Virtual Revenge (Demo)

Something new for my supporters on Patreon!

This is an early draft of an interactive story/game I’ve been working on. It’s currently about half finished, but playable. The game was made with the twine engine–all you have to do is download the file and run it with the web browser of your choice. Be warned–there may be the occasional bug and I also haven’t had a chance to do a deep edit, so typos and formatting issues are bountiful.

A short synopsis: you’re a young businessman who seems to have run afoul of a stranger. You’ve been locked in a virtual reality pod, and are forced to experience several sexually perverse simulations. There are a number of possible endings in the demo–each playthrough is fairly unique (technically there are 64 possible “forms” it could take), so be sure to go through it a few times. The story is fairly heavy on slob fetish, but contains no scat.

This demo is available for anyone who’s given any amount–anything from one dollar and up! I hope to have a full version finished by the end of the summer, which will be available for all patrons donating five dollars or more a month. That may be the only way to receive the full version, unless I later sell the story separately through gumroad. I hope you enjoy the demo, and thanks for your patronage!

Albert’s Last Party (Part 2)

The revelers began to arrive, and the house was oddly quiet–usually Albert had the stereo going early, but the young men approached the house, not really paying attention as the girls arriving turned away, each of them suddenly realizing they had better ways of spending their time. The young men entered, and found the foyer littered with small, wrapped boxes–all of them with names on the tags, aside for a few left aside, unnamed, for anyone who had come uninvited or unexpected. The young men were suspicious, but the tags were all written in Albert’s hand writing. Still, a few managed to resist the pull and left–good for them, they didn’t deserve to be punished, in my opinion. Others were greedy enough to open the boxes, revealing a pipe of their own given from my collection–and found themselves unable to resist packing them with the provided tobacco and lighting them up, the room full of smoke, as they filed their way down the basement stairs, where they found that the rec room–the usual dance floor–had been converted into a sex dungeon, and that there in the center of the room, chained into a sling, was Albert.

None of them knew how they knew it was Albert–but they knew. They also knew that they were here to help punish him–and more than a few, I could sense, also could tell that they might be down here to be punished as well. I was next to Albert, no longer wearing a suit, but my own leather gear, smoking a huge boswell pipe, and watched as they lined up at my boy’s ass, the first in line stripping off his clothes, stroking his cock hard, before pushing it into his friend’s ass.

I took this chance to poke around in his mind, seeing what kind of person he was. The first was lazy, greedy, and had raped several young girls at previous parties of Albert’s. By the time he came, I had shrunk his height to just under five feet, his cock to a meager one inch nub–he went and climbed into a sling as well, one thick hand toying with his loose, eager hole. One by one, the men filled my boy’s hole with their cum, and I judged them–some deserved leniency–I let them go on their way, though they would remain pipe smokers for the rest of their lives–a reminder that they should behave. Most, though, remained. I changed them as they fucked–my boy’s hole. Thick, burly, hairy bruisers covered with tattoos and hair, all of them dumb as rocks and no longer able to even think about something beyond their cocks. Other’s grew soft and fat, smoother, finding their minds consumed with various hungers–food, cum, piss, musk, filth. Before the line had ended, the room around us had turned into an orgy–the first in line taking town fists in his hole, another obese man surrounded by a group of muscle bears, bathing in their piss and cum, other’s in pairs and triples, exploring each other’s bodies and various holes, hungrily sharing fluids and smoke. But finally the last one finished his fuck, and joined the others, allowing me to finally take my turn at my boy’s hole.

Boy. It was tongue and cheek now. Every load of cum had aged him, and Albert now looked to be in his mid fifties, only a few years younger than I appeared. His massive beard was a tangled mass with a streak of white down the middle, his body covered with a riot of tattoos, his head bald aside from a short horseshoe of grey. His hole was loose and slick with cum, but he wanted to please me. He’d forgotten all about the old Albert at this point–now, he remembered something entirely different. How he’d pledged his life to me, promised to be my horny, cock hungry and cum starved fuckslave for the rest of his days. I came, and several men returned for seconds helpings of his hole–one especially filthy looking bear more interested in eating the cum from it and licking it off the floor than anything else. I took a tour of the room, filling in gaps here, intensifying a fetish there, cementing a relationship or two in stone. It was early morning by the time I was satisfied, and the men, all of them exhausted, but still sucking smoke from their pipes, filed their way back up from the basement, their old clothes and old lives forgotten in heaps left on the basement floor.

In the entry way, there were more gifts–larger ones this time, again with their names on the tag. New lives for all of them–they had all wasted the silver spoon gifted to them by their parents, and so I saw no reason why they shouldn’t have to work just as hard as I had, if they wanted to reclaim the quality of life they’d wasted partying, and ruining my sleep. Dirt crusted construction workers, grimy trash collectors, older men in cheap suits still plugging away at dead end office jobs–those were the lucky ones. Others became sex addled, unemployed rednecks who’d lived in the same filthy single wide trailers their whole lives, homeless bikers who spent their time whoring their bodie out at truck stops, and the worst became derelicts who spent their time begging for piss and cum outside of gay bars in the city. But none of them knew lives other than those any longer, and I didn’t regret it, watching them stumble out to their trucks and motorcycles and beat up sedans, driving off into the dawn, leaving me and my fat, old boy alone, and we returned to my–well, our–home.

The couple returned from their vacation on Monday, now childless, and stopped by to thank me and my “boy” for watching the house for them while they were away. I told them it had been no trouble at all, and we would be happy to do it again in the future. In fact, I had quite enjoyed that party I’d thrown, not that I told them about that, and figured I might host a few more with the men I’d changed in the future, to check on their progress. They did have one question which almost got me to laugh–there as a strange stain that had appeared on the Persian rug in the entryway–they wanted to know if either of us knew what had happened.

