Category: Uncategorized

One year of community service for a hate crime conviction? Randal wasn’t happy with the plea bargain, but he sure as hell didn’t want to go to jail with all those niggers, fags and wetbacks–he was too old to defend himself. Then he found out about which community, and what sort of service.

Six black faggots, one for each day of the week except Sundays. He went to their homes, kept house like a bitch, and then, the sex. He couldn’t disobey–the microchip in his head stopped that, and worse he was paid a stipend for his labors like a fucking whore!

Sundays were his only day of freedom, but he couldn’t even bring himself to go to church. How could he face God after what he’d done? Even worse, the men were wearing him down, humiliating him. He would beg for their cocks now. Sure, they told him to do it, but he was starting…to enjoy it. He hadn’t been with a woman in months, and all of the faggot sex was going to his head. If he didn’t stay strong, he was going to be at this for much longer than his assigned year.

Source: gotsilver

You did say your boss was a pain in the ass right? Well, I’m giving you the chance to be a pain in the ass right back. Don’t worry–no assembly required. Just go to the address provided–the enclosed key will open the door, and your bound up boss is waiting for you to torment. 

The included remote has four tools for his pain and your pleasure. First, your poss has been equipped with piercings which can be twisted a total of 1080 degrees for maximum pain delivery. The second button will activate the electrified sound inserted deep in your bosses cock, which is otherwise held in complete chastity. Third, the ball clamp will deliver a crushing pressure to his balls, guaranteed to bring even the most stubborn boss to his knees. Finally, the fourth will expand the inflatable dildo in his ass, stretching him as wide as a double fist. 

We guarantee that my the end of a single session, your boss will be a crushed, miserable piece of meat, begging for mercy at your hand, willing to do or say anything to avoid the punishment he deserves. 

Source: thebondageboss

It was happening again, only this time he felt his cock snake out another two inches, as his balls nearly doubled in size. The changes were more and more frequent now, and more and more extreme. Nathan excused himself from the business meeting, desperately trying to hide his obscene bulge, and hurried to the restroom.

There he unzipped his trousers and let his cock and balls out, grunting and jacking off, unable to help himself. He’d expected that spell he’d had cast for him to be a one off, not a fucking chronic condition! Another tingle was building, his cock pushing out past a foot long, his balls once again doubling, and a heat flushed through his body, a massive load of testosterone and hormones in quantities his body had never seen.

The hair was the most immediate change, a five o’ clock shadow developing over his face, his hair receding back into advanced baldness, the hair spreading all over his body and back, growing into a thick pelt. He was so focused on jacking off now he didn’t notice his clothes start ripping apart, his muscles quickly growing over developed, his bones aching as they entered another growth spurt. Finally he came in a massive torrent, nearly filling the sink in front of him to the brim with sperm, and he felt some of his mind return to him.

It was so hard for him to think about anything other than sex now–it was like he was going through puberty all over again, only a hundred times worse, and he didn’t think this was going to fade as he got older. The smell of himself filling the room though, that was good. This place was his now, he’d marked it with his seed, the air full of his musk. He ripped off the clothes confining him, proud of his new body, snorting at the stench of pheromones coming from his arm pits, and he knew what he needed, what would make him feel all better. 

A fuck. He needed someone to fuck, a man to fuck, a man to dominate. He didn’t need to wait long. Gregory from finance stopped by to take a piss on the way to a meeting, and only got two feet into the door before the massive neanderthal had pinned him up against the wall, ripping off his clothes and impaling him on his nearly two foot long cock. This would be a fine specimen for his herd, if it survived, Nathan’s now simple brain thought. He hoped it would live through the conversion, he loved the way the small, screaming creature’s ass clung to his giant cock. Nathan had thought that having a bigger cock would help him become a bigger man–and he had no idea how right he was.

Yeah, your uncle’s been playin’ guitar a long time–hell, longer than you’ve been alive!  I’m surprised you never asked, but why would you be interested in an old rocker like me? So what, this some college band you’re thinking of joining? Well sure, I can give you a few lessons, at least get you started off on the right track. Now let me just warm up here for a bit–I haven’t played in a while.

“Hey nephew, you ever hear about somethin’ called the brown note? Oh, South Park did something about that? Huh, who woulda thought. I heard a tale about some bass player–he was fussin’ with his sound so much, he dropped the pitch so low he gave everyone at the practice session the fuckin’ runs!

"Oh you wanna know why the guitar ain’t makin’ any sound? Ha, trust me, it is. You look horny nephew–maybe you should take out your cock and stroke it. See, I never did find the brown note, but I did find the lust note–makes everyone who hears it horny as fuck. Get over here ‘n suck your uncle’s cock boy. We have all afternoon to practice, and you have lots to learn.

Paul–what a boring man he’d been. Middle management, stuck in a cubicle all day long, complaining to all of his coworkers about his boring wife, his boring kids–I felt sorry for him, I admit it–wouldn’t you? Besides, he’s so much more interesting now. It took some convincing to get him to come over for a drink, but with a few nudges he gave in. After all, if there’s one thing for certain, boring men like Paul had been love being told what to do.

