Thanks. That’s a pretty common theme in a lot of my stuff, so I’m sure there will be many more stories along those lines. If you did have something more precise in mind, I’m always open for tumblr commissions as well.
Category: Uncategorized
Would love to see more development of the Slutitis story… Fun idea with great potential. How is it contagious?
You know, I’d mostly meant the word Slutitis as a play on the whole doctor/patient theme–I hadn’t actually thought it might be a disease!
I don’t know, to be honest–I hadn’t really thought about developing it further.
Gifts from a Magi – Part 1
Jake had a problem. Well, not so much a problem as a set of circumstances which were conspiring together to make him as unhappy as possible. First, was the fact that he was graduating this coming weekend, ending his college career and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had no job lined up, barely any money in his bank account, and after he’d come out to his family a couple of months ago, he…wasn’t exactly going to be welcomed back there with open arms either. Then there was Rand, on the left in the photo.

He was Jake’s best friend. They’d lived on the same floor during their freshman year, and had lived together ever since, even renting an apartment together as seniors. Rand was the first person Jake had come out to, and Rand in turn had been one of Jake’s biggest supporters at college. He was the one who’d convinced Jake to come out to his parents and quit living the big lie. Of course, this culminated in situations three and four, where Jake had fallen in live with Rand–even though Rand was straight as could be. Jake was…annoyed by this fact, but he treasured what relationship they did have, or at least what they had for the moment, because Rand was flying out the monday after graduation to start at his new job across the country, leaving Jake here…alone. And so, in his desperation, Jake was willing to cling to anything which might resolve this in someway which didn’t end with him alone, and possibly on the streets. Even a crazy idea like this one. He pulled the strange leather cocoon out of his drawer again and turned it over in his hands.
Jake had a thing for BDSM. He hadn’t delved into it too much, but he did like going out to leather clubs and hooking up on occasion. He’d been to most of the fetish gear shops in the city around the college, and had become pretty friendly with some of the regulars. He’d even played around with a few of them, and found a few fuckbuddies, but he’d always felt like he was saving himself for Rand, as sad as that was. He was talking about his problems with one of the shopkeepers when a strange man clad from head to toe in a shiny leather uniform had come up and introduced himself. His hand had been strangely cold and clammy to the touch, and something about his eyes bothered Jake, but he’d listened to the man’s offer. After getting the rundown on Jake’s situation, the man pulled out a strange, leather bodybag and gave it to him. When Jake asked what it was, the man said it was a solution to his problems–all he needed to do was get Rand into the cocoon, and then, twenty-four hours later, Rand would be a whole new man–Jake’s man.
Jake had been appalled by the idea at first–who wouldn’t be? And the man had been vague as to what exactly was going to happen to Rand. The man said it would turn Rand gay, but he also kept mentioning other changes, which he never elaborated on. Jake had tried to refuse the man’s offer, but he’d walked away, leaving Jake holding the leather. He’d stashed it for a week now, but he was starting to feel like he didn’t have a choice–he had to try, even though it was wrong. Still, he had no idea what would happen when Rand got into it, or whether he would even survive in the hot leather sack for a whole day, but he couldn’t help but think he needed to try. Hell, if he ruined their friendship, at least it would be over before Rand left him for good, which is what it felt like. But Jake still felt like he had to be honest to Rand first, and tell him how he was feeling.
So, that afternoon, as Rand was packing, he brought him a beer and they sat down, and Jake told him everything–about his fears of joblessness, of his unrequited love, of how he desperately needed Rand in his life…and while Rand didn’t freak out, he told Jake that he couldn’t be everything Jake wanted him to be. That he had his own life to live, and his own dreams, and that while he would always care about Jake–as a friend–he needed to leave, and Jake was furious. That settled it–he had to try the cocoon–he had to.
He went to the kitchen, popped open a couple of beers, roofied one of them, handed it to Rand and proposed a toast to life long friendships…and an hour later, Rand was so out of it couldn’t stop Jake from lying him down in the cocoon, apologizing and professing his love the entire time he fit him into the leather and zipped it up over his face. As soon as the zipper came up over the crown of Rand’s head, the tag broke off and the teeth disappeared, leaving only a stitched seam. Rand struggled inside for a few minutes, Jake watching with something between terror and horny fascination as his movements grew weaker and weaker–and then he was still.

