12DoC2: The Elves Strike Back (Part 3)

*Smack*

“Come on Claude, I know you’re sleepy, but the night is still plenty young.”

*Smack*

Something smeared it’s way across his lips, something sticky sweet. Claude swept it up with his tongue, groaned, bucked his hips into the air, feeling his cock growing harder at the taste. “F–Fuck…” he said, “Where…”

He opened his eyes, and saw Timmy kneeling over him, naked, cock hanging down over his head, dribbling cum, sweet cum, he thrust his head up to take the drop in, but Timmy lifted it away from him. “Nuh uh, Claude, you’ve had plenty for now–I mean, look how taut that gut of yours is. Hell, you’ve already drained half the staff.”

The elves cheered around them, laughing. Claude tried to piece together what little he could remember. There was that whisky, and he’d had those shots with Timmy, and then he’d…he’d felt so strange. He could remember Timmy telling him that if you receive a gift from an elf, you must give one in return, and then that first blow job. Fuck, their cum tasted so sweet, so fucking…hungry, so damn hungry for cum. And horny! Fuck, he reached down to grab his cock, but his hand only felt air. Confused, he looked down and say that where his cock and balls should be, was simply nothing more than a patch of smooth skin.

“Looking for these?” Timmy said, and picked up Claude’s cock and balls from a table next to him, making him shiver. Even though they were disconnected from him, he could feel everything–but how was that even possible? At the base of his cock, he could see a solid metal cockring. Distantly, he could remember Timmy putting it on him in his drunken haze, and then an odd pressure…

Timmy was stroking the shaft now, and Claude was groaning. So horny, and yet…yet he couldn’t cum. It felt like he was right on the edge. Timmy stopped, and Claude begged him to keep going, keep stroking, anything to get him off.

“Well you see, Claude, there’s a problem. Elf cum…it isn’t just addictive, you see. For addicts like you and Santa, it becomes impossible for you to cum without a full belly of our seed. You could stroke and stroke and stroke this cock of yours to a bloody stump, and you’d just be even hornier than before, with no release in sight. Now, I can’t have you ruining your cock like that, so I’ve taken the liberty of keeping it safely out of your hands for now.”

Claude was panting now, and when Timmy laid it back down on the table, he tried to grab it, but his hands and ankles had been shackled together, causing him to simply fall on his face. “Oh Claude–if you want more cum, I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me a gift in return. But I’m very, very generous. If you go into Santa’s house and bring out Marty for me, then I can promise that you’ll have an unlimited supply of elf cum for the rest of your life–how does that sound?”

It sounded fantastic, and Claude immediately agreed. Timmy and a few other elves escorted him over to the house, and he led them down into the basement. Marty was kept in a special locked cabinet, but Santa had given Claude a key. He got out the rubberized dildo elf, and handed him to Timmy, who carried him back to the workshop, Claude following along behind, begging for cum. “Your gift is so thoughtful Claude,” Timmy said as he admired Marty, “Louie, do be kind and give Claude a load of cum? He looks so hungry.”

Claude was immediately on his knees in front of the elf, sucking his cock desperately, and Timmy set Marty on the floor of the dungeon, and began smearing something all over the rubber form. After a moment, the rubber began to bubble and slide off, revealing skin underneath–in a matter of moments, Marty was gasping for air, standing in a puddle of steaming black goo, and Timmy was so thrilled, he pulled his fellow elf into a hug, but Marty just slumped into him, exhausted. Louie came, and they all returned to the workshop, Claude on his knees, sucking load after load of cum, his cock leaking onto the table next to him, while Timmy and a handful of others helped nurse Marty back to health, and filled him in on what had happened in the last year.

One thing was for certain, Marty was furious. Timmy tried to calm him down, told him that by the end of the night, Santa would get what was coming to him, but Marty wasn’t angry at Santa…so much as Claude. The usurper, the mortal Santa had brought back with him, who had stolen Santa from him. It was then that Timmy realized that the elf he loved, the elf he had conspired to save all year long, was in love with someone else–Santa Claus. Marty got up, taking the other elves with him, and Timmy sat alone, his heart broken.

Marty hurried through the workshop, searching for something in particular, grabbed up a large bucket marked “Hazardous” and then headed over to where Marty was still sucking off the long line of elves in the middle of the workshop. Marty pushed the elf currently getting blown to the side, and then smacked Claude awake from his elfcum stupor. “Hello Claude!” Marty said, leering down at him, “I don’t believe that we ever had a chance to be properly introduced last year. My name is Marty–I’m the head elf around here, and I don’t think I’ve had a chance to give you a gift yet!”

Claude could see the anger and insanity in Marty’s eyes, and he shook his head. “I–I don’t think I need any more gifts, really.”

“Oh, but I insist!” Marty said, grabbed a bucket of some black goop and set it up on the workbench where Claude’s cock was still sitting. “And I know just what to give you.” He picked up Claude’s cock with one gloved hand, and plunged it into the bucket. The goop was cold on his cock, and Claude shivered. When Marty pulled it out a moment later, it was covered with the substance, and he noticed something else. Where moments before his cock was cold, now it was just numb. He could see the slop dripping away from his cock, leaving it black, shiny, and solid rubber. “What do you think? A dildo just for you. Still, I don’t think it’s quite big enough for a whore like you.” Marty started moulding the still hardening rubber, slopping more and more on, until Marty’s cock was nearly five inches thick, and close to fifteen inches long. “What do you think? Shall we give it a go?”

Before Claude could fight him off, Marty had him down on his hands and knees, ramming his old cock into his asshole, listening to his competition for Santa’s love beg for his cock back.

“Oh, don’t worry Claude–it’s all going to be just fine. Still, since I had to spend a whole year as a dildo, crammed in both of your asses, I feel like it’s only fair that you get something equally humiliating in return. But I have a feeling it’s going to be for a bit longer than a year–in fact, I don’t think you’ll ever be changing back.”

The elves surrounding Marty who had been shouting excitingly, had gone silent. Timmy, only observed from the catwalk around the workshop, as Marty grabbed Calude by the beard, hauled him up, the massive dildo still crammed in his ass, and dragged him off to his private workshop. The elves tried to go in after him, but he locked the door tight behind him. And then Timmy realized something else–chances are, if Marty was angry now, he was going to be even more furious when the sleigh returned with Santa. After all, Timmy had planned on taking Santa out of commission entirely, but if Marty was in love with him…

He might be the one screwed in the end.

12DoC2: The Elves Strike Back (Part 2)

Santa whisked himself back up another chimney, the sounds of the two fucking bears he’d just freed from their boring businessmen’s lives fading into the silent night, and he tromped back to his sleigh. It was a good distance to the next house on his list, and he was already getting thirsty. He grabbed one of the bottles of cum the elves had made for him, and was a bit disappointed that they’d only given him three. He’d promised Claude that he’d try to cut back, but it was just so damn sweet and tasty…not to mention the other problems it caused if he didn’t drink any for a while.

The lid was off, and he was chugging it back–the whole bottle gone in a matter of moments, and it was only afterwards, as he sucked some off his mustache, that he noticed an odd aftertaste. He inspected the bottle, a bit suspicious, but in the end he tossed it in the back and figured it was just a bit old or something. Cum was always better fresh from a cock after all. He flew off into the night, heading for the next town, but by the time he set down on the first roof, his gut was growling with hunger, and the cookies and milk left for him in the living room weren’t enough to satisfy. Two homes later, he was eating cookies, and then scavenging sweets from pantries, and then he reached a house where he simply couldn’t stop. The kitchen was huge, the fridge and pantry well stocked, and he began gorging himself, trying to find some self-control, but the hunger was intense and all-consuming.