I shared a knowing look with my old boy through the haze of our pipe smoke, but told them no, neither of us had any idea. Still, if they needed help getting it out, I had an old secret for stains–it worked like magic.

Albert’s Last Party (Part 1)

Look, I’ve worked hard my whole life. I saved my money so I could retire and move into a neighborhood like this, a neighborhood where I expected there to be some standards, where I could expect quiet weekends, not like the city apartments I’d grown up in, listening to rude neighbors and loud parties while I was just trying to relax after a long week. Things had changed, however–some people just didn’t know how to respect others at all. Such was the case with my next door neighbor’s bratty son, currently a sophomore in some expensive ivy league college he didn’t deserve to be attending, but now home for the summer making me miserable. His parents were nice enough, but they were jet setters–which meant that nearly every weekend was spent in some other luxurious resort or foreign country, leaving their house in the hands of their irresponsible son, and the parties! They shook the foundations, I swear, and the cops wouldn’t do anything about it, since his father was very active in local politics. So I decided, one week, that I’d had enough.

I had a friendly chat with his father, asking about their future travel plans–they were taking a long weekend to London in a few weeks, leaving Thursday and returning Monday morning–more than enough time for my plan to work. You see, I inherited from my grandfather a…peculiar knack for magic. It had served me well in life, when I needed it–of course I got to where I was through my diligence and strength of character, but the extra boost on occasion did help, I must admit, but I hadn’t seen fit to use it in years. I dusted off my grimoires and brushed up on the various spells I’d be needing, and on the Friday morning after his parents had left for London, there was a ring from the doorbell, and an anonymous gift left on the doorstep–a small package, rather innocuous, with his name, “Albert” on the tag. I counted on him being more greedy than he was suspicious–it was an easily winnable bet, and he disappeared inside with my gift as I watched from the sidewalk, invisible to any normal person’s naked eye.

I waited a few hours. A few excruciatingly long hours, for someone who has some experience waiting. I suppose you don’t know very much about me, now do you? I probably look like I’m in my sixties to you–but the truth is I’m ninety-seven this year–thanks to a good dose of magic on occasion. That said, I enjoy being older–my portly gut, my hairy belly, relaxing around my lavish house smoking any number of pipes from my exquisitely curated collection. Yes, I’m a lifelong pipe smoker–every man needs a vice, right? I have hundreds in my possession, and I know all of them well, but I can sacrifice something I love in order to get what I want, on occasion.

As afternoon settled into evening, I walked from my house, no longer invisible, wearing one of my suits and carrying another package, looking like everything is perfectly normal, and knock on my neighbor’s door. And then I knock again. I can feel him in there, sense that his mind is…somewhat preoccupied, and give him a telepathic nudge as I knock a third time. A few moments later, I hear the lock in the door turn, and it opens, revealing Albert, one of my pipes locked in his teeth, billowing smoke. He’s naked, and from how he’s breathing, I can tell that I just interrupted him jacking off. He’d probably been jacking off for quite a while at this point, judging from redness of his shaft, but that isn’t all that’s happened to him.

Albert had always been chubby, with a shaved head and face, and a mostly smooth body I’d noticed watching him swim in the pool his parents kept in the backyard. However, nearly all of that had changed. He had a full beard, already several inches long. Hair had filled in all over his body, most noticeably in a thick bush around his cock, and he’s packed on close to fifty pounds, a huge belly jutting out in front of him, along with flabby moobs pierced with two metal rings he hadn’t had earlier. He stares at me, not knowing what to think of me anymore, looking me up and down, his eyes lingering over my own pipe and gut, until he mutters a one word question, “D-Daddy?”

“What of it, boy?” I ask, reaching out and twisting one of his nipple rings. He grabs my hand and pulls me inside, shutting the door behind us, gets down on the entry rug, his ass towards me, and who am I to resist such an invitation? The boy has needed a good fucking over for ages, really, and he groans and grunts like a pig, chuffing out smoke like a life long addict, and I watch his hair spread over his back and ass, his beard growing even longer. He cums several times just from my big cock buried in his ass, spoiling his parent’s obviously Persian rug, before I cum deep inside him.

“Tell me boy,” I ask, huffing after I pull my cock from his hole, “are you having one of your parties tonight?”

“Yes…yes, daddy.”

“Good, because it’s going to be a party you and all of your obnoxious friends won’t be forgetting for a long, time. Now go get dressed, we have to get ready for the party, don’t we?”

He stands up, my cum dribbling down one leg, and he turns to me. I can tell he wants to fight it, that he wants to yell and scream, but when I lean in and kiss him, shoving my smoke into his lungs, he simply melts into me, hungry for smoke, hungry for cock, hungry for daddy. So much hungrier than angry, and when we break apart, the thought of fighting has dissipated again. I put my suit back together, and drop the package at his feet. “Here are your party clothes, boy. I have some stuff to bring over, and I expect you to be dressed by the time I get back.”

Indeed. I had initially planned on just taking Albert down a notch or two, but as I’d been dipping my toes into magic again, I’d thought–why stop at Albert? All of his friends deserved a little comeuppance too. And so, I came back with a whole box filled with little gifts, and to find Albert fully dressed in his new leather chaps, vest, boots and collar. I checked his hole as well, and he’d even put in the buttplug without argument–such a good boy already. I set him to the work of filling in the gift tags with the names of all the boys he knew would be attending tonight’s party, while I got to work on the house. We only had a few hours after all, and we had to make sure everything was perfect.

