Percentage… How likely do you think that the America we recognize, rule of law, institutions and traditions, etc, will be around after Trump? Right now I’m feeling 60/40 but not sure which side is which. If America fails, we all are free to become our deepest filth, imho.

I mean, not much of America has changed at all under Trump. We’re still a dying empire, clinging to the last shreds of a century of imperialism, fueling it with a massive military industrial complex, while at home we impose a racial caste society and heavily militarized police state targeting anyone and everyone brown. Trump is just the pleasant mask of alleged liberty slipping off, and I doubt it will be going back on anytime soon.

As far as America failing, what about this screams success? I’d certainly put us down in the failure column myself. So go on pig, I’d love to see what that deepest filth of yours looks like.

Will you do bodybuilder slob/filthy transfomations again? And would oyu start a new CYOC stroy thread for oyur reader to mix in?

I haven’t done much muscle stuff lately, have I? The latest interactive seems to be going in that direction, as ya’ll will see tomorrow, but I can keep it in mind for sure. As for starting a CYOC story, I never seem to know what to do with those, but if you have an idea, or a story you’d like me to continue and develop over there, I’m still open for commissions.

So technically I like my musk that I make myself, and I find a lot of guys like it too.. but I don’t really enjoy other guys muskiness. I can count myabe two guys whose musk has really been enjoyable to mee but other guys I’ve been with just smell bad to me.

I mean, every guy is different, and every guy’s smell is different. I personally haven’t found a guy I don’t enjoy smelling, though several have found mine to be too intense for them to handle. It’s a personal thing, I guess.

Speaking of, do you relate hypnosis through musk towards smell memory?

Not really. I think for me, I always imagine it as being so intense, that it short circuit someone’s mental capacities, rendering them totally open to suggestion. The smell memory idea is a nice twist–I kind of like that. Like someone being able to smell like your dad, or your boyfriend, your brain tricking you into believing this stranger is them, when it’s someone else entirely.

Got a question? I probably have an answer! Maybe not a good answer, but I can bullshit my way out of most things. Go ahead and drop it in my box

Also! Anyone supporting me on Patreon who would like to suggest a story idea for this month, you have another day or so to do it! You can find more details here.

Also x 2! If you are enjoying the interactive stories I do, and would like to read more like that, check out the collection of interactive stories I published last week! Three dollars gets you ten new stories, most with alternate endings and randomized elements to keep things interesting. You can find that for sale on itch.io here.

I’ll Change for You (Part 8)

He hauled himself up from the chair and went to the kitchen, where a naked man in his 40’s was bustling about, naked aside from leather manacles on his wrists and ankles, and a cock cage riveted in place–at Jules request. Burt rather enjoyed men to have pleasure, but ever since they had met fifteen years prior, Jules just a student at the time, he had longed to be Herman’s live in slave. He’d dropped out and moved into the basement, and Burt had never been dissatisfied–well, perhaps on occasion, but a session in the dungeon always fixed things right up. “How is it coming, boy?” he asked.

“Dinner will be ready right at six thirty, as you requested, sir,” Jules said, giving him a little bow from his position at the stove, “Is there anything you need from me in the meantime?”

Burt shook his head. “No–but I do need you to play the part for this one–at least for one night. I doubt Herman will need the performance after one dinner. Make sure you’re dressed by five-thirty, manacles off as well.”

Burt could see Jules’ unhappiness in a slight sigh before nodding. Clothes were strange for him in the house, and he hated taking the manacles off especially–he claimed he felt unbalanced without them. Still, Master’s orders were Master’s orders, and he kept cooking away, while Burt returned to his study, selected a pipe, packed it, lit it, and then went to relax, ordering an old fashioned from Jules while he waited, catching up on some reading while he did. The time slipped by, and Herman was early. The bell rang at five-fifty, and Jules rushed to the foyer, immaculately dressed in his house uniform, and greeted Herman at the door, before ushering him into the sitting room where Burt was sitting, pipe wafting smoke.

“Good evening, Dean,” Herman said, the nerves apparent in his voice. The title caught Burt off guard for a moment–he’d been a professor earlier in the afternoon, but apparently he hadn’t caught on to his latest position. He was a dean, wasn’t he? The Dean of Humanities, in particular, which helped explain some of Herman’s nerves.

‘Have a seat, Herman. What can Jules get for you? He makes a fine cocktail, though he’s best at the classics.”

Herman asked for a Manhattan. Burt approved, and Jules fetched a drink, all while juggling dinner at the same time. He’d been such a poor student, back in the day–so good that he’d managed to find his calling, eventually, in Herman’s employ. The drink came, and they made small talk. Herman’s eyes flitted about the room, but were drawn back to Burt’s pipe several times. Burt offered him a smoke, but he declined. It was no matter–he’d take whatever Burt gave him soon enough, the dean was certain of that.

