My New Suspenders Part 1

What can I say? I like wearing suspenders–is that weird? Well, maybe if you’re just using them to hold up your pants, but hell, I wear them pretty much all the time, even if I’m just hanging out in my underwear, taking pictures to show to the various guys I chat with when I’m bored and horny.

One guy though, he’s this young submissive guy who likes talking about how he wants a daddy to serve. In all of our chats, he likes to pretend that I’m growing older (and fatter, which is weird), before I pin him down and rape his ass. Well, he knows all about my suspender obsession, and so he sent me this new pair for my birthday–it was last week, but they arrived last week. I joked with him about it, but all he’d say was that “he hoped it would be worth the weight” (and yes, he did misspell it). Still, they’re a bit big–I have to tighten them all the way up to my shoulders to get them to fit.

***

Ok, so I don’t know what’s going on with this, but I woke up this morning, and I’m…pudgy. I’d had abs yesterday, and now I have a gut, what the fuck? I tried to take these new suspenders off too (I accidentally fell asleep wearing them somehow) and I couldn’t even undo the clasps, but I had to loosen them, given my sudden increase in size…but as soon as I did, I felt my stomach gurgle, and right before my eyes, it started inflating again.

I ran to my computer, and sure enough, the guy who sent them to me was online, and I wanted to know what he’d done to me. He just laughed, and told me to keep an eye out for another package. It came later that day, sure enough, and inside…well, I’d had to keep loosening the suspenders, alright? In fact, by the time the package came, well, I was definitely fat, I’ll just say that–none of my clothes could possibly fit me, the underwear I was wearing was cutting into me painfully, and the suspenders were as loose as I could get them. I opened the box and found a collection of clothes inside that definitely did not match my age, but as soon as I touched them, I head a click, and the suspenders fell off me, letting me take off my underwear, finally. But still, I’m not going to put those clothes on, no way, no how.

***

It’s been days now. I’ve missed work, but if I miss any more, they’re going to fire my ass, and my pantry is empty. I took out the clothes and inspected them–they were pretty normal, just underwear, jeans, a shirt, and another set of suspenders bigger than the last, which were already hooked to the jeans, and I can’t get them off for the life of me. The guy keeps messaging me, but I haven’t replied yet, not since that last conversation. He just keeps telling me to put them on, that I’ll enjoy it, but fuck, I don’t want to be fat! But I have to go out, I can’t stay in here for fucking ever either.

It’ll be quick, I decide. I’ll them on, go to the store, stock up, and then come back and take them off before I can change more. I pull on the briefs, the jeans, the shirt, tucked it in, pulled up the suspenders, and left without looking in the mirror–I didn’t want to know, I’d decided, I’d just leave and come back as quick as I could.

***

To be continued: Parts 2 and 3 will arrive later this evening.

The Hypnoslaver

The hypnotist walked through the house, having just finished breakfast, and he figured it was time to check up on each of his slaves in training, to see how they were doing today, and direct their morning training. He decided to start off with his cub, in the first room on the left. The three men had already been trained to wake at exactly six in the morning, and it was now a quarter after. He knocked, and then stepped in, finding Rick just about done getting dressed. The hypnotist had already convinced him that wearing anything other than leather and rubber was physically painful, and so when he stepped in, he found the young bear in his leather harness, pulling on some tight leather pants, but as soon as he saw the hypnotist, he fell to his knees, his head bowed, though the hypnotist could see he was still resisting his compulsions more than he would have liked.

“Good morning cub, how are you doing this morning?”

“I’m well…sir,” Rick said, fighting with the last word, but it slipped out anyway.

“Feeling a bit resistant this morning, I sense?”

“I’m…I’m not going to, I’m going to get out of here, I will, just you fucking…fucking wait…sir…” Rick sputtered, and he tried to get up from where he was kneeling, but couldn’t.

“It seems like the head says no, but the body says yes,” the hypnotist said, “Hmmm…well that’s too bad–I know how you get when you don’t have your morning cum, the withdrawal is just awful. But since you’re obviously not in the mood, I suppose I’ll leave you to stew for a bit.”

“No!” Rick shouted, “No–no, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t please, no I need it, don’t leave, sir.”

