Category: Uncategorized

Something for Something (Part 2)

Commissioned by Anonymous

Before Dr. Taylor could respond, the smoke curling from between the man’s bearded lips snaked up and coiled in on itself, and then flung its way across the room, slamming into his chest and binding itself tightly around him, holding his arms to his sides as he struggled, and through the smoke, he could see the man differently, almost as though there were two men standing in one place–the short, old hairy troll, and then behind him was Miles, that foolish student he’d had blacklisted, and a shiver of terror shot through him. “Miles? Miles, is that you? What the hell happened to you?”

“You happened to me, you fucker!” Miles shouted, “You happened to me, but you know what? Everything’s going to be alright bitch, because I’m here to punish you, and what a sweet fucking punishment it’s going to be. Strip him–no fucking rip his clothes off.”

The smoke tightened around the professor, gripping his suit, and then exploded outward, the fabric ripping to shreds in a flurry around him, and the professor was sitting in front of Miles in his chair, naked, and Miles glared at him. The professor was in his mid 50’s, but was still fairly slim, with an angular, clean shaven face, and Miles could see that he had a decent sized cock and balls, and a relatively smooth body. The professor, in that moment for freedom, tried to stand up and get to the door, but the smoke collected around him again, tripping him and sending him crashing to the floor face first at Miles’ feet. “Who…who are you? What is this.”

“This is payback. This is revenge, you fucker, for ruining my life, so I figured I might as well ruin yours–what do you say? I think that’ll be pretty fair, don’t you? How about we change your attitude first though? I’m sick of looking at that snide fucking look of yours.”

He inhaled deep, and sent out another plume of smoke which curled out of his mouth in a thick tendril, curled in on itself for a moment, and then shot down, pushing it’s way into Dr. Taylor’s mouth in one thick, choking column, and he tried not to breath, but it felt like the smoke was permeating him, driving itself into his body, into his blood, and then into his mind, which began to cloud, almost as though he were drunk or high. He tried to regain his bearings, but it felt like the entire room was spinning aside from the short, wide man in front of him. He looked so stable, he looked so…powerful, and so sexy…

Dr. Taylor tried to shake his head clear, he tried to protest, but the thoughts refused to go away, and they only grew more intense. The idea of being controlled and demeaned and humiliated by this man was turning him on so much…he had done so much wrong in his life, and he wanted to be punished. He craved it suddenly, and he let out a moan, and heard himself say, “Please…please, sir…I…” and then his throat cracked and dried out, but he needed to say something, he needed to show how much he wanted to serve him, and so he crawled forward as best he could with the smoke binding his naked body, until he reached one of Mile’s leather shoes, and he started licking it, tasting the smooth leather, feeling his cock harden against the carpet as he groaned in pleasure.

“You piece of shit. How does it feel, licking my fucking shoes clean? You like being down there, don’t you? I know I can’t quite tower over you, so I think you’re going to spend a whole lot of your life crawling from now on. Hell, maybe I’ll even ride you around like a fucking pony. You’d like that I bet, feeling my huge body crushing your back, eh bitch?”

Dr. Taylor just muttered and moaned. His head was somewhere else, this mind wasn’t his…was it? He had to get back, he had to find his way back, but the smoke was still inside of him, and it wasn’t clouding his thoughts, it was rewriting them. The cloud began to fade, slowly but surely, and these new needs only intensified and grew sharper. He needed to serve this man. He wanted to debase himself. The fact that he was completely naked in front of this troll, licking his shoes clean, only made him hornier.

Miles looked down at his Goliath and smiled. He’d wanted this for so long, and he hadn’t even known it, wanted to see this old fool on the ground naked, but it wasn’t enough yet. He pulled his foot back and walked around Dr. Taylor where he was bound on the floor, willing the smoke to push his ass up a bit so Miles could reach out and knead it with his old hands. “I bet you want me to fuck you, don’t you? I bet you want this big cock of mind to rip open your cherry, I bet you want me to punish you.”

