Poll #2 Results

Here’s the results of the second poll! The next chunk will be up tomorrow.

First, the public twitter poll with 54 votes:

His twink secretary – 11 votes (20%)
A burly maintenance man – 24 votes (44%)
A chubby IT worker – 19 votes (36%)

Second, the patron only poll with 37 votes:

His twink secretary – 2 votes (5%)
A burly maintenance man – 15 votes (41%)
A chubby IT worker – 20 votes (54%)

And the final result with all 91 votes:

His twink secretary – 13 votes (14%)
A burly maintenance man – 39 votes (43%)
A chubby IT worker – 39 votes (43%)

It’s a tie! Luckily, I have a handy guy who gets to call tie breakers, and he decided on the maintenance man for the next chunk.

I’ll Change for You (Part 3)

He looked at the papers, confused. He…He knew what they were, but why would he be grading papers for one of the professor’s intro courses? That…that was the sort of thing a TA in the graduate program would do, right? He looked around the room again, and was surprised by a few other little details out of place–books from seminars he’d taken during his senior year, even though he also knew he was just a junior. A picture of him in cap and gown, his parents smiling with him…it couldn’t be, could it? And was that even him in the photo?

He grabbed it and stared at it, in denial. The person there, the person he recognized as himself…he didn’t look right at all. Chubby, with a full beard on his face, hair trimmed short, and even receding slightly already–it wasn’t possible. He went to the mirror in the room, and sure enough–there he was. The same man from the photo, although now even a couple years older than that, with his Masters under his belt, his hairline receding even a bit further, and with another twenty-five pounds or so on his frame. It wasn’t just his body from the picture, though–it was the body from that fantasy, the one he’d felt. Had…had that kiss happened? His fantasy felt so real, and yet he couldn’t be sure–he didn’t quite know what to believe, but he knew, for certain, that he needed to see Herman–there had to be some answers there, right?

He grabbed the pile of papers to be graded, figuring he could use them as an excuse, threw them in his bag and took off for Herman’s office. He usually worked on lesson planning at this time of day, so he should still be there. As he went, everything felt both…completely alien, and yet, also utterly familiar, almost like he’d walked these exact steps already before. He picked up the pace slightly and got to the professor’s office a bit out of breath–he collected himself a moment, before knocking gently.

“Come in!”

Burt stepped into the room, and when he saw Herman there, the love swept over him–perhaps even stronger than it had been before. When Burt had first studied with him as an undergrad…he’d known he had to stay close to him, somehow. A Master’s degree had just made sense, at the time…and even though he’d kept his feelings a secret, all this time, he knew, perhaps, that Herman had a few lingering feelings about his star student as well.

“What’s up, Burt?”

“Oh! Uh, I just had a couple of questions about, uh, the rubric for the papers I’m grading is all…” It was a terrible excuse, and the look of puzzlement on Herman’s face told him that.

“You’ve TA’d that class before–you know what I expect.”

“Yeah, I know, I just, well, there’s a few that kind of fall in the cracks, you know?” he pulled a paper out, and took it over to Herman, around the desk, and when he did–he felt it. He’d been here, right here, in that fantasy, and before he could stop himself, he pushed his face to Herman’s and kissed him.

It was nothing like that first kiss–that kiss that no longer even needed to exist in his mind. Herman was surprised, for a moment, and then responded, sliding his tongue between Burt’s lips, and he felt his thick frame shudder with delight, but before he got too carried away, Herman pulled back. “That…was unexpected,” Herman said, a bit red in his cheeks.

“I…I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Burt said, “I…I love you,” he said, leaned in again, but Herman pushed him back and shook his head.

“I…Burt, you’re sweet, and…cute, and I admit that I find you attractive, but…but we can’t. This isn’t ok. I’m still your teacher, and your mentor.”

“I don’t care!” Burt said, “I…I’ll do anything, please…you don’t know what it’s like, what I feel.”

“Oh yes I do, trust me. I was in love plenty of times when I was young too. It hurts, I know, but this has to be professional first. This could put your doctorate in jeopardy.”

Burt could tell there wouldn’t be any reasoning with him, and so he mumbled an agreement, packed up the papers and left again, back to his room. He was confused, and hurt, and still didn’t quite know what to make of any of this–especially that necklace. It…it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t been enough. Back in the room, he stripped down naked, and looked at himself in the mirror–at his current self. It felt totally normal now…but that didn’t make the change any less strange. Why had the necklace changed him at all? Why not just…make Herman love him? Instead, all he got was a bit shorter, a bit fatter, a bit older, and a bit better of kiss from him than he’d gotten when he was himself–his real self.