Jake came over and could feel nothing, neither a breath nor a heartbeat, and his first thought was that Rand had suffocated and died. He tried prying apart the leather, cutting at it with scissors, a knife, stabbing it, anything he could do to rescue the man he loved, tears streaming down his face, but nothing marred the impervious leather. He thought about calling the cops, or an ambulance, but what would they say? What would they think? What had he done? He had to find that man, the one who’d given him the cocoon in the first place. It was his only chance. He left the apartment, giving one last look to the leather encased Rand, and drove downtown.
He trolled the leather bars and the bathhouses, he searched the fetish shops open late and the adult bookstores, but he never found him. He was reduced to wandering the streets, too terrified to return to look at what he’d done, but the eventual light of dawn, and his own exhaustion drove him home. Rand was still there, on the floor where Jake had left him…but something was different. The cocoon was a slightly different shape, like Rand was growing larger inside of it, and the leather itself had changed, gaining creases and cracks in the surface like it had been spent years uncared for by anyone. He put his ear to Rand’s chest, and faintly he could hear the pulse of a heartbeat, and the sheer joy he felt was overwhelming. He was alive in there–and changing. Perhaps the man had been right after all.
Despite his nerves and residual panic, Jake fell asleep and woke up in the early afternoon, rushing to check on his friend. The cocoon was looking quite worn now and almost…brittle, but even though it appeared weak, it still refused to be cut. The cocoon had continued growing, while remaining skin tight against Rand’s form, though it was looking quite a bit less like Rand at this point. Jake realized that he had no idea what was going to happen once the twenty-four hours had past–would Rand be a completely different person? Jake felt his nerves start up again, as he checked the clock. When exactly had he done the deed yesterday? He couldn’t remember. It had to have been sometime between five and six in the afternoon, and it was now four…this wait was going to kill him, but he couldn’t leave…what if Rand woke up and no one was here to meet him?
Jake tried watching TV, he tried reading, but nothing could take his eyes off the cocoon for long. Eventually he pulled over a chair and just sat down, watching and waiting for something to happen–though he had no idea what he was waiting for, exactly. He found himself getting caught in fantasy after fantasy, Rand emerging from the cocoon transformed into his own ideal man, with rippling muscles beautiful blow job lips and a tight hole. Jake had always fancied himself a top, and as he thought about what might come out, he found his fantasies turning more and more twisted. He would show Rand for denying his love–he would beat him. He would lock him in chastity. He would train him to love him as much as Jake loved him back, and they would be happy forever.
Rand’s first movement caught him off guard, the odd lurch and groan from inside the now thin, leather skin. Jake knew he should do something, but he could only sit and watch as Rand’s struggling increased, and he began ripping and tearing at the cocoon crumbling around him, and Jake caught the first glimpses of the new Rand. He had stripped him down to his underwear before putting him in the cocoon the day before, so when a leather booted foot burst out, he was taken aback, especially when he saw the thick hair covering the thigh, and he grimaced.
Jake had never been a fan of body hair–he was more one for smooth muscle. He’d actually suggested to Rand that he start shaving his chest a year ago. As more and more of Rand emerged from the casing, he realized that Rand whad become someone far removed from his dreams and fantasies. He was hairy, for one–really hairy, that glimpse of the thigh had been the tip of the iceberg. His chest was covered with a thick pelt, and when his head burst out, framed by a mane of wild, greying hair with a thick, long beard beneath, he couldn’t help but let out a sound of disgust. He couldn’t even bring himself to get down and help him as Rand struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair and plopped down into it with a gasp.
“Fuck…” Rand muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, “God I need a smoke…” He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his vest, lit one and took a deep drag, letting out a thick plume of smoke into the room.

Jake’s face twisted up. He hated smokers…it was a filthy, disgusting and deadly habit. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was so caught in his disgust, that he almost didn’t register Rand talking to him. “Hey–Hey! Jake, what the fuck did you do to me, man? What the hell was that thing?”