“Y–Yes…” Dr. Taylor sighed, “Please sir, please…fuck me. Fuck me, I deserve it, do whatever you want to me, I need it, please…”

Miles reached under his huge gut and undid the fly of his suit, pulling out his massive, thick cock, amazed at it’s girth. He could barely reach his small hand around the entire shaft, but he wasn’t going to need to jack it off anytime soon. Dr. Taylor was going to be his cumdump from now on. He hefted his apron up and rested it on the small of Dr. Taylor’s back, letting it rest there for a moment as he ran the massive head up and down his crack, feeling it catch on the doctor’s ass each time, feeling the man stiffen with need each time, teasing him, and then he started working it in dry, listening to the man beneath him groan and cry out in pain.

“What, you didn’t think I was going to lube up for your worthless ass, did you? Fuck now, you aren’t worth my spit. You’re getting my cock dry, or you’re not getting it at all, and how would it feel, if I never fucked you?”

“Horrible,” Dr. Taylor muttered, “It would be horrible sir, but please, it’s so big–it hurts.”

“I can take it out. I can take it out and not fuck you at all, is that what you want?”

“No! No, please fuck me, sir.”

“Then beg me to fuck you raw. Ask me to make it hurt. You want it to hurt, pain feels so good, bitch, and you know it, but you’re just a fucking pussy–it hurts every time, but you love it. So fucking beg me for it, and maybe I’ll keep fucking you.”

“Please…” Dr. Taylor moaned, and he felt the words forming in his mind, and he tried one last time to resist, to reassert himself, but the old him was so far away now, this new Dr. Taylor was just a simpering piece of shit, just a worthless cum dump for Miles, for his Master, yes, his master, it was so obvious. “Please fuck me as hard as you can, make it hurt, sir…Make me scream…”

Dr. Taylor did scream, but he didn’t regret his words, it felt great, feeling that monster cock splitting open his ass. Miles was taking deep breaths of the smoke, but none of it was leaving him, it was pulling itself down into his body, into his balls, and it only took his a few dry thrusts once he was all the way in to start cumming, and along with his seed, smoke poured into Dr. Taylor’s ass, the heat of it nearly as excruciating as the short fuck had been, but he felt it first surge into his balls, and he was cumming onto the carpet, unable to stop himself, and he could feel his cock shriveling up, feel his ball emptying and drying and shrinking, and by the time he’d finished, his balls were smaller than grapes, his sack pulled tight up under his miniscule one inch cock. He knew in his mind that he would never get hard again, that it would just flail about during sex, maybe dripping out a bit of sour cum once in a while, but that wasn’t important. What mattered was serving his master.

Miles kept hammering his cock in and out as he came, and as he did, he watched the smoke still binding Dr. Taylor’s body form itself into thick black stripes before solidifying into a leather harness with straps two inches thick. The bottom strap couldn’t actually attach to his cock and balls with a ring–they were too small, so instead it morphed into a longer strap, and as he pulled his cock out, the smoke solidified into a massive dildo and the strap went between his legs, attaching there instead, smashing the doctor’s cock and balls against his body. Finally, the remaining smoke in the room, coalesced around the doctor’s neck and formed into a thick metal collar, and neither the harness, nor the collar, showed any signs of a seam. The doctor would be wearing them underneath his clothes for the rest of his life, when he taught classes, stuttering stupidly along, unable to focus without being near his master Miles, the new head of the chemistry department who had enslaved him.

Miles sighed, and felt the heat start to dissipate as the pipe burned out. He looked up, his cock still out and dribbling cum, and saw Ed in the doorway smirking at him, and Miles glared at him for a second before giving him a smile, and then the guard slipped out before Dr. Taylor could see him.

“Get up you worthless sack of shit,’” Miles said, rolling Dr. Taylor over with his shoe, “Let’s go home, I think we need some time in the dungeon tonight.”

“Y–Yes sir…” Dr. Taylor said, his voice meek. He got up off the floor and put on his spare suit from the wardrobe, covering up his true self beneath it, and then followed his Master out of the building, and drove him to his house. He could dimly remember there being a wife and kids living there with him, but that was ridiculous. He’d always lived here with his Master–no one else, serving him day and night, when he wasn’t teach courses at the college of course, and doing all of the grading for his Master’s courses as well. The entered the house and Dr. Taylor immediately stripped away his suit, and Miles said, “Get down in the dungeon, in the cage. I’ll be down eventually.”