Jules summoned them to the dining room, where Herman found a massive, luxurious feast all up and down the space–far too much for two people to hope to eat, and after the sizable lunch earlier in the day, he felt a bit queasy. “I…I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite, at the moment,” he muttered, knowing full well what was likely to happen next. Burt shushed him, and sat him down, piled his plate eye, and got him started, and only after Herman was eating well, did he take a serving of his own, as large as Herman’s, and begin eating himself. Each time Herman slowed, Burt would encourage him further, and the encouragement became orders, and orders became demands. Burt touched him–lightly at first, lying hands on his shoulders, but found his way lower and lower, over his belly, down into his crotch where he groped Herman’s hard cock, always continuing their conversation as if nothing strange at all was occurring, Jules slitting in and out, taking dishes and bringing others, until Herman, at last, insisted.

“I can’t! I can’t, sir, please…Please, I feel like I’m going to burst…” he moaned, clutching his gut.

Burt chuckled, “Oh? But we can’t forget dessert now, can we?”

Herman looked up at him in horror, unable to even imagine, and watched as Burt undid the front of his pants, and allowed them to fall around his ankles, and lifted up his gut. “It isn’t small, by any means, but I have a feeling you have the…appetite for it, don’t you boy?”

Indeed he did. Burt was so short that Herman had to awkwardly bend over the arm of the chair to get at his cock, even when sitting down, but he’d been lusting after the dean for so long now, the two of them playing so hard to get…or had they? The last two days had felt so strange to him, this beautiful, domineering man simply appearing in his life like he’d always been there, like he’d walked from his dreams and appeared fully formed in reality, and Herman wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by.

“Yes, that’s a good boy–you like sucking on daddy’s big cock?”

Herman tried to answer, but Burt drove his cock in deeper, making him gag slightly, before pulling away a bit, Herman gasping for air. After a few minutes of teasing him, Burt pulled away, squatted down and pulled his pants back up. “Jules, I think your guest will be spending the night–would you see to him? No need to prepare a guest room, I think the master will serve just fine for us both.

One last time, Herman tried to speak his doubts, that their relationship was breaking so many ethical boundaries that it couldn’t happen–and yet, when the butler helped him from his seat…he relented. He wanted this. He didn’t care what it cost him, he didn’t care what might happen if anyone found out. He wanted this. He wanted…he wanted him, Burt, more than anyone else he had ever desired in his life…and somehow, Burt wanted him just as much. The butler led him upstairs, got him free of his clothing and into the bathroom, where Herman had a shower–and the butler also helped him clean out…other things, telling him that the Master of the house preferred his men to be spotless, before entering his bed. Then, when he stepped out, imagining he would be getting into his own clothes, the Butler, instead, had something else in mind. All he found himself wearing was a leather harness strapped a bit uncomfortably tight around his gut, and a black jockstrap, before being ushered into the sizable Master bedroom, and told to wait.

I’ll Change for You (Part 7)

He looked up and down the sidewalk, planning on following Herman and making him accept the ride he’d offered, but it was no worry, really. After all, he’d just find him in his office later–watching the younger professor eat his lunch today…he’d decided what his next step was going to be. He drove back to class in his luxury sedan and rode the elevator up to his own office. No longer an adjunct professor, he was a fully tenured professor. He taught a seminar that afternoon, and had a few productive meetings with some of his teaching assistants and graduate students. Herman was never far from his mind, however, and he hadn’t seen the object of his interest return to the office after lunch. He was, in fact, a bit worried that he’d missed him, or worse, scared him off by being a bit too forward. Still, it was clear that the man had enjoyed himself–as had Burt. The pendant…it was getting closer, and he took a moment to examine it while he was alone.

The light was brighter now–quite a bit brighter in fact–but somehow he knew it wasn’t finished with them yet. It was nearly four by the time Herman tried to slip past his door to his own office, but Burt saw him, and called out, “Herman! A moment please?”

Sheepishly, Herman stepped back and into the office, Burt smiling kindly at him. “What is it, sir?”

Sir. That caught him off guard, but Burt very much enjoyed the sound of it. “I was wondering, Herman, if you had any plans this evening.”

“Oh, uh…I just have some work to get done, is all.”

