Category: Uncategorized

Orwell’s Demon (Part 2)

-Before-

Orwell was at his desk, distracted again, but then again, he was usually distracted these afternoons, ever since the wrestling coach, Mr. Diamond, had moved his office into the open office space as Orwell’s. He wasn’t the only one afflicted by any means–several of the young women teachers around the school would stop by periodically to say hi, though their eyes were glued to the young hunk everyone was talking about. Still, as good a guy as Ray Diamond was, Orwell knew he would never have a chance with him–he was hopelessly straight, or else so deep in the closet no one would ever find him.

He looked back at his computer and tried to focus on entering grades, but there was something else bothering him. The amulet he was wearing–the thing he’d bought on a whim at a little thrift shop downtown a few days prior, which he’d been wearing since, was…warm. Not just warm, actually, but hot against his skin.

He could be yours, you know.

It was a voice. A voice in his head, but it wasn’t…his voice. He looked around, just in case, but no one around Orwell had spoken.

I know you want him. I know everything that you want, Orwell. You want so many things, so many men. It’s beautiful, but so many of them don’t want you back. So much…unrequited desire built up in you, with nowhere to go.

The heat welled up somewhere new now–in Orwell’s crotch. His cock was rock hard, suddenly, throbbing with need. The voice was right, to some extent. Orwell was gay, but he wasn’t lacking for sex. He was twenty-six, had a decent body (though not as nice as Ray Diamond had) and was by no means a virgin…but he did have a habit for falling head over heels in lust with the straightest of men–men like Mr. Diamond.

He was certain his cock was going to explode, but it didn’t–as rapidly as the heat, and the voice, had come–they disappeared, leaving Orwell to heave a sigh of relief. A couple desks away, Ray Diamond shuddered, and then stood up from his desk, adjusted his crotch, and walked over to where Orwell was sitting. Orwell could…sense something was off about him. His eyes…had a tinge of red, and his mouth was curled in a snarl that he’d never seen on the coach’s face before. “Well Orwell?” Ray said–and it was the voice. The voice from his head, speaking through Ray’s mouth, “Do you want me or not? Come on and let’s have some fun.”

Orwell didn’t know what to do…but when Mr. Diamond grabbed his hand and hauled him out of the office chair and pulled him down the hall, towards the gyms on the other side of the building, Orwell’s heart did a little flutter. “A-Are you sure, Ray? I mean…at school?”

“Please–what Ray wants doesn’t matter anymore. The only person I aim to please, is you.”

“But…who are you?”

Ray turned around, and the flicker of red around his eyes Orwell had seen earlier had grown more pronounced, the hand round his own was hotter, and the grip was tight. “You’ll see…Now come on. Ray knows just the place.”

They ended up in a storage room inside one of the gyms, and among the spare jerseys, balls, and other gym equipment, Ray tore at Orwell’s clothes, ripping them away, even as his own seemed to simply…disappear. No–not disappear. They were burning up. In the dim light, Orwell could see the fabric simply burning up, like paper turning to ash. The coach’s skin underneath was red and inflamed, almost too hot to the touch–but the hottest part of him was, by far, his cock. If Ray had been that endowed before, Orwell was sure he would have noticed–it had to be at least ten inches long, and as thick as a beer can. He started to get on his knees, but Ray had other ideas–he shoved Orwell down and started running the massive member up and down his crack.

“I don’t think–it’s so big…” Orwell said.

“I know,” Ray said, and shoved the head into Orwell’s ass, unlubed, making him scream in pain, the coach driving his cock in deeper and deeper–but there didn’t seem to be an end to it. Orwell had never felt someone go this deep inside him before, his guts churning and coiling and burning with every thrust. “But it’s what you want, Orwell–I promise to always give you what you want.”

It felt like hours, the cock driving into him deeper and deeper, Orwell losing track of how many times he came. Then, suddenly, he felt the urge to gag, and then something forced his jaw wide, and with one mighty heave, Ray forced the head of his cock out through Orwell’s mouth, leaving him groaning and muttering in panic. “Like a pig on a spit,” the voice said, and Orwell felt himself…lifted from the ground, impaled on the bestial cock his fellow teacher had grown–or who he assumed was his fellow teacher. Claws dug into his skin and twisted him around on the shaft until he could see the thing which was now fucking him–and found himself staring at what he could only call a demon. “How does the little piggy feel?” the thing asked, licking his lips, “Does it feel good? I am yours, five times, but give in, and you can be mine for all eternity. Say yes, pig. Say yes–I will give you such glorious pleasure, I promise.”

Orwell just screamed, trying to haul himself free of the demon’s massive cock.