“Yes, Sir…” the slave said, and made his way quickly to the basement door, went down into the fully outfitted dungeon and locked himself into the cage there, to wait for his punishment. Miles meanwhile went up to the master bedroom–to his master bedroom, and stripped out of his own suit, and stared at his naked, fat, hairy body.

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he said gruffly, and then smiled, and packed a big pipe that would last him through most of the session he was planning for his slave. He went to his closet and hung up his suit on the rods dropped down a few feet so he could reach them, and then found his leather uniform, and smiled. He could still be an officer in one way, at least, and he pulled it on slowly, wanting to make the doctor wait, like he had waited. He had waited for revenge, and he had gotten it. He had lost much, but in the end, gained more than he could have ever imagined.

Something for Something (Part 1)

Commissioned by Anonymous

“Alright, miss, here we are–and feel free to call anytime you need a lift,” Miles said, as he pulled up next to the curb.

“Thanks again, sir,” the girl in the backseat of the car said, grabbed her backpack and climbed out of the campus security car, which had picked her up at the library and dropped her off in front of the house. In the front seat, Miles and Ed watched to make sure she got into her house, and then set off back to campus a few blocks away. Miles had pulled away and reached the end of the block before Ed started to giggle in the seat next to him.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Ha, she called you ‘sir’! I always knew this day would come,” Ed said, laughing openly now, “I can’t believe it, my little security bumpkin has finally become a man.”

Miles scowled as he turned down a sidestreet and skulked a bit in the driver’s seat. He was at most six or seven years older than the college girl he’d just dropped off, but apparently he was already out of touch enough to warrant a “sir.” He didn’t want to be a “sir,” and he was sick and tired of working this damn security job. He’d been assigned to work with security services while he was attending school as a Freshman, and that’s when he’d first met Ed. Ed was an old timer–he’d worked for the school for close to forty years now, and as much as Miles liked the old guy, he didn’t want to be him, and yet it seemed like everything in his life had conspired to trap him here, in this faux squad car, dropping off girls that never seemed to age at the same houses off campus, and he gave a heavy sigh.

“Aww, hey, cheer up–you’re only as old as you feel.”

“And what does that make you, eighty?”

“Oh don’t get snappy with me, boy, we still have five hours on this shift, and I don’t want you getting all pissy and morose. It’s annoying. This is my last semester after all–maybe be a little happy that at least it only took close to half a century for me to escape.”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t want to be stuck doing this for the rest of my life. I had plans man, I had…gah…” Miles stopped himself before he rehashed the same old sob story for Ed to hear once again. The old guard was way more tolerant of his bullshit than he had any right to be, but Miles still didn’t want to push him away with a plea for pity. “Sorry, I won’t get into it.”

“Trust me, I understand better than most, kid.”

They got back to campus, and parked in a lot outside close to the library, ready for the next person who wanted to be ferried from safe haven to safe haven, and neither of them said anything for a while. Ed was either sleeping or pretending to sleep, and Miles was thinking back to all of those failed applications to grad school, how all of that work had been for nothing, all because his thesis’ conclusions had contradicted those of Dr. Taylor, the head of the chemistry department on campus, and his big money donors. Miles had been the most gifted student the department had ever seen, but thanks to Dr. Taylor’s insistence or writing him a personal recommendation, not a single school would accept him for graduate study. Effectively blacklisted and muzzled, he’d managed to receive a full time position on the security staff at campus, and here he was still. He could see the science building from where he was parked, and there were a few offices still lit, and he realized with a start that Dr. Taylor’s light was on. “That fucker…” Miles said under his breath.

“Who, your Goliath?”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, I’m sympathetic kid, but academia is a monster. You were too much of an idealist–you wanted to be right, more than you wanted to be successful. Life’s full of tradeoffs–you can’t get something for nothing.”

“What would I have to give up for a chance at revenge?”

Ed was quiet for a moment, “Is that what you’d really want?”

Miles thought for a moment, and then nodded, “Yeah, actually. What the hell, I don’t have anything waiting for me now–no girlfriend, no decent jobs, just one long slog to the grave, in the rut you so nicely ran down for me.”