“I’d like you to join me for dinner this evening, at my home. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

He could see the conflict in Herman’s eyes. He…knew it was inappropriate, what the two of them had engaged in at lunch, and yet nothing had even happened. But dinner? At Burt’s home? The two of them alone? “I…I don’t know if that would be appropriate…”

Burt smiled, “I assure you, Herman,” he said as he hauled himself up from his chair, “it can be entirely appropriate if you so desire. Just two colleagues having a nice meal, and nothing more,” he walked over to where Herman was standing and shut the door, sealing them in the office, “But perhaps you’d like something more than appropriate?” Before Herman could object, Burt pressed him to the wall, firmly yet gently, and began kissing him, tasting a bit of their sweet dessert still on his breath. Herman squirmed a moment, but relented, kissing him back, hungrily. Burt, the fantasy from the bathroom stall returning to him vividly, pressed Herman down on the shoulder, and felt him collapse down onto his knees in front of him, and the professor rubbed and kissed at his suited gut with one hand, while the other was openly groping himself. He…desperately wanted to go further, but not yet–he had to…wait. Burt pulled away, smoothing down his shirt, which had a few wet spots from where Herman had licked him. On his knees, he looked…horrified by what he’d just done, and yet he couldn’t hide his arousal–not from Burt. “Dinner this evening.” he said. “I won’t take no for an answer. Six sharp.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Herman said, blushing a bit at that formality.

“Good boy,” Burt said, the word slipping out without much thought, and he saw Herman’s eyes go wide, and he slipped out of the office, the tent apparent in the front of his slacks. Still–that didn’t bother him really. So what if someone saw it? He felt so confident and self-assured, it was a feeling he had never really known before, but then again, as a young man, it was difficult to gain this sort of confidence after years of living. Burt went back down to his sedan and climbed in–he had a couple of hours until dinner at least–and he realized he didn’t actually have dinner planned out at all! There was a moment of panic, but it was washed away by something else, a sense that everything was going to be just fine–all he needed to do, was trust that everything was going according to the amulet’s plan. He drove home, to a sizable house not too far from campus, parked and went inside. His hard on hadn’t diminished at all, since he’d left Herman’s office–it was clear that it was time for another step closer to who he needed to be, for Herman’s sake.

He went into his study and sat down at his desk, already thinking of Herman, thinking of him on his knees there, in the office–no! No, not, in the office, here. Here in his home, right there in the middle of the room on his knees, and naked. There was…a smell in the room, but it was difficult for Burt to place right away, until he felt the thing in his hand–the hand not presently stroking his cock. It was…his pipe. One of his many pipes. He slid the stem into his mouth and took a draw, the smoke filling his mouth, and he stood up in his mind, crossing to where Herman was, and blowing the smoke into his face, covering him with it, while the boy moaned in lust.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Please sir–please fuck me.”

He thought he was naked–but no. Burt looked down and saw that he was wearing a set of leather clothing, perfectly tailored to fit his even wider frame. His cock had no problem responding, and his massive gut couldn’t hide the ten inch member, either. He ordered Herman into position, and just the sight of his plugged hole was enough to drive Burt over the edge. He grabbed at a handkerchief he kept on his desk for just such an event, and carefully caught his cum in it. A gift for Herman later, perhaps. He heaved a sigh, and looked around at his study, surprised to discover it was…larger than then he’d entered it a few minutes earlier, and the walls lined with several racks of pipes, along with a full sized humidor, should he be more in the mood for a cigar. He leaned back in his chair, his gut shifting around him, though whether it was more a gut, or had begun to sag too far, was a different question. In any case, it felt wonderful, and he stroked it idly, excited for dinner with Herman, and wondering how Jules was coming along with the preparations.

Digital Manipulation (Part 4)

Outside the simulation, Trax watched the progress he’d made breaching Perrion’s sense of superiority, and he could see his mind struggling with the last of its cognitive dissonance, as the program rooted out the remaining memories of Perrion’s old life as a powerful executive at one of the world’s great tech companies, and replaced them all with a new life as a submissive, obedient laborer, his entire life controlled by his new Boss, both inside and outside of work. Now, however, they were beyond the scope of Perrion’s old memories, and the program prompted him for a new simulation. He figured it would be good to solidify Perrion’s new, submissive instincts, and decided the best way to do that would be to ensure Perrion would want to submit to every man he came across, and not just his new Boss. He spliced in another simulation, and set it running, and then grabbed his own VR equipment, and got ready to jack in. He was tired of sitting on the sidelines–he wanted a taste of his revenge too.


“You paying attention?” Boss said, slapping Perrion upside the head, jolting him out of…wherever his mind had been, “Come on then, faggot, we don’t want to keep the boys waiting at the bar, do we?”