Jake almost couldn’t get the words out, but the did come, and he told Rand the story, told him about the man, and the cocoon, and that he couldn’t imagine living without Rand, so he’d drugged him and forced him into the cocoon. Jake left out the part about how he now found Rand absolutely repulsive…but he started noticing how Rand was was now looking at him, while he played with his pierced dick.
He finished his story, and they both sat in silence for a moment, before Rand spoke. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted–I have to say that you look damn cute over there–so if this is the way things are going to be, I could get used to it. Now how about you come on over here and give me a hand with this? Daddy’s fuckin’ horny.”
Jake couldn’t move for a second, he couldn’t even speak. Rand had become everything he was least attracted to, an old, dirty smoker with a thick pelt of body hair, he fought the urge to vomit at the suggestion of even coming into contact with him. “No…No you don’t understand, this isn’t what I…I mean, I’m not…”
“Hey, you’re the one who did this to me,” Rand said, “And I’m touched Jake, that you wanted me, and now I want you…oh fuck do I. I can’t wait to plow that hot ass of yours.” Rand got up out of the chair, tromping over towards Jake who quickly got up and put the chair between them.
“Stay the fuck away from me, you’re fucking…you’re disgusting!” Jake said, and Rand stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.
“What–You think I’m…” Rand said, his face growing redder, “You’re the one who fucking did this to me, Jake. You’re the one who wanted me to fucking love you, to want you, and now I do. This is what you fucking wanted–and I don’t give a fuck whether you want me or not, I’m gonna have that ass of yours, bitch!” He grabbed the chair away from Jake who tried to run around towards the front door and escape, but Rand tackled him to the floor. Jake fought, and he fought hard, hitting and scratching at Rand’s face until the big man pulled back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rand shouted.
“Get out you fucking freak!” Jake screamed back, “I didn’t fucking want this, get the fuck out before I call the fucking police!”
Rand looked back and forth, from the crazed Jake on the ground to the door, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. He saw the clothes Jake had stripped off him the night before, he bundled them up in his arms and fled out the door, leaving Jake shaking and sobbing in the living room, alone.
*****
To be Continued Tuesday

There are some places in the world, small ones, where ley lines converge, which pulse with spectacular energy. There are many kinds, masculine and feminine, purity and corruption, but merely passing through them is enough to incite a small change in any person, but for a special few, whose own energies reverberate with the lines below them, something spectacular can occur.
Paul Bunyan, we believe, is one such example, though most think he is all but legend. While traversing the American Frontier, he likely stumbled through one of these intersections. Imagine his surprise as he was struck with a bout of incredible horniness, jacking his growing cock as he quickly grew out of his clothing, rocketing from the height of a normal man to twelve feet tall, his beard and body hair growing thicker and thicker and impossible to cut, his cock soon the length and girth of a normal man’s forearm. Of course we prefer to speak of these instances as mere myth–but that doesn’t stop men from spending their lives searching for these sacred places, hoping they too, will be changed, and be made extraordinary.

When Nathan had said he wanted to take Michael to a gaming convention, Michael hadn’t been too excited. He had been even less excited when he heard about Nathan’s plan to cosplay as a couple of orcs–but Nathan eventually convinced him to try the costume on. If Michael didn’t enjoy it, then he wouldn’t have to do it.
He had been expecting cardboard costumes and face paint–not the strange neon green solution Nathan had presented, but he drank it down with his boyfriend–and immediately felt sick to his stomach. His skin–it was turning green, and he was growing shorter and broader, his body filling in with pounds of muscle. Looking over at Nathan–he too was changing, but growing taller, and even more muscular than Michael. Becoming far more powerful…and Michael felt his now feeble mind overcome with the need to serve his warlord.
As Michael sucked down Nathan’s ten inch cock, Nathan told him that the convention wasn’t entirely about gaming. There was also a heavy undercurrent of sex play involved. They would be a shoe-in for first place in the costume contest, as the orc warlord and his sex slave peon.