He should take it back, fine that old man, and try and get him to change him back. Whatever this was…it wasn’t what he wanted, right? Well, maybe not in isolation, but if it had worked, if it had made Herman love him, he would have been ecstatic, and more than willing to live this life in exchange for that love to be returned. He got dressed again, and then found the necklace on the desk, where he’d tossed it–but something made him pause, before shoving it back in his pocket. The stone in the middle of the knot–it was glowing.

I’ll Change for You (Part 2)

Burt wasn’t sure what to say, “I mean…I don’t know what I could do…but yeah, I guess…”

The old man gazed at him as he stammered, and then, before Burt had really given an answer, he let go and rushed off. “Good! Then I have just the thing!” he cried and rounded a corner, abandoning Burt in the aisle. He spun around for a moment, trying to get his bearings, but he didn’t know where the entrance was, or how he might possibly try and untangle himself from the maze the man had dragged him into. Again, he was struck by the impossibility–the shop couldn’t have been wider than an alleyway, and yet he couldn’t see the walls, even through the shelves. The stuff around him was unorganized, seemed rather cheap, and yet he was afraid to touch any of it. He was about to move, when the old man returned, holding something in his hand, which turned out to be a small stone charm, hanging from a leather cord. “This! This is what you need.”

He pushed it into Burt’s hand, and before he could ask what the man meant, he was dragging him off again, this time back to the entrance and onto the sidewalk. “Wait, how much is it? I can’t afford much…”

“No no, all is free,” the old man said, “You get what you need here–what you need is this. Wear it, and the love between you–it will be worth it. Such a love, so selfless–do not waste it!”

Before Burt could ask anything else, the man had slipped back into the shop, and when he tried to step back inside, he found himself not among the curiosities, but rather in an abandoned building, shelves bare and cobweb ridden. “Had it been his imagination? But the necklace was still clenched in his fist. He looked closer at it–it was simple, a metal knot with a bright red stone set in the middle of it. He didn’t know if it was just because he’d had it in his hand, but it felt…warm, somehow. Should he put it on? He wasn’t really one to wear jewelry, usually…but he also didn’t want to just abandon it. In the end, he slipped it into his pocket, and headed back to campus, relieved that the encounter was feeling more and more like a dream with each passing minute. It wasn’t until he got back to his room that he pulled it back out, still somewhat surprised it was there, since it was becoming more and more difficult to recall the details of his encounter with the shop owner, and studied it a bit more intently.

What was he supposed to do with it, anyway? Wear it, and then what, Herman would just…fall in love with him like magic? It was a ridiculous thought, but what other hope did he have, really? Just to see what it looked like on him, he put the necklace on, and as soon as he did, he felt a strange flush of emotion weave through him–centering on his cock. Looking down he could see it tenting out the front of his jeans, and all he could think about was Herman–but the scene that kept playing over and over in his mind, right then, was his outright rejection of him in his office. It had felt horrible–but why in the world was thinking about it making him horny? But the more he thought about it, things about the rejection seemed to…shift, slightly.

The kiss, he’d thought, had been awkward, and forced, and short–but now he was beginning to remember it lingering slightly. Had Herman pulled away, slightly disgusted and shocked, or had he been a bit out of breath? The moment kept repeating in his mind, and without even noticing, Burt had his hand down the front of his pants, gently massaging his cock as he thought more and more about it. How Herman had been sneaking glances at him, how he could tell his professor had been at least somewhat interested in him–even if it wasn’t nearly as much as Burt would have liked. How that kiss had lasted a moment, Herman’s hand sliding over and rubbing Burt’s gut…

Burt pushed back on that thought–he didn’t have a gut, after all. He was tall, around six foot three, and even a bit underweight…but in what he was seeing, that wasn’t…the body he had, and the more he thought about it, the more he remembered it, the less wrong it seemed–having a gut, a bit of fur, his beard brushing against the professor’s own. His cock was throbbing now, so much that it was beginning to ache. He was lost in the fantasy before long. No longer questioning it–and he came with a few grunts, spurting a sizable load into the front of his underwear, and the emotions began to relent until they were just a simmer–and before anything else strange could happen, he pulled off the necklace and tossed it onto his desk, next to the pile of papers he’d promised Professor Boel he’d have graded by Monday–

Interactive Polls Are Live for Part 2!

The Twitter poll is here!

The Patreon poll is here!

Polls run until Sunday afternoon.