Make Up (Part 3)

“…Ten. Wakey, Wakey.”

It was hard, hard being awake. It felt like he was trying to make his head do things that it hadn’t had to do in ages. He could remember, remember Rudy, remember some…filthy video. Something…he’d done something to him, but the thoughts were all jumbled together, and sorting them apart was too hard. He fumbled for a cigar on the table next to him, lit it, and that helped–only then did he realize that the apartment was different.

It was bare.

It had been furnished before–sparsely sure–but furnished. But now everything was in boxes, the furniture gone aside from the couch he was sitting on and the table next to him, where his cigars and lighter had been sitting. He also saw that he was alone. But if he was alone, then who had woken him up?

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, I really did plan on being with you forever, Ned.”

The voice. It was his nephew Rudy’s voice. No, not…not nephew. Not really. He looked over and saw an old tape recorder running on the side table.

“But, well, people change, you know? I decided I couldn’t stay tethered to my past forever, you know? You were stifling me. And Richard…he’s good to me, you know? But I could never let him see you–I mean, if he knew about you, what would he think of me? I have to leave. You understand, right?”

He didn’t understand. He tried to sit up, but he was so heavy. How long had he been asleep this time? He had no way of knowing, all he knew was that he felt different. The tape kept playing, Rudy kept talking and he didn’t care, he hefted himself up and waddled to the bathroom to look at himself. Once he got there and looked, he screamed louder than he believed he could.

What had that fucker done to him? He was a freak! Before he’d been obese, but now he had to weigh at least five hundred pounds of nearly pure blubber, all of it falling off him in chubby rolls in every direction. He was either naked, or nearly naked–he couldn’t see what he might have on under his apron–but every inch of skin was covered with tattoos–even his face, with the word “Pig” in bold type across his now shaved skull, aside from his mutton chops, which were now dyed a bright red. Piercings too–everywhere. He looked like how a pin cushion must feel, but all of them looked well healed. He must have had them all for months at least, the tattoos too, and this much ink couldn’t have put on him in a short time. He must have been out for two years at least, or maybe even longer. He had to find Rudy. He had to fix this somehow, there had to be something he could do.

Back in the main room, the tape was still playing. “…proud of you, you know. I never imagined that you’d take your perversion so far. I still can’t believe you let your Master cut off your cock and balls, videotape it, and put it on the internet.”

He froze.

No.

He hefted up his fat and started feeling around. Sure enough, he was naked, but he couldn’t find his cock, because…because even before he felt the empty space, he knew didn’t have a cock. He eventually found his piss hole though, buried in his gunt. But he had balls, right? He could feel them swinging there, though they seemed kind of heavy. He reached down to find them swinging between his fat thighs, but instead of his balls, he found a sack stuffed with two huge steel balls instead.

“Anyway, now I’m just drawing this out. It’s over, Ned. Your Master will come pick you up and take you home with him for good. But I couldn’t bear the thought that you’d never be fully awake again, you know? To go through life like a zombie, never knowing what you’ve done to yourself? Never knowing proud you should be of what you’ve done? It would have been such a shame. But you’re awake now–awake for good, ready to live your sick and twisted life to the fullest, just like I have to go live mine too, you know? So this is goodbye. I did love you, and I did this all because I love you. But people change. I hope you understand.”

The tape kept running, but it was just silence.

“Mo…Mo! Mu Mucker!” He put his hands to his mouth, and realized that he had no teeth, and something was wrong with his tongue–it had been split in two. He didn’t know how to talk anymore. He didn’t know anything. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t leave like this, he was trapped–

There was a knock at the door. A very specific knock–three hard raps, evenly spaced. He immediately walked to the door, opened it, and kneeled to the side, allowing his master to step inside the apartment–all while trying to figure out what he was doing. It had just felt…instinctual.

“All set then, pig?” Master asked.

He nodded. He didn’t know this man, but his voice…he knew this voice. This voice was…important to him. Necessary. Master looked to be in his early fifties, and was very out of shape with a heavy gut, though nothing like his own massive flabby form. If he fought, he could probably overpower him, but he couldn’t do that. That was a bad thought. He shouldn’t have bad thoughts like that, he knew better, Pig knew better. Pig knew lots better.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Master chuckled. “It’ll take some getting used to, Pig. But don’t worry–you’ll remember what to do. Hell, you’ve been my bitch for nearly seven years now–serving me’s like second nature to you, awake or not.”

Seven years? Seven fucking years? No, probably even longer than that, assuming they hadn’t met right away. Still, when Master presented his cock, he sucked it like he already knew precisely what his Master wanted, then swallowed his cum, and the full load of piss that chased it. Only then did Master give him a pair of leather shorts, and help his pig into them.

“Rudy said you’d best move in with me full time, now that he’s gone. You’re lucky you’re the best pig I’ve ever seen, or I’d probably just turn around and sell you off to these nasty, perverted bikers I’ve played with a few times. Still might do that, if you start to bore me.” He attached a leash to the thick chain collar around your neck, “Alright pig, I live across town. We’d better get going while the buses are still running. Rudy said he’ll take care of selling your shit for you. Say goodbye–you’re never gonna see this place again.”

