. Still, when better to make bad decisions than while you’re young, right? He couldn’t even remember where he’d ended up. He rolled up and sat on the side of his bed, one hand collecting a cigar and his lighter from the nightstand, and he took a moment to get it lit, puffing gently, getting his first bit of morning smoke in his lungs. Much better–get rid of that fuzzy tongue and take the edge off his headache–once he takes a piss and eats something, he might feel mostly normal again. He stood up, and left a trail haze of smoke behind him as he walked to his bathroom, not really paying attention to the other person rolling awake in his bed.

He turned on the light, but it was too bright for his eyes. He pissed squinting, and managed to blink them open. He went to fill his glass for some water, say his arm, and nearly dropped his cigar in the sink. Tattoos. His entire arm and hand was covered in tattoos up to his shoulder. He didn’t have any tattoos–he fucking hated tattoos…didn’t he? As he stared at it, a memory came to him, something powerful–

The room was dark, mostly lit by the hallways and rooms next to it, the air thick with smoke. He didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Someone saw him, a burly guy, thick cigar wedged in his mouth, his arms coated with tattoos that looked like tendrils of smoke, with a flash of red around his wrist. Taking a closer look, it was the burning butt of a cigar, his hands also tattooed the texture of the brown leaf, and he felt himself drawn to him, drawn to his smoke.

They were making out, the man feeding him smoke, and as much as Justin didn’t want it, his body sucked it in deeply. He could feel…something wrapping around his arms and hands, something tingling. Breaking away, he gasped–seeing the tattoos unwinding from the man’s arms and winding their way around his instead, like they were alive, and he could feel the heat, but all he wanted was the man’s cigar. He took it from his mouth, and sucked the smoke in for himself, sucked it deep, so deep–

“Here you are,” a voice said behind him. Justin turned around and found himself face to face with the man he’d just remembered from the bar, except his arms were completely bare. “You really do smoke those things from dawn to dusk.”

He was trying to hold onto what he’d just seen, but it was fading like a nightmare, with just a residue of unease hanging over him. “Yeah…it’s…it’s a habit.”

“Well I think it’s sexy as fuck, especially on a young guy like you. No one your age smokes cigars like that.”

“Look…I must have had too much to drink last night. Did you…come home with me?”

The older bear nodded walking over and wrapping his arms around Justin’s body. His hairy arms felt strange against his smoother skin, the man quite a bit bigger than he was as well. Then again, Justin was smaller than most people, at five seven and 160 pounds, “Sure did, and we had quite the night. Too bad you don’t remember it. Guess that means I’ll have to give you some more to remember this morning.” The man leaned in and locked lips with him, sucking the smoke from his mouth–

They weren’t alone, people were watching, but they didn’t care. The tattoos burned, but he welcomed it, just like he was welcoming the smoke into his lungs, like a friend he hadn’t seen in years. The man shoved him down; he exhaled smoke all over his hard cock and balls, warming them, held the burning end close enough to singe hairs, feeling his shiver and spasm, and when he’d been edged to the point of heaving breaths, Justin turned him around and started blowing smoke up his ass, the bear moaning, begging him for his cock, and he slid it in, feeling the heat of his smoke and the heat of his body–

The bear was bent over the counter, Justin fucking him roughly. One tattooed arm was holding down his head while he groaned, the other holding his cigar. He took another deep breath, staring at himself, trying to remember what he’d been. Before he’d felt those tattoos snake around him…or had…had he gotten them himself? He fucking…fucking loved cigars. Couldn’t live without them. He took another deep suck of smoke, his cock close, thrust himself over the edge, and unloaded deep into the bear’s hole, both of them panting, the bathroom choked with smoke.

“F-Fuck…For a little guy, you sure don’t fuck around.”

Justin slid his cock out and stumbled back. “S-Sorry, I just, kind of lost it there…”

“I’m not complaining man, I love that shit,” the bear said, “Now, how about breakfast? My treat.”