The hypnotist sized him up, the fear in his eyes delightful. The cum addiction was well in place at least–if he didn’t swallow at least three loads a day, Rick could barely function. For him, quitting cum was akin to quitting heroin. But still, the cub needed to be taught some sort of lesson for his insubordination. “Leathercub, sleep,” he said, and Rick’s eyes went blank, his body going a bit limp, but he remained on his knees. “Slave, can you hear me?”

“Yes sir, what do you desire, sir?”

“Rick is acting up again, isn’t he?”

“Yes sir, he is angry today, sir. He’s scared, because he’s losing the desire to fight back. He’s starting to like being here–he’s starting to like being your leathercub, sir.”

“I see…well, I suppose we’ll have to punish Rick for his disobedience, won’t we?”

“If that is what you wish, sir.”

“Alright. From now to the time I release you, whenever Rick tries to resist you, I give you leave to whip him into shape–literally. Ten lashes across the back, but instead of pain, both of you will instead feel the strikes as intense, sexual pleasure, and on the tenth lash, you will cum spontaneously, understand?”

“Yes sir, I understand and obey.”

“Good. Leathercub, awake.”

Rick shook his head, a bit dazed, and refocused on the hypnotist above him, and he said, “Very well Rick, I will give you my cum, if you lick my boots clean first.

“No, no I’m…” Rick said, but as soon as he did, he stood up, walked over to the wall where the whip hung, knelt back down and started raining blows on his back, but instead of screaming, each lash brought out moans and groans of pleasure, until on the tenth blow, he came forcefully all over the floor, panting, his back aching, and unable to stop himself, Rick got down and licked up the cum as he had been trained. It took two more series of lashings before Rick relented, and licked the hypnotist’s boots clean, and by then, the master was so turned on by Rick’s self-abuse that he came in less than a minute.

“Very good slave, though you’re a bit slow. Spend the morning thinking about your enslavement, and how much pleasure it gives you to submit to me.”

“Yes…sir…” Rick said, and the hypnotist left, checking the clock. It was now almost seven–he was behind schedule. Hugo, or rather, Helen, would be best to check in on next, he decided, and stopped at her door, giving a knock as usual, before stepping in. The room was frilly and pink, decorated for a girl, but Hugo was on the bed, crying his eyes out, and when he saw the hypnotist enter, he let out a girlish cry, and backed up in fear. “Please no more, sir…please, I can’t take it. I don’t want to be a girl, I don’t! I don’t!”

The hypnotist sighed–still no progress. He’d been doing well with Hugo, but a few days ago he came across a mental block of some kind that he just hadn’t been able to work around. It was going to take some work this one, but he knew he was close. “Sleep, Helen,” he said, and Hugo stopped crying, and went limp. “Are you there Helen? Tell me, what’s the matter with Hugo?”

“Hello sir,” a girlish voice said, “Hugo’s scared, sir.”

“Well I know that Helen, but what is he scared of? Is it me? You couldn’t tell me last time, but you said you’d talk to him about it.”

Hugo shook his head, “No, he’s not scared of you, he scared of…of his dad, I think. Of what his dad would think of him. He’s scared of being a disappointment.”

Hugo had kind of expected it to be a family matter, and he had an idea he wanted to try out, that might help. “Alright Helen, here’s what I want you to do. I want you and Hugo to go to sleep now, as I count backwards from five. Five…you’re feeling very tired…four…you’re drifting off now, you’re losing grip on the world…three…you’re asleep now, but falling deeper…two…so deep now, and you can feel yourself entering a dream…one…you’re deeply asleep, but dreaming, and you’re lying awake in Hugo’s bed, alright?”

“Yes…sir…” Hugo muttered.

“Now, here’s what I want you to dream. I want you to dream that Hugo’s father comes into his room, and admits to him that he never wanted a son–but that he wanted a daughter. And as he admits that, Hugo finds himself changing, becoming more womanly, and he starts making love to his father, sucking his cock, and then begging his father to fuck him like a slut, and when his father cums, you will cum in real life as well, and then I want you to dream the same thing all over again. This dream is going to feel so real, that when he wakes up, it will feel like it had actually happened to him in real life, understand?”

