Earl’s Truck Stop – Part 2 (Patreon Commission)

After watching Paul for a couple of minutes, long enough to make sure the spell had settled in well–and long enough to shoot a load of his own against the outside wall–he headed back to the counter, and asked one of his employees to mind it for him. He had some customers to chat with for a while. He found Matt in the diner, a heaping helping of chicken fried steak and potatoes drowning in gravy before him, and a pile of wide plates stacking up beside him, evidence that he’d been very busy for the last several hours. The young man’s face was one of disgust, confusion, and helplessness. Nothing much about him had changed–he was still his muscular self, but his stomach was taut with food. He wasn’t sure how he was even still eating. He felt sick with food and shame. Why was he even doing this to himself?

Earl settled into the seat across from him, smiling. “How are doing, Matt? Enjoying your meal?”

Matt struggled to choke down a mouthful, but before he could say anything, his hand shoved another chunk of steak into his mouth. Earl waited patiently until Matt finally gave in and just started talking a garbled sentence with his mouth full.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Matt tried again, and this time managed to make himself understandable. “Please, there’s something wrong with me, I can’t stop eating.”

“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you Matt, you’re just stuffing yourself like a fat pig because I wanted you to.”

Matt looked shocked, but kept eating. Earl had done this to him? He recalled his earlier confusion, and tried to piece together their previous conversation as he chewed. “You…you did this?”

“Oh yes, I certainly did,” Earl said, “But you like it, don’t you? You like the feeling of having your gut stuffed. You like how everyone here has been staring at you with disgust, while you stuff your face. Stuffing your face has your cock harder than it’s ever been in your life. You can jack off, if you want. Everyone will understand–we all know pigs like you have a hard time controlling yourselves.”

Matt’s eyes went wide, but just like before, he felt his mind shifting underneath his feet. He…did like it. He liked it a lot. The feeling of his bulging gut, his hard cock. He tried to fight it, but while one hand kept shoveling food into his mouth, the other reached down and started groping at his bulge. The button on his jeans released happily, the zipper dropping all on it’s own by the force of his gut. Fuck, he’s such a horny pig.

Earl got up and came around to his side, running his hands over Matt’s body. “This body doesn’t feel right, does it? No, you should be one big mass of fat. Go on, think about it. Think about yourself. Think about how you’ve spent every spare moment of your life up to this point eating. Think about your apron, your fat man tits, your triple chins, how you wheeze as you eat, how hard it is to walk, and how you love all of it.”

With a shudder, Matt came, spraying cum under the table, and as he did, his body began expanding, muscles atrophying as they were encased in fat. The table squealed as his huge gut shoved it away from him, Matt could barely keep his chubby hand on his cock. It was gone. His body was gone, but his past too. All he could remember now was eating–it was all he did, and he fucking loved it. He finished off his plate, mopping up gravy with a biscuit, grinning, chins jiggling as he gulped his meal down.

“That;s better,” Earl said, “Now, how about dessert? I’m thinking one of everything on the menu, and then you should get to bed, I think.”

Matt didn’t want to be this excited…but he couldn’t quite figure out where his reluctance was coming from. He loved dessert, after all…right?

Earl found Jack holding down the bar by himself. The ashtray beside him was already full, and the bartender had finally just left him a fifth of cheap whiskey which was already nearly empty. Earl took the stool next to him, and an old fashioned appeared in his hand along with a lit cigar, which he sipped. “How are you doin’, Jack?”

“Fuck…I fucked up…” he groaned back, “What the fuck am I doin’?”

“Looks like you’re enjoyin’ yourself to me,” Earl said.

“No…I don’t fuckin’ smoke. I don’t drink. What the hell am I doing here?” Jack looked up, took a long, deep drag off his cigar, and sighed, “Fuck I’m drunk, what was I saying?”

“You know what, Jack? You’re just too fucking uptight, that’s your problem. Don’t you know how to relax? Come on, admit it. This is kind of nice, isn’t it?”

Jack didn’t say anything, but he knocked back the rest of the whiskey in his glass–Earl poured him some more, and he didn’t object. After a moment, he said, out of the blue, “Fuck, why am I so fuckin’ horny?”

“There’s just something about smoke and drink that makes your cock hard, I bet.”

“Fuck.”

“Go on, let loose. Let’s see that drunk cock of yours.”

Jack just stared at Earl, unable to believe what he’d just heard, unable to believe he was actually considering it, unable to believe that, without even making up his mind, he was already unzipping his fly, pulling out his cock, stroking it nice and slow.

“I love dumb bear’s like you, Jack. You love simple pleasures–nothing gets you harder than a little smoke and a little drink, right? Laid back and easy-going as fuck. Who cares when you had a shower last por changed your clothes? Who cares when you last got your hair or beard cut? You sure don’t. But more than that, you’re simple minded too, right? Not too smart at all, but that doesn’t bother you. Crude, nasty, and a horny hairy bear of a man. Nothin’ bothers you, except when you run out of cigars and drink, right?”

“F–Fuckin’ right…” Jack grunted, “Gonna, fuckin’ blow…” With a loud snort, he shot several ropes of cum all over the underside of the bar. The smell of booze and smoke intensified around him along with a heavy pang of BO ground into his clothes, which were growing older, tattered and dirty. Jack scratched his face, feeling a beard sprout and grow long and tangled down to his chest, his hair growing out as well, caught in a lazy ponytail. His body softened and expanded, a thick gut pushing his shirt out, ass filling out the back of his jeans, but plenty of muscle too. You had to be strong to survive on the road, had to be strong to…to fucking fuck, yeah…fuck. “Fuck, what was I doin’? Fuckin’ forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jack.”

“Heh, I don’t worry ‘bout shit, Earl, you know that.”

“How about you finish off that cigar and whiskey there, and head for bed.”

Jack shrugged, Earl finished his drink and left the building, pulled the second key to room 102 from his jeans, and figured it was time to check up on Paul.

Earl’s Truck Stop – Part 1 (Patreon Commission)

The first of the expected three came in a little after five in the afternoon. The pump outside was having a problem processing his company card–Earl was more than happy to run it for him on the machine inside. Perhaps he was just old fashioned, or maybe he was just a pervert with particular tastes, but the young man looked nothing like Earl thought a trucker should look. Way too uptight, in a shirt buttoned all the way up to the collar. Clean shaven, hair combed, smelling like some girl’s prissy perfume shit. Earl made sure the machine inside took had some trouble as well, and struck up some conversation.