Perrion didn’t know what Boss was talking about. Everything about this seemed wrong, everything about this entire day had gone horribly wrong somewhere along the line, but he had no idea. It felt…like a dream, and yet, he knew it wasn’t one. This was just his life–wasn’t it? He nodded to Boss, and followed along behind him as they walked the busy streets to the bar. He…knew he shouldn’t know these streets, and at first, they seemed…fake, somehow. The people passing didn’t have clear faces that he could remember, half the shops didn’t have names, but that didn’t matter–what mattered was that he did what Boss told him to do. That’s what should really matter most to him.

He followed along, and as they went the places seemed to gain a new life, almost like he was remembering them all anew as he passed them by, his mind filling in all of the blanks it seemed to have with memories of the two of them walking this same path almost every night after work together…but where they ended up, he couldn’t remember for the life of him. Thankfully, Boss knew exactly where they were going– they ended up in a seedy district, full of body mod chop shops, niche pharmacies mixing new drugs the laws hadn’t caught up with yet, and plenty of brothels, though the whores outside all seemed to be…men.

Perrion found himself staring at them as he passed by, and he could imagine having sex with all of them, but in his mind’s eye, everything he envisioned himself servicing them, doing whatever they demanded from him, and when they were finished, Perrion knew he would always have to pay them extra for dealing with a loser like him. He was a loser. A submissive loser, whose purpose in life was to serve men, first and foremost.

Boss took them up the steps of a bar, one Perrion didn’t remember until they had stepped inside, and then, once he recognized it, he couldn’t imagine how he might have ever forgotten it. They headed for a large table at the back, where two of Boss’s friends were already seated, holocards shuffling themselves on the table…but Perrion didn’t take a seat with them. Without even needing to be told, he crawled under the table and made himself available for whatever the men might need–a blowjob, drinking a load of piss for them so they didn’t have to get up from the game, eating the ash off the end of a cigar, licking their dirty boots and dirtier feet clean.

Above him, the men chatted like all of this was normal, as they all got drunker and drunker, and the game grew rowdier and rowdier. At last, they all called it a night, and Perrion relaxed for a moment, exhausted…but there was something else he was forgetting…wasn’t there.

“Alright Trax, you won the pot, and the whore for the night,” Boss said, “Make sure you treat him the way he deserves to be treated, right?”

“Heh, Boss, you don’t have to worry about that, trust me.”

Trax–that name should mean something to him, it did mean something, but as soon as he summoned the memory, whatever it might have been, it disappeared into the ether. No–he did know Trax though, and when the meaty hand reached under the table, grabbed his arm, and hauled him out, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process, he found himself suspended in the air by the massive cyborg himself.

Trax had always been a fan of the chop shops around here–no one knew how much metal he had, but it was substantial, enough that he probably should have registered himself as a AI risk, but Trax wasn’t one for rules. He grinned at Perrion, his titanium teeth glinting in the barlight. “I love a good piece of meat to fuck up on occasion.”

“Just make sure it can work tomorrow,” Boss said.

“Fine, fine,” Trax said, and dragged Perrion out of the bar and to his apartment nearby, where he proceeded to ravage his holes with collection of metal cocks, none of them shorter than a foot in length. He seemed…especially rough tonight, and was taking great pleasure in listening to Perrion scream with each new cock he used on him. The night lasted an impossibly long time, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Trax’s stamina, as a cyborg, was substantial. Eventually, he did pass out into a black nothing with a hint of static.


Trax kicked out the program, exhilarated. This was working better than he’d ever imagined, but it was time for a rest. Still, he loaded up the next simulation he wanted to run on Perrion, so it would be ready tomorrow, when he woke up. After all, he’d done a good number on Perrion’s mind, but maybe it was time to adjust some of his habits.


What sort of lifestyle does Trax want to cultivate in Perrion?

  1. Train him to be a shameless, exhibitionist pervert.
  2. Make him an empty headed muscle brute.
  3. Make him a drug addicted junkie pig.

Here’s the public twitter poll!

Here’s the supporter only Patreon Poll!

Digital Manipulation Poll #3 Results

First, the public twitter poll with 36 votes:

  1. To the bar with Boss – 12 votes (33%)
  2. Home to Master – 10 votes (28%)
  3. Gimp at a sex club – 14 votes (39%)

Second, the patron only poll with 30 votes:

  1. To the bar with Boss – 19 votes (63%)
  2. Home to Master – 7 votes (23%)
  3. Gimp at a sex club – 4 votes (13%)

And the final result with all 66 votes:

  1. To the bar with Boss – 31 votes (47%)
  2. Home to Master – 17 votes (26%)
  3. Gimp at a sex club – 18 votes (27%)

Looks like Perrion is going to have a fun night with Boss and his friends at a bar after work!