Still, a few brews and he’s already much more interesting. College education? Nah–I think some hard knocks on the streets would be much more interesting. Boring childhood in the suburbs? Not anymore–how about falling in with a gang at thirteen, and prison for manslaughter at sixteen? Look at him, that boring cheap suit barely constraining that suppressed violence. Certainly he’s never been married–I’ll have to get rid of that boring ring. He’s looking at me, hungry. He’ll fuck girls, but since his jail time, he much prefers a man’s ass. Maybe I’ll give him mine tonight–that would definitely be interesting.

Source: gmcboot

Christmas Photo Caption Week

Hey all, sorry for the derth of posts these past few weeks–life has just been pretty busy. That’s what happens when you work in a bakery over the holidays. Anyway, I have a week of photo captions lined up starting tomorrow–hope you enjoy them. Only one is Christmas themed, but you’ll make do I’m sure. Still, I do have a Christmas present for all of you, but you’ll have to wait until Tuesday to get it…

Releasing the Pig

Thanks again to the awesome guy who adopted this story! Also, commissions are still open for anyone looking for a personalized story of their own this holiday.

***

Dean looked at the post again, unable to believe he was actually thinking about doing this. Once again, he told himself that guys like him weren’t supposed to think about stuff like this. He was young, hot, popular–he should just be out partying, finding girls and fucking the daylights out of them, and sure, he’d done his fair share of all that.

But Dean was bi–not that he dared tell anyone ever. He’d hooked up with a few guys anonymously, doing his best to shield his identity, but the vanilla stuff was never enough for him–he wanted something else. Something a bit kinkier. He’d stumbled on the websites by accident at first–BDSM forums, collections of bondage photos, blogs about gear and techniques. All of it turned him on way more than any girl he’d ever met, and while he’d always hoped the desires would fade over time, they never did. Eventually, he’d decided that if he just tried it out once, then maybe his curiosity would be satisfied and he could get on with his life, but making that first step was difficult. He’d chatted with a few guys, but could never work up the courage to actually meet up, but now…

The post went up a few days ago, and ever since Dean had seen it, he hadn’t been able to avoid thinking about it. The poster, named Free_ThePig had posted an ad on a forum Dean frequented looking for hookups, and the post had seemed tailor-made for Dean’s predicament. Not only was he in his area, he was specifically looking for guys new to the bondage scene, promising that he would take a novice and turn them into a bondage veteran in just one night long session. However, what turned Dean on even more was the picture Free_ThePig had posted with the ad.

It was a picture ripped from Dean’s fantasies–an older daddy wrapping him up in leather, dominating him and leaving him hard in a position of total submission. He’d lost count of how many times he’d shot his load looking at the ad and picture. Still, it was starting to feel like he would never have to guts to actually follow up on the post, but he couldn’t live with this split persona anymore. He wouldn’t be able to take it for much longer, and he had to get on with his life. This would be his best chance to get it out of his system, so he sent the guy a private message, telling him he might be interested in meeting. Dean had expected at least a short conversation about what to expect, but all he’d gotten in return was an address, a date, and a time–a few days away–and that was all.

He replied, asking for details but got nothing. He told himself he wouldn’t go many, many times over the next few days. Then he looked up the address, but only because he was curious. He cancelled the plans he’d already made for the night, telling himself he was too tired to party, and then finally came clean with himself. Who was he kidding, he was going to go–he’d always planned on going, so he dressed simply–in jeans and a T-shirt–got in his car and swallowing his fear, drove out of town. The address which had been sent to him was quite a ways out of town, the suburbs slowly giving way to farms and vineyards, and when he pulled into the driveway, he found himself on a winding gravel road leading to a old but well cared for farmhouse. It looked so innocent–he wondered if he’d gotten the address wrong. He kind of hoped he had–it would be easier that way, giving himself an excuse to back out gracefully. He went up, knocked on the door, and he heard some heavy steps coming to the door, and then there he was, the man from the picture, dressed in well worn blue jeans, a leather vest, cowboy hat and boots and nothing else. “Yer late. Git in here, pig.”

The curtness of the man’s comment threw Dean for a bit of a loop, and he didn’t know how to respond. This isn’t what he’d wanted–he’d wanted someone safe, someone who would respect his limits, and this man…he could already sense that there were no limits in there. He took a step back, trying to find some excuse caught in his throat, when the man, demonstrating no patience, grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and yanked him inside, tearing the fabric in the process and almost tripping him on the front step. “What gives, man?” Dean said, unable to quell the tremor of fear, and was shocked with the man slapped him across the face and then pinned him up against the wall, staring Dean in the face. Getting this close to the man, it felt like he was staring down into Dean’s soul–and he really didn’t want to know what the man was looking for. He noticed that he was chewing something in his mouth, and when the man was satisfied, he turned to the side and spit a stream of dark spit onto the filthy, stained floor, and Dean’s stomach churned. What was he chewing? Tobacco? Did people even do that anymore?

“Look, I think this was a mistake, I’m just gonna go–”

“Don’ speak. Strip. Ya don’ git clothes tahnight, pig,” the man said, shutting the door behind them.

“I’m not…I’m not a pig. Look this was a mistake, just let me go, alright?”