“I haven’t seen you come through here before. The name’s Earl–Owner of the Flying G here.”

“Yeah, this is a new route for me,” the young trucker said, “Did the card work?”

“It’s still processing.”

Silence. Maybe he’d have to bend him a little. A touch of power in the air and…

“You know, I’ve had a long day so far…it says you have an inn here?”

“Sure do. You wanna call it a night already?”

“I can get back on the road early tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Can I just bill it on the card?”

“Why not.”

“The card says your name’s Jack?”

“Yep.”

“Alright Jack–I’ll put you up in room 103.”

“That’s a non-smoking room right?”

“You said you needed some cigars too, right?”

Jack just stared at him, thinking hard. Earl got him to nod.

“Any brand? Nah, you know what? Let’s go with cheap and rough. I doubt you could afford anything pricey, right?”

Jack still couldn’t find anything to say for some reason, but he handed Earl cash, took the cellophane wrapped cigars from him.

“You can still smoke in the bar too, you know. Why don’t you go take a load off and have a few drinks, before bed?”

Jack didn’t drink, but something had him walking through the restaurant proper and into the smoky bar behind it, lighting up a cigar, and then having the bartender pour him a whiskey double, straight, cheapest he got, and he pounded it back, and waited for the next one.

Half an hour later, Earl felt the second of three walk in. Just like the first, he looked nothing like a trucker–just another one looking to make some money and then get off the road as quick as he could. Where Jack was slender and uptight, the second looked like he spent his spare time on the road with a set of weights. Earl rolled his eyes.

He was also having trouble with his card. After a short conversation, it turned out that he, too, could use a room. Earl thought for a moment, and then gave him the second key to room 103.

“Anything else I can help you with, Matt?” Earl asked.

“Actually, yeah. It’s probably a stretch, but have you got a gym here, or even just a workout room of some kind? Most of these places don’t, and I doubt they get much use, judging by how fat most of these fuckers are, right?”

Earl bristled. “Actually, you’re hungry.”

“Wait, how did you know?”

“Why don’t you go have a seat in the diner, I’ll let the cook know you want the all you can eat special.”

Without really understanding his own change of heart, Matt walked over to the attached restaurant and sat down at a booth–a young, chubby waited immediately came and set down a soda and a full plate of food. That ought to keep the asshole occupied, Earl thought.

It was an hour later when the third expected guest arrived. Unlike the first two, Earl didn’t need to work to get him a room–he already looked exhausted.

“This fucking company has had me on the road for eighteen hours straight, they can fucking pay for a good bed, you know?”

Earl nodded, and handed Paul a key to room 102.

“I just don’t think I can handle it for much longer.”

Earl had driven a truck for fifty years. These young upstarts had no fucking stamina. He said nothing, but scowled slightly.

“Thanks for the room, I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

Earl watched him leave the office, and kept watching through the window until he saw him climb up into his truck, grab a small overnight bag, and carry it over to the inn across the parking lot. Once Paul had gone inside, he waited five minutes, and then picked up the phone and dialed room 102.

Paul had gotten into the room, and without doing anything else, had dropped his bag by the door, and slumped on the bed. Tired. He’d known trucking was going to be rough, but he’d needed the job. This, though, was ridiculous. Maybe he just needed to try a different company, but from what he’d gathered from other truckers he’d talked to, the pressure to just keep driving was everywhere. Just a bed was a relief after a week in his sleeper. He was already drifting off when he heard the phone on the nightstand start ringing.

“Just fuckin’ let it ring,” he mumbled to himself, but he was already rolling up, and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey Paul, forgot to tell you. I left you something in the VCR. It’s right up your alley you nasty pervert. Enjoy yourself, and those sheets better be crusty by the time I get there.”

The phone went dead. That had sounded like that old dude from the front desk–what was he even talking about? Had he called the wrong room or something? Curiosity got the better of him, and Paul heaved his tired body up from the bed, walked over to the small TV, hit eject, and an unmarked tape popped out. He pushed it back in, turned on the screen, and after a few moments, a video started. The picture was tracking poorly–it took him a moment to figure out that he was looking at two fat, hairy truckers making out in a communal shower–fuck, he hadn’t seen a shower like that in ages! Now that was a great place to fuckin’ peep.

Paul shook his head, trying to figure out where that thought had come from. And why did he have his cock out of his jeans? And why was he stroking it? And why was he still looking at these two sexy bears get ready to fuck each other’s brains out? Didn’t see men like that out on the road much anymore. They were a dyin’ breed, and that was a fuckin’ shame. Where had Earl even gotten this? It sure as hell looked vintage, probably from the eighties, judging by that mullet. Hell, he’d known a guy on the road back then with that same fuckin’ hair, huge beast of a cock. Just thinkin’ about that cock, fuck…

Paul shot his load all over the dresser, panting a bit. What in the hell was he doing? He always shot his fuckin’ cum on the sheets, had to get them smelling good and rank for whoever came next, right? Or maybe for…for Earl, yeah. When Earl got here later. He kept watching the video on the bed, milking his young cock onto the sheets beneath him, and outside the room Earl was watching the young man jack off through the blinds, grinning wide.

Good Things – Part 3 (Patreon Commission)

Just how much was too much anyway?

Eddie was in the bathroom again, leaning on the counter, his gut pressing against the lip, looking at himself in the mirror. His coveralls were unzipped down to his belly button, and he ran one hand across his hairy chest, over to one fat nipple and gave it a tweak, feel his cock pulse and leak. He couldn’t fucking stop himself. He just couldn’t. But he knew this was too much, that this had simply gone too fucking far now. I mean look at him! Look at him, yeah, fuck, look at how fucking sexy he’d become.

His driver license said he was sixty, and fuck, he felt sixty when he was on his knees in the garage, sucking his fellow mechanic’s cocks. He’d been good with cars when he was younger, sure, but he was just a bit too slow now. It was easier just to…to hang around the bathrooms, yeah. Hang around sucking all the cock he could get, begging anyone who came in to fuck him. Oddly, no one ever seemed to turn him down, not that he minded, he could never have too much cum in his belly or up his ass. Cum was such a good thing.