It was only when he heard a gasp behind him that Santa whirled around, and found an older, chubby man staring at him from the entrance to the kitchen. “S–Santa? No, you’re not Santa, what the fuck?”

“Oh shut up, Aaron. Get over here and feed me.”

Aaron felt Santa’s magic work it’s way around him, and he shuffled towards him, his eyes drawn to the food covered gut in front of him, reaching out, kneading it. Santa groaned, and realized then how large he had grown during his binge. He’d been fat for centuries before Marty had changed him in the muscle Santa he’d been last year, but now he was even fatter than before, his muscles buried under a flabby apron of fat which Aaron was shaking with both hands.

“Oh, you fat fucking pig, we’re gonna make you fucking massive,” a cake materialized on the counter next to them, Aaron grabbed a handful and smashed it into Santa’s mouth and beard, the older man’s eyes rolling back in pleasure as he chewed.

They both lost track of time, and thanks to Santa’s powers, time outside the house didn’t move forward a single moment. Once Santa was finally full enough to think about something other than food, he had Aaron heft him up and bend him over the table–no small feat, considering the size of Santa’s new belly. Aaron groaned, kneaded Santa’s blubbery ass, and started fucking him–or trying to at least. Aaron couldn’t quite get his four inch cock into Santa’s hole surrounded by his new fat. Santa concentrated, and Aaron’s cockck growing larger and larger until Santa was satisfied with the ten inch cock ramming into his fat ass…but still he wanted food. A platter of cookies now, and he stuffed his face, feeling his cock pulse as he chewed. Somehow eating was turning him on even more than being fucked, but the two together was finally enough to make Santa cum, moaning through a cookie packed mouth.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ pig, fuck!” Aaron shouted, and he filled Santa’s hole to the brim, but with his cumshot, clarity returned to Santa’s mind, and he sent Aaron back to bed–a feeder for life. What in the world had just happened to him? He waddled into the bathroom to get a better look at himself, and he had to guess he weighed nearly five hundred pounds after his uncontrollable binging. The weight gain itself shouldn’t be a problem, considering he could change his size at will–but he found he also couldn’t will himself thinner…because he liked it. He didn’t really want to be thinner, did he?

He starred in the mirror, trying to figure out why he’d been so concerned, but ended up jacking off again for the fun of it. Of course, he couldn’t reach his cock, so he had to go find Aaron and make him suck him off while he ate few summoned cupcakes, and then he was back up the chimney, the sleigh creaking under his huge frame, and took off for the next house, two full bottles of elf cum still nestled into the seat beside him.

The Twelve Days of Christmas 2: The Elves Strike Back (Part 1)

Our story so far…

An elf by the name of Marty, who fancied all kinds of kinky sex, had grown tired of producing the same toys for spoiled children every year, day in and day out. He dreamed of a different kind of Christmas–a Christmas for the perverted men of the world, and for the not so perverted men, with all sorts of gifts and toys that would make them happy and horny all year long. But stodgy Saint Nick would never approve of something like that–and so, with some magic whisky distilled with the help of his fellow kinky elves, Marty first converted the rest of the elvish work force, and finally, one Christmas, put Santa Claus under his spell.

There were problems. In the end, making sure Saint Nick was good and addicted to sweet elvish cum was enough to keep him under control, and get him to play along all year, as the elves fashioned all sorts of new toys, and sent Santa off into the night on Christmas Eve, to deliver them to all the naughty, and soon to be naughty, men of the world, but when Santa arrived back at dawn with a chubby, slutty bear named Claude hanging off his arm, Marty wasn’t pleased.

Santa, it turned out, had a few tricks up his sleeve as well. He turned Marty into his personal, life sized, dildo. With their ringleader deposed, the other elves fell in line, and the next year, an uneasy truce emerged. The elves would provide Santa with their cum, satisfying his addiction, and he worked with them, making sure that the next Christmas would be even naughtier than the last one. But elves have long memories, and Timmy–Marty’s old lieutenant–had a plan in the works. One that he hoped would take care of this meddlesome Santa once and for all.

But now, it was Christmas Eve, and Santa’s workshop was busier than ever. The sun hadn’t been up in months, and for Claude, he couldn’t believe a whole year had come and gone already. It felt like only a few days ago he’d climbed down from Santa’s sleigh onto the ice, and he was still trying to get his bearings. He hadn’t expected to step right into a war zone, but between Santa and the Elves, that’s what it felt like. It was apparent that Santa had the upper hand, and yet…the way some of the elves looked at them when they were in the workshop, it didn’t give Claude much comfort.

And now he was out on the runway, watching the elves load the last few bags of kinky toys and gifts for the men of the world into the sleigh, Santa walking and checking all eight of his hunky reindeer, and he realized that tonight would be the first night when he would have the bed in Santa’s house all to himself. In fact, he’d been close on Santa’s heels all year, learning from him, and always available for a fuck. The elves dropped three bottles on the seat of the sleigh–filled with elf cum, Claude supposed. Santa was still addicted to the stuff, and the elves supplied him with plenty from day to day. Claude wanted Santa to quit, but…it turned out he simply couldn’t, for reasons he was hesitant to explain. Marty–still trapped as a dildo in their bedroom toy cabinet–had done quite a number on Santa’s head, and one year wasn’t nearly enough for Santa to open up to Claude entirely.

He nearly missed Santa’s wave and blown kiss from the seat of the sleigh. Claude waved back, and then his husband was off into the air for his yearly trip around the world. He watched until even Rudolph’s red headed cock disappeared into the dark night, and the elves around him broke into a cheer, smacking each other on the back, congratulating each other on another successful year, and Claude had the distinct sensation of being trapped behind enemy lines, and he spun and hiked a few steps back towards his home, but a small hand grabbed his and yanked him back.

“Hey now, Mr. Claus–where are you going so quickly?”

Claude looked back and saw Timmy, who had replaced Marty as head elf after the latter had been turned into a dildo. “To bed,” he said, “I’m exhausted.”

“Aww…but we’re just about to start celebrating, right boys?” the elves cheered, and after they quieted, Timmy continued, “Look, I know things have been tense this year, I get it. Last year…hey, it’s always hard, getting used to something new. But you know, we all made a damn good team this year, and it would be our pleasure to share a drink with you, what do you say?”

Claude tried to protest, but the elves brought out their booze, and before long he was tipping back with the rest of them, and following them to the workshop. They seemed nice, he supposed. Santa had warned him to never accept any gifts from the elves, but what harm could a drink do? However, after a few shots of the elves “special occasion” whisky, Claude was feeling more than tipsy, and Timmy and the other elves were suddenly a bit too close for comfort, tugging at his clothes, and then simply pulling them off, until Claude was standing in the middle of the workshop, naked.

“A..Alright guys *hic*, that’s enough,” Claude slurred, “Gimme back my clothes.”

“Oh, but you weren’t planning on leaving just yet, were you? Why, the real party is just getting started, Mr. Claus,” Timmy said, and pulled his cock out of his leather pants. “And you’re the guest of honor, which means you get to be our cum dump, right boys?”

The elves cheered, and Claude tried to rush for the door. The elves clambered over him and toppled him to the ground, tying his arms and legs up in rope, forcing open his mouth, letting Timmy ram his cock down his throat. Claude cursed and fought until one of the elves grabbed a gag to keep his mouth open, allowing Timmy, and then a long series of elves to fuck his face…but before long, Claude didn’t mind.

Their cum was fucking delicious–why hadn’t Santa told him? Pretty soon, the elves took the gag out and he was happily sucking the cum down, taking shots of special suggestive whisky in between cocks, while Timmy whispered sweet assurances in his ear, until Mikey, with his thick seven inch cock, managed to choke Claude out, and he passed out on the workroom floor.