Fairytale – Part 2
***WARNING***
This story contains heavy raunch and watersports. Don’t be a pussy–just fucking enjoy it.
*************
“There you are,” Jeff said, as Harry squeezed past him and back into his seat, “I was wondering if you fell in or…” His voice trailed off, as he got a better sense of the filthy man taking the seat next to him–and the stench rolling off him, and he had a strange sensation that this wasn’t the man he’d agreed to go out with…or was it? His momentary unease didn’t seem to have any basis in his memory–it was the same filthy, incredibly hairy, obese slob who he watched stuff himself silly at dinner…wasn’t it? Why in the hell had he agreed to this date in the first place? This guy was disgusting.
Harry could see the confusion in Jeff’s eyes in the dim light from the screen, and he grinned. Just like the Fairy Grungefather had written, Jeff had no idea that he’d changed so much in the last half hour. “Here boy,” he said handing Jeff a large soda, “I got you another drink, after I plowed through the last one.”
“Oh…uh, thanks,” Jeff said, and took a drink, still unable to figure out why in the world he was out with this disgusting man. Harry could sense his rising disgust, but he already had the first of the three spells from the fairy in his mind, and he mumbled the chant under his breath. The spell would make his chosen target irresistibly attracted to filth, and hopelessly subservient to any man dirtier than him, though, as a twist, as the subject becomes dirty himself he will, in turn, become more and more dominant. However, Jeff was so clean right now, Harry wasn’t too worried about that just yet. He felt the power in his words burn his lips slightly as the spell wrapped its way around Jeff, and to give it a test, he reached out and put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders and pulled him close, his face dangerously close to his disgustingly ripe pit.
Jeff felt the spell hit him, but had no idea of what to make of it. He was happy when the wave of nausea he’d felt in Harry’s presence dissipated, but when it was replaced by an equal, and very forceful attraction, he tried to resist, but the spell was too strong. Suddenly, his memories of this giant slob from the past few hours were ones of giddy excitement at the other man’s filthy body. How he’d sat, agape, watching the man stuff himself at dinner, Jeff’s cock rock hard the whole time. How he’d kept trying to catch whiffs of Harry’s musk on the way to the theater. The stench of his armpit played into his new, deep fantasies, and he leaned in closer, taking a deep sniff, getting close enough for the hairs to graze his nose.
When Harry’s hand contracted and shoved him into it, he struggled with him out of reflex more than anything else. “Shush boy,” Harry said, “I know you’ve been wanting this all night, so here’s your chance–now lick it good and clean, like I know you want to.” He did. He really did want to, so he buried his face in and started licking at the funk, inhaling deep and feeling Harry’s belly jiggle as he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it.” Harry continued, “Doesn’t that taste like heaven? Go on boy, take out your cock–show me how turned on that nasty funk has gotten you. Here, I’ll take out mine too.” Harry dug around in his camo shorts, pulling out his five inch, thick cock with ample, cheesy foreskin, and without removing his face from Harry’s pit, Jeff did the same, pulling out his eight inch, rock hard cock, which he started milking.
Now Harry didn’t begrudge his date his big cock, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous–and given how submissive Jeff would be for the moment–at least until Harry had him good and filthy–he figured this might be a good time to try out another spell of the Fairy Grungefather’s. Until dawn, the fairy had granted Harry the power to trade physical attributes with any man he was touching–and Jeff’s tongue and face against his pit certainly counted as touching. Harry concentrated, and watched as Jeff’s cock started shrinking in his hand, growing tinier and tinier until it was barely an inch long, and Harry was suddenly grasping a foot long monster cock thicker than a beer can. He decided to take what he could from Jeff’s balls as well, and soon he had an orange resting below his huge member, leaving Jeff with almost no manhood at all.
“Fuck boy, is that all you got to work with? Here, play with mine, and find out what a real cock feels like,” Harry said, and guided Jeff’s hand away from his miniscule cock onto his, both of them trying to suppress groans in the sparsely occupied theater. Jeff was in heaven–he hated his small cock, but given how much he loved bottoming for filthy men, he didn’t mind too much–especially when he was on a date with a monster like Harry. Jeff could barely contain himself, when he felt his tiny cock suddenly start leaking precum uncontrollably. He’d never been much of a leaker, what with his tiny balls, but now–he already could feel it running down the sides of his cock and onto his boxers.