His hand had migrated down to his crotch and was milking his cock; he yanked it away, and rubbed his eyes, smacking his face, stroking his massive beard crusty with cum. He had to focus. What had he even come in here for? He couldn’t fucking remember. God he was fucking stupid now. He’d never been this dumb, but now it was becoming a struggle to just string together a sentence, and his memory was shot. He’d come in to jack off right? He always came in here to jack off, but there’d been something else…something…

He focused on stroking his cock some more, figuring he might remember after he shot a load. Two loads later, he remembered. He’d come in for…for piss? No, he’d come in…to piss, right? His head didn’t seem to be thinking straight, he was pointing his cock up towards his mouth, shooting off a blast of piss, and he drank down as much as he can, though it was hard arcing the stream up over his belly. He ended up soaking himself in more piss than he drank, and just stared at himself, reeking, unable to believe he’d just done that…and that he had never done that before. It tasted so good! So good he…he just had to jack off some more. Three loads of cum later, Big Red came in–now nearly as big as he was red–and Eddie dropped to his knees, ready to drink. Piss was almost as good as cum after all, and he could never have too many good things…right?

Eddie groaned, and opened his eyes a bit. Fucking hangovers. He reached out to the table next to him, trying to find a cigar, but something kept shaking his arm, making it harder for him to grab anything at all–and he realized he was in the middle of being fucked. Big Red was behind him, already awake, and in the middle of his morning fuck–Eddie hadn’t even woken up when he rolled him over onto his fat belly, and plowed his massive cock into his loose asshole. He grabbed his lighter, but couldn’t find a cigar; he looked over his shoulder and saw Big Red was smoking. “Gimmie some a that ‘gar, man…” he said.

Big Red took a deep suck, and then handed it to Eddie, who clamped down on it and let Big Red go to town on his hole. The bed beneath him was cold and clammy–he must have wet it again. That was getting to be a fuckin’ habit–he’d pissed himself twice at work yesterday. Luckily it had been in the bathroom (granted, he spent almost all day in the bathroom, sucking cock and drinking piss) so he just cleaned it up off the floor with his tongue, but he’d been wetting the bed every night lately. Heh, Big Red was threatening to force him to wear fucking diapers, the shit head. He’d never follow through–Big Red loved the stench of piss almost as much as Eddie did.

Fuck, last night though, what had that even been? He’d come home with Big Red like always, they started fucking like always, and for the first time in a long while, Eddie had shot a big load of cum out of his cock. Just like that, his usual raging horniness had disappeared, and he’d been in this weird fuckin’ mood, talkin’ about how he’d been cursed or something, how he needed to get to a computer. Fuck, Eddie didn’t even know how to fuckin’ use a computer, he’d been talkin’ so damn crazy. Thankfully Big Red had fucked him straight in the head again, got him all horned up with a few loads of piss and cum.

Fuck, if only he could be horny all the time, right? Who in the hell could have too much fuckin’ horniness? As he thought it, it was like something around him started turning again, something which had paused. His balls were churning, he was getting close to cumming. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum so much…and yet, some part of him told him to stop. To resist. To keep it from happening. He was caught in the middle of it–it felt so good getting fucked, but…but what? With a groan, he felt Big Red spasm, filling him up with his cum. “Got…somethin’ else for this filthy hole this mornin’,” he said, and a second later, Eddie felt something else warm his ass.

Piss. Big Red was pissing in his ass, like he was a fuckin’ urinal. By then it was too late–he was cumming, and cumming hard, and there was something…cold around his cock, something a bit painful. With one hand he reached down to feel what it was…and felt the chastity cage that had locked itself around his cock…but that wasn’t odd. He’d…he’d had that thing on for…for years…right? Big Red had locked him up one night for fun, but then they’d lost the key in the mess that was their single wide trailer. He hadn’t…cum since, except for painful, unsatisfying milkings that only made him hornier than ever.

It was like he was drowning in desire. He’d just shot his load…hadn’t he? No, he couldn’t have, right? All those doubts he’d felt, they just washed away. All that mattered was fucking. All that mattered was making himself even hornier. He didn’t care if he ever came again, so long as he could be this horny for the rest of his old, fat, stinking life. Being horny was so fucking good, and who’d ever said you could have too much of a good thing? And Eddie had so many good things, he could never wish for anything else.

Good Things – Part 2 (Patreon Commission)

Eddie found that his days at work were increasingly interrupted by a constant need to excuse himself to the bathroom in order to jack off. He knew, in his head, that he should try to moderate, that these changes were eventually going to cascade out of control, but it was so much easier to lock himself in a stall, whip out his cock, and blow a load, or two…or three. The changes tended to come in spurts–sometimes nothing would change at all. It was a few days since he’d bought the curse, and things had settled into something like a new normal–he loved his muscular physique. Every cum seemed to make him bigger, manlier, and hairier, and he relished it. He relished it so much in fact, sitting here on the toilet, that he might cum four times in a row this time.

He heard the door open, and he stifled his groans. Through the crack in the stall door, he saw that the person who’d come in was none other than Mr. Greely himself. He’d softened up to Eddie since the changes had begun, and was no longer threatening to fire him over his sales numbers, but Eddie still hated him. Hated him so much, he could just…just suck his cock. Fuck yeah, he could suck his fucking cock so fucking hard. With a shudder, he shot another load, this one splattering against the door, where his eye was pressed to the crack. Something had changed in the air, he could sense it.

“I can hear you in there, Eddie. If you want my cock, faggot, come on out, and you can get it.”

Was…was this really happening? Eddie tried to stop himself, but he flew out of the stall, his dress pants still around his ankles, and licked his lips. Mr. Greely shoved his cock down his throat, and came in less than a minute, Eddie somehow managing to shoot on the floor twice in the meantime. Mr. Greely tsked him, “You’re such a slob, Eddie. At least clean up after yourself.”

Eddie’s first thought was to just get down and lick it up, but he fought that desire off and grabbed some paper towels instead, while Mr. Greely left the room. In the mirror, he noticed that his hairline had started receding a bit…and was his body looking a bit softer? Fatter? He shook his head–it still wasn’t too much of a good thing.