Daddy4Boys: Hi boy

Jasonite555: Who is this?

Daddy4Boys: Your daddy, boy. Don’t pretend like you don’t know who I am 😉

Jasonite555: No, I actually don’t.

Daddy4Boys: But you got in bed naked with me just last night, boy.

Jasonite555: Leave me alone fag

Daddy4Boys: You’d always wanted your daddy’s body, but you didn’t know how to ask. You had a bad dream, and asked to climb into bed with me, and we were naked, and your little dicklet got hard.

Daddy4Boys: You asked me something boy, what did you ask me?

Daddy4Boys: Tell me boy.

Jasonite555: Why’s my dicklet hard, daddy?

Jasonite555: What the fuck, why did I fucking type that?

Daddy4Boys: Your dicklet’s hard because you like lying here naked with your daddy, see? Daddy’s cock is hard too, son. Go on, touch it, it’s ok.

Jasonite555: No this is fucked up

Jasonite555: I’m not gonna

Jasonite555: Wow daddy, it’s so much bigger than mine, big and hard

Daddy4Boys: It sure is, son, but yours will get bigger when you’re older, but for now you’re just my big boy. Do you like me touching your dicklet?

Jasonite555: Yeah daddy, it feels really good.

Daddy4Boys: It feels good having you touch my cock too, son.

[Jasonite555 has logged out]

***

Daddy4Boys: Hi son

Jasonite555: What the fuck, I fucking blocked you, you sick fuck

Daddy4Boys: Now is that any way to talk to your daddy?

Jasonite555: Fucking shut up, you fucking did something to me, you freak. My fucking dicklet shrank

Jasonite555: Not a dicklet, fuck

Jasonite555: It’s like, three inches hard now, what the fuck did you do?

Daddy4Boys: That’s it boy, I’ve had it with your tone. *Grabs you, bends you over my knee, and pulls down the back of your pants for a spanking.*

Jasonite555: No daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it

Daddy4Boys: *Starts smacking your fat ass with my hand.*

Jasonite555: Daddy, no, please, it hurts.

Daddy4Boys: If you don’t want to be spanked, then you need to speak to me with respect boy.

Jasonite555: I’m sorry daddy

Daddy4Boys: *Let’s you up after ten swats.* That’s alright boy. Now son, be honest, did that spanking make your dicklet hard?

Jasonite555: No…

Daddy4Boys: *Pulls down your pants* Don’t lie to Daddy boy, I can see how hard your dicklet is.

Jasonite555: My dicklet’s not hard! No!

Daddy4Boys: I think someone needs another spanking, to learn not to tell lies. *Pulls you back over my knee, and listens to you moan with pleasure as I smack your ass harder.*

Jasonite555: Oh…oh daddy, my dicklet…something’s coming out, daddy!

Daddy4Boys: *I keep swatting, and then let you stand up, rubbing your ass. There’s a splotch of cum from your dicklet shot across the crotch of my pants.*

Jasonite555: No…No, I did not just fucking cum, I didn’t

Daddy4Boys: You made quite the mess son.

Jasonite555: I’m sorry daddy, I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t stop.

Daddy4Boys: Well I think it’s only right that you should clean up your own messes, son. Get down here and lick it all up.

Jasonite555: I’m not gonn

Jasonite555: you cant make me type

Jasonite555: *Gets down and starts licking up the cum from my dicklet like a good boy.*

Daddy4Boys: *I ruffle your hair with my hand.* How does it taste, son?

Jasonite555: Really good daddy, I didn’t know you could eat it.

Daddy4Boys: Would you like some more? Daddy can give you some, but you’re gonna have to suck it out. There’s nothing that makes boys’ bellies grow big and fat like cum.

[Jasonite555 has logged off]

***

Jasonite555: What the fuck did you do to me.

Jasonite555: I can’t stop eating my cum, you fucking freak, every time my tiny dicklet shoots, I have to lick it up.

Jasonite555: And I’m getting fatter, I have a fucking gut.

Jasonite555: How are you fucking doing this.

Jasonite555: Fucking answer me! I know you’re there.

[Jasonite555 has logged off]

***

Jasonite555: Look, I’m sorry.

Jasonite555: I can’t eat anymore, I stuffed myself. I’m so full I feel like I’m going to burst.

Jasonite555: Please stop this, don’t make me do that again, I’m sorry.

Jasonite555: Please, I’m scared daddy

Daddy4Boys: It’s alright boy, I’m here.

Jasonite555: Why didn’t you say anything! I thought you’d never respond

Daddy4Boys: Now now, don’t cry son, it’s perfectly alright. It’s all normal for fat boys like you to eat everything you can.

Jasonite555: It is?

Daddy4Boys: Well sure. Besides, it feels kind of good, doesn’t it? Your belly stuffed so full you can barely move?

Jasonite555: Yeah, I mean, kinda

Daddy4Boys: Turn on your cam, son. I want to see.

Jasonite555: I don’t

Jasonite555: Why am I even talking to you

[Jasonite555 invited Daddy4Boys to view your webcam.]

Daddy4Boys: Oh yes, you look beautiful son, just what I wanted. So fat and smooth.

Jasonite555: Really? You like how I look daddy?

Daddy4Boys: I think you’re beautiful son. Do you want to see your daddy?

Jasonite555: I do.

[Jasonite555 has invited Daddy4Boys to view their webcam.]

Daddy4Boys: What do you think of daddy, son?

Jasonite555: I like you daddy. Looking at you makes my dicklet really hard.

Daddy4Boys: Of course it does son. Most boys get turned on looking at their daddy’s fat, old bodies, just like how daddy’s get turned on looking at their fat, smooth, young boys.

Daddy4Boys: But you only ‘like’ me, boy?

Daddy4Boys: I think you love me son.

Daddy4Boys: Answer me. Tell me the truth, or I’ll have to spank you again.

Jasonite555: I love you daddy

Jasonite555: I do, but I don’t think I should love you. I think you’re doing something strange to me.

Daddy4Boys: Oh, little boys like you shouldn’t worry about things like that.

Jasonite555: But it’s scary

Daddy4Boys: It’s not scary. You just think too much son. You’re too smart for your own good. You need to think less, and just trust daddy to do all the thinking for you. Just focus on that hard dicklet, and on making daddy happy. Just a dumb, fat, happy boy.

Jasonite555: I don’t wanna to be dumb.

Daddy4Boys: It doesn’t matter what you want to be, it’s just what you are. The sooner you accept your role in life, the happier you’ll be.

Jasonite555: My dicklets, like, so super hard daddy

Jasonite555: can i play with it

Daddy4Boys: Of course boy, as long as I can play with my cock while you do.

Jasonite555: your cock is so big daddy

Daddy4Boys: I bet you’d like to suck on it, right boy? And feel it up your ass?

Jasonite555: yeah

Daddy4Boys: You’ve never had sex with anyone before. I can’t wait to be your first.

Jasonite555: I had sex before

Jasonite555: I think

Daddy4Boys: You’re remembering wrong. That’s just you thinking about all that daddy porn you look at all day long, while you stuff your face with food. You’re really stupid after all, so you just get confused really easily.

Jasonite555: yeah you probably right daddy

Jasonite555: Yeah, I’m just dumb I’ve never had sex but I really really really want to have sex with you, so bad

Jasonite555: can I cum daddy?

Jasonite555: im so close

Daddy4Boys: Yeah son, shoot your load for me.

Jasonite555: that felt so good daddy, tastes so good too. I hope I get to taste yours for real one day.