They went out, but breakfast was an exercise in torture for Justin. Away from his cigars, the food tasting bland and uninteresting, when all he could think about was lighting up again. He made small talk as best he could, however, and managed to pry more information out of the guy–or Robin, as he eventually learned. Apparently, they’d hooked up at a bar downtown called Pigtown. It didn’t sound familiar to Justin at all, but Robin told him it was the best club in town.

“No rules man–anything goes. The health department doesn’t even know about it. The fuckin’ best.”

The best or not, Justin knew something strange had happened to him and Robin there the night before. He tried to tell him about his strange visions, but Robin found them boring. He tried to suggest they go back, but Robin had work on Sunday, so he couldn’t be out late.

“Every night at Pigtown is a late night, you know.” Robin said with a grin. “And I’ve had a few too many late nights there lately. Not even sure who I am anymore, you know?”

Justin didn’t. But he got directions from Robin, and when evening came, returned, chuffing his cigars the whole way, already thinking he’d been smoking for most of his life, and everyone there seemed to welcome him like a friend.

The Fetish Gun (Part 9)

Ray tried to pry himself away from the nipple in his mouth, and Jeff watched him struggle for a few moments, smiling the whole time. A few times he took a wild swing or two at the gun, but Jeff had crouched well out of reach, where he could watch him struggle. Eventually, he gave up, and asked, “You wanna make me a cow? Fine, get it fucking over with then.”

“Be a little patient, I’m still trying to decide on what kind of cow to make you, you know? Still, why don’t we start with this,” Jeff said, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger, holding it down for close to fifteen seconds, before releasing the button, revealing a very different Ray when the light dimmed away.

He was no longer kneeling–in fact, he was even shorter than Wade, making him the perfect height to keep sucking at his tit. However, instead of Wade’s muscle, Ray’s body had ballooned with fat. He still had on a complete leather uniform, however the leather now looked comical on his round figure, the leather pulled tight over his rolls and apron, the seat of his pants massively wide to accommodate his much fatter ass. Ray could feel an odd wetness around his heavy moobs as his nipples started to spontaneously pump cum out, but with nowhere to go, it ran down inside his shirt, making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. A second burst of the gun eliminated the uniform entirely, leaving him naked up top aside from a wide strap leather harness cutting into his fat, his own massive set of balls flopping out of some crotchless leather shorts, rubbing against Wade’s, both of them soaking each other in their cum.

“What do you think, Ray? You enjoying yourself? It sure looks like you are. This fucking cow sure does love it. Look at him, completely mindless, ruled by instinct–what do you think Ray? Is that what you’d like? You want me to empty out that head of yours? You want to be drooling, just a fucking sack of milk for men to drink all day, every day? Or is that too easy for someone like you? Maybe you should just rot away in there, your head dulling a bit more, day by day, feeling your sense of self drain away until you finally give in and there’s nothing left to lose?”

Ray tried to talk, but the only thing that emerged was a series of moos and grunts. No matter how hard he tried to form them, he couldn’t seem to make an intelligible word.

“Oh stop trying, Ray–cows don’t get to talk, you know that. Cows don’t get to make decisions. Cows don’t get to beg. Pup–do me a favor and plow this cow’s ass pussy for a while. I want him to take a moment to think about what might be coming for it in the future.”

“Yes sir!” Ben said, and happily came around behind Ray, got on his knees, and drove his cock in between the fat cheeks of his ass. The cock slid in smoothly, and Ray let out a long, deep moo of pleasure, cum spewing helplessly from his tiny nipplecock. By now, the two cows had a full-fledged puddle of cum and milk between them, and every eye in the place was glued to them–letting Ray turn the dial on the gun to setting E. But instead of shooting it at any one person–he instead pointed it up at the ceiling of the bar, and pulled the trigger, focusing on the image in his mind like he’d seen Ray do the night before, when they’d turned that shitty breeder sport’s bar into this fine leather establishment, but this time he had a different idea in mind. The gun’s light flew out in a shower, up to the ceiling and then cascaded down around onto the entire bar and everyone in it, the light throbbing and pulsing, absorbing all of them aside from Jeff, who kept still in the middle of the maelstrom until the gun’s power finally drained away, it’s battery exhausted for the night, leaving him in a place much different from what it had been.