Of course, Jeff didn’t know that his sudden leakage was the result of another one of the fairy’s spells. Harry had been given the ability to control the quantity of any kind of fluid excreted by any man he wanted–and there were all sorts of fluids Harry felt like toying with. He was going to make Jeff leak precum spontaneously for as long as he wanted him to–he hoped he would have a stinking wet spot on his crotch by the end of the film. Jeff’s attention didn’t stay on his cock for long, as he went back to admiring Jeff’s huge, nasty cock, and he felt Harry hand start guiding his face down into his crotch. “Go on boy, suck it–I want to feel that nasty shaft buried down your throat–and make sure you get all that cheese under my foreskin–I know that will drive you wild…”
Jeff struggled for a moment as he resisted the multitude of changes in the world around him, but the fairy’s magic shut him down at every turn. He knew this wasn’t what he wanted, that his cock wasn’t supposed to be an inch long straw leaking precum like a faucet, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything about it, and the more time passed, the more he just felt crazy. And he did want that cock, and that cheesy foreskin. When Harry’s hand pushed him down, he didn’t resist, and swallowed as much of the cock as he could, though he could take more than he’d expected, thanks to the small boost in jaw flexibility and throat size Harry gave him. In fact, he could take it all the way to the hilt without gagging once.
In the dim light, Harry watched the boy work, and decided that there needed to be a few more swaps here and there–just for some added fun. Never in his life had Harry ever had the chance to be muscular, and he’d always wondered what it would be like–so he gave Jeff a large percentage of his own body fat, while removing as much muscle as he could without endangering him. Jeff himself was already a bit chunky, but he had to keep adjusting his position as his gut grew out, his chins expanded, and his gunt swallowed his tiny cock whole. Harry was a bit worried, when he realized his planned change would make Jeff grow out of his clothes, but they seemed to expand with him–his button down shirt expanding to fit his massive gut, his khakis doubling in size to match Jeff’s wide ass and thighs.
Harry himself felt the fat melt off of him, as his body showed off muscles he’d never seen. Neither he nor Jeff had been particularly muscled, but between the two of them, Harry had managed to pick up enough to look like a decent hunk, with well defined pecs, ridged abs and thick arms, not to mention it showed off his cock really damn well, and gave him a great view of Jeff’s fat face chowing down on his filthy cock, but Harry still felt really old, with his greying hair. He decided that if Jeff was going to hold onto his fat for a while, he could hold onto some of Harry’s years as well. He decided to drop back to the age of twenty one, which would give Jeff close to thirty years, bringing him up to the ripe old age of fifty six.
He watched as his beard and hair suddenly lightened, and his new muscles suddenly filled with a new, remarkable vigor. He felt amazing, and his cock! He was so horny it took all of his effort to not cum the next time Jeff deep throated him. Looking down in the dim light, he could see that Jeff had grown up just as quickly–his hair receding back, face lined with wrinkles, and the blow job was starting to wind him. Harry decided to give Jeff a bit off his own beard, and also took Jeff’s hair, leaving him with an inch long beard and a perfectly smooth, bald head, Harry’s own hair growing a bit longer past his shoulders. To finish Jeff’s transformation into an old, chubby bear, Harry reluctantly sacrificed most of his thick pelt, watching it sprout all over Jeff’s new fatty rolls instead. Watching the bearded old man suck his cock was too much, and Harry unloaded down Jeff’s throat, cumming harder than he had in years–though that didn’t make sense. He was just twenty one after all, every cum shot felt like that.
He saw Jeff swallowing his cum eagerly, and when the flow stopped, Jeff started to come off the cock, but with one hand Harry pushed him back down and a second later, Jeff’s mouth was flooded with piss. He’d never tasted anything so rank, and he choked a bit at first, getting some on Harry’s clothes and on his new beard, but he caught onto the rhythm and was soon drinking that down just as eagerly, his new love of filth urging him on, not to mention his attraction to the hot, muscular redneck who he still couldn’t believe had agreed to go out on a date with a fat geezer like himself. After he finished pissing, Harry finally allowed Jeff up, but only after he’d sucked whatever piss he could get from the front of his shorts, and then let Harry lick the piss from his beard, and Harry decided it was time for Jeff to start getting dirtier.