Daddy4Boys: Soon boy, you will soon. Tonight, in fact. I’m coming to pick you up now.

Jasonite555: Really!!! I’m so excited.

Daddy4Boys: See you soon boy.

Jasonite555: ok daddy, I can’t wait. I love you daddy, I love you so so much

[Daddy4Boys has logged off]

Metawriting: Cheating and Overloading the Reader

Alright, so I got this anonymous question in my inbox the other day:

“I love your work, but recently it feels like your stories have been too short to have much story, but have too much story to have porn. It’s not that the two are mutually exclusive, but that it feels like you’re taking an interesting scenario, doing some setup for a longer story, but then just cutting it off with ‘And then they all became pigs and lots of gay sex, the end’ rather than fleshing it out.”

And because I’m a tacky bastard my instinctive response was something like,

“Well fuck you too.”

but that was only because I suck at taking criticism. So I thought for a bit, and realized,

“Hey, didn’t I write a metawriting essay on this very topic?”

and sure enough, I had, and I’d failed to take my own advice. Or rather, I felt like the advice I’d given in that entry was good, but it had oversimplified the problem of narrative and the erotic to an either-or, when that doesn’t really capture the actual scope of possible stories. It also failed to grapple with the actual problem. The issue isn’t whether or not you want any given story to be more or less focused on story of sex, rather, the issue is that any given scene, regardless of whether it is focused on sex or story, can either cheat the reader, or overload them. This is a related, but different issue.

Readers are, in general, pretty forgiving in this genre. If you can manage to help them get off, they’ll give you a pass. However, the quickest way to make sure someone doesn’t get off, is to either cheat or overload them. To cheat is to do what the asker above describes, to reach a section of the story, slip in a quick summary of what happened, and then jet off into the next scene. If the reader really wanted more of a description of what had just happened, (say a super-duper hot ass sex scene of one thousand potential orgasms), then they are going to feel cheated. On the other hand, if you go so in depth into a scene that the reader loses interest entirely in what you might have to say, you have just overloaded them, which can be just as bad. So how, exactly, does one strike a good balance?

I tend to err on the side of cheating, especially on tumblr. These captions and vignettes, to me, aren’t really meant to be taken as finalized “stories”. This is more like an artist showing you pages from their sketch book, and like a sketch, I tend to focus on the aspects of any given story that attract my attention. In the same way that a sketch might draw one aspect of a scene in intricate detail, while only implying or omitting other parts, I use these captions to elaborate one or two aspects that I find intriguing–a MacGuffin, a sex act, a particular transformation–and I generally minimize and leave vague everything else around it.

I fully understand that this can be frustrating for readers of my tumblr. The aspects of a vignette I choose to focus on may or may not be the aspect of the story you are most interested in. I’m sympathetic, but not really that much, sorry not sorry. I don’t spend a lot of time editing these captions, and they are largely springboards to other ideas and projects that I would spend more time on (provided “more time” was a thing that existed in my life at the moment). If I were extending these sketches into longer stories, one of the first things I’d do is sketch out how these scenes are structured, but the only way to learn to gauge length is to read other people’s stories, see how they construct their scenes, sexy and otherwise. Find authors you like, and mimic their pace and description. That said, there are a couple signs that you can watch out for in your stories, to make sure you aren’t cheating or overloading the reader.

Keep an eye on your level of detail. There is a sweet spot, where you provide enough detail to prompt a scene in the reader’s mind, while leaving enough mystery to allow them to fill in some of the erotic details with their own imagination. Detail is crucial; I’m not trying to undersell them. Details are erotic triggers, the only aspect of stories that have the power to directly arouse the reader. However, the more details you put in, the more readers you risk leaving disappointed and overloaded. All it takes is one erotic trigger that the reader has no interest in for the entire scene to disappoint. MacGuffins are another choke point. If they become so complicated that you have to spend paragraph after paragraph describing how and why they work, you are wasting so much time on exposition that the vast majority of readers have no interest in (Although I’m certain there are people turned on my elaborate exposition and unnecessary exposition. After all, Tolkien is still a popular author.)

Also be aware of your own boredom. Do you feel yourself, as you’re working on a scene, wishing you were writing something else? If so, there’s a very good chance that your reader is going to be thinking about reading something else when you deliver it to them. If you’re bored, the person making it, then what chance does a reader have? Just be careful that you don’t overcompensate, and go from overloading a scene to cheating it. It’s just as bad to skip over something with a few sentences of rushed exposition as it is to slog through it with too much detail. Better is to reformulate the scene entirely, and start from scratch. Find some way to inject more action into it, to generate excitement, rather than just ignoring the problem. When in doubt, rewrite it.

Of course, the best way to check for cheating or overloading is to give a draft to a reader you trust, and ask them what they wanted more of, and what they felt dragged on too long. Believe them, don’t challenge them, and be willing to rewrite sections and murder your darlings. And in response to your question, Anonymous, I’ll keep a better lid on my tendency to summarize–thanks for pointing it out.

Patreon Commission: Liam’s Grandfather

I met Liam’s grandfather by accident. The two of us had early release from high school on Wednesdays, and we’d usually go to this little cafe in town for coffee and to work on our homework. We’d been friends since kindergarten, and lived down the street from each other. Both of us were on the swim team–tall, lean, and generally hairless. He’d hung around with each other for so long, some people would mistake us for blonde haired, green eyed brothers, but Liam…Liam had been acting a bit strange lately. He told me that a few months ago his grandfather had moved in with his parents, because he couldn’t afford the mortgage payments on the house he’d been living in across the country, and while he hadn’t told me anything in particular, he was just being…well, it made more sense once I met his grandfather myself

So anyway, we get to the cafe. It’s early afternoon, after the lunch rush, but the place is still busy. We get in line to order, when Liam looks around and spots his grandfather sitting at a table in the middle of the room. He freaks out, and says we have to leave before he notices us. I don’t get what the big deal is, but then we hear a loud, gravelly voice calling Liam’s name, and it’s like someone flipped a switch, and Liam is calm as can be, even…happy.

He waves at his grandfather, and without ordering he heads over to where the old man is seated. I don’t hear what they say, but then his grandfather grabs Liam’s chin and pulls his mouth down, and starts making out with him right in the middle of the room, and no one says a thing. That was the strangest part. Telling you about it now, sure, it was fucked up. No one kisses their grandfather like that. But when I was there, staring right at them, it seemed like the most normal thing in the world. It didn’t bother me at all.

I knew what Liam liked to drink, so I ordered for the both of us and then took them over to the table where his grandfather was sitting. They didn’t pay me any mind, and as I watched the two of them make out, I started to get…kind of jealous. Now that I was closer, Liam’s grandfather…he suddenly looked really sexy. That bushy, untrimmed beard, the gut hanging out the bottom if his shirt. A real sleazy sexy. I mean, I know…I don’t feel that way right now, but when I was close to him, I just…the thoughts were just–there. Obvious. And I was jealous. How lucky was Liam that he got to live with a hot daddy like that?

I think I cleared my throat or something, but they broke off the kiss, his grandfather smiled up at me, a couple gold teeth in his mouth, and my heart started pounding as he looked me up and down. He said, “Oh Liam, now where have you been hiding this handsome young man from me?” and I swooned into him. He had smoker’s breath, I didn’t care. I told him my name, he tweaked one of my nipples through my shirt, and I nearly came in the front of my jeans.