By next week, Eddie had taken to eating his lunches in his truck. He didn’t remember when his car had turned into a truck, but he appreciated the fact that it offered a bit more room for him to spread out in. He’d tried eating at his desk, like usual, but lately he’d just spent his entire lunch hour in the bathroom gloryhole he’d drilled a few days earlier, sucking cock, that eating out here in the parking lot was easier. Besides, he was fucking hungry today–hell, he’d been fucking hungry all week.

He let out a belch, unwrapped another hamburger from the sack in the passenger seat, and went back to stroking his cock with this other hand, not noticing he’d smeared the shaft with grease and a bit of ketchup. It was a bit harder to jack off, with this new gut of his, but he kind of liked it. It made him look older, more mature and refined. Being a muscle bear had been nice, but now he really did look like a true man. The receding hairline had bothered him at first too, but once it had pushed back past the crown, it actually looked kind of good. The same thing with the beard, which had grown long enough to brush his fat chest, and was streaked with a bit of grey. It all just looked…good to him. Almost as good as the mechanics he was watching from his parking spot.

He fucking loved them–he could always tell when he was sucking a mechanic off in the bathroom, because they stank of sweat and grease. He’d usually blow a few loads by the time they came, which he’d lick up off the floor and stall wall, as he waited for the next person to come in for a blow job. He downed the hamburger in three huge bites, belched again, chased it with the rest of the cheap beer he’d bought, and then reached for another burger, but found the bag empty. He was still hungry, but that would keep him satisfied for a bit. He took a moment to light one of his fat cigars–he didn’t miss the cigarettes at all–and then rubbed his gut, smearing his grubby dress shirt with grease, enjoying the taut sphere jutting out in front of him, and saw Big Red slide out from under a car.

He came once just at the sight, and then kept stroking, getting ready to shoot again. No one called him Big Red but him–in fact, he was the shortest mechanic at the dealership–but his cock, fuck, it was fucking huge, and thick, with a tangled red bush. He shot again, and saw Big Red turn and stare right at him, lick his lips, and then grab the bulge in his coveralls. Nearly tripping over himself, Eddie got out of his truck, nearly forgetting to hike up his pants and zip himself up. Sure, he was a mess, but he had a date with a big red cock in the bathroom–he could never have too much of a good thing like that.

Good Things – Part 1 (Patreon Commission)

“You let him haggle you down to what?” Mr. Greery just stared at Eddie in his office, “I can’t run a dealership if you’re selling our cars at a loss.”

“I-It wasn’t at a loss, we got that car at auction for a couple thousand–”

“Don’t quote numbers at me Eddie!” Mr Greery shouted, “I could have sold that junker for eight thousand!”

Eddie doubted him, but he stayed silent, intimidated by his boss. Then again, Eddie was intimidated by everybody. Short, slim, blond haired–the picture of a twink. Mr, Greery was all man. He was a local competitor who’d bought the dealership out a few months prior, and he’d been gunning to fire Eddie the entire time for his “faggotry”. Eddie wasn’t the best salesman, sure, but he could move product. It wasn’t fucking fair, but he knew an outburst could get him forced even faster.

After the half hour tongue lashing, Mr. Greery left him with a warning that if his sales numbers failed to hit projection by the end of the month, he’d be gone. Thankfully, it was his weekend, and Eddie got out of there as soon as he could, and decided he could use a drink or five. He spent the afternoon at home, looking at porn. It didn’t help matters that Mr. Greery was totally his type–big, muscular, bearish, bearded, rough…He ended up fantasizing about his boss fucking him on his office desk, but too much alcohol had made his four inch cock depressingly soft. He couldn’t have anything good today.

He went to close the porn window, but ended up clicking a pop-up that appeared unexpectedly. Cursing, he fought his way through a series of redirects and windows until only one remained, a site he’d never seen before–and it didn’t even look like porn. He tried to close it, but it kept popping right back up, three times, until there was suddenly a banner flashing spastically across the top:

EDDIE FUCKING LOOK AT MY SITE ALREADY

And so he looked, but this couldn’t be real, right? A website…run by a fucking wizard? Wizards didn’t exist! He closed it and the window came back with a new banner:

FUCK YOU EDDIE WE DO TOO

He was too drunk, this was crazy. It was probably just a virus, he’ll take care of it tomorrow. Scared to turn off his computer, he flipped off the monitor and went and watched TV for a bit, but kept sneaking glances at the black screen. What if it really was real…

He woke up in bed, head pounding. He knew better than to drink that much, but fuck if he wasn’t horny. He wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking it, not really thinking about it, and after less than a minute he was cumming…and his cock. It writhed in his hand, suddenly growing a bit longer and thicker…and even harder. He stared at it, but his horniness hadn’t abated at all. He gave it a tentative stroke–it was even more sensitive than before, and ended up spending two hours in bed, stroking himself off over and over again, groaning and grunting, covering himself in cum, before he finally ripped his hand away, sat up on the edge of the bed, looked at himself in the mirror, and screamed.

What in the world had happened to him? It was him in the mirror, right? He waved his hand in the mirror, and then flexed his arm, watching his bicep bulge up, running his other hand past his firm pecs and down over his ridged, furry abs. Furry! He’d never had this much hair on his body before, it was insane. Hell, he’d gone from clean shaven the day before to a heavy, dark shadow across his cheeks and jaw. He’d somehow gone from short twink to muscle bear overnight…and he could only think of one way this might have happened.

He hurried over to the computer, and saw that a receipt email was in his inbox from that strange wizard’s porn site he’d stumbled on the night before:

Thank you for your purchase!

You purchased one item:

Curse (Target – Self): Too Much of a Good Thing…………$399.99

No refunds. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact spellsandcurses@mail.wiz.

A curse? This wasn’t a curse, this was the best thing that had ever happened to him! He leaned back in his chair, massaging his cock, and before long he was jacking off again, running his other hand all over his body until he blew another load all over himself, rubbing in the cum, and he kept going. He’d never felt like this, so fucking powerful, so fucking…horny! His arm was starting to hurt, but after he came again, he watched both of his arms bulge out with even more muscle, the fatigue drained away, and to celebrate he went ahead and came a third, and a fourth and fifth time, never moving from in front of the computer.