While they made out, one of Harry’s hands snaked down under Jeff’s massive gut, and found the sticky mess of precum his earlier spell had generated, and he started feeding it to Jeff on his fingers, Jeff happily sucking the filth off them as well. Harry also wanted Jeff to start getting musky, so he used his spell to kick Harry’s sweat production into high gear. Beads started dotting Jeff’s suddenly red face, and sweat stains started formed under his armpits. Harry wanted to get in the middle of it, so he worked his head under Jeff’s sweaty gut and into his humid crotch, rubbing his face in the cum and sweat, listening to Jeff’s muffled groans as he licked away at his tiny cock. Harry must have lost track of time in there, because he was caught off guard by Jeff hauling him out by the back of his shirt, back into the fully lighted theater.
In the sudden light, Harry was struck by how much he had changed Jeff in the dark theater. Where a young cub had sat when the movie started, there was now an elderly, obese bear, dressed in a shirt and tie with a nicely trimmed grey beard and completely bald head–thought the shirt was nearly soaked through with ripe sweat. Harry couldn’t see himself, but he could sense from how Jeff was looking back at him that he was a fine piece of muscular redneck, though maybe it was just his funk making Jeff look at him like that–not that it mattered. They saw the ushers come into the theater, and Jeff said in a deep voice, “well young man, what say you and I zip up and skedaddle?”
“Oh, yeah, sure thing,” Harry said, tucked his cock back into his tight camo shorts and helped Jeff stand up, and together they made their way out of the theater, Harry flaunting his shorts damp with piss and the muscles stretching against his sleeveless tee, and enjoying the stench of cum and sweat rolling off Jeff next to him. Harry felt sexier, and hornier, than he’d ever felt before, and the night was still young. Jeff and him had plenty more to do before dawn, and he hadn’t even tried all of the fairy’s spells yet. Things were only going to get hotter, and filthier, from here on out.
One Change #3 – Justice
With this power, why wouldn’t someone go around trying to right a few wrongs as well? Certainly a few changes were devoted to trying and correct injustices made against people in the past and to try and give criminals and bullies what they deserve. Here was a good example–Mr. White.

He looks like a nice man, right? A good neighbor, a delightful old character? Unfortunately, he had a history of abusing children, and when the person responsible for these changes learned about what he’d done from a grown victim, he knew that something had to be done about it. It turned out that Mr. White had an entire basement in his home where he did his work–so the Changer decided that–before Mr. White had harmed anyone, he should have been kept locked up in a dungeon himself.

Not very pretty no, but fitting. The new Mr. White was kept chained in a cage in a basement by a cruel master–aside from the times he was being fucked, fisted or beaten into submission. Sure, the new Mr. White didn’t know why he deserved this treatment, but it was better to spare his victims as far as the Changer was concerned. Besides, the new Mr. White had long since accepted his role, after nearly fifty years of slavery, and he derived plenty of satisfaction from it now.
Of course, not every punishment needed to be so extreme. Sometimes it was better just to force the culprit into a fitting new life, as was the case with Vinnie.

Living as a redneck, he was fond of bullying and beating up anyone remotely resembling a faggot in his eyes, and the Changer could sense that this was born from his own questionable sexuality. Vinnie also loved violence–it helped him get off. So, instead of being turned on by violence, the Changer decided to make him thrilled by men looking at him instead.

The new Vinnie certainly wasn’t a redneck–he’d moved to the city as soon as he’d saved enough for the train ticket. He’d wanted to be a star, but he’d settled for being a stripper at a local bear and leather bar. He loved the work, and the men loved him–his confidence, his thrill at being watched. The Changer was happy to find that this new Vinnie, living open, was much happier than the old one, and considered his work well done.