The man said nothing–just walked up, grabbed the tear in Dean’s shirt and ripped it right down the front, before grabbing a knife and cutting off his pants as well. Naked, Dean realized he wasn’t going anywhere, not anymore, and the realization he was trapped here with a crazy redneck bear suddenly set in, as the man brandished the knife at him. “I wasn’t plannin’ on any pain play wit ya, pig, but if ya don’ shape the fuck up, yer gonna go home bleedin’. That what ya want? Cause I can do that–ya’d look hot wit a few scars…” He said, stepping closer with the knife, and backing Dean into a corner. “So tell me–that what ya want?”

“N–No…”

“No what?” he said, pushing the knife up against Dean’s skin, making him flinch.

“No! No…Sir…” Dean whimpered. Looking down at the knife in terror…and also seeing his cock. His hard cock. He blushed, suddenly ashamed that this terror had him so horny. This shouldn’t be affecting him like this–breathing heavily, he noticed a scent on the air, something earthy and a bit dank, but as soon as he’d thought he’d noticed it, it was gone.

“Not the quickest learner, by a long shot,” the man said, mostly to himself. “Well, let’s git ya dressed like a real pig–that will do ya wonders. Follow me–head down. Say nothin’,” he said and walked off.

Dean glanced at the door, knowing he could get out–but then his feet were walking after the master. Why? Why was he doing this to himself? Curiosity? Lust? Something…something else? Still, he was walking into a small side room, decorated in wood and leather, where the bear hauled out some gear and started roughly dressing Dean in chaps, boots, fistmitts and a leather harness cinched tight against his chest. The smell was stronger in here, and the leather stank of it. Something about the smell was making his mind shift. He’d fantasized about something like this hundreds of times, and now that it was actually happening…maybe he should just let go, and enjoy himself. Revel in that side he’d never given himself permission to explore or experience. Without noticing, he gave a quiet snort, something which could have easily been mistaken for a sniffle or a sneeze, but the man–the Master–smiled slightly.

“Now,” the master said, “Here are the rules fer the evenin’. It’s obvious yer new tah this–I don’t care that ya are. Yer gonna to learn as we go, pig. Tonight, ya ain’t human. Tonight, yer a slave, a pig, somethin’ fer mah amusement and pleasure. Yer desires don’ matter. Ya do what I say, when I say it, no matter what. Ya understand, pig?”

“Yes…Yes sir.”

“Good–then let’s git started. First things first, let’s get ya restrained–can’t have a pig roamin’ round like a person now, can we?” the Master said, and quicker than Dean imagined, he’d hauled out a selection of leather bands and straps, and started binding together his limbs, arms strapped to his chest, legs bound together, and then he shoved Dean down onto his knees. The smell was stronger now, Dean taking in great, snorting, inhales through his nose, not even caring about the grunts he was making. He was right at the level of the Master’s cock, and he could see the outline of it in his jeans. He was hungry for it, so hungry.

“please sir, *grunt* can I suck it sir? Please?” he begged, but all he got was another slap to the face.

“Bad pig! What did I tell ya bout speaking? Gonna have tah fix that…” he said, and pulled a tin of Copenhagen out of his back pocket. He pulled out a big wad of tobacco with one hand, forced open Dean’s mouth with the other, and packed it in, following it up with a gag. “That’ll keep ya quieter, I bet.”

Dean started to whine, begging the master with his eyes to take it out, but the Master grabbed a hood and pulled it down over his head, cinching it tight, before shoving him down onto his face. “I think ya need some alone time tah think bout how yer gonna to be a good pig ‘n follow the rules. I’ll be back. If I hear any noise from this room, or find ya’ve moved an inch there’ll be fuckin’ hell tah pay, git it, pig?”

The Master didn’t wait for an answer, nor did he want one, nor could Dean make much noise at all with his face stuffed with tobacco. The door slammed shut, leaving him alone in the small room, the scent overwhelming him now, his cock hard as a rock against the leather. What was happening to him? Why was he doing this? Dean felt all of these desires and fantasies welling up inside of him, but it was more than that–deeper down in himself, like a second side of himself he’d never dared express which was forcing its way to the surface. He tried to tell himself it was harmless play, that come morning everything would be back to normal, but he sensed something changing, but also he felt just the same as ever. The darkness was unsettling, the inability to move terrifying, and yet, he also felt safer and more secure than ever before. The rush of the tobacco was surprising, even if it tasted foul. He quickly discovered that he couldn’t spit through the gag, so he swallowed the spit down. It was disgusting, but he didn’t mind it before long. He was happy to be of use, really. He could…he could be his master’s spittoon, maybe…yeah, that would be hot…wouldn’t it? He knew he should try to keep control of himself, but it was like the world had shrunk down around him. Even the small room around him no longer existed. It was just him, waiting. Waiting for the bear, for his master, to return and give Dean a chance to serve him, it was like nothing else mattered in the universe, like there was nothing else in the universe, even.

He heard the door open and the man say, “All right pig, how’re ya doin’? Ya’ve been marinatin’ in there fer a few hours–havin’ fun?” Hours? How could it have been hours? It felt like minutes, seconds, like nothing at all. He felt the master pull the gag free of his mouth, “Go on, git rid a that tobacco–I ain’t gonna make ya swallow the leaf jus’ yet.”

Dean was thankful for that kindness at least, and he pushed the tobacco from his mouth into the empty space in front of him. His first instinct was to speak–to thank him for coming back, for giving this pig another chance to serve him properly, but he checked himself. That would be against the rules–so he kept quiet, aside from a little whine of need. He did need…something. Needed to serve? To obey?