Now it was the filthy bathhouse of his dreams, and he was the sole proprietor. He wasn’t standing in a bar–rather it was a dimply lit locker room, and his pup was fucking one of their in house milk cows over a bench. Ben had changed quite a bit–gaining a substantial amount of muscle, but that was important, since he was the primary bouncer and enforcer. He finished with a few loud grunts and slid his cock free, before dragging the cow back to its cage, shoving it inside, hooking up the milker and turning it on, Ray’s attempts at resistance melting away into moans of pleasure as the pumps sucked away at him. Wade was in the cage beside him, hooked up to his own machines. The two of them stored the milk and sold it on tap–each of their milks was highly sought after in the bulking and gaining communities–Wade’s for building muscle, and Ray’s for packing on fat.

“What do you think, pup? Think we’ll be happy here?” Jeff asked.

He gave him a confused look, unsure of what his Master meant. Hadn’t they always owned the bathhouse?

Jeff rolled his eyes and ordered his pup down to suck his cock, deciding it was best not to worry. He was happy–and if he ever wasn’t happy, he was confident the gun could take care of any nuisance that might crop up in the future.

The End (Of this storyline at least)

The Fetish Gun (Part 8)

The three of them, two filthy derelict biker and one short, overmuscled pig with milk leaking from his tits and cock, left the apartment building and never returned. A few neighbors witnessed them leaving, but for some reason none of them regarded it as particularly odd, after Jeff shot them with the gun of course, and each of them returned to their own, newly fetished lives without another thought–sometimes literally.

Jeff was ecstatic. Finally, it was his. Sure, at first he’d resented Ray for changing him without even asking him first, but in that old body, he’d realized how…wonderful it was to be in control. One night, Ray made him his own personal pain slave, and that whole night…it had opened his eyes. This is how life was meant to be lived, but he’d always been second fiddle, until now. Now he was the one really in charge. Now he had the gun, now he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and what he wanted now was a whole lot of fucking–starting with Ray, of course.

Ben remained a few respectful steps behind his master, still trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened to him that evening, from the alley to the apartment, and now this. Who even was he, anymore? His mind tried to answer the question for him, telling him he was Master Jeff’s obedient biker pup, that he’d do anything for him, that he’d serve him for the rest of his life, and even though he knew that was wrong, the words rang so true so deeply that it was quickly becoming impossible for him to even imagine an alternative…and yet, there had to be one, right? He could still barely remember walking into that alley to take a piss, and then…then everything. But that was getting harder and harder to hold onto, and fading faster than he could believe–in fact, by the time they reached the bar, he no longer remembered any of it. Instead, his head had filled in the blanks with a new life, a life spent at Jeff’s dirty boot heel, and he loved every moment of it.

Wade wasn’t thinking anything at all–his entire mind had been wiped, replaced by simple, instinctual impulses. His massive balls and missing cock were on display for all the see, and he felt no shame, or pride, or anything. What he did feel was pain. His balls and pecs were…brimming with cum and milk, and he needed release, soon, or his mind worried he might simply explode. The thump of his thighs against his huge sack as he walked helped, a jet of cum fling out with each forward step, and he kept his hands locked on his nipples, tugging and yanking and twisting them like faucets, his chest and gut soaked with his own milk, but it wasn’t enough. He would slow on occasion, and Master would yank on his nose ring, the bell around his neck clinking, and he’d give a pained moo, but pick up the pace, hopeful that his master would give him relief soon.

After a twenty minute walk, they arrived back at Ray’s bar–the bar he’d fashioned with his leather master sensibilities in mind, and while a day earlier Jeff had been in love with the place, now it seemed…far too clean and bright and open. He wanted dingy concrete. He wanted urinals and tobs brimming with piss. He wanted darkness and red lights and unknown bodies grinding against his. Still, that could wait–Ray was in there, at the bar, his personal bartender serving him bourbon. He looked annoyed–Jeff was late, but he’d been late for good reason. Still, he couldn’t confront him yet–he had something else in mind first. From here, he could do whatever he wanted to Ray, of course, but it had to be perfect–and he had just such an idea in his head.