What convinced him to stop stroking himself off wasn’t exhaustion, but two other things. First, he was starving. Looking at the clock, it was nearly five in the evening–he’d spent the entire day jacking off. The second thing was this buzzing in his head, this…craving. His tongue felt like it was missing something, like…a flavor he needed but couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then he spied the ashtray next to the computer, stared at the cigarette butts snuffed out in it, and realized he needed a smoke. He rummaged around the room, surprised to find it as messy as it was. Papers which he usually kept perfectly organized were scattered everywhere. He found a pack in the pocket of a coat he’d left on the floor, tapped one out, found his lighter and got it lit, taking a long drag, and sighing out the smoke. Only then did he realize that he’d never smoked before in his entire life.

Where in the hell had these even come from? And the room had gone from clean to looking like a complete mess all while he’d sat around jacking off all day. Odder still, he didn’t mind much at all. He’d always been a bit of a clean freak, but if anything, the mess felt…comfortable. He ran his hand through his now inch long, thick brown beard, stroking it and smoking for a minute before he even considered the fact that he shouldn’t even have a beard. He looked at his bearish self in the mirror through a thin haze of smoke for a moment, and decided that it wasn’t too much good for him yet.

Open Patreon Commission Slot and Teaser

I just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has contributed to my Patreon over the last few months. My current total (after a few declined pledges this month) is 315 dollars. But onto the slightly bigger news! Like I mentioned earlier in an ask, I’m planning on expanding the number of commission slots available through Patreon next month. I already have someone waiting on a slot at the 50 dollar level, so I have no openings there, but I have opened one more slot at the 25 dollar level, for a 1000 word monthly commission of your choice. It’s first come first serve, so if you’d like it, head on over to https://www.patreon.com/wesleybracken and grab it before someone else does.

As always, I will have a new story for all of my patrons who have pledged five dollars or more, and I have a sneak peek below for everyone. This is a long one, so I’ll be posting half of it this month, and the second half next month over on Patreon. Enjoy!

Pipe Dreams

-Prologue-

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Professor Grimmel asked.

“You said it isn’t permanent right?”

“Well, you will be human again after the spell has done it’s work, but I can’t promise you’ll be the same person. Revenge…it changes everyone it touches. This isn’t something to take lightly.”

Jason Rutledge squirmed in his seat on the other side of the professor’s desk. He had grown closer to his advisor over the course of his Freshman year, but he hadn’t expected the older gentleman to open up to him as well. When Jason had told him about his homosexuality, and about his fears that his father might find out, and the emotional abuse he’d suffered, the professor had intimated something surprising–he was more than just a professor. He was also a wizard–and a powerful one at that.

The relationship that developed never reached the bedroom–Professor Grimmel said he refused to take advantage of his students, but when Jason came to him, and told him he couldn’t bear the thought of returning home to his father for the summer, especially now that he had begun opening up at school, and now that he’d found a real mentor in his professor. Jason was rather chubby, but sweet–Grimmel was certain that if he went home he would be miserable, but he refused all the same. In the end, after much pleading, he decided to offer Jason a spell that might give a chance to find peace with his father.

“I want to do this. I can’t…I can’t face him again. He–he deserves this, he’s horrible.”

Professor Grimmel frowned. He should say no. Jason was too angry…and yet, he also knew that his father deserved anything Jason might decide to give him. In the end, it had to be Jason’s choice–if he asked, he would cast the spell. “Did you bring everything you want to send to him?”

Jason unzipped his backpack, pulled out a shopping bag and put it on the desk. The professor stood up from the deck, and loosened his tie. “Well, if this is what you truly want,” he came around the desk, and stood in front of Jason, admiring him. He had hoped that he might be able to see him longer–he could have been such an adorable cub. He got down in front of Jason and undid the front of his slacks. Jason started to object, but the Professor looked up at him, and he stayed quiet. He pulled the front of his underwear down under Jason’s hard cock and balls, and then wrapped his mouth around the head of Jason’s cock, and inhaled.

Jason let out a gasp and went rigid, feeling something happen in his body, the air sucked from the base of his lungs, through his groin, and out his cock. He tried to saw something to the professor, to ask him what was happening, but he couldn’t speak. In fact, he couldn’t even move. The professor took another breath through him, and this time Jason felt his mouth open wide, wider than should have been possible, air flowing freely through him. With one more inhale, Jason was now frozen stiff, his mouth open impossibly wide, and the professor pulled the student’s stiff body from the chair and laid him on the floor of the office. He picked up a large pouch from his desk, reached in and started pulling out fistfuls of dark leaf pipe tobacco, and packed it into Jason’s wide mouth tamping it down, and then, with a snap of his fingers, the bowl burst into flame, and he began drawing smoke through Jason’s rigid body.

Jason could feel everything happening to him, as his arms and legs began shrinking up into his torso. His skin became more than stiff, the upper half of him turning into a rough briar, and the lower part slimming down into a wooden neck and stem. After a few minutes, his body had become an oversized pipe, with a half bend and a deep brown briar bowl. Professor Grimmel kept smoking him down, shrinking him until he could hold him in his arms, and then smaller still, until Jason resembled a perfectly normal pipe, just in time for the bowl to burn completely to ash.

He emptied the bowl and repacked it with a different tobacco–this one his own blend, pitch black, and yet in a certain light, glimmers of orange and red, like it was already aflame, could be seen. Before lighting Jason again, he opened the shopping bag Jason had brought, looked inside, and laughed. No imagination at all. He threw them in the trash. The professor instead got a box he’d brought along, and began placing some items of his own choosing items on his desk instead. He lit Jason again, sucked in a deep lungful of smoke, and began exhaling thick plumes of dark smoke over the items he’d brought, watching the shiny rubber suck the smoke in, and by the time the professor had finished the bowl, the items were all covered with a fine coating of ash. He carefully packed everything back into the box, putting Jason in on top with a typed note, and then taped it up. The next day, he mailed it to the address Jason had given him. Jason’s father certainly was in for an extreme surprise–and by the end of the summer, Professor Grimmel would have everything he wanted as well.