Liam was furious, and pushed me away, placing himself between us, blurting out something like, “He’s no one Gramps, just a friend.” Then he said he wanted to show him something, and pulled off his shirt in the middle of the cafe revealing two freshly pierced nipples, and also dropped his pants. He was wearing a jockstrap, and he turned around, showing his grandfather his bare ass, which I saw had a tattoo on it which I had never seen before in the showers after swim practice. His grandfather whistled, and when Liam turned back around he nodded approvingly and pulled Liam into his lap. I wished that I had something I could show off, Liam’s grandfather looked so happy, twisting his grandson’s tits, pulling him close, reaching around to knead his ass. He let go long enough to unzip the fly of his pants, letting his cock flop out. It was huge–I’d never seen one so thick, but before I could do anything, Liam was on his knees, sucking on the head, moaning.

I was hurt, but he beckoned me closer and we made out. One of his hands was on the back of Liam’s head, the other reached down the back of my pants, fingering my asshole. Between kisses, he’d tell me how hot I’d look if I was a bit…edgier. Some piercings, maybe a tattoo. Then I’d be fuckable. He said I’d be fuckin’ irresistible. I came, two of his fingers deep in my hole, grinding my crotch against the side of his gut, his tongue running it’s way around the inside of my mouth. He gave a couple of grunts, and then he was filling up Liam’s mouth. Liam had, at some point, started jacking off, and at the taste of his grandfather’s cum, he shot his own load across the ceramic floor of the cafe.

Then we got up, like nothing strange had happened. We all sat at the table and had our drinks, flirting, vying for his attention for a couple of hours, and then he excused himself, and waddled out of the cafe. As he left, the horror descended on both of us. I couldn’t even look at Liam, I just stood up, grabbed my bag, and fled. I couldn’t tell anyone. Who would even believe me? Hell, everyone in the cafe had just watched it happen, and no one had done anything! No–I was bound to take the reality of what had happened to the grave.

Liam and I grew distant. Everyone at school was talking about him, how he’d turned into a bit of a bad boy. He got more tattoos and piercings. He shaved his head down to the skin. He was smoking cigarettes and failing his classes. I knew why, of course, but the worst part was…that I want it to be me. Fuck, I want it to be me so badly. I know he’s disgusting, I know it’s wrong, I know I’m straight, and yet all I can think about is him.

So that’s why I need these tattoos and piercings. That’s why I can’t ask my parents. I…I heard you’d bend the rules for…for a blow job. I could…do that. You look a bit like him, if I squint.

***

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Patreon Commission: A Pig and His Sty

“Those fuckers…” Barry said, tracking mud across the floor of his friends’ farmhouse as he made his way to their bathroom for a shower. Jerry and Mac had a fondness for pranks, and he could still hear them laughing outside by the pig sty, where the two of them had grabbed Barry, chucked him over the low wooden fence and into the mud on the other side. He was covered, head to toe, and after shouting at them, they’d suggested he just calm down and go inside for a shower.

He turned on the water, and then started stripping off his muddy clothes. How in the hell had he gotten as much mud under his clothes as on them? He didn’t even know what he could wear–both Jerry and Mac were big farm boys–he’d never be able to fit into anything of theirs. He could worry about that later though–first he just had to get some of this damn mud off of him.

The water had heated up, he stepped inside and felt the mud start to sluff off him as he wiped it away. He focused on his head for while, trying to get all the mud out of his short hair and off his face, and then looked down at his body, and saw that while some of the mud had just come away with the water, large patches of remained behind all over his body. He grabbed the soap, lathered it up between his hands and started washing at the large splotches, and then grabbed the brush and attacked the mud as hard as he could, but for some reason it wasn’t coming off at all.

He inspected the splotches a bit closer, picking at the mud with his fingernail, but realized he wasn’t picking at dirt, he was looking at his own skin. Somehow, large patches of his body had turned the same dark brown as the sty’s mud. He climbed out of the shower to get a better look at himself in the mirror, but it had steamed up. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and left the bathroom, heading for Jerry’s room where he knew there was a large mirror on the wall. As he walked, the towel kept wanting to come undone, and then it couldn’t quite fit around him at all, and Barry was left clutching it around him as best he could.

Luckily Jerry wasn’t in his room, and he gave up on the towel, standing in front of the mirror naked–but more shocking than the splotches of brown all over his body and face was the fact that between getting out of the shower and entering Jerry’s bedroom, he had somehow gained close to 200 pounds. No wonder the towel hadn’t been able to reach around his body–his flat stomach had grown past gut and turned into a full blown apron that sagged down and covered his entire crotch. He grabbed the fat with his hands, confirming that it was indeed his, and screamed.

He lumbered out of the bedroom, still naked. He had to find Jerry and Mac, he had to figure out what was happening to him. He was out of breath by the time he stumbled out onto the porch, hot, heaving for breath, and snorting loudly with every other breath of air. He stepped out into the midsummer sunlight, his skin burning and itching. He had to cool down, he couldn’t get enough air. He had to get away from the sun. Forgetting aboutJerry and Mac, he instead wandered around the farmhouse until he spotted the muddy sty, and breathed a sigh of relief. The mud would be cool, he’d feel better in the sty.

It took him a few minutes to figure out how to get past the fence. He couldn’t get the gate to work, or rather, his hands seemed too clumsy to get the latch to open, so he ended up hefting himself over, tumbling off and into the cool mud with a loud thunk. The impact knocked the breath out of him, but he was in the mud again, the cool mud. Snorting and grunting, he rolled around a few times, coating himself all over, already feeling cooler in the summer sun.

“Well look at that, bro. Looks like our friend loved the sty so much he got back in all on his own!”

Barry looked up and saw Jerry and Mac on the other side of the fence, leering at him. He rolled over and tried to stand up, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to be working right, and looking down, he realized why. He already was standing up, on all fours. The rest of his body was still human, but his arms, legs and haunches had all morphed into pig legs, his hands replaced by solid trotters. He looked up, terrified and tried to speak, but even though his mouth and throat were human, the only sounds that came out were a series of grunts, oinks and squeals.

Jerry and Mac just laughed, and started stripping off their clothes, before climbing in naked. Barry led them on a chase around the sty, the two brothers laughing, their cocks hard, until Mac finally tackled him to into the mud, and slipped his muddy cock into Barry’s ass. As soon as he did, Barry felt a pleasurable calm wash over him, and when Jerry came around to his face and presented his cock, he swallowed it and suckled happily, feeling his own cock and balls start to pulse in the mud. Jerry reached under him, and said as he fucked, “Looks like he’s enjoying himself–his new piggy cock is rock hard!”

Barry had no idea what they meant by that, but he didn’t want them to stop. Jerry shot first, milking his cock into Barry ass, and Mac shot second, coating his face with cum, that Barry found himself licking up hungrily. Then they rolled him over, but his gut was so large now that he couldn’t see his crotch at all. While Mac teased him, Jerry ran inside for a mirror.

“Dang Barry, you sure seem to be enjoying yourself. Jerry ‘n I, we were just gonna keep you as a pig part time, but from the way you’re muckin’ up, I think you might be hangin’ around a lot more than that.”

Barry tried to talk again, and found that, if he concentrated, he could just barely make out words that could be understood. mac made him repeat himself a couple of times, just to tease him. Barry wanted to know why.

“Oh Barry, so naive. Friends, Barry? We’re lovers, and we’ve had our eye on you for a while now,” Jerry returned with a small mirror and hopped the fence, careful to keep the glass from the mud. They positioned it so Barry could see his new sheath, heavy bulging balls, and the bright pink, corkscrew cock emerging from it, and he squealed in terror. “Now Barry, calm down–you fuckin’ love it,” Mac said, and went back to milking the pig’s cock. “Now give us a load, Barry. Shoot, and then you’ll understand.”