Digital Manipulation (Part 2) [Interactive]

Update: The winner of both polls was Alpha Submission, so that’s the one we’ll be exploring!

Yeah, that sounded like just the thing for his ex to deal with–a good way to fuck with that superiority complex of his would be to make him a little more…amenable to serving others. Any others, really, in his mind. He ran through the list of programs, and selected his choice, the Alpha/Beta Scenario. Whoever went through it, depending on the mode, would find themselves as either the Alpha or the Beta–and either every man in the scenario would serve them helplessly, or they would find themselves unable to resist servicing all of the men they find.

He loaded it up, being extra careful to designate the target, Perrion, as the beta in the scenario–but what sort of scenario should he run? After all, Perrion thought that he was going on a mental vacation–well, a copy of him still was going on a vacation, but this one was going to be having a different sort of experience altogether. In fact, why let him think that anything had really changed at all?

He programed the scenario to follow the subjects own memory patterns for a normal day–Perrion would wake up, go to work, behave like everything in his life was completely normal…but in fact, it was going to be a day unlike any he’d ever experienced, and when the day was over, this version of Perrion would have a very different sort of understanding of his place relative to the other men in the world. Trak eyed the VR system he had for himself, but he wasn’t quite certain if he wanted to plug in as himself or not–probably not, actually. Part of the magic of VR was that you didn’t have to be yourself all the time, right?

He waited, impatiently, until at last, everything was ready. He did a final check, and then ran it. As far as Perrion was concerned, he would wake up in his bed, just like he remembered doing every day, and go to work, just like always–but after that…things would probably take a slight deviation. He loaded up the display–he could see the simulation running from any point of view, including Perrion’s, and watched the simulation load. Now, the real fun would begin.

***

Perrion opened his eyes, and was…surprised to find himself staring at his own bedroom curtains. Had…it been a dream? He could have sworn that just a moment before, he’d laid down in a pod, ready for a week of virtual vacation. He’d selected an excellent cruise simulation package, traveling the Mediterranean Sea, before most of the coastlines had shifted inland by several miles in some places. It was the only place to experience the city of Venice, anymore, painstakingly recreated from early 21st century photographs…but that was neither here nor there, apparently, because he wasn’t going anywhere, virtually or physically, except work.

But as he showered, got dressed, and ate breakfast, he kept having an unshakable sense of deja vu, that refused to fade. Things would be progressing just like they usually did–but too exactly. He would spread the butter on his toast in exactly the same way he could recall spreading it before, but as soon as he experinced the sensation, it disappeared, almost like something was blocking it. Still, it kept happening all morning, down to the bird song out the window–the birds rarely sang anymore, since most of them had gone extinct, and so, when they did, it was always quite…an event.

But by the time he was in his car and driving to work, things had settled down somewhat, or he’d simply adjusted to it, and it no longer bothered him. It was just a normal day, and he was perfectly prepared for all the usual sorts of meetings and work he’d have to do…right? Even if he couldn’t recall anything in particular, he had everything in his calendar on his phone, so it would be fine. There was…something else though–almost a his and a heat behind his ears, inside his skull, like someone was soldering wires to the surface of his brain. It wasn’t…comfortable, but something told him not to think too much about it at all. It wasn’t important–he just needed to do whatever came naturally.

He got out of his car, got his briefcase, and as he walked into the building, he saw a co-worker arriving with him, and where he usually would have waved and smiled…he faltered as soon as he met the man’s eyes, and saw the look in them, and he quickly averted his own. The man…he shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t have looked at him, he shouldn’t have even…forced the man to notice him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to get a hold of himself, trying to cling to…the memory. He usually just walked right into the office, brimming with confidence, feeling like he belonged there, but that one…glance had changed…everything somehow. He got himself together, trying to put on his usual face, and followed the man inside, being sure to maintain a respectful distance from him, and being sure to keep his eyes to the floor, to prevent the possibility that he might accidentally offend anyone else. So he wouldn’t offend another…another man.

He got to his office without further incident, and now that he was alone, he felt a bit more normal, like there was still a chance for the day to continue on the right track, on the track he knew it should go. Where he was the boss, where he was the…the alpha…right?

Then there was a knock on the door, and Perrion’s heart clenched. Whoever it was didn’t wait for him to invite them inside, they just opened the door and stepped inside.

***

So, who is it that Perrion is going to be interacting with?

His young, twinkish secretary
A blue collar, bearish maintenance man
A chubby IT worker

Polls are live!

The Twitter poll is here!

The Patreon poll is here!

Polls run until Sunday afternoon.