Mr. Morris (Part 4)

The amulet. Grandpa’s amulet. He’d promised me that he’d give it to me, and there it was hanging around my brother’s neck. I was angry for a moment, but then he started talking to me in that same way Grandpa always talks to me…and I calmed down, but I still fought him. I told him that the amulet wasn’t his, that I knew he’d stolen it, that Grandpa had planned on giving it to me, and he laughed. He told me Grandpa had given it to him–that Grandpa had always planned on giving it to him. He said, “Why in the world would he give it to you? You know he thinks you’re just a stupid pig slut.”

And then, right then, there was a seed of doubt. I had these memories, but there were these other ones too, ones I couldn’t quite sort out. I could remember Mr. Morris, I could remember Grandpa how I’d always known him but there was also someone else, someone…very, very different. I refused to believe what my head was telling me, but I started to get dressed. I had to go see him, I had to talk to him and see for myself. My brother thought that was a fine idea–and suggested we both go over together. We snuck out of the house, and I drove us both over to the senior living, went up to Grandpa’s apartment.

The place was a filthy. Before, it had been spotless, but now…now the entire place was littered with trash, and there was a foul odor in the air…the same odor I’d smelled around Grandpa all my life. My old memories were retreating, these new ones were coming forward. I already knew what I’d find in the recliner, slouching in front of the television, but I had to see it for myself. He glowered at me when I entered the room–he’d always despised me, and I’d never known why. He loved my brother though–my slobby, failure of a brother–and why not? Grandpa was a drunk, a smoker, massively obese. He’d never taken care of himself all his life. His hair was matted with sweat, and I don’t think he ever showered, but the worst part was the diapers. He’d been incontinent for years now, and he never changed the ones he was wearing regularly, so he stank like an overflowing toilet all day.

I was furious. My brother had done this to him, to my Grandpa, he’d fucking ruined him, but instead of yelling, and getting angry, I was stripping off my clothes. I was getting down on my hands and knees in front of Grandpa, and he was laughing with that cigar stuck in his mouth, that cackle-wheeze, and my brother was behind me sliding a finger into my hole, telling me that he’d always hated me, hated me for the attention I got from our parents, hated me because everyone wanted my ass, hated me because I was smart and perfect, and that it was past time I’d taken my proper place in this family. I then I heard a dull thwack, and my brother crumpled to the ground, Grandpa standing up from his recliner with a lamp in has hand, huffing and puffing.

As quick as I could, I got the amulet off from my brother’s back. Grandpa told me how he’d attacked him that afternoon, stealing the amulet and fucking him into the filthy slob standing before me. But it hadn’t worked as well as my brother had thought it would, because the amulet can only be used to it’s fullest if it is given, not taken. And so grandpa gave it to me, and when my brother woke up…well…let’s just say I fucked him right in the head. He’s a dumb, stupid pig, but I wasn’t as cruel as the amulet would have liked. It has…quite the mind of its own, but as long as you’re ready for it, it isn’t too much of a problem. My brother spends his days now living at home, serving my father, and then he goes to the senior center and he serves the men there. All of them. He pays special attention to Grandpa of course, but his ass and mouth are available to anyone over the age of fifty-five, and I…well, I went off to college, the amulet still hanging around my neck. I did my best to help grandpa get back to how he was, but the amulet really doesn’t like reversing anything it’s already done. He still has to wear diapers, but he takes it in stride at least–though I think he might rub them in my brother’s face when I’m not around, as punishment. At least, I think that’s something the amulet might have snuck in while I was fucking my brother, but I never really felt like asking for details.

Grandpa made me promise that I wouldn’t use it while I was at school, and so far, after a month, I haven’t. That certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. I have no problem getting cock, of course–pretty much anyone will drop their pants at a word, and all of my professors love me, and my mouth, and my ass, to bits. I just have a way with those older, burly bears, you know? But to be honest, I’m starting to think that what my grandpa doesn’t know, probably wouldn’t hurt him. And I have this guy on my floor–fuck, he’s so damn hot. Huge cock, and he lets me suck him off, but he’s a bit of an asshole, you know? I’m thinking he might need a bit of an attitude adjustment. Just some light conversation is all, nothing extreme. And maybe, if the feeling’s right…well, what’s the harm in one good fuck and a few changes to go with it? I’m sure I can keep everything under control just fine.

Mr. Morris (Part 3)

But I did it. I logged all my community service at the last minute. I finished all my classes with straight B’s for blow job. I got up on that stage, naked underneath my gown, my father’s cum leaking down my thighs. He’d wanted to congratulate me with a fuck in the locker room before the ceremony, and I wasn’t about to deny him that. He actually seemed to be…kind of proud of me. I could dimly remember, before I’d been fucked by Mr. Morris, that my older brother had been a bit of a screw up, that I’d been the better kid, the one with the potential. Now I was just a fat faggot whore, but at least I graduated from high school right? And college! I was going to college.

You have to understand–I’d always felt a bit stifled under my parents roof. My brother, well, he’d started drinking and smoking pot in high school, and they’d sent him to rehab. All my life, I’d had strict curfews, rules, order–and while I never really resented it, I always just wanted to be free, right? And college was the goal. If I could just get to college, if I could just get somewhere else, across the country if possible, I could finally figure out who in the hell I am, away from my family. And even after, I still felt that way. As much as I enjoyed being my dad’s and brother’s fat whore faggot, I knew there had to be more for me out there. More cocks to suck, more old men to fuck my holes. It was a different kind of thirst, I suppose, but it was still there.

And now, now I was almost there. I was graduated. As soon as I could get away, I hurried over to the senior center and found Mr. Morris waiting for me. I could sense that he was excited too, and I tried to get him to tell me what he was planning, but all he told me was that he’d like to fuck me again, and this time would be different. I didn’t care–all I really wanted was his cock in my fat ass. I got that, and more than I even thought possible.

This time, when his cock was inside me, everything was still all swirling around and changing, but this time I could sense that he was in control of it. I, however, still couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on–I was in a stupor just like before, unable to move, while he plowed my hole. But this time, when he came, it’s wasn’t just Mr. Morris cumming in my ass–it was my Grandpa. He’d made me his real grandson, and I was so happy, I couldn’t keep myself from crying.

He hugged me, and I felt that hug reverberate through so many hugs he’d given me in the past, hugs I hadn’t even remembered until now, from when I was a kid, and everything I felt for him just grew even larger. He wasn’t just my lover, he was family. Once we could speak–I was shocked, he was exhausted–he told me that he’d done his best to try and fix some of what he’d done before. The amulet–it doesn’t like to reverse changes, but he’d managed to temper them slightly. He told me it should make for a slightly better summer for me. In fact, it was the best summer of my life.