“Yes…sir…” Hugo muttered again, and then said, “Dad…what?…Really? Oh…oh daddy…”

The hypnotist watched Hugo start grinding his cock into the pink sheets of his bed. The dream probably wouldn’t be enough, but it would help break down the wall. The hypnotist didn’t think Hugo would be able to get past it this way though, and sighing, he figured he would probably have to make Hugo believe that the hypnotist was actually his father. Not that he minded–it was just more work than he’d really wanted to do. For now though, he could dream for the rest of the day–and he could go check up on Gary. First though, he had to go get the equipment that had arrived the day before–some new workout equipment for his muscleslut.

He went downstairs, returning with a large box which he carted down the hall to Gary’s room, gave a knock, and stepped inside, bringing to box with him. The smell of sweat and musk was already heavy in the room, as Gary pressed his weights. Of all three, he was the easiest to deal with, actually–he barely resisted his workouts anymore, and the vanity and mental drain was taking hold rather well. He let Gary work a bit longer, the hypnotist admiring his smooth body. He was happy he’d decided to take the tanning slowly–he was developing a nice, bronze color, but didn’t look fake at all, and with all the hair permanently removed from his body, he looked like a statue, almost.

“Gary, take a break–I have a gift for you.”

Gary finished his set first, the hypnotist waiting patiently, and then he hefted himself up off the bench and lumbered over, a stupid grin spread across his face, “Mornin’ sir–How’s you today?”

“I’m good Gary. I have a new piece of equipment for you that I think you’re going to love.”

Gary grinned wider, and the hypnotist watched him open the box and pull out a low step, on which a massive dildo had been attached, big as a man’s forearm, and Gary just blinked at it. “What I supposed to do with it…sir?”

“It’s for when you do squats, Gary. Here, set it on the ground, and I’ll help you with it.” Gary put it down, and the hypnotist lubed up the dildo, before walking Gary through the exercise, how he needed to squat down and take as much of the dildo as he could, before standing back up, and that was a single rep. It didn’t take long for Gary to get used to the rhythm, and he was happily squatting up and down on the massive dildo, a big grin plastered across his face, his four inch cock rock hard from the stimulation, but Gary didn’t even notice. He’d completely forgotten that he had a cock–all he cared about now was getting bigger, and pleasing his master, though feeling the dildo ram into his prostate over and over did feel good, and with a grunt, his cock spurted a load of cum out onto the floor, and satisfied, the hypnotist left him to the rest of his workout. It was going to be a lot of work still, but by the end of the year he was going to have three wonderful hypnoslaves in tip top shape for the convention. The other hypnomasters were going to be so jealous! He couldn’t wait.

So, don’t ask for you to do a commission with any of those types of anthros, you’re basically saying.

Nope, that’s not what I said at all. That gator story was a commission, and I’ve done rabbits and dogs and hogs on commission too. That said, it isn’t my comfort zone, or where I think I write my best stuff. I’m always happy to expand and get better though, and if you have an idea, pitch it to me–I doubt I’ll say no, or be unable to make it work.

Loved the gator tf story. Definitely not an standard anthro animal which made it exciting (spent additional private time w/ that one last night). Any thoughts on further animal morph stories that are atypical but blend the sexy with the terrifying? sharks, coyote, tiger, come to mind. Even a time shift element (bogging down idea) but sabertooth tiger was what came to mind first when I wrote tiger. –Rascal

When it comes to the furry side of things, a lot of the traditional animals you see in these sorts of stories, well, they tend to bore the shit out of me. This isn’t to say there aren’t good stories out there with felines, canines and rabbits, just that I don’t find those forms all that…inspiring.

That said, I don’t think this has to do with those particular animals themselves. See, when it comes to furry stuff, you can go two routes. You can start with animals and then give them human traits, that is, anthropomorphize them into characters for stories, or you can take human characters and make them feral–give them animal qualities until they stop being entirely human, but sit in the middle somewhere. The feral is what I find appealing about these sorts of characters, and that’s where my stories tend to rest.

That said, those are all animals that can be adapted into a feral furry story, but coyote and tiger still feel a little…expected? And sharks go the other way–I’ve seen some furry shark stuff, and I always just kind of walk away scratching my head. This isn’t to say I wouldn’t write them if it felt natural, but I choose the animals in my stories based on plot–I don’t start out saying, “Let’s do a shark TF” and try to retrofit a story to it. Gators work because they are a natural extension of “The Swampmen,” it’s a modern myth which adapts to feral stories easy. It’s a fine line, but if a story misses is, it’ll just be crap.