Pig’s mind was still trying to process the fact that he was going to be seen in public like this, leashed with his Master, during the day. He couldn’t do this, this wasn’t him, this wasn’t his life. Rudy could just walk away from their history, but the past wasn’t something he could just leave. The past was scrawled all over him, the past was his fat body, his missing cock, his steel balls. And not even his past! Some other person’s past, he’d been asleep for all of it! Sleep. At least he could sleep again, perhaps. “Pleaz…pleaz Mhir, pleaz pu’ me back under, I’ll do anyming, pleaz…”

Master simply slapped him across the face. Hard, and without pity. “You know pigs don’t speak, bitch. And don’t think you’re going back under either. The only reason I agreed to this was if Rudy woke you up. Makes things more interesting for me–gotta have something to chase away the boredom. You know I hate being bored. Now come on, we can get home in an hour while the buses are running rush hour routes.”

Pig followed. Pig didn’t know how to do anything but follow his master. Out into the sunny afternoon, where everyone stared at him. He could hear them whispering. “Was this a new show?”-“A comedy sketch?”-“Is there a camera somewhere?” In Hollywood, there’s always a camera somewhere. But for the first time in his life, Pig didn’t want to exist in that lens–for the first time, he wanted to disappear, to be no one, but they could all see him. They could all see him, and their phones were taking pictures, and he was going to be a star–everyone would be talking about him, about the pig they saw. But what about him? What about the man behind the character? Who could see him? Who even cared that he existed? No one. A heart that he didn’t even know could break, broke, and he started sobbing, standing there on the bus.

“Definitely not boring,” Master said, smiling for a camera, and Pig had nowhere to look away.

Make Up – Part 2

“…Seven…Eight…You’re closer to the surface now, you’re coming back to yourself, Chase, rising back up…”

He was, but slowly, so slowly. He felt like he’d been asleep for days. He felt strange too, so strange, but he was coming back, he was almost there.

“…Nine…you’re in your body again, you’re back to being Chase, and…Ten. Wakey, wakey.”

Chase groaned, “Fuck…Phillip, that must have been a long ass day of filming, I’m fucking wiped.”

“Phillip? Oh goodness, you really don’t remember much, do you?”

That wasn’t Phillip’s voice. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at Rudy. What in the hell was Rudy doing here? He hadn’t seen him in months. He looked around at the room and saw he also wasn’t in his trailer, but some rundown apartment. He tried to sit up but something pushed back against him. He looked down and saw a fat gut pushing out of his belly, sticking out from under some filthy wifebeater. What movie was this? Why couldn’t he remember anything? No…No, he did remember something. He could remember Rudy putting some…‘old man’ makeup on him, but it was just a dim memory. “What…movie is this? What’s going on?”

Rudy just cocked his head to one side and smirked. Chase shook his head. He didn’t really care what was going on with Rudy, he just wanted out of this makeup, whatever it was. He heaved himself up and walked to the apartment bathroom. He wasn’t quite sure how he *knew* where the bathroom was, but he did. And whatever this fat suit was made of, it was the most realistic thing he’d felt before–and it was fucking heavy. He pulled off the wifebeater as he stepped in front of the mirror, and gasped. Whatever character he was playing, he was an ugly fucker. Mostly bald with hair growing long in the back, thick mutton chops, and even a set of false teeth, all crooked with a few missing. It was fantastic–the makeup that is. Hell, the body suit even had fake hair all over it, and…and he couldn’t see any straps. In fact, it looked like flesh. He ran his hands over it and…and he could feel his hands on the fat…because…because it wasn’t a suit at all.

It was real.

He shook it, watching it shake and jiggle in the mirror. He grabbed hold of the mutton chops and yanked on them, but they too, were real. His hair, but not his usual beard, it must have been dyed grey, and felt brittle and stiff to the touch. He ran his hand over the scalp, and sure enough, it wasn’t a bald cap. What the hell had happened to him? His memory was coming back now, he could remember Rudy putting the makeup on him and talking about his dead uncle. How he’d been…kidnapped. How Rudy had put him under like Phillip always did, how–

“What do you think, Chase? It took over two years of hard work, but you’re finally my Uncle Ned, from head to toe.” Chase turned to him, angry and terrified, but before he could so much as try and rush him, Rudy said “Safety measures, Chase,” and try as he might, he couldn’t even try and hit him. Instead, Chase pushed past him, running for the door, but he couldn’t seem to grab hold of the doorknob. He was panicking now, breathing heavy, and he hurried over to the side table, grabbed a cigar from the humidor there and lit it, taking a few deep long inhales before realizing what he was doing. He’d never smoked before in his life, and he’d just grabbed a cigar on instinct?

“Heh, looks like your character wore off a bit on you, Chase,” Rudy said, coming around the corner, “Then again, you’re used to smoking them almost constantly, so I’m not surprised your body would want one after a shock like this.”

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Oh, I assure you, you did most of it to yourself. All that binge eating, the shaving, the electrolysis. I helped out, of course, bleaching out your hair, aging that young movie star skin of yours, the hair growth all over your body. Just a few special formulas I’ve been developing. Oh, and I did have to date that oral surgeon for a while before he agreed to fuck up that pretty mouth of yours, but I never could imagine an Uncle Ned with perfect teeth. Phillip helped too–he’s the one who found you that janitorial work with the studio, provided he gets to use your mouth and ass whenever he wants, just like I do. Yeah, you love your nephew’s cock, don’t you uncle?” Rudy added, grabbing his crotch. “Still, this is just the prologue, you know? We’ve only just established your desires and motives! I have all sorts of plot twists in mind for you, all kinds of character development I want to see. Would you like a taste, Uncle?”