“A ‘no’ then. Four more, piggy. Four more,” the demon said, gripped Orwell’s sides, and began fucking him on the massive shaft, the head thrusting up and down Orwell’s throat until the demon gave a long roar, tugged Orwell up so the head slipped back into his stomach, and he came. Orwell felt the cum flooding his guts, flooding his body, and as it did…he could see his body changing, sagging, filling up with fat–enough fat that he dragged the demon’s dick down and he landed with the thud, the dick snapping off and turning to ash. The air around him was full of ash too–the remains of Ray’s body fluttering down around him, and his now obese body, hole gaping, as he hauled on his clothing (clothing which had somehow adjusted to his now flabby frame) and fled the scene as fast as he could, trying to ignore the laugh dogging him in the back of his mind the entire way home.

Orwell’s Demon (Part 1)

Alright, here’s the expanded version of Orwell’s Demon! I should also mention that several aspects of this story have been…somewhat inspired by the work of Major, over on Gay Spiral Stories, and if you’re familiar with his stuff…it can get pretty extreme. Consider yourself warned.

The room is chilly, and yet, Orwell’s shirt is sticking to his back when he sits forward in the plastic chair, trying to get comfortable, looking around again for a clock, but knowing he won’t find one. How long has he been in here, now? Probably not as long as he thinks he has, probably not even an hour, but waiting feels…excruciating. To his right, there’s a mirror stretching the length of the wall–one way, he assumes. In the TV shows, they’re always one way, at least.

They’re over there, they’re talking about you, about how weak you look, about how it couldn’t possibly be you, Orwell.

Orwell shook his head, and glances at the mirror–he sees something, and the camera in the room flickers for a moment, like a shadow gathering at the edges of the lens, and he yanks his eyes away, back down to his lap. He came here of his own will. That would count for something. Besides, if they knew it was him, they would have arrested him already, before things…had gotten more and more out of his control. He clutched at something under his shirt for a moment, and then let it go, leaning forward, like he was trying to keep something under there from touching his skin, and tried to relax.

On the other side of the glass, was Detective Hurlbane of the city police department, who had been investigating the series of disappearances which had occurred over the last several months. No trace of the men who’d disappeared–four in total–and no bodies or trace of the men had been found. The one connection between them all was the man sitting in the chair–Orwell Englewood. An unassuming teacher of English at a local high school. He was, maybe, five foot four, and weighed close to 350 pounds. He had no prior record, and everyone who knew him had assured Hurlbane that Orwell was a kind, generous fellow–even if he’d seemed a bit odd over the last few months. Then again, anyone who found themselves as the prime suspect in a series of mysterious disappearances would behave a bit oddly.

Hurlbane decided Orwell had stewed enough, and he walked around to the door, and stepped inside. “Afternoon, Orwell. Thank you again for volunteering to come down to the station today and answer some questions about Mr. Piper.”

Mr. Piper, the fourth man to disappear, was Orwell’s next door neighbor. He’d hosted a poker night with some of his friends last Tuesday, while his wife was out with her own friends. His poker buddies had left early, around nine, and when his wife had arrived home at midnight, he was gone–no sign of forced entry or foul play–and he hadn’t been seen since. Orwell hadn’t been at the party, but he had been home, next door. He claimed he hadn’t noticed anything odd during those three hours, but he had no alibi. Hurlbane had a difficult time imagining this short, chubby fellow overpowering anyone…but at some point the coincidences had added up–what he needed was a confession, and he was going to get one.

“Anything I can do to help, although…I don’t know how much help I can be. Like I told you on the phone, I went to bed early that night, and I didn’t hear…anything suspicious.”

“Did you have much of a relationship with Mr. Piper? It seems odd that you’d be his neighbor and not get invited over for a poker night.”

Orwell shrugged. “We…didn’t share much interests I guess. I’d rather sit at home with a good book, than play poker.”

Hurlbane sat down in the chair across from Orwell, and leaned over the table. Orwell avoided his eyes, and seemed…nervous. “That seems understandable. But for someone who likes to sit at home, you have to admit it’s suspicious.”

Orwell didn’t say anything, or take the bait.

“It’s suspicious that of all the men who have disappeared, you’re the only person in the city who knows all of them.”

Orwell shook his head, “No–I didn’t…I told you, I have no idea what that whole…rest area thing was about.”

Hurlbane nodded, “Yes, of course. My apologies. Three out of four then. I just have a hard time imagining that you wouldn’t know something–especially since you were the last one to see one, or possibly two, of these missing men alive and well.”

“I’ve told you everything I know, Detective, I really have.”

Liar. If only he knew the truth. Think he’d like to find out for himself, Orwell?

Hurlbane saw Orwell grip at something by his chest, and wince, as if he were in pain. “Are you alright Orwell?”