I’ll Change for You (Part 1)

No one believes in love at first sight, not really. Certainly Burt didn’t–who had time for anything like love, really? And then, that early winter day, in January, at the start of third quarter, he took a seat in the seminar room, and Dr. Herman Boel walked into the room, passed out the syllabi, and Burt didn’t know what to believe anymore.

He wanted it to just be a crush. He tried, desperately, to tell himself it was just a crush, that the butterflies he would get from the beginning of class to the end would fade, eventually. In the meantime, he just did his best to enjoy him–mid fourties, a solid gut, full beard across his face, always dressed nicely with those cute vests of his–just an adorable professorial bear. Besides, it was a useless crush anyway, surely–he was was probably straight as could be.

But then, the weight of the crush only got heavier. During their fourth class, in a brief aside, Herman included a brief anecdote that filled Burt’s heart with hope, no matter how hard he tried to quash it–he was gay. They were gay, they were both gay! What were the chances! Herman was the handsome daddy bear, and he, at a few months shy of twenty-one, might, one day, be considered a cub. He had some scruff at least, and he’d managed to grow a goatee in over the summer, though he’d shaved it before going back to school. He decided, the next morning, to try growing it back out–maybe Herman would notice. Maybe Herman would like it.

Still, Burt waited and waited for it to fade–it had to fade, didn’t it? He hoped his professor would reveal something about himself in class, something deeply problematic, give him some excuse to reject what he was feeling, but it never happened–but it also didn’t seem like the love was particularly requited, either. It took a great amount of effort, anxiety, and terror to go to Herman’s office hours, ostensibly to look over one of his papers for the class, and while the professor was congenial, even behind a closed door, even after Burt told him he was gay himself, there didn’t seem to be even the slightest interest. The crush deepened and turned into an obsession, one even Burt could recognize was unhealthy, and getting out of hand. He just…had to know! He had to know if it was possible, if maybe, somehow, it could work–and so, the next week in his office, arriving under vague pretext, Burt instead leaned in and kissed him, catching Herman by surprise–and nothing hurt more than when his professor let out a muffled yelp, and pushed him away towards the door.

Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe he was just a bad kisser. Maybe if he thought about it, he’d want to do it some more? There was just silence between them for a moment, a deep unsettling silence, before Herman pulled him over to the chair, and sat him down–and let Burt down as easily as he possibly could–but it crushed him all the same, and Herman could see it. Burt apologized, and then rushed from the room before his professor could see any more of his tears than he already had, and wondered how it was even possible to love someone so much who had no desire to love you back. He was pouring all of himself into an empty void, and it had to stop. Herman was right–it was inappropriate, it was wrong, he was stupid to have even imagined his professor would be interested in him, he was so stupid! The humiliation of it, he told himself, would be enough to chase the love away–how could he possibly love someone who would dismiss him so coldly? But it remained, and class was impossible to bear with him, and so he started missing classes entirely, unable to even face him. That was how, one afternoon, he ended up walking through an odd street of shops in a small neighborhood near the school, when he should have been in class. That was where the short old man saw him, laughed, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the small curio shop tucked away into a space that seemed much, much too small to house everything inside it.

“Oh my, such a love around you! Very rare, very rare!” the man said, “We should find you something for the special someone, shouldn’t we? I have all manner of beauties in here, perfect for the special…” he squirted through his thick glasses up at Burt for a moment, and then they went wide again, “Man! Yes, such a man you must have found! Come come, let’s see!”

Burt tried to protest as best he could, but the older fellow wasn’t listening–and his grip was like a vice. They wove their way through the tightly packed shelves, stopping suddenly for the older fellow to dig amongst the trinkets lining his shop, pausing only to stare at Burt for a moment, before shaking his head vigorously–hard enough that Burt was concerned the old fellows glasses would come flying off his face–and then they would hasten on. It was clear that the old man was searching for something specific, and he wasn’t finding anything satisfactory–and Burt kept trying to wrench his hand away and get some explanation from the man about what, exactly, he was doing. At long last he did, and pulled away. “Stop, Stop!” He said, “What are you even looking for? I’m not with anyone.”

The old man looked at him, befuddled, “But you are so in love, boy! So in love.”

Was it really so obvious, that a strange old man could read it on him in the street? He felt crushed all over again, and started to cry, and the old man realized, then, what he was seeing.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…” he muttered, “Such a love, unrequited! Sure a travesty! Something special, yes, very special! Tell me,” he said, gripping both of Burt’s hands and staring up at him, his eyes impossibly large through the glasses, “What would you do, if you could have such a love be returned? Would you change for him?”