Why…Why did he keep putting it on? It had been three days since Greg’s visit to the strange curio shop in Chinatown. He’d picked up the small bottle of deodorant as a joke. What company, after all, would say their deodorant smelled like “Backwoods Musk”? He’d put it on before going to the gym to workout with Jeff, and they’d had a good laugh at the cedary, sweaty smell, but this was getting out of control. Greg was putting on weight, his beard was growing uncontrollably, and he couldn’t stop smelling himself.
There was a knock on the door, and when he opened it, there was Jeff, or he thought it was Jeff. He was looking a bit younger, and maybe even…chubby? “Greg…Greg, I gotta smell it again, please tell me…” Jeff said, but stopped and tackled his friend to the ground, lapping and licking at his pit, Greg groaning, his cock rock hard, and he knew why he kept putting it on–because it was his scent–his stench, and he and his boy here, they were going to be smelling like backwoods musk for the rest of their lives.

“Come on son, please let me take these off? I’ve been pissing through them for weeks now, they’re vile.”
“Dad, at least be thankful that I let you cut a whole in the back so you haven’t been storing your shit that long too.”
“Yeah, but you don’t even let me wipe! I…I think the guys at work can smell them through my clothes.”
“Are you sure they aren’t just smelling you? I mean, you haven’t showered in ten days? I mean, have you smelled those pits of yours? No, go on dad, smell them, tell me what you think of them.”
“No, please…oh fuck, it’s so fucking nasty…I think I’m gonna–”
“Don’t throw up, you fucking pussy. Besides, it’s growing on you now, isn’t it? You enjoy your stench, judging by how your cock is tenting out your filthy underwear.”
“Please…Please don’t, I’m your father! Don’t touch me there!”
“Shut up and smell your pits, pig! Smell ‘em and enjoy them. Here, you want to take these shorts off? Here, I’ll take them off for you…damn dad, these are rank–God, I love the smell of pissy shorts. Here, you smell them, get your nose right in there and don’t fucking stop.”
“Son, please–”
“Shut up bitch, and focus on the smell, focus on how filthy and rank it is, focus on how hard that stench is making your cock in my hand–your son’s hand no less, you pervert. Yeah, look at yourself in that mirror, unwashed body, your nose buried in your own piss sodden underwear, your son jacking your rock hard cock…you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You can’t stop it, because all of this is making you so turned on you can’t fucking help yourself!”
“Oh for the love of God, please! Please don’t–oh…Oh! god…damn it…”
“Now wipe up that seed with them and now you’re gonna suck it out…yeah bitch, get it in that hole of yours and suck–aww, is the faggot gonna cry now? Don’t cry dad, this is how men enjoy themselves, this is how we bond. Don’t be a fucking pussy about it…Now take ’em out and put them on backwards.”
“Backwards? But…”
“Talking about you storing up a few loads of shit in those was just too hot to resist, but don’t worry, at least you’ll be able to reach your cock, because from now on, you’re gonna be pissing up and all over your clothes, and whenever you drop a load of shit in those shorts, you’re gonna jack off and love it–oh quit your fucking blubbering! You’re the one who wanted more father-son bonding time! I can’t help it if I only like bonding with dirty, filthy pigs like you’re gonna be.

Another night of fruitless searching. Anthony was exhausted–he’d been at this for months now, and he was beginning to think he’d never find his Master, as he took another inhale of the boxer briefs. The clothes had come in an unlabeled box on his doorstep–the rank, filthy clothes of his Master, or at least, that’s who Anthony knew he was now that he’d become addicted to the stench.
He couldn’t bring himself to wear anything else–he’d quit his job and spent his days scouring the city, sniffing dirty men, hoping he would recognize the smell of his Master. He’d just finished jacking off in an alley, feeling hopeless, when his nose caught something–something fresh. He scurried out of the alley, eyes wild, nose snorting, and he bounded off down the sidewalk.
There he was–he had found him! He could see his Master’s filthy clothes up ahead, and he charged on, tackling him to the ground, burying his nose deep in his Master’s pit and inhaling the rich, fresh musk he’d spent months searching for. Hide and seek was over–he had proven his devotion, and now, he would truly serve.