Good pig, I can tell yer learnin’. Now, tell me–ya wanna suck mah cock?”

“Oh…Oh yes sir, please. Please let me suck it, I’ll do a–” Dean said, begging, but the master slapped him across the face, silencing him.

“Trick question, bitch. I don’t give a fuck whether you want to suck my cock. I don’t give a shit about you. Period. You don’t tell me what you want. You should only care about what I want. So, how should you have answered that question, pig?”

Dean thought for a moment, in the dark of the hood, his mouth tingling from the tobacco, now hungry for Master’s cock. Where was it? Dean imagined it inches from his mouth, hard and dripping, ready to thrust in as soon as he said the right words. He leaned forward, desperate to taste it, but there was nothing, just empty air. What was he supposed to say? He whimpered a bit, thinking harder. He wanted the cock so bad…but that didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not anymore. He…Master mattered. Dean was nothing. He was a pig, just an animal to be used for Master’s pleasure, if Master wanted to. “I…no, it…it doesn’t matter if I want to suck your cock, sir. Would…would you please fuck this pig’s face sir? I mean…I mean, only if–if you want, sir…”

“Fucking pitiful. Still, I do wanna piece a that pig mouth a yers,” the bear said, the derision obvious, but a moment later Dean got exactly what he wanted–a mouthful of his Master’s thick cock. He gagged, because even though he’d wanted it, the hood rendered it impossible to anticipate the thrust, and the Master was brutal, slamming it deep down Dean’s throat without any consideration for the pig’s comfort. He didn’t deserve any consideration after all and…was that turning him on? Dean realized, with some embarrassment, that it was. This base treatment, this was what he’d deserved all along, what he’d always…wanted? No, that couldn’t be right, he’d wanted more. He’d just been a little curious, this was going too far, and yet…his cock was so hard. It was hard, and he could even feel it getting close to orgasm, but he clamped down on that, knowing he didn’t want to cum without Master’s explicit permission. How mortifying–a pig like him cumming before his Master? He’d rather die.

The master’s facefuck continued, the intensity neither increasing nor decreasing. It reminded Dean of masturbation–he was nothing more than a tool for Master to get off into, not someone to please. He came without warning, just shoving it down Dean’s throat and pumping his cum right into his belly, Dean grunting and snorting in appreciation, thankful that he was at least worthy of being his Master’s cum dump. Master, breathing a bit heavy, pulled off Dean’s hood, letting him look up and him and down at himself…and Dean realized something was different.

Dean looked down at his hairy chest, his body bulging slightly with muscle and while he knew something was strange…he simply couldn’t figure out why. His body looked so wrong, and yet it felt comfortable. He was distracted from his self inspection by the Master coming close, bringing his own naked body near the pig’s face, Dean leaning in and snorting up as much of the older man’s musk as he could, the smell so familiar and exquisite. He started lapping at his abs, and seeing the Pig’s eagerness, the Master turned around and bent over, the bound pig digging his way into the bear’s ass, grunting and thrusting his tongue as deep as possible without any suggestion at all. Dean wanted to please him so much…and yet, something kept holding him back, keeping him from going deeper. Master stood back up after a few moments and turned around, looking at the bound up pig, but Dean wasn’t noticing. He’d fallen onto his stomach and was licking his master’s cowboy boots clean, relishing the taste of leather with the aftertaste of tobacco in his mouth.

“Hmm..good progress, but not great. I think someone needs better gear–I know ya can go further than this. Really unleash that pig inside you. Follow me,” the master said, undoing the straps binding Dean’s arms and legs. “We’re going down to the real dungeon.”

Dean didn’t even consider trying to get up on his feet, dutifully following on his hands and knees, carefully navigating the dark, narrow stairs down into Master’s basement. It was very dark–so dark he couldn’t even see how far the back the room went. For all he could tell, it might go on forever, an endless repetition of whatever erotic horrors Master could imagine…god that would be so hot. Caught up in the fantasy, Dean didn’t notice Master go over to another rack of bondage gear, pull down another hood and quickly yank it down over the pig’s head. This one was different–more like a mask. Dean could see, but his mouth was covered. More gear followed–including two strange contraptions on his nipples, making them feel like they were being sucked off his body, something strapped around his waist and between his legs, a dildo shoved up his ass without even the courtesy of lube forcing out an involuntary squeal, and a chastity device Master crudely shoved Dean’s semi-hard cock into, before padlocking it closed. Through all of this, Dean stood as still as he could, dimly aware of the shame he ought to feel at the treatment, but feeling only excitement. Master was dragging him even lower, reducing him in status, rendering him little more than an object, and always that smell. Inside the hood it was even stronger, so strong Dean couldn’t help but notice it. The final addition was something heavy and metallic draped around his neck, cinched tight and then clipped closed–a chain collar, he realised, and then there was a tug, and Master pulled him deeper into the darkness, Dean heeling obediently on all fours. They stopped after a short walk, and with a click, the harsh fluorescents in the ceiling flickered to life, forcing Dean to squint, but he could make out something in front of him…some figure– a real pig, a real boar in Master’s basement. Dean was confused what was Master doing now?