Pigtown Provides (Part 2) [pics]

The thing most people don’t realize, I think, about Pigtown, is that most of us want to be there. Or at least, I want to be there, and most of the people I know there never want to be anywhere else. It’s the only place a lot of us want to be, because it’s the only place where any of us can be ourselves. Do you know what that’s like? Probably not–not many people do, or ever get the chance, but ever since I was young, I knew that I was…different.

Not gay. Gay isn’t…anything anymore. Anyone can be gay, which is another way of saying that if you’re gay, you can be anyone–which really means no one. Which means you go to school, you get a job, you find someone equally no one to your no one, and you settle down, make more no ones, and die, eventually. But that wasn’t me, that wasn’t what I wanted. It’s what my dad wanted though, he wanted me to be nothing, just like him. Maybe it would be better to just tell him, to break him, finally, and show him who I am, but I can’t yet. Maybe, because I don’t really know who I am yet, either.

People like me, we know all about Pigtown, even if we’ve never been there. It’s everywhere on the internet, in all the places you go, if you need what Pigtown can provide. Most people never find it, because no one really knows where it is. No one even knows what it is, to be honest. All there are out there are stories of it. Anecdotes, rumors thrice removed. I thought it was just a jack off fantasy, I never imagined that it could actually exist, until I almost walked right past it.

I could barely believe it, when I stepped inside. It was like coming home. It was like meeting the family I had never known, the real family I had always wanted and fantasized about. I was changed, when I left–like everyone always is, as you know–but for me, it was everything rewired on the inside that really mattered. I was different. I was braver, and more confident. Not…confident enough to confront my dad about anything, but confident enough to at least buy cigars and smoke them. Confident enough to…go back.

I needed to be there. I needed to be the person I could be there, that I couldn’t be anywhere else. But I had to be someone else for my dad, for the entire world. Some people just…stay. They remain in the orbit, and they never have to leave Pigtown. They never have to remember that there’s anything beyond this. I don’t want that, I don’t think, but I would like…to have who I am in there match who I am out, but I’m not there yet. Maybe one day, I’ll figure out how. Until then, there’s just this. I walk up the stairs and into the bar, I hand the gimp my coat, and as soon as it’s off, I don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m just…me.

I’m a cigar cub. I’m on my knees at the feet of every smoking bear in sight, my tongue on their leather or rubber boots, ready to be of service in whatever way they so desire. I have my favorite daddies, of course, and plenty who have taken quite a liking to me. But I haven’t…found anyone yet, who I want to be with yet. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me, and why I can’t stay. Because I’m not here just looking to be someone…but I’m looking for someone too.

The night rolls, and we’re all rolling with it. In Pigtown, everyone is in flux. If you try to focus too hard on it, it’ll just break you apart–you just have to exist, in the moment, and trust it to take you to a level of ecstasy that you pray exists. Well, it does exist. I know, I’ve hit it before. Three skinheads forced me into rubber one night, hooded me, fed me smoke for…I don’t know, days. I lost everything. I lost so much of myself, and all that remained was pleasure. I think…I would have stayed, if they’d kept at it, but the night ended, like always, and outside, I was me again, mostly. The hair stayed–it hasn’t grown a millimeter since.

But that night, there is someone new. He’s there with some other bears I know well–they laugh when I ask about him, and they say they found him outside, just staring at the bar, and they…invited him in, as we all do on occasion. He was handsome, especially with the massive cigar in his jaw, and I was more than happy to serve him…but he had something else in mind.

Before I know what’s happening, he has three cigars wedged in my mouth, his boot planted against my chest, and I can feel my cock throbbing as smoke surges through me…and I know. I know this is something I could get used to. Someone I could get used to. We find a rhythm. He’s new to all this, but he’s enthusiastic, and I’m eager for whatever he might give me. I find it again, that supreme desire and pleasure, chained to the wall, now four cigars wedged in my mouth while he and another bear flog the shit out of me, and I have to know him. If he stays, I’ll stay. But things roll, and we separate, and the morning comes and I’ve lost him, and I cry on the tram going home, because men like that, men who get pulled in, men who aren’t looking for Pigtown at all…well, chances aren’t good, one might say.

I crawl into bed, and sleep in on Saturday. I somehow still get up before my dad, early enough to sneak a smoke in. We cross paths later…and I gotta say, he looks like shit. But I get close, and I smell…something, and see a little flicker in his eyes…but no, it couldn’t be, right?

Then again, Pigtown provides.