“Cow, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go in there and walk up to him, just let him notice you, and let him do whatever he wants to you–got it?”

Wade understood, and he waddled inside. He turned quite a few heads, including Ray, who could barely believe what he was seeing…and then he recognized him as their missing thief, and then the gun’s ray struck him right in the chest. he barely had time to register what had happened, and then he was up, his nose flaring, drawing him closer to the mancow approaching him, and he fell to his knees, latched onto a nipple, and started sucking, helpless to the crippling addiction that had overwhelmed him suddenly. The pleasure hit Wade in wave after wave, cum spewing freely from his cock, the entire bar watching what was happening.

“Having a good evening, Ray?”

He managed to crook his eyes up, and saw Jeff approaching him, the gun in his hand, “Fuck…Fuck you, fucking stop this,” he managed to saw with the nipple still glued to his lips.

“I’m not doing anything, Ray. You seem like the one who should stop, if you don’t want to make a complete fool of yourself. Then again, it doesn’t feel like you want to stop, now does it?” he added, slipping one dusty boot between them, pressing the outside against Ray’s still massive, sensitive sack and making him groan with pleasure and pain, “In fact, I bet you’d like to be a cow too, eh? Making some milk of your own. How does that sound?” He adjusted the dial on the gun, “I think it sounds pretty good myself.”

The Fetish Gun (Part 7)

Jeff held down the trigger for a few moments, before releasing it; the light dying away and revealing Ben once again. He was essentially the same, but with a few very important differences, the most obvious being the thick chain necklace he now wore, with an industrial padlock holding it together Jeff had no idea where the key was–he’d lost it ages ago, but that didn’t matter. As far as either of them was concerned, Ben would never be taking it off for the rest of his life. Jef stepped closer to him, their combined musk overwhelming them both, wrapped one hand around the back of his pup’s neck, feeling the lank, greasy hair in his grimy fingers, and thrust his tongue into Ben’s eager mouth, tasting him for the first time, and for the thousandth.

This wasn’t the first time Jeff had been subjected to setting C. When his friend had found the gun, that was the setting he’d used to turn him into his duplicate uniform master. What he hadn’t expected was for the changes to flow in both directions this time. Granted, the first time he’d been perfectly neutral, so perhaps that explained why his former half hadn’t changed at all. Still, that was something to figure out later–he pushed down on Ben’s shoulders, and his pups knees immediately buckled, hauling out his master’s pungent cock just in time to catch a facefull of piss blasted across his face.

“What…happened? Why I so…fuck…*moooooaaann*…”

Jeff looked over to where the now incredibly freakish cow on the other side of the couch. He chuckled to himself as he pissed down his pup’s throat, and pointed the gun at Wade, who was still helplessly twisting his massive, leaking nipples.

“Nooooo…” he groaned, trying to back away, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“Don’t you worry–I’m just going to help you become the cow you were always meant to be–the cow you want to be, I’m sure,” Jeff said, and pulled the trigger. After a few seconds, he released it, and Wade stood there, all intelligence drained from his eyes. He was no longer even capable of speaking–just grunting, moaning, and mooing of course. His body was relatively unchanged, aside from the fact that he was covered in a tattoo pattern of brown spots and the word “COW” etched across his forehead, a heavy steel door knocker pierced through his septum hanging lower than his lips, and a chain collar similar to Ben’s, but this one hooked to a cow bell resting on Wade’s massive chest.

He’d finished pissing, and his pup had moved onto his usual blow job, happily sucking at Jeff’s cock, desperate to be of service to his master. With his two targets relatively neutralized, Jeff finally had a chance to inspect the damage which had been done to him, when Wade had shot him earlier, and he inspected himself, and his mind, getting to know his new self. Physically he was similar–aside from some of his musculature being traded for a layer of fat–but that helped him and his pup stay warm in the winters as they travelled on their bikes. A couple of filthy, nasty derelict bikers, that was them–a gang of two, bathing in piss, drinking cum, going from city to city, robbing and raping as they went, taking what they needed before taking off again.