Rudy picked up the remote to the TV and turned it on, a video starting up. It looked like an amateur porno, and as the camera panned around, he could see some big brute fucking some other man in a sling. Some fat fucker dressed in leather, hair all over his body. “What the fuck is that supposed to be?” he asked around the cigar–he’d already forgotten he was smoking–it felt so natural. His hand had also drifted to his crotch, and was rubbing his cock–Rudy noticed, and smirked.

“That, in the sling, is you, ‘Ned’. From last night at the club. Your first night at the club, I should say. You do love the camera, though, no matter what angle or role you’re playing. Hell, it already has 300 views on xtube, and I just uploaded in this morning. Yes, my perverse Uncle Ned, just beginning to explore his kinky side. What kind of sexual freak might be be in a year? In five years? Why, I simply can’t wait to find out. Isn’t this exciting, Chase? After all, you’re the star of the show, just like you always wanted to be, and I’ll be there to support you the whole way, I promise. We’ll be together forever, one way or another.”

“No, No–you can’t, please–”

“Sleep tight, Chase,” Rudy said, and watched the actor’s eyes flicker shut, “Just wait until the next time you come up for air–you’re going to be a whole new man, all over again.”

Make Up – Part 1

“It really was just so tragic, you know? I mean, I knew he was depressed, but still, finding him here, dead was still a shock. I feel bad, just dumping him there in the desert, but how could I miss an opportunity like that? Let’s see here, just a few last little touches here and there…” Rudy dabbed his brush in a few places on Chase’s face, lifting his limp head up with a gloved hand to catch the light. Chase, for his part, was trying to move his body, but everything was numb. He could barely blink as Rudy had applied the makeup this whole time, telling his ex-boyfriend about his recently deceased uncle. He was beyond terrified–the last thing he could remember was having that meeting with his agent and heading to his car in the parking garage, and then he was here, in some grungy looking apartment bathroom, strapped to a chair, Rudy applying some strange, make up to him, but because he was facing away from the mirror, he had no idea what he was doing to him.

Chase Redman was an up-and-coming B-movie actor, hoping to make it to the big time. Unfortunately, he also happened to be gay, and he knew the world still wasn’t ready for a faggot action hero. He’d dated Rudy, his make up artist on the set of “Terror World V,” but when Rudy had started asking him to go public with their relationship, he’d broken it off. He hadn’t seen him in months, and now suddenly here he was, kidnapping him? What the hell was this about?

Rudy took a step back, inspecting his work, smiled, and walked around behind Chase. “Looks good to me–how about we both take a look?” With effort, he managed to spin around the chair Chase was strapped to, so he could face the mirror in the bathroom, and Chase could finally see what Rudy had been up to. He looked older–much older, with a bald cap and a fringe of hair added on top, running down to two bushy sideburns on each side of his face. His skin looked aged as well, with rather deep wrinkles–he could see something else as well–he must have on some kind of body suit, because his muscular physique looked to be buried under a paunchy gut. He was wearing a pair of boxers and an undershirt which wasn’t his. He managed to glance to the side at Rudy, but he couldn’t get his mouth to speak.

“What do you think? I got the resemblance pretty good, right Uncle Ned?” Rudy held up a driver’s license so Chase could see the picture, and sure enough, like all of Rudy’s work, it was a superb likeness. But what in the hell was he thinking? Why make him look like his dead uncle? “You see, Chase–I’ve had some time to think since you dumped me, and I decided that I think someone needs to put you in your proper place, and I know just happen to know a little tiny secret of yours that you’ve done a very good job hiding from almost everyone…”

Chase’s breath caught in his throat. How could he know?

“I happened to see you and Phillip in your dressing room one day. I wondered what you two were doing in there, but it really does explain how you’re so good at getting into character. Phillip even told me he’d make you fuck him as your characters on occasion too–do you remember that? He says you never really remember what happens while you’re under, but did you know that your agent has been banging me for months? That when I promised him that he could keep all the royalties from your films after your ‘early retirement’, that greedy little pig jumped at the chance? So you’re mine, Chase…or should I say Uncle Ned? That’s you you’re going to be playing, after all, once we get you into character.”

Chase was struggling harder now–he could feel whatever drug keeping him paralyzed beginning to wear off. If he could just cover his ears, if he could just–

“Sleep tight.”

Chase tried to fight it, but the reflex to relax was too strong, and he felt his head start fogging over. Hypnosis–it was his secret. Phillip, his agent, had conditioned him, told him he’d be the best actor in a generation if he just trusted him. It had worked–he’d been able to not just act like, but become the characters in his movies. But that wasn’t important now–relaxing was important. Relaxing, and listening to what Rudy was saying, focusing and relaxing, focusing and relaxing, deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper…

“That’s good Chase, very good, just relax. Focus on my voice, and my voice alone. My voice is truth, the only truth. Now, we’re going to put Chase away for a while, alright?”

“Alllright…” Chase slurred.

“I’m going to count backwards from ten, and as I count down, just like you’ve done before, you’re going to feel less and less like Chase each time, like color bleaching out of a cloth. When I reach one, you’re going to be no one, alright? No one at all, and Chase will be stored away deep in your mind, until later.”

“Yeeesss…”

“Alright. Ten……..Nine………Eight…….”

Chase felt himself start fading away. He was trying to fight for some reason, but it was difficult to remember why he was fighting at all.

“Seven……..Six………..Five……..”

Chase was getting dimmer now, curling up in on himself. He could sense him still fighting, but it was quiet now, so quiet, and he started pushing him deeper and deeper towards the back of his mind.

“Four……..Three……..Two…….”

Just a whisper now. He didn’t know who he was, but he wasn’t Chase. Chase was down there, down deep. Safe, of course, always safe. He’d come back sometime, and then maybe he’d worry about what Chase was screaming about, but right now he wasn’t Chase.