Pigtown Provides (Part 1) [Pics]

I think, that as a father, I have a right to know. He’s living under my roof after all. Besides, it’s such a strange thing–he never used to do anything like this. He was a good student all through high school, though not great, and was working part time downtown at a restaurant while we worked on some credits at a local community college. Then, seemingly out of the blue, he starts acting…different.

It was little things at first, things that I only notice now in hindsight. The faint scent of cigars I’d catch on the air when I came home, the window of his room always open. On occasion, when I was switching a load of our laundry, I’d notice that all of the briefs he’d worn were slowly disappearing, and were being replaced by jockstraps. He cut his nice hair down to the scalp and started growing out a beard. Nothing on its own was enough to raise an alarm, but he was becoming so distant–we’d always had a solid relationship. I’d always told me he could tell me anything, anything that was on his mind, and I wouldn’t judge him for it, and he’d told me plenty. Now, though, he hardly ever spoke at all to me, about anything. Not about school or work, not about his friends, nothing at all. He was…afraid. I knew something was up–he was in some kind of trouble, but he wasn’t letting me help.

Things got worse. He was disappearing all night long, even on school nights, and I wouldn’t see him until the next afternoon, when he would come home looking haggard and exhausted, smelling of booze and smoke and who knew what else. We started getting into fights, and he told me he wanted to move out, that he was sick and tired of me policing his every action, and trying to control my life. I just want what’s best for him! So this time, I’m going to follow him, and see what’s going on with him myself.

I know he usually takes the tram into town, and the station he usually gets off at, and so I decide to stay late at the office, and then I camp out and wait for him. It takes a while for him to arrive–he doesn’t get off the tram until nearly 10–and I almost don’t recognize him in the long coat he has on. He just looks so…different, and I don’t know when I lost my little boy. Then, when he took out the cigar and lit it on the sidewalk…I was so disgusted, I didn’t know if I wanted to know more than that…but I followed him anyway. The cigar made it easier, to follow him, both by the smell, and by the thin line of smoke rising into the night air. I was so focused on him, that I didn’t really pay much attention to where we were walking until I happened to catch my foot on a crack and stumbled.

It was…not the nicest neighborhood. Seedy bars and a couple of condemned buildings, mostly…but it was the people around us that unnerved me more than anything else. The usual nightlife crowds had all dispersed at this point, and the people who remained in the sidewalks…well, they weren’t the sort of company I had raised my son to keep, I can tell you that much. Watching him, I noticed that he’d pause on occasion, and have a short conversation with some of the men we’d pass, usually older men, some of them smoking as well, but I kept too far back to catch what they were discussing. How did my son know any of these people in the first place? How much of this had I missed, when he was living right under my nose?

It wasn’t too much further that he reached his destination–a bar I had never heard of, called Pigtown. The name didn’t leave much to the imagination all the same, nor did the various breeds of men hanging around outside of the bar, wearing all manner of leather…rubber…or, well, nothing much at all. I’d known my son was gay–I wasn’t kidding when I said earlier that we’d had some rough conversations–but I’d imagined that to be a more…normal thing than it was. You were just substituting a girl for a boy, right? He went inside, and I stayed outside, and wondered what, exactly, I was planning on doing next.

I didn’t approve; but did it matter? He was a grown man, he could do whatever he wanted, couldn’t he? But had I really even answered my question? I still didn’t know what my son was doing here. Well, my imagination could sketch a…broad picture, but I also didn’t really…know much about what these sorts of places were. I admit it, I wanted to confront him about this, not only about…this, whatever he was doing…but about him hiding it from me. But not here, not in public. I could do it later, at home, when we could be a little more…level headed. I turned to head back to the office, get my car and go home–

***

“Hey, where you goin’, man? Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Oh, I’m not…I’m just on my way home.”

“Home? You came all the way here, and now you’re just going to walk away? Whatever you’re looking for, man, it’s in there, trust me. Nothing provides like Pigtown. No judgement, no limits.”

“No, look, I don’t think you understand…I’m not…like you. I’m not gay.”

“Who said anything about gay?”

“I mean, you’re…well…”

“Yeah, come on, I think you need an introduction. Rod would never forgive me if he let someone so cute get this close, and didn’t even bring him in for a round of drinks.”

“Get your arm off of me–”

“Don’t worry man, we’ll get you what you need–Pigtown provides, even if ya don’t even know what you need.”

The Bruiser Rapes – Prologue

This is just a one shot for the moment, but there’s more to come.

“Look, you’re drunk. You can’t even stand up straight.”

“I’m fucking fine man, give me my keys.”