Part of him was disgusted–but he was used to that at this point. That bit of him, that old quivering Jeff that he could barely remember anymore, he didn’t fucking matter. Still, should he change himself back? Give himself back his pristine uniform? His perfect body? He thought about it, watching Ben suck his cock, and decided against it. He didn’t want that anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted this before, but he wanted this now, and that was more than enough for him. Still, there was the matter of revenge on his former half, and how to deal with him.

Ray had been the one who’d found the gun–he’d started all of this. The two of them had split up tonight to try and find the guy who’d stolen it from them–but it had never really been them, now had it? Ray had always called all the shots, made all the decisions, but now he was going to be in charge–and looking at his new cow, he realized he had the perfect idea of what to do with him, when he got back to the bar for their rendezvous. Fuck, just thinking about it, he was gonna explode, and he shot his load down Ben’s throat, his pup drinking it down eagerly into his belly, before standing back up with a grin on his face. “You look like you have something dirty planned, boss,” he said.

“Heh, you know me too well, boy,” Jeff said, “Come on, I have some business to take care of tonight.” Jeff picked up a leash he usually used for his pup, but instead he attached it to the thick ring in his cow’s nose. “You too–you’re gonna love this cow–just you fuckin’ wait.”

The Fetish Gun (Part 6)

Back in his apartment, Wade settled down on the couch, parking Ben between his legs where he could suck down all the milky cum he wanted, and began experimenting with the gun on his new whore. Setting B, it seemed, was the easiest–it simply turned someone into whatever he wanted them to become. Setting A, as far as he could guess, would tailor the target to their current environment, but he wasn’t certain. Setting D amplified someone’s current form and fetishes to be even more extreme than before. That left two final settings which he had no clue about. One of them had to change people back, right? That was probably setting E–the last one. Out of curiousity, he turned the dial to E and fired it at Ben, figuring he could always change him back–but nothing happened. It was like the light wouldn’t even stick to him, or do anything at all. More confused than ever, he turned the dial to the letter C and fired it at Ben again. This time the light stuck, enveloping him in an aura like before–however when it dissipated Ben hadn’t changed at all. He fired it again at him, but like with setting E, the light refused to stick. Was it broken? Why in the world wasn’t it doing anything?

That was as far as he got, before a booted foot started kicking at his door. Ben pried himself away from Wade’s cock, who stood up and looked down the short hallway. After three kicks, the bolt broke through the door frame and the door swung open, revealing one of the uniformed men he escaped from the night before, his balls still massive, and he did not look happy. The man saw the gun in Wade’s hand and charged at him–Wade raised it up and shot him as he came crashing towards him, and the light engulfed him…and Ben, standing beside him, an umbilical tendril connecting them both together for a few moments, before disappearing. The gun had done nothing to stop the intruder’s momentum and he slammed into Wade, the gun flying from his hand behind the couch, and he began wrestling with the man on the carpet, eventually throwing him to the side, scrambling up to his feet, and finding Ben standing there, the gun shaking in his hand, the barrel pointed right at him.

The stranger stood up next to him, and the three of them remained still, allowing Wade to see what had just happened. It was clear that setting C was designed for two targets–both Ben and the man had been changed–and it looked like, to Wade, that the two of them had absorbed each other’s fetishes and lives, meeting somewhere in the middle. Both of them were dressed head to toe in leather, however it was no longer a police uniform, but appeared to be cast off biker leathers, all of it heavily worn, tattered and filthy. Wade could smell them both, in fact–Ben had stank of musk and piss as they’d come back to the apartment, and now they both did. It was clear that Ben’s obsession with piss had worn off in the other direction.

“What…what the fuck should we do with him?” Ben asked, looking at the man like a fellow conspirator, “He fucking…fucking fucked with me Jeff, we gotta, I don’t know…make him pay.”

“Look, Ben, just calm down, and give me the gun. It’s all going to be alright,” the man said…but how did he know Ben’s name? “Give me the gun, and the two of us will sort this whole thing out.”