“Well, a long slog can be fun,” Ed said, but saw that Miles was serious. He looked at him, wondering if it was worth it. It might not even work–sometimes it didn’t, but hey, if that’s want Miles wanted–what he really wanted–then it couldn’t hurt to try. Ed picked up the radio and said, “Hey Melissa, we’re gonna leave the car for a bit, gonna look into something in the science building.”

He didn’t bother to wait for confirmation, he just climbed out of the car, and Miles, wondering what was up, climbed out after him. “Where are you going Ed?”

“You’ll see–come on. I want to try something.”

Miles just hurried to catch up to the old guy as he crossed campus, matching his pace as they walked up to the science building and let themselves into the building. “Ed what the fuck are we doing?” Miles whispered, but Ed just started climbing stairs up to the chemistry department’s floor, and then they walked down the hall to the employee offices, Mile’s heart beating faster all the while, but he was actually curious about what Ed was doing. He’d almost expected them to go to Dr. Taylor’s office and tell him off or something, but they went in the other direction instead, until Ed came to an empty office which was set aside for the occasional visiting professor, or overflow instructors, and let himself in, waiting for Miles to follow before shutting the door behind them both. “Ok Ed, what the fuck is up?”

“Listen for a second, alright? Were you serious back in the car, about wanting revenge?”

Miles was a bit taken aback, and something in the older man’s creased face told him not to lie, and so he thought for a moment, not entirely sure himself. But at the end of the day, he was serious. He did want revenge, but he just felt powerless. Still, if he had the chance, he would have loved to discredit Dr. Taylor’s bullshit research, he would love to know that fucker down a few pegs. “Yeah, I was, and I am.”

“And you understand that in order to get something, you have to give something up, right? It might be things you weren’t even imagining, it might not even be worth it at the end of the day. Revenge is a costly thing–it can be worth it, but it’s costly. It wounds your soul in ways that you can’t understand until afterwards.”

“Ed, you’re freaking me out, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Ed just stared at him, knowing that if he tried to explain the whole story, they would lose their chance, and so he decided to wing it, he waved his hands in a momentary, complex pattern, and then laid them both on Mile’s chest, and after a single heartbeat, Miles was shoved back against the door by some invisible force.

“What the fuck was that?” he said, looking at Ed, but the older man was just looking at him, and smiling the oddest smile. “What was that Ed–could you give me an answer please?”

“It was magic.”

“Magic?”

“Let’s just say you might get what you wished for. I did warn you though–it can come with some…penalties.”

“I don’t–” Miles said, but gave a lurch, as one of his legs suddenly shortened substantially, his body standing cockeyed for a moment before the second one caught up, and dropped him down to a few inches under five feet. “What…the fuck…?” Miles said, looking down at his shorter stature, and then up at Ed. “You fucker.”

“I warned you…”

“What the fuck did you do to me, I’m fucking short!” Miles was craning his head up to look at Ed, and found the new perspective disconcerting. Nothing looked right–it was like somehow the entire room and everything in it had been grabbed and stretched upward away from him.

“It’s not going to stop there. Here maybe I should…hmm…yeah,” Ed said, and then wiggled his fingers at the wall and the entire surface shimmered before warping into a seamless mirror, and Miles looked at himself, looked at them both, and couldn’t believe how small he was. He didn’t want to be small! The sudden flash of anger that shot through him felt surprisingly good–it felt…justified, in some strange way, but as soon as it faded, he watched as his uniform started to bloat.

Part of the reason Miles had managed to get a work study job with the school in the first place was because he was one of the few incoming students who could pass the physical test required to be employed there. He’d always taken good care of his body, and one of the perks of working for the school was that he could use the athletic facilities for free, and he’d spent the last few years honing and perfecting his body, but as he watched, his six pack abs bloated outward, and then sagged down into a comical gut. He grabbed it by the sides, not quite able to believe it was attached to him, but he could feel it jiggle as he shook it, and then as he watched in the mirror, other parts of his body started to expand, and his gut only grew larger, the buttons of his shirt popping off, the zipper of his pants bursting open, the seat ripping out a second later. He just gawked at himself. He wasn’t just short–he was a blob. It only highlighted the fact that he was short, making him appear almost as wide as he was tall. “Oh…oh my god…what is happening. Please, Ed, you have to change me back, you have to, I can’t–”

“There’s nothing I can do for now, but don’t worry,” Ed said, “Just ride it out, and then we’ll talk.”