“One.”

He was nobody. No one at all.

“Alright, ready to get into character?”

Chase’s head nodded slowly, and Rudy smiled wide.

Max Meets Junior – Part 6 (Patreon Commission)

Mr. Herman thought for a moment, and then nodded. It wasn’t until they were in his office discussing what to do that Max realized what he’d just done…and that he liked it. It was a rush, maneuvering around Julian, plotting with Mr. Herman what to do and when. He offered Aaron up, and Mr. Herman was all too happy to fire him as well, and when he asked whether the project could do without Marco (Mr. Herman just never trusted him, you see) Max found himself agreeing. He’d saved himself. He’d saved himself, and he left early for the day to beat the traffic, and he drove home, and he marched into his apartment, and Junior was waiting for him, wearing just his briefs.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d really do it, but you–”

Max strode to him and shoved him up against the wall, pushing as much of their bodies together as he could. “You were…a very naughty boy, today.”

“Oh Daddy, I’m a naughty boy every day. You knew that already. In fact, I think that might be one of the things you like best about me, because I know how to make you feel like a naughty, naughty daddy, too.” He leaned into Max’s ear with the final words, feeling him shudder and grind his crotch forward. “I’m proud of you though. Today, why, you did a good thing. A necessary thing, isn’t that right?”

“R-Right…”

“After all, it was us or them. It was cut some fat, or come home jobless, without me. You just did what you had to do. Although, I think you liked it too, didn’t you? It was surprising, but wielding that power, it felt good…”

Max didn’t say anything, he just groaned softly, and pushed his mouth to his neck, biting softly, and then pushed himself away. “Oh god, what the fuck. I don’t…”

He turned away from his stepson, and Junior hugged him from behind, his arms reaching down, probing into his pants. He let him, felt him unbuckle his belt and drop them to the floor, one hand in his underwear stroking his cock, and he could feel it. It was hot and pounding. It was…growing. He looked down and saw it lengthen in Junior’s hand as he stroked it, until it stopped at nearly seven inches. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I gave you what you wanted, not I think its time you give me what I need, daddy. I need a fuck. I need your cum in my hole. I want you daddy, I want you to fuck me with your big, thick cock.”

“No…No, I can’t. It’s not right…”

“Did you think I was going to take no for an answer, daddy?”

Junior pulled him backwards, he tripped in his pant legs and fell, his stepson guiding him to the floor. Before he could roll over, Junior was straddling him, his briefs just…gone, and Max just stared at him, unable to look away. Junior licked a finger, reached around and probed his hole gently, and then squatted down, lowering himself on his stepfather’s cock. Hot. It was hot and wet and as soon as the head had slid inside he thrust up, pushing into him, no longer able to say no. No longer wanting to say no, and Junior rode him, teased him for what felt like hours, bringing him to the edge and always pulling away just as he was about to explode, until Max was begging and pleading with him to give him release. Finally, both of them sweaty, and panting, he allowed Max over the edge, and he pumped his cum deep into his stepson’s hole, groaning and moaning as he did. He didn’t think he could take anymore, but when Junior pulled himself free and beckoned him over, he came, sucking on his cock until he came as well.

“Yes daddy, that’s very good. I think this is going to work out just fine for both of us. Now why don’t you go on to bed–you’ve had a very long day, and you need your rest for tomorrow. After all, you want to be the one to break the news, right? To see the looks on their faces?”

Max just nodded, licking his stepson’s cum from his lips. He stood up, shaky, and stumbled to his room, where he barely managed to undress before falling into bed. The last thing he remembered, or that he thought he remembered, was Junior in the doorway, staring at him. Or maybe it wasn’t Junior at all. And then he fell asleep, and didn’t wake up again until his phone alarm started blaring from the pocket of his suit the next morning.

Max Meets Junior – Part 5 (Patreon Commission)

From where the window was positioned, Mr. Herman’s desk was facing the wall, giving Max a clear view of what was happening. Junior was on the other side, Mr. Herman looking away and unaware he was seeing any of this, obviously enthralled with his stepson, one hand on Junior’s basket, the other wrapped around his ass. Junior wasn’t looking at him, however–he was staring at Max through the window. He smiled, and one of his hands slipped lower the waistband of his shorts, letting his cock free–Mr. Herman immediately guzzling it down. Max’s mouth was dry. How many times had he thought about tasting it, how many times had he tried, only for Junior to deflect? And here he was, giving it to Mr. Herman like…like a fucking whore.

He was angry. Angrier than he’d ever been in his life, but angry at who? At Junior? It was obvious that he’d started it to spite him. At Mr. Herman? He hated him, but no. He was angry at himself. He’d done something wrong, all this time. Junior could have been his, and…and for the first time he realized he might lose him. To someone like Mr. Herman, of all people. Junior let him keep sucking on his cock, while he reached down, and freed the older man’s cock from his pants. It wasn’t large, and yet, as Junior started stroking it, right in front of Max’s eyes, it got hard, and then it started growing. From a modest four inches, it inflated, larger and thicker, until it had to be close to eight–only then, did Junior push Mr. Herman away, spin his chair away from Max, and then sank to his knees in front of his boss, and started sucking.

He couldn’t watch this any longer. He broke away, panting, cock hard and leaking in his pants. His small cock, his tiny fucking cock, and he’d just seen…what the fuck had he just seen? He didn’t know, but he wanted it. He wanted to be in that chair, he wanted his big cock shoved down junior’s throat, and he knew that if he quit, he’d be alone. Junior didn’t need him–Junior wanted him, but he wasn’t going to want him anymore, not if he did this. He ripped up the letter and threw it in the shredder, and tried to get himself back under control, when the door opened and Junior slid out of the office, wiping a bit of cum from his chin.