Sorry, I don’t think that answered your question very well. The answer is yes, I’d write them, but because of how my writing process works, I can’t just sit down, pick a TF, and make it work. It has to be more organic than that.

“But…But I have to go to work, I can’t…I can’t miss another day, how will…how will I pay rent?” Kurt said, trying to resist the sensation of Damon rubbing his belly.

“Oh don’t you worry about that, I can cover it, just come on over here and lay down, big boy, and let me take care of you–I can’t have you up on your feet, or you might loose weight.”

Kurt was powerless as his slender roommate pulled him over to the sofa and pushed him down onto the soft cushions, watching Kurt sigh and relax, succumbing to inertia. “Yes, that’s good master, just lay there and relax,” Damon said, undressing Kurt, who fought meekly.

“Master? I’m…I’m not anyone’s master…" 

"Shush, don’t pay that any mind yet–just jack off some more, and let me go fix you some more breakfast.”

Kurt did as Damon suggested, digging his cock out of jeans, unable to resist, and started jacking off. The demon living inside Damon cackled–this slender body he’d stolen was far too energetic to hold his master, but this one–this one would be perfect before long. And when Yesholom the Slothful finally entered the world, well, then the fun would truly begin.

Why do you like revenge themed stories so much? Were you bullied as a kid?

Um…not really?

I was the bully in elementary school, actually. Then my parents moved out to the Northwest, and at my new school, I was the slightly bullied loner kid for a few years until high school, where I played the role of the gay-guy-pretending-to-be-a-straight-guy-pretending-to-be-gay, if that makes sense, and I wasn’t bullied then either. So I wouldn’t say that’s why at all.

I guess, if I can say this without coming off like a completely self-righteous prick, I have a…keen sense of justice. That’s not to say I go around being judgemental or anything (or at least not on purpose) it’s just that people treating other people badly makes me feel really awful and angry. I mean, I look back on how I used to be a bit of a playground bully as a little kid, and I kind of just wish someone had slapped the shit out of me sometimes. We live in a really unjust world at the moment, and looking at it just tends to make me sick to my stomach. My stories help me combat that a bit, I guess. The fantasy of people finally getting what they deserve is just, well, relieving in many ways. Of course, fantasizing about change doesn’t do much to actually effect change, so it’s kind of worthless in the end I suppose.

Up in his room, Quentin was reading a book, his window open, and every once in a while, he could catch a whiff of Oscar’s cigar smoke as it wafted in on the breeze. Funny, when he’d come home from college to discover who had started renting the other half of the duplex his parents owned, he’d scared Quentin half to death, with all of his tattoos and his smoking, but now he’d gotten used to it, and…whenever he caught a whiff of the smoke, his cock always got hard–it was the strangest thing.

“Quentin, I’m going to yoga,” his mom called up the stairs, “I’ll be back in a few hours–I’m going to pick up stuff for dinner on the way home. Anything you need from the store?”

“No Mom, I’m good,” Quentin called back, and a few minutes later, he heard the garage door open, his mom pull out and drive off. As soon as the sound of her car disappeared, Quentin’s eyes glazed over, he set down his book and marched out into the backyard, where Oscar was smoking in a lawn chair, shirtless.

“Master,” Quentin said, “my parents are gone sir, I’m yours.”

“Good boy,” Oscar said around the cigar, “Smoke for me while you fuck yourself on my cock, and we talk some more about what you’re going to do with this life of yours.”

Oscar had plans for his new bitch after all–there was no way he was going to be leaving for college in the fall. No, by then, he’d be a tattooed thug, just like Oscar. Well, not just like Oscar. He’d be his total bitch, a whore he’d make bank renting out to the rest of his hoodlum friends, but that would come later. “So, let’s talk about the tattoos you’re going to start getting bitch,” Oscar said, “The very first one is going to say ‘Property of Oscar,’ and I want it on the back of your neck, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I’ve made you an appointment already–you’re going to get it on Friday. What do you say, bitch? "Oh, and I talked to your parents last night–we had a good long discussion about your future–they both agree that college was a dumb choice for a dumb thug bitch like you, so they’re having you move in with me this weekend.”

“Thank you sir–I can’t wait sir.”