“You mean it’s not done?” Miles said, but as the words left his lips, he felt a strange itch spread all over his body, and the skin he could see started filling in with a copious amount of body hair, spreading in large whirls all over his belly, matching his dark hair, and he even felt it crawling up over his shoulders and down his back, making him shiver and itch for a few moments, before running his hands over it in surprise. Before he could even process it however, he noticed that the hairs weren’t staying dark for long–in fact, they all seemed to slowly be fading from black to grey, and then to white.

“No…No no no…” Miles said, and looked up at the mirror, watching his young face begin to crack and crease with thick, deep wrinkles, his cheeks sagging into jowls, A bushy white beard erupted across his face, crawling down his neck to meld with the white hair there, and his eyes turned grey and bloodshot, before blurring, making him squint to try and make out his image in the mirror. Thankfully, a moment later, a pair of half moon spectacles appeared, perched on his now bulbous nose, and he could make out his face again, not that he really wanted to. He looked almost as old as Ed, if not a bit older, and the clothes on his body started to shimmer and take on a life of their own, wrapping themselves up around him, contorting and twisting against his flabby body, reconstituting into a three piece suit, and if he hadn’t known it was him inside, he would have assumed he had become someone else entirely, and he just kind of gaped at his reflection for a few moments, trying desperately to understand how the short, fat old man looking back at him could possibly be himself.

“Hmm…are you done?” Ed said, walking up to him, “Weird, you usually get a tool…let me see…” the older man squatted down next to Miles, making him feel absurdly short, and Miles tried to back away from Ed as he gave him a strange pat down, and when Ed tested Mile’s new breast pocket on the inside of his suitcoat, he let out an “Aha!” and pulled out a full bent, very large pipe. “Here we are–your tool, sir.”

He extended the pipe to Miles, who looked at him, a bit terrified, but also curious. It looked small in his old mentor’s hands, a bit like a toy, but when he reached out and took it from him, he realized that was only because it was made for his own hands, with palms half the size of Ed’s. The pipe felt like it belonged there though, and he took a moment to examine it. The wood and the briar were almost impossibly black, and even though the surface was as smooth as the mirror, the wooden stem only gave of the slenderest reflection of light, indicating it’s roundness. The briar, in contrast, was very rough, almost like it would scrape off his skin if he rubbed it too hard. He’d admired it for a few moments, when he noticed a puff of smoke pop out of the bowl, and looking in it, he saw that somehow the pipe had filled and lit itself while he was holding it, and he looked up at Ed, wondering what he should do, but Ed didn’t seem interested in giving him direction. He looked at his reflection again, and figured he probably didn’t have much else to lose, stuck the stem of the pipe in his mouth and took what he’d intended to be a shallow draw, but as soon as he’d opened the airway to his lungs, the smoke shot through the stem of the pipe, burning its’ way down his throat and filling his lungs with high heat, making him wonder for a moment whether he was dying, but the heat was joining with something else, it was searching for something. He could feel it working out from his lungs, reaching for his heart, for that ball of hatred and resentment and anger he kept there for Dr. Taylor, for the man who had ruined his future, and the heat grasped it, and fertilized it, and Miles felt it suddenly burgen and blossom in him as righteous fury, the same anger he’d felt for that brief moment in his transformation, and it invigorated him.

He took a deeper draw off the pipe, feeling it settle deep within him and start changing him, but his heart this time–his spirit. It was warping him, but more than that, it was freeing him, freeing all of the cruelties he’d ever imagined, freeing all of the hate fueled fantasies of what he would do to that man, and using them. Beneath the fat, he could feel some of his musculature return, and even though he was short, he found his posture shifting into something more rigid and proud. His mouth curled up into a sneer, and then he felt the fear. What was he doing? What was he feeling? He shouldn’t be feeling this, he shouldn’t be wanting this to happen, this was wrong and immoral but he didn’t care, he did want it, he wanted it so bad, and he embraced it, he he pulled it deeper, feeling the anger flow down into his groin, the heat in his balls and cock unbearable for a moment, making him lean against the mirrored wall for support as he felt his cock grow and bulge in his pants, snaking it’s way down his leg, becoming a nine inch monstrous beast as thick as a pop can, his balls filling and churning with cum, bulging out the crotch of his pants beneath his gut, heavy and full of need and desire.