“No!” Wade said, “No, don’t give it to him, he’ll just–” but that was as far as Wade got, before the light struck him in the chest. He assumed, at first, that the gun would still be on setting C–however, he started to feel a familiar warmth, and realized that the dial must have twisted when he’d thrown it, meaning things were about to get a whole lot worse. He tried to move, tried to reach out and deflect the ray, but his arms wouldn’t budge. It was getting harder to think, harder to focus on much of anything, but he tried to, he tried to keep himself together, until the light finally dimmed away.

Ben stared at Wade on the other side of the couch, unable to believe what he was seeing. If the man who’d accosted him in the alley had been a freak before…well, now he was even stranger. He’d lost even more height, bringing him under five feet tall, but he’d packed on even more muscle somehow, making him look like a short fleshy wall–especially his pecs, which ballooned out from his body before sagging down, made heavy by the milk inside them already seeping from his huge, two inch long nipples, running down the front of his body. His cock was nowhere to be found–just a nub over a sack of balls larger than anything Ben had imagined possible, larger than a basketball, resting on his thighs. Wade ran his hands over his body, trying to process what had happened, but his mind was suddenly too dull to do much thinking at all. There was…something about a gun, something important, but it was already fading as he started twisting his nipples with his fat hands, milk spurting from the onto the couch, his nub of a cock spurting as well, while he let out a loud, surprisingly authentic moo from his gaping mouth.

Ben was still staring at what he’d done, when Jeff (that was his name, but Ben had no idea how he could possibly know that…except how could he not? The two of them were inseparable, of course) walked up to him, and gently lifted the gun from his hands. “What…what did I just do? I didn’t mean, I…”

“Hey man, it’s alright, I know,” Jeff said, turning the dial on the gun, “Hold still, this will make everything better.”

Ben turned in time to see the gun fire, and everything disappeared in a blaze of light.

Did NCMC just implode for no reason?I know you’re disassociated but I figure you’d have an ear out. All I get is a link to a zip archive.

From what I’ve heard, following along with the thread over on CYOC, that the guy in charge of the NCMC up and quit, and perhaps deleted the site infrastructure. No one seems to know why. No one knows if it was backed up or not. The guy who runs erotichypnosis.com had a hand in the NCMC, but wasn’t hosting it; apparently he’s looking to recreate it. I know that Changes, who runs CYOC, has offered to take over hosting the site under the CYOC umbrella (much like he did with TF Spot) but that’s all I’ve heard. People are trying to save it–I think the question is going to be whether there is anything of the old infrastructure left to save, beyond the archive, but all of this is subject to change, and may wrong. If you’re a member at the CYOC, you can find the discussion here. 

Also, for the record, the NCMC has remained one of my go to sites, and I’m very much upset over it shutting down. I certainly had issues with the moderator and the community, leading me to stop posting stories and content on the site, but it was a very important cog in this genre, and there’s really nothing that can take it’s place–I very much hope it get’s revived, and maybe with some fresh, active moderation, it might even be improved over time.

My Boys – Part 6

It was at least an hour later when the door to the motel room finally clicked open, and Bruce stepped into the room. His boys were still fucking, just as he’d hoped they would be–such good boys. The fur coating Nick’s entire body was matted to his skin and soaked with sweat–he hadn’t once removed his cock from his brother’s hole, and it had grown looser and looser, his cum spilling back out and onto the bed beneath them. Sean was doing his best to play with his own cock as his big brother fucked him–it had taken a while, but he’d eventually found a good grip that let him hold on tight past his huge gut. He too, had shot multiple loads. However, as soon as the door opened and their father stepped inside, the commands he’d given them ended, and Nick immediately hauled his cock out of his brother’s ass and stepped back, unable to believe what he’d been doing.