His eyes adjusted slowly, and he realized it wasn’t a real boar, it was his reflection. The mask he now wore was a flesh toned pig face, one of the most realistic he’d ever seen, more than adequate to fool a passive observer, and Dean crawled forward, captivated, turning to the side to see the rest of him, see his captive cock, the curly pig tail strapped on right above his fill asshole, the thick metal collar around his neck. The lights were anything but kind–it was ugly, it was something inhuman, something which would make a common person retch if they saw it coming towards them, and Dean realized that this…this thing had been inside him all along, that he’d been hiding it in him, and he wanted to put it back, bury it away, but he…he didn’t know if he could. He tried to look away, but Master yanked the leash around, forcing him to look.

“Damn yer ugly, ain’t ya? Disgustin’ fuckin’ pig,” Master said. “This is who ya are. This is how I see ya, how ya see yourself in those filthy fantasies a yers, ‘n now this is how everyone else is gonna see ya from now on. Ya know ya should hate it, ain’t that right? That ya should fear it. But ya don’t. I can see it in your eyes, ya know what ya should be thinkin’, what society has told ya tah think, but that’s not how ya really feel is it?” he paused for a moment, coming up behind the pig and kneading his ass, “To tell the truth, ya like it. Ya know yer ugly, but ya love it. You know yer just an animal, but ya revel in it. This is what ya are, ‘n what ya want. Let it out–cause it ain’t ever goin’ back in.”

Without ceremony, Master hauled out the dildo from the pig’s ass and replaced it with his cock, already recovered from the earlier blow job, and it started grunting and squealing with pleasure, it’s cock aching to harden inside it’s tight confines. It did want this. It didn’t want to go back to what it’d been, that simpering jock with the beautiful fake life, living a long string of lies. This was simple, this was pleasure for the sake of it’s betters, this is what it would be remade for. In the mirror, it could see it’s body changing again, it’s body bulking up with more muscle, the hair filling in, a few tattoos filling in on it’s shoulders. The bulk wasn’t beautiful–it was beastial. He was afraid still, though. He didn’t want to see what was happening under the hood, didn’t want to see it’s own face. Sensing it’s fear, Master hauled away the pig’s hood, showing it it’s own wild eyes, the nose and lips curled into sneers and it grunted and snorted beyond it’s own control. It was human…and yet…it had nothing human in it. Looking into it’s own feral eyes, the battle was finally lost. Dean disappeared–consumed by the pig inside him, who bucked back, no longer holding an ounce of will, begging without words to be seeded by it’s master, who didn’t disappoint. Master unloaded deep inside him, before replacing the dildo, sealing his essence inside the pig, who happily cleaned off his owner’s cock in thanks.

It was happy–so happy to finally be free. It had been trapped in that horrible boy for so long, only let out to play in his fantasies, but now the pig was free, and he owed it all to his one true master. The sheer love and devotion in his eyes told Master that the battle was over, and that it was time to finish the pig off. It fought a bit as he started removing the gear from the pig’s body, but he slapped it down, reminding it of it’s place. “Ya don’ have tah worry–the gear don’ matter, pig. Yer a pig with it or without it. Now hold still.” The fistmitts came off, the straps, the tail, nipple clamps and chastity device. the pig stood slowly, standing on two feet feeling supremely unnatural. It looked down it it’s body, seeing it’s puny cock and massive nipples, toying with them gently, amazed at their sensitivity.

The smell was still there, that musky, earthy scent, but now it knew the truth of it. It didn’t come from the house, or from the gear. It came from itself. It was it’s own scent, the scent of mud and filth and obedience at the feet of betters. It owned that now, taking a deep, snorting breath from it’s own pits, feeling it’s cock start to harden.

“That’s enough a that, pig,” Master said, “Follow.” Master went upstairs, into the rest of the house, the pig following behind, the surroundings, the mundanity of the farmhouse feeling inappropriate, like it was soiling the surfaces by merely coming close to them. The pig didn’t belong here, he belonged down in the basement, caged up, or outside, penned up in the mud. Why was Master bringing him up here? “Sit,” Master said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and the Pig didn’t budge. That was meant for people, not for something like itself. the Master sighed, seeing the pig’s reaction. He might have misjudged this one–he hadn’t seen a pig emerge this strong in a long while. He hoped it would still be capable of speaking, otherwise he’d have to find a very particular kind of home for it. “You have permission to speak. Can you still talk? Ya want some chaw?”

The confusion on the pig’s face grew deeper, but contorting it’s mouth, it could utter a few words. “Yes…sir. I speak, but…why? I serve, I no need…speak.” The voice was different than the confident voice of the jock who had come in, it was low, difficult to understand. However, when the master held out the tin of copenhagen, the pig didn’t hesitate, taking a thick wad and packing it’s lip, relaxing visibly.

“Well, listen then,” Master said, and then related his story. He was a trainer of sorts. He was a master of freeing bonds that held back the sexual beasts which resided in men, and then he released them back into the wild, to find master’s of their own. As Master spoke, fear started choking the pig. Master was going to force it to leave, was going to kick it out. He’d freed it, the Pig had devoted it’s life to him, and now…now, it had to leave? Find someone else to serve? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t!