Barry fought, but his new arms and legs could only do so much, especially once Jerry pinned him down. Mac rubbed, sucked, stroked, and Barry finally gave out a high squeal, shooting a huge load up onto his gut, and when he did, he…what had he been doing? The orgasm was still ripping through him, dulling his mind, and he rolled over into the mud, settling down, snorting and grunting contentedly, as his master’s laughed and climbed out of the sty, leaving Barry to his new, muddy, life.

Commission – The Roadhouse Men (Musky)

~1994~

“Marty look, I know I let you help out around here on occasion, but you can’t really expect me to–”

“Ed, I don’t have anywhere else to go. He kicked me out!”

“Weren’t you saving the cash I’ve been givin’ you?”

“He already found it. I don’t have anything. Please, I’ve thought about it, alright? I really have.”

“Eddie, just let him do it,” Danny boy said, where he was sweeping the bar floor in a pair of bright green gym shorts and nothing else, “Bruno and I could use the help, right Bruno?”

The big, hairy bear behind the bar, dressed in a perfectly shined leather uniform didn’t say anything, but he never said much, really. Ed looked at them both, and then at Marty. He’d been waiting on the stoop of the roadhouse this morning when Mitch Evans had dropped Danny Boy off in his truck. Ed had arrived half an hour later to Danny Boy patting Marty on the back while the young man sobbed, telling him how his dad had kicked him out of the trailer for being a queer. Ed was sympathetic, and it was because he was sympathetic that he was reluctant.

“There’s no way back, you know. You won’t age. You won’t be able to go against my orders. You’d be giving up a whole lot. How about I just hire you as a barback, under the table? You can sleep in the backroom with Bruno, until you get back on your feet–”

“I don’t…” Marty said, and then stopped. “I don’t want to be a barback, Eddie. I want…” he looked over at Danny Boy, where he was standing, but Eddie knew he didn’t want Danny Boy. Marty’s tastes ran decidedly older–and quite a bit ranker–than his green whore. What he wanted was what Danny Boy could do. He could bend men to his will–no man older than forty could resist him. Marty had spent his life powerless, and the power of the whore was immediate and tempting. Ed knew the temptation–he made quite a bit of his living off it, but there was so much more to Marty than that.

“Danny Boy, would you please tell Marty here that your life isn’t as glamorous as you make it seem?”

“Are you kidding? I fucking love my job, daddy.”

“Danny…”

Danny strutted over, “What? You made damn sure I like daddy dick, it’s your fault.” He leaned over the bar and gave Ed a deep kiss, before returning to sweeping.

“At least you’re letting him have a choice,” a deep voice said, and they all turned to Bruno.

“No need to go dredge up that old shit again,” Ed said.

Bruno shrugged, “It is fun. It’s…powerful. I know why he wants it.”

“That doesn’t mean he should want it.”

“You can’t protect him, sir, or rather…If you really want to protect him, then you should keep him.” Feeling he’d said enough, we went back to stocking the bar for the evening. Ed scowled at the bear’s wide, hairy back.

“Fine. If it’s really what you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you need to think about it, and be really sure this is what you want. You need to go out, take a walk–make damn sure. Don’t come back until after seven, got it? Or the deals off.”

Marty nodded excitedly, and rushed out the door. Ed sat for a moment, and then turned to Bruno. “You can finish that later, Bruno. We got somewhere to go. You keep cleaning, Danny. We’ll be back in a bit.”

Bruno and Ed waited a few minutes until Marty was a ways off, and then climbed in Ed’s truck and took off towards town, to make a pickup for tonight’s party.

***

Marty returned at quarter to seven, but Ed wasn’t going to disbar him on a technicality. By nine, he was good and drunk on the house brew, and word had spread around that everyone’s favorite little barback was going to be joining the Roadhouse crew full time, and the betting pool started up, guessing what color he might be representing by the end of the night. At ten, Ed called for silence, helped Marty to a table in the middle of the bar, giving everyone a good view, and then pulled out a bottle of fortified wine, pouring a glass of the deep magenta liquid into a tumbler for the young man.

“Purple?” Marty asked, “What the fuck’s purple? How come I can’t be something cool, like red?”

“Trust me Marty, if there’s anything you’ll enjoy, it’s purple, now drink up.”

The room was silent, but everyone could see that Marty was choking. Suddenly faced with the crucial decision, everything didn’t seem quite so easy as it had in the sober daylight. “I don’t…I don’t know, maybe you were right, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t…” he stood up.

“Sit down, Marty,” Ed said, and he immediately plopped back down in the chair.

“How…how did you do that?” Marty asked, “I didn’t…”

“Oh Marty, I’m sorry, but one of the first things you’re going to have to learn is that you don’t get to say no–not anymore. Now drink.”

He picked up the glass, hand shaking, trying to spill it out, but then it was at his lips, the acrid liquid in his mouth. It didn’t taste like wine, it tasted like some foul jockstrap which had fermented at the bottom of a laundry heap. It tasted like a bum’s unwashed armpit smeared with rubbing alcohol. It tasted…really damn good. Soon, Marty was being passed around the bar, swigging openly from the bottle, only noticing slightly that he could suddenly distinguish the subtle differences between each roughneck’s musk and sweat as he passed them by. He started lingering more, sniffing and licking necks and bare pits, tasting each of them in turn. His pants had disappeared, as had his shirt. Looking down, he’d grown somewhat leaner, with a bit of a belly, his body smooth, but covered with a riot of purple tattoos that hadn’t been there earlier. He grabbed one pierced nipple with one hand, threw up his other arm, and licked up his own sweat, his hand brushing against something stiff over his head. Looking at himself in the mirror across the room, he saw a bright purple mohawk greased up in spikes six inches high, his head shaved smooth on both sides. In fact, he was hairless aside from a purple goatee, a thick purple bush around his cock, and his thick purple bushes under each arm. Metal studs gleamed magenta all over his face, with studs in his nipples and a thick gauge PA in the head of his cock. He looked so fucking nasty, he fucking loved it.

A whistle sounded behind him, he spun around. “Hey Musky!” Ed said, “Dirty Doug’s got something for you.”

Dirty Doug was one of the roadhouse’s filthiest slobs. Massively fat, he always stank, his hair and clothes unwashed. Marty had always had a bit of a thing for him though, but now, seeing the fat slob bent over, pants down, his crusty crack pointed towards him…he licked his lips, strutted over and got down on his knees. Parting the crack, he admired it for a moment, and then dug in, licking and gnawing at the hole until Doug rewarded his attention with a loud, nasty fart right into his mouth. The hot air was putrid, and Musky moaned loudly as the room cheered. Doug followed it up with a second fart, and Musky felt his cock spasm, spraying cum across the floor in front of him. Dan flipped over and pushed the head of his cock into the whore’s mouth, leg’s up, still farting as Musky sucked, watching his purple eyes roll back in pleasure until Doug finally sprayed a load of cum across his pierced face. He didn’t eat it–instead he rubbed it in. It felt so much hotter, the sticky sensation on his face and skin as it dried.

“Well everyone, why don’t you all give our newest whore a round of applause, eh? Welcome him to the family, Musky!”

Everyone cheered, and inside himself, this new self, Marty sought some sense of shame, but all he felt was pride. He liked the applause. He liked knowing that he’d done his job well.

“Now, however, we have a little surprise for you. See, you not only love stink, you put out quite a bit of it yourself. It’s pretty powerful stuff too, from what I hear. How about we all watch Musky work his magic on someone, eh boys? And it turns out I know just who Musky can use for a test run. Bruno? Bring the man out. Let’s see was Benjamin thinks of his son’s new profession.”