My dad was proud of me again…though it was different. My brother was still the fat slob screw up that he’d always been and he treated me like shit, but now my dad fucked us both. I could tell he loved me more, because when my dad fucked my brother, it was to punish him, but when dad fucked my hot cubhole, I knew it was because he couldn’t fucking my hot ass. No one could. Hell, I could stare down any old man in the street and give them a tent in their slacks, and I found that most of them, even if I just half-hinted, would happily feed me their cum down some dark alleyway. I loved it. I loved the attention, I loved the sex, I loved my family, all of my family.

Now, all of us would go see grandpa, and usually all of us would end up fucking around all night long. As the summer wore on, I began to notice something else–my brother seemed to be growing kind of distant. He’d always been a bit jealous of the attention I’d gotten, and with me about to go to college on a full ride, so soon after he dropped out after flunking all of his classes–I could tell he was angry at me. He fucked angry too, and more than once he actually hurt me a bit, but I just shrugged it off. I was going to college, and he was just a jealous, failure drop out, and he knew it. Dad and grandpa were so proud of me, and sure, I was going to miss them, but they knew how important this was for me. The summer flew by, and my brother just grew angrier, and angrier, until the night before I was set to leave, when he let himself into my room that evening, something shimmering around his neck, and a nasty looking grin on his fat face.

Mr. Morris (Part 2)

He got up, and he was at least easy on me. He had some lube, and he greased up his fingers, sliding them in, getting me used to the feeling. He was impatient though. I kept asking him to slow down, but he kept pushing me on, two fingers, and then three. I felt so..full, and it kind of hurt. But I wanted it. I’d always wanted it, from the first time I saw him, he’d known how much I wanted his cock in my ass. Reality kept shifting, and it was true. I had wanted him from the first moment I’d seen him. And I wanted him now. I was scared, but I started pushing back, begging him for it. He was breathing heavy now, and I felt the slick head of his cock press against my hole, and then he was inside me again, but this time…this time it was terrifying.

He told me later that he’d lost control of himself, and apologized. I still…still don’t quite remember everything that happened. It was just…there was so much. Like I was caught in a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions and history, some of which was mine, some of which was his, some of which had happened, and a whole lot that hadn’t. It lasted the whole time he fucked me, and I was just in a stupor, face planted in the pillows, while he pounded my ass like a wild man, screaming shit, calling me a fat slut, a whore, his cub bitch. Still, he…did apologize, right? But he said after that there wasn’t much he could do about what might have happened. He couldn’t take it back you see? I forgave him–I loved him too much.

I loved him because…because he was the first man who’d fucked me and treated me like a person, you know?

I did stay the night. He spooned me in bed, and I didn’t really want to leave in the morning. I…didn’t really want to go home, though I couldn’t quite figure out why. I drove home, and I was surprised that my mom wasn’t there…and then I realized that my mom and dad had divorced when I was just a kid, and left me and my brother to live with my dad. And I thought of my dad, and my brother. My big brother, who’d just gotten home from college, and my gut tensed up. I went inside, and tried to get to my room without either of them noticing, but my dad was waiting. He was…different. Fatter, for one. Much, much fatter. And meaner, and drunker. My brother joined him, and he was also chubby, and also drunk, even though it was morning. I told them I was tired, and didn’t really feel like doing anything, but they said that they didn’t care how I felt–they were horny, and I had chores to do.

Suck my dad’s cock. Clean my brother’s feet. Suck my brother’s cock. Get them new beers. Get them more snacks. They didn’t want those snacks, go to the store and get different ones. Clean the kitchen. Make dinner. Go get in the bedroom and lube up. Suck my brother’s cock while my dad fucks my fat asshole. Go to bed. Wake up in the middle of the night. Let my brother fuck my hole. Go back to sleep. Get up. Make breakfast. Suck my dad’s and brother’s cocks while they eat breakfast. Clean up my filthy mess of cum that I’d shot on the kitchen floor like a complete faggot.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough that afternoon and back to my volunteer work, but mostly back to Mr. Morris. I told him everything. I told him that it didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t stop myself. It just felt…so normal to me. And worse…I liked it. I liked the way my dad and brother had treated me, it had made me feel so hot, and I’d jacked off more in the past day than I could remember–though I made sure to never do it in front of them. Neither of them wanted to see me touch my short faggot cock with them around. As I was telling Mr. Morris all of this, I realized I had my hand down my pants in the common room, stroking my hard cock, and I pulled it out quickly. He seemed embarrassed and worried, but he apologized again and consoled me and I leaned on his shoulder while he stroked my hair. He sucked me off again, and told me that all I had to do was get through the next few weeks, get to graduation, and then he’d have a present for me. A present he he hoped would make things better.

I really did like it, though, and so the next few weeks weren’t nearly as difficult as I had expected them to be. However, I was surprised by just how many men had become accustomed to receiving my services! My school schedule had shifted around, so that I suddenly had all of my classes with the beefiest, chubbiest, oldest male teachers, and I was serving every single one of them. No wonder I had such good grades! I never had time for school work with all of my chore duties at home, so this was really the only way I could hope to get to college. College! I had nearly forgotten. I hurried home, and found that one thing that hadn’t changed was my full ride, thankfully. At least I could get through this summer, and get away from my family then. Well, I’d have to leave Mr. Morris too, and that did make me sad.

And so I spent the last two weeks of my high school career on my knees. Sucking off teachers. Sucking off coaches. Sucking off beefy students. Sucking off my fat dad and brother almost constantly. And sucking off Mr. Morris of course. I kept asking him to fuck me again, but he said that we had to wait. He’d lost control last time–the amulet had…well, he never really explained what exactly had happened when he’d fucked me. All he told me was that he wanted to make damn sure that he got it right next time.