“N–No!” the pig shouted out suddenly, before falling to it’s knees at Master’s feet, knowing it had to be punished for disobedience after speaking out of turn, but no slap came, and that was almost worse. He glanced up, seeing the shock on Master’s face, and decided it had better just speak it’s mind. “I…I stay. I here with you, sir. Please, sir. I…love sir. I no worthy, I know…but please, you has no…no pig. I be your pig, sir. Let me be yours, sir.”

The suddenness of the interjection caught Master off guard. The pigs were usually eager to leave and find master’s of their own, but this one…looking down at the kneeling pig, Master did feel a twinge of…something. He’d been releasing pigs for years, and yet something about this one was different. He wasn’t sure if it would be able to even survive if he threw it out the door into the world. No, that wasn’t it…the truth was that he liked this pig. It’s spunk, it’s eagerness, it’s holes. He’d long told himself that he couldn’t get attached, that this was just a job, but maybe…why couldn’t he have a pet of his own? The pig flinched when Master touched his face, expecting a slap, but the soft stroke both surprised and thrilled him. He looked up, seeing the softness in Master’s eyes, and felt hope.

“Alright…I guess if I’m gonna to keep ya, then ya need a name. How bout Spike? I think ya’d look pretty hot wit some metal studs comin’ out a that skull a yers.”

Spike didn’t care. He had a name–he had a master. He grunted and squealed with excitement. He’d found more than release here, he’d found a Master. His Master, the one he’d always wanted and needed, and he would serve him for the rest of his days, and be ever thankful for the opportunity.


Fairytale – Part 3

This story got put on hiatus a while back, but I went ahead and finished it up. Here are parts 1 and 2. 

***WARNING*** This story contains watersports, scat, raunch and incontinence. Like, a ton of it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

As they left the theater and emerged into the hallway, Jeff turned to Harry and asked, “So, what sort of plans did you have for after the movie?”

“Well, I was thinking we could head back to my place and have a little fun, if you don’t mind hanging around a filthy minded redneck like me,” Harry replied, coming a little closer and sensing Jeff still raging attraction to him.

“Sounds like one hell of a plan to me, but after that drink you brought me, this daddy needs to go take a piss before any of that.”

“You managed to drink that?” Harry asked, “When?”

“While you had your face buried in my gunt, boy,” Jeff said with a grin, but Harry hadn’t really been interested in an answer–he’d only asked it to keep Jeff around for a second, while the spell took effect, forcing Jeff’s bladder to empty itself in the hallway as they stood there. Jeff felt the warmth in his crotch and running down his pant leg a moment later, and his face turned bright red with horror, as Harry grinned wide and quickly pulled him through a couple of doors leading into an empty side hallway, leaving a wet trail of piss behind them.

“Smells like someone couldn’t hold it in,” Harry said.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe…I…oh fuck, are you really…oh fuck, you nasty pig…” Jeff said as Harry got down, buried his face up under his gut and started sucking the piss from the fabric of Jeff’s crotch. Jeff’s hand wrapped around the back of Harry’s head and forced him in deeper, and the sudden assertion of control startled Harry, but also turned him on. Apparently Jeff was already getting dirty enough to assert some dominance in their relationship, but Harry was eager for more of that from him. He worked his way out and back up to standing, and gave Jeff a kiss, before pulling him towards the door out of the movie theater, but Jeff pulled him back and shoved him up against the wall. “Oh no, I pissed myself–I want you to do the same boy…I think that’s only fair.”

“But I already took a piss earlier–”

“Shut up and let it loose–show daddy what you’ve got.” Harry grinned, and decided there was no reason the spell couldn’t work on him as well, and a second later, piss was streaming out of his cock and soaking the front of his shorts, running down his legs and pooling in his boots. Jeff shoved his own leg up against Harry’s, sharing the piss and the two of them made out for a moment longer, before breaking apart and heading for the door, both of them soaked.

They took a moment to get oriented in the parking lot, and before heading for his vehicle, Harry decided it was time to give another one of the fairy’s spells a try. This one could would change the date of the last time the subject changed their clothes and showered, making them either cleaner or dirtier depending on which direction one went–but Harry knew there was only one way for Jeff to head. He decided, for a bit of fun, to make it so Jeff’s “wash date” moved back a day for every pace he took as they walked to Harry’s car…or what had been a car when they arrived.

Suddenly Harry could only ever recall owning a rusted out pick up truck, it’s bed heaped with junk and the cab filthy with trash and who knew what else. Still, they set off in that direction, Harry kept track of their steps as they went–and it took them longer than he’d expected–ninety paces, making it now three months since Jeff had last changed his clothes or showered, and when they climbed into the cab–he definitely looked like it. His shirt and pants were absolutely filthy, the wet sweat marks from earlier now dried under his pits and colored a brownish yellow. The front of his shirt was marked with grease and food stains from his meals, and his navy pants, were stiff with precum and piss. His beard had grown rather unruly as well, and when Jeff closed the door to the passenger side, the suddenly enclosed space was filled with the two men’s combined musk, making them both let out a moan and lick their lips.

“Well daddy, what say we head home and have some fun?” Harry said, went to turn the keys but Jeff lashed out and caught his wrist, stopping him cold. Jeff let go long enough to shove the smaller, younger man up against the side of the pick up, his musk overwhelming Harry’s senses, and making him suddenly feel…like he needed to obey and service this man more than anything else in the world. How powerful was that first spell exactly?