“How could you?”

“How could I not?” he said, “I think it’s time I went home, daddy. If you want to find me at your apartment tonight, I think you know what you have to do.” He pulled Max around, one hand on his crotch, somehow making his cock feel smaller than it already was, and then gave him a kiss. Not like at home, not even with tongue–just a light brush which left Max wanting him even more than he did already, and yet also doubling as the hint of a goodbye, and he turned and walked away.

Max watched him go, his stepson’s ass swishing off towards the elevator. Was it even his stepson? Max was beginning to suspect that Junior was something else entirely, and yet he wanted him. He wanted him so badly, but he couldn’t. The moment of bravery was over. He looked down at his letter, ripped apart, and felt silly. Quitting was the right thing to do. The moral thing. The thing that good people did.

“Oh! Max, I didn’t see you there,” Mr. Herman said. He was standing in the doorway to his office, face red, shirt untucked, looking positively happy. Max could see the bulge of his new cock pushing against his suitpants. “Have…have you been standing there…long?”

“Oh, uh…no. I just came…there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, I think it can probably wait until tomorrow. I’m leaving early today–I’ve, well, let’s just say I haven’t had to work this hard in a while.”

“No!” he said, and moved in his path, “No, before you go, I wanted to tell you that I decided who, uh…well, I have a plan for cutting costs, like you asked me to draw up last week. I’m sorry I took so long, but–”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I found some other…fat we can trim, shall we say?” Mr. Herman said, eyeing him. “We can talk tomorrow, Max.”

He pushed past him, and his chance was slipping away. “Wait! Wait, you see, it’s important. I have…I mean, I’ve had my suspicions, but I think I’ve finally found the reason why this project has been stalled. Julian has been talking to headhunters, Mr. Herman. He’s planning on jumping ship.”

Mr. Herman’s usually calm, calculating expression broke for a moment, revealing actual surprise, and then hardened into suspicion. “That’s a serious accusation, Max.”

“That’s why I wanted to wait until I had proof. He hasn’t been filing the patents. He’s leaking information so other companies can file them as soon as he leaves, and there won’t be a thing we can do about it, unless we act quickly. Look, let’s…let’s just sit down and we can talk about this. I don’t think it can wait another day.”

Max Meets Junior – Part 4 (Patreon Commission)

Max scowled at him, but he got up and walked down the cubicle. He stopped by Aaron’s workstation first–had he seen him just close a window? All that was on the screen now was a bunch of technical schematics Max had no hope of understanding. They talked for a while, and sure enough Aaron stonewalled. Max had just never noticed before, how often he seemed to run into these technical problems, and just like Junior had said, he condescended to him, like he was speaking to some idiot. He bristled a bit, and told Aaron to explain it to him anyway. Aaron shrugged and let loose a stream of what might as well have been nonsense. Was it nonsense? How in the hell would Max even know if it was? Had he really been putting him on this whole time?

Julian was still on the phone at least, but speaking too quietly to make anything out. Max asked who he was talking to, and he stammered, before coming up with some excuse that it was his wife. But if it was his wife, why was he being so secretive? Suddenly everything Junior had said seemed to fit into place…but then again…he hadn’t gained any sort of certainty, just armfuls of doubt. He went back to his own space, where Junior was sitting in his chair, legs spread wide, looking smug and half hard.

“See? I told you.”

“I…I didn’t see anything.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to look, daddy,” he said, “Do you know what your problem is? You think you’re a good person. Good people don’t exist. There are only those willing to take advantage of the opportunities presented to them, and those who are held back by their own doubt and cowardice. Morals are just an excuse. No one cares about your fucking morals. And morals can’t do anything about your small cock.”

“It’s not that small!”

“Three and a quarter inches hard is small, but that, at least, I can do something about,” he said, “If you’re willing to do what you should have done on your own months ago.”

Max just stared him down, bluffing, even though somehow Junior had just told him exactly how long his cock was. He’d…measured it a few times.

Junior fumed silently for a moment. “Fine. Say you do this. Say you quit. That doesn’t save their jobs. Mr. Herman will still fire people, and he’s just going to make the wrong choices. Probably Amy, who actually does do work, and Marco, because he hates anyone the least bit brown. This whole project will collapse when Julian takes off, and then everyone else will lose their jobs around here.”

“That’s assuming that what you say is true.”

“How exactly do you know it isn’t?”

He didn’t know. But something about this didn’t feel right. What was Junior even doing here, anyway? How had he gotten here today? Max only had one car, and he hadn’t driven him. It was too early in the morning to get here by bus, especially since he must have spent some time wandering around, finding all of this out. Nothing about this seemed right. He should just go with his instinct, and his instinct still said quit. He was tired of doubting, he had to be sure of something today, and he was sure that he didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. He went to his computer and hit print on his letter.

“You’re a fucking fool. You’re being played by everyone and you can’t even see it. What about us, huh? What about me? How are you going to feed me without a job?”

“We’ll figure something out. I have some savings, and I’ve never had a hard time finding a job.”

“Yeah, just keeping them. This was supposed to be your career, remember? What happened to that?”