Mr. Morris (Pt. 1)

I procrastinated, I know. One month until I was supposed to graduate from high school, and I still needed fifty hours of community service. I pleaded with my principal to just waive the requirement, but she said her hands were tied–if I didn’t finish, I wouldn’t be able to walk, and I might not even get to go to college in the fall. So there I was–four weeks, fifty hours, twenty hours a week. Luckily, the service coordinator at my school had a suggestion. I wasn’t the first student to put it all off, and a local senior living center liked to have students come in during the evenings and weekends to keep people company. It meant that I would have to volunteer six days of the week, every week, but I’d be able to finish. I thought I’d lucked out–how easy could this be? All I had to do was sit around for a few hours and listen to old people talk. It was going to be so easy.

For a few days, it was easy. Really easy. The staff would pair us up with someone living in the center, and we would join them for dinner (which was free for us) and then have us sit with them for a couple hours after, and then send us home. In fact, some of the people were pretty cool. Then I got paired up with Mr. Morris. He was a bit on the short side, and rather fat with a short, full beard. He seemed a bit younger than most of the people who lived there, and it was a pleasant change from the usual sort of awkward conversation I was used to. I mean, I can’t quite remember what we talked about for the most part, though I do remember his showing me this amulet of his during dinner. He said it had been in his family for generations, but that since he hadn’t had any kids, there was no one he could give it to. It was a rather stunning piece of jewelry, coated with gold and with a number of jewels encrusted in it. Gaudy, maybe, but the way it caught the light…He left it out on top of his shirt all evening, and I just couldn’t quite bear to look away.

I was paired up with Mr. Morris every night after that. The staff just treated it like it had always been that way, even though they had made a point of saying before that they liked to rotate people around as much as possible to keep the experience fresh for everyone. I didn’t mind though–I loved being paired with Mr. Morris. By the end of the second week, I had realized something else–I loved Mr. Morris.

Now this was a bit strange for me. On one hand, I could remember being completely straight, and having a girlfriend, but it was like no one else could remember any of it. When I told Amber that we had dated, she laughed at me, and I did feel a bit foolish. I had come out to here my Freshman year, and we’d been best friends ever since, grading boys, the whole thing. She knew my tastes ran a lot older though, and bit more heavyset than people might find normal. Most of my crushes were on faculty, not on students. The strange feeling only lasted a few days though, and then it was perfectly normal for me, though I found myself acting different around Mr. Morris, my heart fluttering a bit when he put his hand on my knee, and whenever I jacked off, I kept having fantasies about him, only him.

Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore, and I confessed that I not only loved him, but that…that I wanted him to be my first. I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity. I expected him to be disgusted, but instead he smiled like he’d known all along, the amulet glinting, and he suggested that I tell my parents that I would be staying overnight with a friend on Friday night. Amber covered for me, though when I told her why she was a bit disgusted. My parents knew I was gay of course, so staying over with Amber wasn’t a problem at all for them. In fact…they seemed almost…too ok with the whole thing. Regardless, I joined Mr. Morris for dinner that night, and he was dressed so handsomely, I swooned a bit. He was a perfect gentleman, but with how he kept pawing at my crotch under the dinner table, I knew he wanted it as much as I did. When the staff told us it was time to go, no one said anything when I joined hands with Mr. Morris and followed him to the elevator, and up to his apartment.

Once we were inside, I had no idea what I was doing, but he was gentle, and he kissed me, and…and he was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. He helped me out of my clothes, I helped him out of his. I was scared of sucking his cock, but he said he’d like to suck mine first. I agreed, happily, and he told me to get on the bed. I noticed that even though he was naked, he hadn’t taken off the amulet, and it seemed…excited as well. Like it was catching too much light in the dim apartment lighting.

Now, I suppose I haven’t said too much about myself up until now. I suppose part of the reason is that I was pretty average. Average build, not too muscular, but certainly not fat. Maybe a bit tall and gangly, but what teenager isn’t a little bit? I was smart. I’d gotten into every school I applied to, with even a full ride from one, which was good, because my parents weren’t very well off at all. And there I was, naked, mostly hairless, sitting on Mr. Morris’ bed, and this bear of a man climbed up on all fours, amulet hanging from his neck and shining and all I can think is how lucky I am. Then, he swallows my rock hard cock and…and I can’t even describe it. I’d always felt a connection to Mr. Morris, ever since I’d first met him. But with our first sexual contact…I could feel him…inside me. I swear the amulet was glowing now, but that probably was just my imagination, but Mr. Morris, he was in my body, or exploring my body, or something, and then things started happening. I noticed my stomach start to gurgle, and all of a sudden my flattish stomach was bulging out into a gut, pushing up and out. I…I freaked out, and scrambled away from his mouth, and as soon as his mouth was off my cock, the feeling was gone.

He could see that I was scared, and I asked him what had just happened. He told me…mostly everything. How the amulet could change things, if he wanted them to change. That the closer he got to something, the more he could change them. The whole time, he was rubbing my gut, and I had to admit, it felt really good. Then again, I’d always…kinda wanted to be fat, you know? It seemed natural, after all. I was attracted to fat guys, right? So why wouldn’t I want to be fat too? And maybe…maybe a bit hairier. A proper bear cub. At least…at least, that was how Mr. Morris explained it to me, and it made so much sense. He told me that he could make it happen. That he could make me fat, and no one would know the difference. I was nervous, but how could I say no to him?

I sat back on the bed, heart beating fast, but this is what I wanted, right? I just…couldn’t quite remember it being what I wanted, was the problem. He wrapped his mouth around my cock again, and he was inside me, and my gut was growing, and soon enough it didn’t matter. The gut became too big to really be a gut anymore, and my chest was filling out into fat moobs. I touched my fattening nipples, and they were so sensitive! I could feel cum leaking from my cock like a faucet, but I held off as best I could. I could see my thighs growing wide, my ass spreading out underneath me. My chin was a bit scratchy, and I felt a short beard there. I’d never been able to grow a beard! And there was hair on my chest! I ran my fingers through it, and it was too much for me. I shot my load, and he swallowed it all down, nursing on the head for a moment, before releasing me. I laid back, surrounded by fat, and sighed. I felt like…me. Like a me I hadn’t even known could exist. Like a me that shouldn’t exist. Mr. Morris was looking at me…fuck, he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, and in his huge, fat, hard cock. I remember what he said next. “Roll over.” It wasn’t a request, he wasn’t asking for permission. I tried to stop myself, I was scared, I didn’t think I could handle anything in my ass, but my body was listening to him, not to me.