“First boy, I think you and I need to get a few things straight–there’s something funny going on here, and we aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on here. I don’t just accidentally piss myself in hallways very often, and I know I wasn’t think dirty when we left the theater. Now you’re going to fucking tell me, or we’re going to have some problems–got it?” Harry screwed up his lips, trying to keep the truth under wraps, but the sheer dominance Jeff was exuding was too powerful.

“Alright…alright, I’ll tell you everything…sir,” Harry said, “but it’s kind of a long story, so how about I tell you on the way back to my place?”

Jeff stared Harry down for a moment, but relaxed back into his seat, giving Harry a nod of agreement, and so he started up the truck, and drove off to wherever his new home was, and told Jeff everything. About who they’d been, about his trip to the restroom and his run in with the Fairy Grungefather, his own transformation and the dawn time limit, the spells the fairy had given him to use, and how he’d manipulated Jeff with them all night long. Throughout the story, Jeff was mostly quiet, occasionally asking for a point of clarification but little else, and Harry couldn’t tell whether he believed him or not. As he drove, he realized he was heading out of town proper, and after a half hour drive, they turned into a trailer park, and pulled up in front of a rickety and rusted single wide which Harry knew was his home. “That’s…that’s the whole story sir, like you asked for.”

“You realize that sounds utterly ridiculous, right? I mean, how in the hell am I supposed to believe any of that?”

“Well…uh…I could show you. I mean, I could use a spell on you, and you might notice it happening, now that you know about it.”

Jeff thought for a moment, then said, “Fine, give me your cock, boy. You’re not going to be needing it, the way this night is heading.”

“A–All of it? Can’t I–”

“Shut the fuck up, and give it to me,” Jeff said, and Jeff couldn’t resist the order, so he reached over, grabbed Jeff’s hand and swapped their cocks, leaving himself with a half inch nub, and Jeff with a huge cock a little over a foot long. Jeff rummaged around in his gunt in surprise, amazed not only that the spell had worked, but that he’d also noticed it happening. “Holy fuck, it actually worked…” Jeff said, then turned back to Harry, “Alright, now make me dirtier. Make it so I haven’t showered in a year.”

“I don’t…is that a good idea, sir? I mean–” Harry said, mostly worried that if that happened, there would be no way for him to resist Jeff’s sudden dominance.

“Just shut the fuck up, boy, and do as your daddy says, or you’re going to get it.”

So Harry did it, and he wanted to do it. He wanted to see what Jeff would look like if he were that filthy–he needed to see it. And so Jeff felt himself grow filthier, his clothes nearly turning to grungy rags hanging off his body, his pants torn, his shirt missing buttons. As the change progressed, Harry felt his will to resist simply withering away and eventually disappeared altogether. He needed to serve this man, to obey him. It was truly the most important thing for him to do. When it finished, Jeff looked over at the devoted eyes of Harry next to him, and knew he had his date right where he ought to be.

“Alright boy, now…you said that spell could transfer qualities, right? Was it only limited to physical ones?”

“I…I don’t know, sir. I only used it on physical ones, sir, so I’m not sure.”

“Alright, now here’s what I want you to do. I want you to try and transfer your ability to cast those spells from you to me, so that I can cast them all, and you can’t. After all, I think you’d agree that I’m the one who should have all the power in this relationship, isn’t that right?”

“Ye–Yes sir, of course sir!” Harry said, eager to agree, and so he he touched Jeff’s hand again and with all his might, willed the spells to transfer to Jeff, however, he had no idea whether it had worked or not, and neither did Jeff, apparently.

“Alright, how about we give this a try? I’m tired of these fucking business rags anyway–how about something a little more commanding?” Jeff concentrated and tried casting one of the spells Harry hadn’t used earlier, which allowed for the caster to change the subject’s clothes, and in turn, some of their behaviors, based on what they wore. As Harry watched, Jeff’s business casual started to twist and write, turning into a green and brown camouflage fatigues which were in relatively good shape, despite being well worn, with the name “Daddy Sarge” printed over one pocket. Even though his fat frame was stretching the fabric to its limits, Jeff laughed, amazed that it had actually worked, and Harry was next to him, awestruck. “Damn, I can’t believe that actually worked. How about you, cadet? You like the look of your new sergeant?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Harry shouted, not even noticing that his own clothes had suddenly shifted in a pair of similar fatigues and boots, though his name tag read “Cadet Pigboy.”

“Well why don’t you show off some of that enthusiasm and suck your sergeant’s massive cock,” Jeff ordered, and Harry immediately leapt to, and as soon as Jeff had his monstrous cock out, Harry did his best to choke it down, but with the extra gag reflex he’d taken earlier, he could barely get half of the shaft in his mouth, but he tried his hardest just the same. However, Jeff soon reversed that change, and Harry found himself able to deepthroat the cock with no resistance at all, as Jeff started swapping around their attributes once more.

He decided he liked being older, so he kept their ages the same, but he had to do something about this fat–he didn’t feel like it suited him. He dumped off most of the poundage onto Harry, taking his muscle, but leaving himself with a firm gut over his hard abs. He decided that if Harry was going to be his pigboy, then he was going to be smooth, and so he took all of his body hair, expanding his already thick pelt, and also took away Harry’s thick beard and hair, leaving him with a clean shaven, chubby face and a high ‘n tight haircut. To further cement himself as the leader, he stole several inches off of Harry’s height, bringing him down to five foot six, and bringing himself up to six foot seven, and to make sure Harry wouldn’t find some clever way to regain control anytime soon, he stole forty points off his IQ score, raising Harry a bit past genius and making Harry a certifiable, drooling dunce.