Logan held Graham’s keys higher, and his drunk friend swung at them wildly a couple of times, but couldn’t get them back.

“Let me drive you home, alright?”

They were seniors in college, and had been friends for since they were Freshman, and attended their first seminar together. Logan was tall–a couple inches over six feet, and generally thin, with a bookish look and glasses. He was the responsible one of the pair, and always had been–while Graham tended to get a little…wild, especially if he knew Logan was there to keep an eye on him. He’d always resented it, somewhat–and had always wondered what Logan might be like if he ever really let loose. Still–he was right. His vision was swimming and he was in no state to drive anywhere.

He didn’t pay much attention on the drive–he was trying to keep from falling asleep mostly. Beside him, was he drove, Logan kept sneaking glances at his friend, breathing a bit heavy, adjusting the front of his pants a couple of times. He came up to a light. If he was heading to the house where Graham lived, he should have taken a left. Instead, with a quick glance to see if Graham was noticing, he took a right, and drove towards his own apartment. Logan came from money, and his trust fund financed a small, one bedroom apartment near campus, while most everyone else stayed on campus, or shared houses together.

“Hey, this…why are we at your place, man?” Graham muttered.

Logan didn’t say anything as he parked, came around, and opened the passenger door. “Come on, you can…sleep on the couch.”

Graham insisted that he’d be happier back in his own bed, but Logan just grabbed him, hauled him out of the car and dragged him towards his apartment, and it took Graham a moment to even realize it was happening. Logan wasn’t someone known for their strength, exactly. It wasn’t until they were inside, and Logan had locked the door, that Graham was able to get a few steps away from him, and size him up again…but he seemed wrong, somehow. Thicker, somehow, his usually clean shaven face filling in with stubble. He tossed his glasses onto the side table (Graham had never, once in their friendship, ever seen his friend handle his glasses so carelessly) and he walked over to him.

“Let’s get you undressed, and into bed.”

The words were stern, somehow. They didn’t seem to have any real emotion to them, it was just…fact. He hauled Graham’s shirt off before he could really do anything to stop him, and then he was unbuckling his belt. Graham tried to shove him away, but Logan just pushed back, pressing Graham to the wall, kissing and sucking at his neck, his stubble scratching at his chest as he tried to squeeze away from him. This…this wasn’t like Logan. It didn’t feel like Logan, it didn’t look like Logan–what in the world was even happening? He struggled harder, trying to punch and hit at him, and Logan didn’t even seem to notice–he just grabbed his wrists in each hand, pinned them to the wall above him, and continued biting and kissing at his neck. He was so damn strong–how in the hell was any of this even happening?

Logan pulled away after a few minutes, and released his wrists. He tried to bolt for the door, but Logan caught him, and dragged him deeper into the apartment, to the bedroom. Graham was pleading, but Logan said nothing at all. Just threw his friend onto the bed, dropped his pants and underwear, and climbed up on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. Graham kept struggling, but no matter what he did Logan never lost control. The more desperate and horrified he got, in fact, the rougher Logan seemed to become with him, until he rolled him over onto his belly, planted one hand on his back, spread his legs and began forcing his massive cock into Graham’s hole, inch by inch.

Graham had never in his life felt pain like this before. He tried to crawl away, screaming, but Logan just gripped his hips, hard enough to bruise, and hauled him back with a few grunts, slowly dragging him back until he was fully impaled on his cock, and then he started thrusting into him, rutting really.

Graham gave up, at some point. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could do to stop his friend or fight back. Maybe, he thought, if he just relaxed and let it happen, it would be over quicker. But Logan just kept fucking, hammering the cock deeper and deeper into him. It didn’t seem to matter to him, whether Graham was resisting or not–he didn’t even seem to exist as a person to him, just…just as a hole. Looking back over his shoulder, Graham saw he was even larger now, with a full dark beard across his cheeks, eyes focused, and yet vacant, like nothing was really on his mind beyond the simple physical pleasure of the fuck.

Graham didn’t really notice when it happened, but he let out the first gasp of pleasure at some point, and then another. He was rocking back, meeting his friend’s thrusts gently, then he was pushing back avidly. He…He wanted to get fucked. He deserved to get fucked. He was moaning, begging Logan to fuck him harder, but Logan just continued his same pace, unchanging, while Graham found himself descending into some crazed cycle of depravity he could barely understand, begging for the darkest, strangest things from the perverted corners of his mind, until he came, shooting his load all over the sheets below him, but it wasn’t enough, and thankfully, Logan wasn’t nearly finished for the night.