Max didn’t have anything else to say, so he walked away, down the hall and picked up his letter from the printer, but by the time he got back to his cubicle, Junior was gone, and nowhere to be seen. Hopefully he’d gone home. He might as well just go get it over with, and he kept walking off towards Mr. Herman’s office on the other side of the floor. He stopped outside the door and took a deep breath. His palms were sweaty, and he hoped he hadn’t made any marks on the letter. Maybe…maybe he should go print another one, just to be sure. He sighed. Was he a coward? He was just stalling now, none of this even mattered. After a few more deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, he got ready to go in, and saw Junior through the window in the door, standing beside Mr. Herman.

Max Meets Junior – Part 3 (Patreon Commission)

He had until Friday–wouldn’t it just be better to stick it out until then? On the other hand, what was the point in dragging it out? He’d made his decision, and he knew Mr. Herman wouldn’t budge, so why wait? He read through the letter of resignation he’d spent drafting that morning one more time, and wondered again if there might be some other solution to all of this. Well, then again, there were plenty of other solutions, but Mr. Herman was dead set on cutting jobs. If he could just see that keeping everyone on board made more sense…

Max sighed. Mr. Herman was a man of corporate comportment. Every sentence included some buzzword–synergy in particular was his favorite, despite the fact it was long past relevant. In his desire to think outside of the box and disrupt future innovation marketplaces, he had failed to notice that his own imagination had shrunk to the size of a pea. Yet, he was Max’s superior, because he could grease wheels and glad-hand and climb his way up the ladder while making sure to kick down everyone else below him at the same time.

“Here he is–you didn’t tell me your stepson was coming with you to work today, Max!”

He looked over, puzzled, and say Fiona, one of the administrative assistants, standing next to Junior. What in the world was he doing here? And what in the world was he wearing? He had on a bright yellow tank top which looked a size too small, so a thick ribbon of flesh was clearly visible between the bottom of the shirt and the top of his shorts, which seemed to sit low on his hips instead of around his waist. The shorts themselves barely reached down his thighs at all and were colored an electric blue, and were stretched tight across his crotch, showing off his thick cock for anyone who cared to look…and like usual, Max found himself unable to look away.

“Thanks again–I don’t know how I got so lost!” Junior said, blushing. Max ripped his eyes away and cocked his head–he’d never seen Junior act like that before. He was usually so cocky, but Fiona chuckled, obviously flattered.

“I’m just happy I could help,” she said, but then looked at Max, “But I could have sworn you said you were gay. Did you tell me that because I was hitting on you last year?”

Max sputtered. Junior stepped in. “No, from a second marriage. He says it just took him a while to figure it out. We stayed close though–my mom was such a bitch–seriously. Like, she had three heads, even.”

Fiona looked at the young man, and suddenly she didn’t feel so comfortable near him. She looked over at Max, saw that he was almost as confused as her, and she turned around with a curt goodbye to them both, and took off. Max relaxed. Too bad if he did keep his job, every secretary in the building would be thinking he’d been married twice now.

“What did you tell her that for? And you know I’ve never been married.”

“Then where did I come from, Daddy?”

Max didn’t have an answer for that one, yet.

“Let’s just say that I’m much better at lies than the truth.” Junior said, and slipped into Max’s cubicle, “So what are you working on, daddy? Can I see?”

“I don’t think you should–hey!” Max said, as Junior grabbed the back of his chair and pulled him away from the computer across the cubicle, and got down and started reading. The way he bent over shoved his ass in his stepfather’s face, the shiny fabric clinging to each firm globe, slipping a short way into the crack. He could also see a strap, like on a jockstrap, slipping up above the waist of the shorts, which was making him rock hard in his suit.

“Oh goodness, I could tell something was up with you when you left for work this morning,” he said, remaining bent over but looking back over his shoulder, “Daddy, you can’t be serious, can you? You’re really going to quit your job over two little layoffs?”

Max huffed. “I don’t want to be a part of a company that’s willing to cut workers in order to fatten their bottom line.”

Junior rolled his eyes, “So, you’re saying you want to be unemployed for the rest of your life?”

“No, I just don’t want to be complicit in it, and–”

“And you’re a coward. A coward with a tiny dick. A small dick I can work with, but cowardice…disgusts me.”

“I’m not a coward…and–and my dick isn’t small!”

Junior stood up, smirking at him, eyes dropping to his crotch. “Too small for my tastes, daddy.”

Max blushed. “Look…How in the hell am I supposed to go up to these people I’ve worked with, who I trust, and tell them to pack their things and stop working on this project that means so much to them?”

Junior laughed, “‘Means so much to them?’ Are you serious? Do you want to know how serious they all are? Aaron, two cubicles down, is currently playing solitare, because he got tired of losing at minesweeper. He’s been fudging and faking all of his performance reports. He hasn’t done any real work in weeks because he knows he can butter you up and down both ways with something like,‘I’m just having some kinks I’m trying to work out. It’s all pretty technical, though, so I wouldn’t want to waste your time explaining it,’ and you fucking buy it every fucking time Daddy. How stupid are you, really? Julian over there has been on the phone all morning with a headhunter from a competitor, negotiating his salary. He’s probably going to be gone by the end of the week anyway, so no loss if you fire him. He’s planning on taking his progress on this project to them, mostly because he thinks your ineffectual leadership is dooming it anyway, and it was all his idea to begin with, NDA’s be damned, because he hasn’t actually filed any of the patent paperwork he’s been telling you is in the pipeline for months.”

Max just stared at him. “How in the world could you know any of that?”

Junior smiled, “Like I said, I’m better at lies, which means I’m very good at telling when someone else is full of bullshit. Go on, see for yourself, take one of your little walks, see if I’m not telling the truth. But maybe try being a little sneakier than usual…”