“Glad to see you two found someway to entertain yourselves,” Bruce stepped inside, and a man came in after him–the boys immediately recognized his as their uncle, but he looked quite a bit different from the fat cook he’d been before. For one, he was smoking, but instead of a pipe luike their daddy, he had a short, stubby cigar clamped in his jaw, chuffing smoke. He’d certainly grown back to his previous size, after Sean had drained him of cum, but the weight he’d gained back had been more equal between fat and muscle–he was still soft, but underneath it was obvious he was strong and hard, a real bull of a man. He’d sprouted quite a bit of hair as well, not nearly as much as Nick had, but he was quite furry, with a massive bulge in his jeans straining at the fabric.

“What…what the fuck did you do? This is fucking insane,” Nick said, “Change…change us back, and give us our dad back, you fucking–”

The cook stepped between Bruce and Nick, and gave the boy a hard smack across the face, which sent him reeling into the dresser–strong was an understatement, Nick realized, and he felt a bit of fear well up in him. “You know better ‘n tah talk to yer elders like that boy. Now apologize.”

“S-Sorry…daddy…” Nick said.

“It’s alright you two–I don’t mind boys with a bit of fight in them. It keeps things interesting, and I know you’re jonesin’. Still, you might find that your uncle is less forgiving than me, and much less willing to entertain any antics. He’s rather serious, you know–I’d be careful,” Bruce winked, and then sniffed the air, “Fuck boy, you stink. Just as good as I fuckin’ remember. Git over here Jared, smell this boy’s nasty pits.”

Before Nick could stop him, the cook–Jared, apparently–hauled up one of Nick’s arms, shoved his face in his pit, and took a deep snort, “Fuck, he’s fuckin’ rank.”

Nick hadn’t noticed, but now that his dad had pointed it out, he could smell himself, and part of him wanted to retch, and go take a shower. He started for the bathroom, but Jared grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him back, throwing him onto the other bed, while Sean struggled with his fat form to simply sit up.

“Now boys,” Bruce said, “I’m gonna have to spend a few days away–Daddy’s got some very important business to attend to, so we can have a good future together, as a family. So while I’m gone, ya’ll are just gonna be good boys, and wait here at the motel for me. Jared’s gonna be lookin’ after both a ya, so you’re gonna have tah do everything he says, you got it? You’ll do it, and you’ll like it, whether you want to or not.”

He paused a moment, looking from one boy to the other, and then picked up a plastic bag he’d brought in with him, and pulled out, first, several cans of chewing tobacco. Nick barely understood what happened next, as he took the cans from his hands, opened one, and stuffed as much of the leaf in his mouth as he could, until he had two bulging wads pushing out his cheeks on each side, and he sighed, the headache and anger he’d felt ebbing away, replaced by a calm alertness. “Fuck daddy, I fuckin’ needed that…” Nick said.

“Language, boy,” Jared said, but only glared at Nick, instead of delivering another snap.

“I know ya did–and ya’ll be needing plenty more,” Bruce said, and handed the rest of the bag to him–it was filled with tins of tobacco, and Nick resisted the urge to put even more in his mouth.

Jared had a bag of his own, which he brought over to Sean, “You boy, since ya take after me, yer daddy thought ya should smoke cigars like me, how’s that sound?”

“But I…I don’t want to smoke…” Sean said.

“Now boy, everyone in our family needs tobacco, you know that. Don’t worry, Uncle Jared is looking forward to training you–you’ll enjoy yourself soon enough. You won’t even be able to imagine having something other than a cigar in your mouth all day, every day, before too long.”

Sean opened his mouth to protest again, but Jared locked lips with him, and shoved a lungful of cigar smoke into his lungs. Nick watched them share it for a minute, his fat brother’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, and when Jared pulled away, Sean didn’t object when his uncle placed the cigar he’d had right in his boy’s teeth, and told him to “smoke up like a good boy.”

“Alright, remember, ya’ll do everything your uncle says, and most important, you wait for me. You don’t fight him, you don’t try and kill him, you be good boys, like you’d be for me, and everything will be find in a few days. I expect you two to behave. Do you two understand?”

“Yes Daddy,” they both said, and then Bruce smiled, and slipped from the room, started the car and drove off down the road with the screech of tires.

“Guess that means you’re mine boys,” Jared said, “I think we’re gonna have a grand time, don’t you?”