Bruno came out of the back room of the roadhouse, holding a leash, and following behind him was Marty’s father–Benjamin, naked aside from the collar tethered to Bruno’s gloved hand and the shackles binding his hands behind his back. Benjamin glowered at the rest of the crowd, and even spotted a few faces he’d recognized–that he’d trusted. He couldn’t believe how many faggots were surrounding him, and his son. His fucking, faggot son, naked, filthy, pierced…purple. What the fuck had these faggots done to him? Is this why’d he’d been acting so strange these last few months? Well they weren’t going to get him, he was more man than any of these fuckers.

Musky just stared at the man who had caused him so much misery these years, and smiled. He could…smell himself now. And just like Danny Boy, just like Bruno, he had a few tricks up his sleeve too. “Well hey dad,” Musky said, walked over and took the leash from Bruno, yanking his father over and pushing him down into a chair, “Fancy running into you at the Roadhouse. And here, you used to tell me that only faggots came around here.”

“Boy, I don’t know what they did to you, but you have to–”

Musky placed a finger at his father’s lips, “Oh dad, you still don’t get it, do you? This is where I’ve been hanging out, all those nights I told you I was chasing girls. See, I’ve been chasing boys instead. But you know? I’d rather we not talk right now. In fact, what I’d rather see you do is lick.”

Muky sat down in his father’s lap to one side and threw up one arm, shoving his purple bush into his dad’s face. The stench was horrific, but then why wasn’t he pulling away? Why was he leaning in, why was he sniffing deeper, why was he licking at the filthy hairs, tasting his son’s sweat?

“What do you think dad? How do I taste? Seems like you like it,” Musky wrapped the leash in his hand over and over, pulling his dad in tight, but he wasn’t fighting it–he was relishing it. Why was he relishing it? Sure, he’d never been one to shy away from a bit of pit stink, but this was different. This was rank, and yet he couldn’t pull himself back, and when Musky stood up, he was panting, tongue out, sweat or saliva dribbling from his chin, he didn’t know which. “You want the other one, dad? You like my fuckin’ stink?”

“I…” his throat was so dry, “Please don’t, don’t make me like them, don’t…”

“Look at your cock, dad–it’s so hard…” Musky said, wrapping one hand around the shaft, “I didn’t know you got turned on by my stink, like a fuckin’ pig. Are you a fuckin’ stink pig, dad? Is that what you like more than anything in the world?” Musky reached around and dug around in his ass with two fingers, then walked around behind his dad, hooked them into his nose and pulled it back. His father’s eyes rolled back in, and he shuddered, precum seeping from the head of his cock and dribbling back down the shaft. He was snorting the stink in, but he needed more, he fucking needed so much more. His son pulled his fingers out and got down on his hands and knees in front of his dad. “Well come on piggy, get down here and have a taste of my filthy hole.”

Benjamin fell out of his chair and onto his knees with a grunt. He couldn’t support himself with his bound hands, so he had to get close, cock bobbing and swinging cum onto the floor, before he could push his face in between his son’s cheeks and into his ass crack. Something was wrong with him. He shouldn’t want this, he shouldn’t be doing this, but he didn’t want to stop. Musky screwed up his face and let the first fart rip, and the load that had been building flew from the head of his father’s cock, as he spasmed, his nose taking in deep snorts of his son’s gas, but it wasn’t enough. Musky farted again, and Benjamin felt his old self dissolving away, replaced by a desire for filth, for nasty asses and filthy pits, and his son’s especially. Musky reached under himself and starts stroking his pierced cock, getting close, and then he turned around and shot his load all over his father’s face, before getting down and sharing it with him, licking it up, the room cheering around them, and then the men pulled them apart, wanting a piece of them both for themselves.

Benjamin was a staple of the roadhouse from then on, and that first night he’d picked up a few nasty habits, no longer showering, shaving or wiping his ass after a shit. He struck up a friendship, and then a relationship, with Dirty Doug, and usually he could be found with his face plastered in some trucker or biker’s nasty pit, stopping only to take a swig off his beer. But when he could afford it, he’d buy a night with his son and take him home, lick every inch of Musky’s body clean, and his mind would dissolve a bit more, turn even dumber and filthier and nastier, but he couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. Musky had his own home now though, and things were different, and even hard, at times. But he never once regretted his choice, and he did everything he could to make sure the Roadhouse, and Ed, had a successful, happy future ahead of them.

***

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“Bloody Mary, Candyman–you know–you kids still do that stuff, when you’re hanging out? Or are you too busy with your video games and shit like that for an old fashioned dare and scare?” Uncle Harry laughed, and slugged back some more beer, and I took another drink too. Harry was pretty much to coolest uncle–all my friends were jealous that he let me drink beer and smoke a cigar with him when my parents were out of town for vacations. He was pretty cool, but he was also a bit of a creep. He’d never done anything with me, but I was pretty sure he was gay. I mean, I don’t have anything against gay guys, right? He was more creepy because he was always going on about this occult and magic shit, and ghosts and curses and whatever. A real horror movie buff too. He had–he claimed–real movie props from when he used to work in Hollywood or whatever. Still, I liked movies, and a good slasher was always fun. We’d usually watch some horror film and go to bed late, but more than once he’d pranked me pretty well afterwards.

“Candyman–that’s that mirror movie, right? We watched that once.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“I don’t think any of my friends at school would even know what that is.”

My uncle leaned back, throwing out his gut like he always did when he was getting ready to ‘explain shit to his nephew’. “Well, we always used to do this as kids, light a candle, turn out the lights, and then say ‘Bloody Mary’ three times, and the devil appears behind you. But I saw the other day that the reason it works is because the brain can’t stane at it’s own reflection for very long without getting bored, and it just starts making shit up to entertain itself. Fucked up, right?”

“Yeah, real fucked up. Can I get another beer?”

Harry handed me another can of beer, and the subject drifted off for a bit until we were both drunker, and then he brought up his challenge. “Hey, you know, I got this big mirror from an old movie set down in the basement. How about this–you sit down there, in the dark, for twenty minutes–no, here’s a better idea. You sit down there as long as you want–and I’ll pay you, say a two bucks a minute that you stay down there, staring at the mirror.”

“How do you know I’ll keep staring?”

“Honor system, I’m a nice guy–and you’re too honest.”

I was curious, I admit it. So we went down–everything in the basement was covered with sheets, and he put a chair down there, and uncovered the wide, ornate mirror. I sat down, he turned off the lights and shut the door. He made me give him my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted to cheat. The basement wasn’t perfect dark–there was some light from outside through the garden level windows, just enough that I could just make myself out in the glass mirror.

The first few minutes were fine, just me staring. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could make myself out better and better each time, and then I saw a…figure, materialize behind me, something strange and ghostly, and I spun around, but there was nothing there. I tried to tell myself that there was nothing, that it was just my eyes, but I looked back at the mirror and there it was again, right behind me, and a hand, a fucking hand grazed my cheek, and I swear I felt it, and I shut my eyes, and kept them shut, and tried not to imagine hands groping over me, but they were there, I was sure of it, but I stayed silent–but only because when I tried to scream, there was a chill in my lungs, and I couldn’t get anything out. I was frozen, I was frozen, and my eyes were creaking open again. And it was there, still there in the mirror, staring at me, and the figment looked like it was laughing, and then it faded away into nothing.

The terror eased up slowly, and I laughed at myself for being afraid at all. But my reflection was still strange, and that was when I realized that the mirror had become a window. I couldn’t move, I was tied to myself in the room, and that figment was still there, I could see it inside of myself, in my eyes, and it lifted my arm and waved at me in the dark, with me, it’s reflection, helplessly following. Then, it unzipped my pants, and it pulled out my cock, and started jacking off, and I followed it’s motions, unable to stop. the scene I was looking at, it was changing again. It was changing, and I was changing too. I looked…older, suddenly, older and more muscular. Hairier, my head shaved, a huge bushy beard. I lost myself in the sudden strangeness, I was so horny, the cian around my neck so heavy, the leather around my hard muscles so tight, and I was cumming, fuck, I was so horny, cumming and panting and staring at myself, and then the light flicked on.