“Oh fuck…Oh fuck, I need to fuck something…” Miles growled, his voice gruff with smoke, and an octave deeper than moments before, “and I know just who I need to fuck, I think.” Miles grinned, he felt so free–it was like all of the burdens, all of the limitations on him had suddenly disappeared.

“Hold your horses, we need to talk for a second,” Ed said.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I have a date with the bastard down the hall.”

“You do, I know. But hear me out first,” Ed said, “Look, revenge is sweet and all that. But it does have a cost, as you can see. The spell I cast…the tool you have. It wants the spell to be completed, it wants you to take the revenge as much as you want it. But you can turn away. If you take your revenge, this is who you will be for the rest of your life. Think about that Miles–don’t throw away your youth on a whim. If revenge is what you want–if you’re willing to take this in exchange for it, then walk down that hall and take it. But if you can, I…just…think about it, alright?”

Miles had turned away already as Ed trailed off, shaking his head, and reached up for the handle awkwardly before flinging open the door and was marching down the hall. He wasn’t going to be denied this anymore. He wanted this. He wanted it so badly, he’d never realized how much he’d wanted it. He’d stayed on campus out of spite, he hadn’t seen it that way, but it was true. He’d wanted a chance like this, and now it was his, and then he passed the intersection which led out of the building and his stride faltered and he came to a stop, and he thought.

He looked down at himself, he felt the gut barely confined by the suit, the heavy arms and fatty thighs, looked at his small hands and wiggled the toes of his petite feet in his shoes. He felt the sensation of his hairy body, of his beard on his wrinkled hands. He felt the heat of the pipe, the tool urging him onward, to finish the spell, to take what he deserved and what he wanted. He looked up, and realized he would be looking up for the rest of his life, his life that was suddenly going to be much, much shorter in more ways than one, and he asked himself if this is what he really wanted. He could leave. He could turn away from all of this, and yet the power coursing through him, the desire and the drive, he’d never felt so alive! For the first time in years, it felt like he had direction, a goal, a purpose, a righteous purpose, something that was worth doing, and he realized that revenge was more than him, it was making sure that bastard never had a chance to ruin another student’s career. It was making sure that no injustice got away unpunished, and he renewed his stride, his short legs making quick strides down the hall, a cruel sneer curling his mouth, and he turned the handle on Dr. Taylor’s office door, and shoved the door so it slammed into the wall, making the professor jump at his computer, and he turned towards the sound, and saw the old, short man standing in his doorway, the pipe in his old mouth churning out a thick chimney of smoke, and the man said, “Dr. Taylor, I believe that you and I have some unfinished business.”

To be Concluded

I guess what I am trying to figure out is how close you associate with your stories. Not necessarily with the characters or positions they get into. You write about so many varying topics and stories that range from mild to extreme. What is the most you want out of them for yourself?

(This got buried in my inbox, sorry for the late reply)

I don’t know if I have a satisfying answer for this question. Part of my hesitance in answering is that I’m not quite sure what you mean by ‘associate’ in this context. However, I can answer a simpler question that I think is related to your overall query, which is simply, why do I write this stuff? Not just why do I write porn, but why do I write so many different styles, fetishes, and genres. I don’t think this is quite what you wanted to know, but maybe it’ll cast a light.

As I have mentioned before, I’m a philosopher by education. This is part of where I get my inspiration, and part of why I write these things. Central to my stories are two questions:

1) what does it mean to be human? At what point do our sexual drives overwhelm our basic humanity, autonomy, and conscience?

2) What does it mean to be the same person over time? Can someone change so radically that they retain the same body, and yet are someone else mentally? How do people react to this sort of ‘death’?

There’s more than two questions there, I know, shut up. They all rephrase the same two ideas though, one about human nature, and one about personal identity. Both of these topics fascinated me before I started writing this stuff, and are part of what attracts me to the MC/TF genre. 