The next day, Graham awoke on the couch with a raging headache, and an inexplicably sore ass. Logan was in the kitchen, fully clothes, skinny as a rail, glasses on, cooking breakfast. Graham…didn’t know what to think, but the reality was too much to really take, and so he just…assumed it was a dream. A dream he would take to his grave, most likely. Still, he was never able to really feel comfortable around Logan again, but whether that was out of fear, or some inexplicable desire he never quite knew. A few months later, they graduated, and Logan moved across the country for a job offer, while Graham pursued graduate study in the heartland. He didn’t think about Logan again, until a few years later, when the bruiser rapes pushed their way onto the national news. The details chilled him, but in a way he couldn’t quite explain, and he did his best to not think about it anymore beyond that.

Digital Manipulation [Interactive] (Part 1)

wesleybracken:

Trak got back to his apartment, shoved his wrist against the lock, and as soon as the door clicked open, he shoved his way through and shut it behind him, leaning against it in relief. He had it. Or rather, he had him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the datastick, and stared at it. It had been difficult getting it, something he’d been plotting for a very long time. Some of the guys on the net had been suspicious that it was even possible–after all, security at those places was huge–after all, vacation companies kept their visitors when they were their most vulnerable–its been known since the wars a century ago that no mind was as open to manipulation as one that had been converted to ones and zeros. Hell, digitization had been outlawed for ages, until the last sweeping round of deregulation had made the underground legal–and now they were multi-trillion dollar companies offering you any trip you could possibly imagine. And since Earth was looking pretty sorry these days, most of the wealthy prefered digital vacations to going anywhere in the real world.

But Trak had done it. It had taken a lot of bribes, but he had him–well, not really him, he supposed. Just a copy–that way there was nothing suspicious at all in a few days, when he was redownloaded into his body. Trak looked closer at the stick, imagining the man inside–Perrion, his boss.

Well, really he was his boss’s boss. Or rather, he had been. Perrion had masterminded a massive round of layoffs where Trak had been working, and he’d been swept out of it and onto the streets. It had been boring, but a good gig–and he’d been scraping by ever since…but Trak had an additional grievance against him. Perrion had also been his lover. But he’d fired him and dumped him on the same day, like Trak didn’t mean a thing to him–and he probably didn’t mean anything at all, really. No one did anymore–but Perrion had meant something to Trak, and he had not taken being jilted well. Now, though, he could have a little bit of revenge, and a little piece of Perrion all to himself.

He booted up his computer, and several displays lit up in the air around him, as he slipped the datastick into the port. It was heavily encrypted, but he had the key to that–it would just take a little while to give him access. Until then, he had to decide what he was going to do to him first–because he had so many plans, but now that the time had come–he wasn’t sure where to start. All he knew, was that Perrion was going to get a very special vacation, and one that he wasn’t going to he getting away from anytime soon.

See, two things about Perrion had always frustrated Trak. First, he was so…domineering, and not even in a sexy way. Everything had to be tailored to him and his satisfaction first, no matter what, and as much as Trak had loved him, it had been difficult to deal with. Second, he was just dull. Dull as could be; dull as a corporate drone should be, he supposed. But Trak…well, Trak had some rather…deviant interests, ones he had explored quite a bit in virtual reality. He’d never been able to afford a proper digitization, but he’d made quite a bit as an author of unique experiences on the net–and he planned on opening Perrion’s mind up to a whole slew of new possibilities, and Trak would be with him every step of the way, safe out here in virtual reality, even if Perrion ended up being a bit, rewritten, in the course of Trak’s fun.

He supposed it would be best to start with a slightly tamer scenario–one that would break that dominant streak in him, and leave his ex a bit more open to suggestion, and further modification down the road. He took a look through his various scenarios, and three in particular stood out to him as possibilities. In the end, he selected his favorite, and started booting it up, the decryption of Perrion’ digital file now nearly complete, and he got ready for the games to begin.

***

Here’s how this interactive is going to work. Each program is going to be a mini scenario that runs for 2-4 chunks, depending on where they go. Then, Trak will run a new program, and work on some other aspect of Perrion’s digital copy. I’m hoping this one will be a bit shorter, and a little more organized than the last one was!

So, what’s the first virtual scenario going to be?

Space Prison Program

Rubber Drone Program

Alpha Service Program

Polls, as before, will be conducted through Patreon and Twitter. The Patron polls will be exclusive to supporters at any contribution level, while the twitter poll will be open to everyone.

The public twitter poll is here!

The supporter only Patreon poll is here!

Voting ends in two days on Monday 3pm PST.

Still have a few more hours to get your votes in!