“So, how’d my little demon do?” my uncle said, “You have fun with my nephew like we agreed?”

I was still jacking off, but on the right side of the mirror. The figment was still in the glass, staring at me. My master came down, ran his hands my physique, obviously pleased, and let me suck his cock. He was satisfied, and released the demon from bondage into the nether, and I stayed with him, his muscular cigar bear slave nephew, for the rest of my life.

***

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Long Lost Brother

“Are you gonna get the door, dad?”

Terry leaned in from the kitchen where he was cooking dinner, his son Derek was splayed out on the couch, watching TV. He’d heard the knock–he’d just hoped his son might get up off his ass for once, but no cigar. He knew the job market was bad, he knew that more and more kids were coming to live at home after college, but that didn’t make it any easier sometimes. He left the kitchen and went to the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone–it was probably just the girl scouts or something–he opened the door, and his heart leapt into his chest in terror.

“Terry! It really is you!”

Like out of his nightmares. Evan, his younger brother.

“Well, go on, invite me in. Nice and calm now. Don’t do anything to upset anyone.”

“Come…come on in, Evan.”

“Thanks bro,” Evan pushed past him and into the living room, where Derek looked up from the TV, “And who might this be?”

“That’s my son, Derek,” Terry said, “Derek, this is your Uncle Evan.”

“Uncle Evan?” Derek asked, “You never said you had a brother.”

“Really Terr? You never told him about me?”

“Would you have expected me to, after what you did to–?”

“Shut up Terry,” Evan said, and his brother’s mouth clamped shut. “It’s very nice to meet you, Derek, and I’m excited to get to know you. Evan’s offered to let me stay here for a while so I can get back on my feet. Unemployed, this economy, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I went to college and there’s fucking nothing.”

“Well, you can tell me all about it later. Right now, your dad and I have some catching up to do, right Terr? Why don’t we go somewhere more private, like your bedroom?”

His mouth still shut for him, Terry led his brother upstairs and into his bedroom. Evan shut the door behind them, and pulled off his shirt, then unbuttoned his jeans and let them droop, showing off his drooling cock, “Oh Terry, I missed you, you know, after you ran off like that. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself though.”

Terry scowled at him.

“You can talk, for now, but polite, please, and only at a reasonable volume.”

Terry sputtered, “You…you…how the…how did you find me?”

“Well, it did take a while, I admit, but here I am. And it looks like none of that conditioning has worn off in all these years–isn’t that impressive? Now get over here and show me how much you miss sucking my cock, bro–I certainly have missed your mouth.” Terry tried to resist, but he dropped to his knees and started blowing his brother. “And how about that boy of yours! He looks real nice, you know. I think he takes after his uncle though, don’t you? Now, don’t worry–you have a real good thing going here, no one else will even know I’m here. You’ll keep going to work at that big bank, but…well, when you’re home, you know who’s in charge?”

Terry kept sucking, and so Evan pulled his cock free.

“Who’s in charge, pig?”

Terry glared at him, but relented, “You are, bro.”

“That’s fucking right,” Evan said, and drove his cock balls deep into his big brother’s throat.

***

“That’s right Derek, just relax. You trust me don’t you?”

“S–sure…Uncle Evan.”

Terry was at work, and Evan had been living with them for close to a month now. Derek had quit looking for work–it seemed like all of his time was taken up hanging out with his uncle. He was kind of gross, but pretty cool overall.

“You trust me more than your dad, right?”

“Y–yeah…my dad’s dumb.”

“He sure is. Your dad’s weak.”

“Yeah, weak.”

“A pig. A dirty pig bitch.”

“Fuck yeah…pig bitch.”

“Go one, jack off, imagine your dad in a fucking sty, covered with mud. He’s two hundred pounds heavier, fucking obese. Did you know your dad used to weigh 500 pounds? I was so proud of him, and then he escaped, and went and lost almost all of it. Well, we’re gonna put it back on him, aren’t we? We’re gonna show that pig what happens if you disobey, right?”

“Right, Uncle Evan.”

“Now you’re in the pen too. You’re in the pen, but you look different.”

“I…I do?”

“Yeah. You’re fatter too. You have a big gut, covered with hair, but the rest of you is bulky with muscle, and you have tattoos all over your body, even your cock.”

“Fuck…fuckin’ love tattoos…”

“And you reek. You haven’t showered in months, and you fuckin’ love it. You don’t need to be clean. Being clean is for weaklings, not people like us. Not real men.”

“Nah…don’t want to be clean.”

“You’re not smart either. You’re dumb as a brick. You never went to college, you didn’t even finish high school. You’re fucking mean though, you pin down your pig dad and you rape his ass, don’t you?”

Rape his…his holes, yeah, fuck.”

“That’s a good boy–you’re gonna be one hot daddy fucker before long, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir, Uncle Evan.”

“Now open up–I wanna fuck your throat while you jack off, imaging yourself raping your pig dad.”

Yeah, Uncle Evan was great, actually. He took Derek to get his first tattoos the other day. Derek had always wanted tattoos, but his stupid dad wouldn’t let him. Well fuck him…yeah, fuck that pig. Derek was gonna do what he wanted. And what he wanted was whatever Evan wanted. That was how family worked, right?

***

Done for the day–he hated this part. The anticipation. Terry stepped out of the office building and took a moment to light his pipe. His fucking pipe. He’d quit smoking after Evan had force fed him cigarettes before, but here he was, smoking again, and he loved it. He loved it because Evan loved it, but…but he loved it too. Himself, inside all of this, and that’s what he hated most. His own complicity.

Six months now, and he’d already had to buy a collection of new suits. Two hundred and eighty pounds, and still growing. Everyone at the office just assumed he had a new girlfriend fattening him up. Her name was Claire. She was really nice, just really shy, preferred to stay at home, somewhat old fashioned. She liked his beard. He liked his beard too, or so he told everyone. It didn’t actually matter whether he liked it or not, he had to grow it out.

He’d had the chat with his boss today, about retiring early. He certainly had enough invested that he could live comfortably, but wouldn’t he get bored? No, he said–they set a target date for him leaving in another four months, and then he’d be free, or trapped, depending on who was standing where.

He got in his car and drove home, making sure to get caught in traffic jams when he could. He parked the car in the garage next to his brother’s and son’s motorcycles, shut the garage door behind him, and stripped out of his suit, throwing it in the laundry by the door, and got changed into his “pig clothes”–the overalls he had to wear when he was home, the same ones he’d been wearing for months straight, the crotch stained with cum and piss and the front matted with food stains. Fuck, he was hungry. Yeah, he was such a hungry piggy, fuck yeah. He snorted, rubbed his hardening cock through the denim, opened the door, and crawled into the house on his hands and knees, still smoking his pipe.

Derek and Evan were smoking and kissing in the living room, in their own slobbish world. The whole house was trashed, it reeked of piss and sex and sweat. Derek–he was so far gone now. He loved Evan, but couldn’t he see what it was doing to him? He didn’t even remember going to college anymore, he spoke like a hick. He had more tattoos than his uncle now, his cock and balls pierced in more places than Terry had thought possible. Still, food first–food was what pig had to think about, yeah. He crawled into the kitchen, set his pipe on his shelf, and dug into the mass of food his masters had waiting for him in his trough.

***

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