So, what do I want out of them? I want answers to those questions. I just also get to write about sexy-times while I do it, because that’s fun too. I find sex to be very close to both of those questions, because I think a crucial aspect of out humanity and personality is sexual, something which I think a lot of people might disagree with, but that’s my own take on things. I write about such a range, because to me they are all, in the end, variations on the same theme. Also, I like lots of fetishes, so there’s that too.

I hope that answered some of what you had in mind, if not, feel free to ask again.

(A ghost story a bit too late for Halloween. Shut up, I know.)

They said that the woods were cursed, but Jules didn’t believe that one bit, and he’d gotten the five acres in the countryside at a steal. However, as the first summer wore on, even he had to admit that some strange things were happening, and that prompted him to at least look into the rumors that some of the long time residents liked to tell. Apparently, there had been a father and son who’d lived on the property years earlier, and the father had abandoned him. The son, unable to bear the thought of living without his father, had run off into the woods, and everyone assumed he’d died somewhere nearby, and haunted the property to this day, looking for his father.

Jules wasn’t sure what to make of that, but whenever he was outside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, and sometimes there would be a clear knock at the door, and he’d hear a young man’s voice calling for his Papa, but whenever he answered the door, there was no one there. Still, it was enough that Jules started to have some doubts, and was wondering if he was going a bit crazy. He decided that a vacation would probably do him some good, and so he made plans to spend a few weeks away from home.

However, as he started packing his things up, he started noticing that bags would spontaneously unpack themselves when he left rooms, and the knocking and voice was growing more insistent. A few times, outside, he’d catch a glimpse of a young, chubby man in overalls in the woods, but by the time he got there to investigate, he’d be gone. Still, Jules was leaving for a while–nothing was going to stop him.

The tickets were purchased, the taxi service was scheduled to arrive the next morning, and everything was finally packed, ghost or not, and the knocking wouldn’t stop. Jules was awake in the living room, scared out of his mind, and finally he went to the door and flung it open, and shouted at the woods, “I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

“No Big Papa, you’re not leaving this time. You’re going to stay with me forever,” the voice said behind him, and he spun around, and there the young man was, feet away from him, and Jules let out a scream, and then all was still.

The taxi drove up the next morning, but there was apparently some sort of mix up. The man living there said he’d never planned on leaving for the airport–who would take care of his son? He couldn’t leave his son, not ever. In his mind, Jules tried to speak, tried to tell the cab driver that the ghost was keeping him captive, but it was too late. He was trapped–doomed to be the young ghost’s big papa for the rest of his life, and most likely in death too.

Everyone on the block called him Nasty Nick, and he was damn nasty–that’s the truth. He never kept up his lawn or his house–it was just a sty. His house was back to back with mine, so I could see into his overgrown yard from all of my back windows, and I can’t tell you how many times I saw him back there wearing nothing other than a filthy jockstrap, beard wild and unkempt, smoking those big cigars of his, just one big filthy mess of a fuckup.

Now, I’m gay, not that I’d ever told Nick–he was as homophobic as they came, but one regret I’d always harbored was that I’d never had any kids. It didn’t help that, even though I was a big bear of guy, kind of like Nick, but chubbier and much cleaner, I was kind of into twinks, and the idea of having a son in his late teens who I could fuck around with–well, it was just a fantasy right? No real problem having a fantasy, until the fantasy generator appeared on my doorstep. I didn’t know what it was to be honest, but I soon discovered that it could make any dream of mine come true, and so the next time I saw Nick in the backyard, I decided to make a son of my own.

I compelled him to climb over the fence into my yard, and I met him back there, before changing him bit by bit. First, making him disgusted by the taste of his own cigars, watching him spit out the one he was smoking, staring at it on the ground like it had bit him. Then, I took away his beard. Oh man, he was so angry at me, but he couldn’t do anything to me as I removed all of tattoos, cleaned up his jockstrap, and aged him back to eighteen. I gave him a smallish cock too, and the most amazing ass–it felt so amazing him fucking him out back, listening to his new high tenor moan in pleasure, begging me, his daddy, to fuck him harder and rougher. So now the house is vacant, but I have everything I’d ever really wanted–a son with benefits.