Happy with their new looks, Jeff said, “Alright Cadet, that’s enough sucking. Get out of the truck and stand at attention,” but Harry ignored him–and Jeff felt a sudden anger. He shoved Harry off his cock with enough force to slam him back against the side of the truck, and yelled, “I gave you a fucking order, now get out and stand at fucking attention, you piece of shit!”

“Ye–Yes sir!” Harry stuttered out, popping open the door and tumbling out onto the gravel drive below him. He scrambled back up and managed to get into attention just as Jeff came around the front of the vehicle, shaking his head.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? No discipline, no fucking brain–I mean, look at you, you fucking mouthbreather, you’re drooling on your goddamn uniform!” Jeff shouted, closing Harry’s gaping mouth with one hand, and wiping his slobber off on his shirt. “Hell, I bet you aren’t even potty-trained…”

Harry suddenly felt a pressure on his bowels, and a massive load of shit flooded the back of his fatigues, and his face went red with humiliation, even as his tiny cock tried to get hard from the sheer stench of it, and there was just…so much of it. He felt it pack the back of his pants and then start running down his legs, and then he was pissing himself again, the front of his new fatigues soaked, and he did his very best to hold himself at attention, but his body shook with humiliation and arousal. Sarge came close to him and the sheer stench rolling off him brought Harry to his knees, head bowed, face slammed into his musky crotch, and when he started pissing, Harry started sucking it out through the fabric, lamenting every drop he couldn’t get through the fabric. “Look at you, you fucking piece of work. I don’t think you even deserve the respect of that fuckin’ uniform you have on–how about we give you something a bit more fitting?

Harry shivered suddenly, the cold night air directly against most of his fat body. In fact, the only clothes he was wearing now was a thick, heavy metal collar around his neck, a tag on it reading “Pigboy Baby Slave” and a thick padded diaper, sagging down with the weight of his massive load of shit and piss. As a final tough, Jeff added a pacifier with a six inch cock for a nipple shoved down his throat, and he laughed at Harry’s new look, the idiot just grinning as he sucked the rubber cock in his mouth, his thick mind unable of comprehending what was happening to him. He just felt so happy, on his knees before his stinking Master, his diaper full of piss and shit, this was all he knew, all he wanted. “Come on piglet, we’re gonna go have some more fun,” Jeff said, and walked over to the trailer. Harry tried to get to his feet, but found that he couldn’t walk anymore, and was forced to crawl after his master, oinking and grunting uncontrollably as they went inside.

It was many hours later when Harry, exhausted, finally collapsed and fell asleep. Harry didn’t notice immediately–he was too busy pounding his slave’s filthy hole with his massive cock for the third time, the feel, sound and stench of his slave’s shit squelching around his cock taking up all of his attention. He’d cut open Pigboy’s diaper once they’d gotten inside and forced his nasty slave to slather himself with the contents, before begging his daddy to fuck and fist his loose, incontinent hole, and Jeff had only been too happy to oblige. He came once more with a forceful shudder and heard Harry’s snores, and decided his boy had earned a few hours rest, before Jeff woke him up to eat his master’s morning shit. Fuck–morning–was it coming already? Looking out one of the trailer’s filthy panes, he could see the sky had started lightening, and as the first rays of the sun crested the horizon, Jeff looked back over his shoulder and saw that he was no longer alone.

“Ah, so, Harry, I see you enjoyed yourself tonight,” the fairy said, giving Jeff a wink, “Dang, you sure did do a number on your date, didn’t you?”

Jeff looked down at Harry, and realized the fairy hadn’t noticed the role switch that had happened halfway through the night. Hell, of course he’d think Jeff was Harry–he was the one with the spells as well. Did this mean that their time was already up? Jeff thought about it, and realized he didn’t want to go back to the prissy, uptight cub he’d been just a few hours ago–this sense of freedom, of power and dominance, it was too wonderful to cast aside now. “Is…Look, I don’t want to change back, I don’t want either of us to change back–can’t we stay like this?”

“That wasn’t the deal, Harry.”

“So then make it a deal, what do you want in exchange?”

The fairy cocked an eyebrow, “Well, I mean, since it seems like the two of you are enjoying yourselves, I suppose I could come up with an agreement of some sort. Here’s what I want. First, I want neither one of you to ever shower or clean yourselves in any way ever again. Second, I’ll leave you access to your spells, but only if, every day, you use them to make at least one man filthier and grungier than he was when he began the day. If you don’t follow through on either point, the contract is broken, and your magic will disappear, leaving you trapped in whatever form you might be in at the moment. Is that agreeable to you?”

“I’ll take it,” Jeff said, without a second of hesitation, and the fairy laughed.

“Very well, ‘Sarge’, enjoy yourself now–and I look forward to seeing your work,” with a flash, the fairy was gone, and Jeff grinned, looking over at his pig–this was going to be the start of a whole new life, even if it wasn’t the happily ever after he’d been expecting.