He nodded, but the detective could see something had changed about him. He looked…pale, and was sweating even more. “I could just…use a smoke is all.”

“I didn’t know you smoked–there were no ashtrays in your house when we searched it.”

“I only do it outside.”

Hurlbane sat back, a bit confused–but it wasn’t important. If anything, needing to smoke would make him more likely to slip up. “Well, before we talk about Mr. Piper, Orwell, I’d like to review some of the facts of the other men we’ve discussed anyway, just in case you’ve remembered anything else that might be helpful to the investigation.”

“Is that really necessary? I think…I should go, I really need to go, actually.”

Orwell started to get up, but Hurlbane was faster, and blocked him in. “It won’t take long, Orwell. I promise. Now–can we start with Mr. Diamond? The gym teacher. He was the first one to go missing as you know, and your desks weren’t too far apart. In fact, some of the other teachers said the two of you were rather friendly with one another–but you said you can’t recall even one conversation with him.”

I can remember a few conversations with him–and a few other things too. Come on Orwell, you had a good time, didn’t you? With Mr. Diamond and his cock?

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 4)

WARNING: Scat, Diapers, Extreme Mental Regression, etc. 

From the way his legs were swinging without even touching the ground, James realized he must have shrunk again as well, but with no way of measuring, all he knew was that his daddy absolutely dwarfed him…and yet he felt a strange sense of comfort in that. “Alright, come here little man, it’s alright,” Mr. Rawlins said, pulling James into a hug, and he melted into the older man’s chest, the sense of comfort and security which washed over him drove his earlier terror from his mind. He was on his daddy’s lap now–everything would be alright. Mr. Rawlins started rubbing one of hands up and down his big belly, and his peepee did that funny thing again, getting kind of stiff in his diaper, and James sucked harder on the rubber cock in his mouth. “Yeah, that’s my good little man. Still, since you’re being such a pain, I think we need to do something about that head of yours, don’t we? We need to make sure you stay occupied, so you don’t get any ideas about running away from me ever again. So how about this, how about we make you a naughty baby? A stupid, dirty, naughty little man? How does that sound? Would you like that? I know I would–I’d like that a lot,” Mr. Rawlins said, massaging his own cock through his suit pants.

Some distant part of James, something small told him he needed to get away, that he needed to fight against his daddy, but he was so big, and so…so important, and so nice…he couldn’t do that. He wanted to be whatever his daddy wanted him to be. As he sat there on his daddy’s lap, wreathed in pipe smoke, he suddenly felt his bladder release again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t just piss flowing out of him, it was his brain, his knowledge, his thoughts. It was like a drain had been opened at the base of his brain and it was all flowing out through his cock and into his diaper. It was so hard to think, and he didn’t have many words to use to do so, his eyes growing dull and vacant as a bit of drool seeped out around his pacifier. He was running on instinct more than anything now. He sucked harder on the rubber pacifier, feeling his peepee tingle in anticipation–but what he was anticipating he didn’t really know.

“Yeah, that’s much better. Look at those eyes of yours now–so innocent, so loving, so dull. You’re daddy’s little man, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” Mr. Rawlin’s said, tickling James massive gut and making him giggle around his pacifier. “Yeah, you won’t be able even think of running away anymore, will you? Still, I think we need to find something else to occupy your attention, just to make sure you don’t get any ideas. Daddies hate it when their little men get ideas.”

James felt his asshole release then, and a massive flood of shit filled the back of his diaper, and while the smell was horrendous, it also made his peepee tingle even more, especially when the shit started working its way around between his thick thighs and under his balls. Happy in his shitty diaper, James started rocking back and forth on his daddy’s knee, spreading it around as much as he could, wanting to get dirtier, filthier, a nasty, gross baby for his daddy, just like he wanted him to be. His peepee was tingling so much, and it felt so good, he could barely stand it, and he started humping his diaper, feeling his peepee rub up against the fabric as well as his fat.

“Yeah, what a disgusting little man. You enjoy that? You like having a filthy diaper? Just you wait–I don’t think I’ll change you for days–I want to see how full it can get. Still, I don’t think you’re quite naughty enough yet. How about we make that peepee of yours your new brain?”

The tingle in his peepee was suddenly ten times more powerful, and James weak thrusts sped up, the diapered man turning a bit so he could hump his full diaper against his daddy’s suit, and after a few moments he was rewarded with the most wonderful sensation, kind of like he was peeing again, but ten times better. He let out a groan, the pacifier dropping from his mouth, and his daddy bent over, giving him a deep kiss, toying with his little man’s nipples, and suddenly James was cumming again, unable to help himself, messily making out with his daddy, a small dark spot forming on the front of Mr. Rawlins’ pants as well.

“Yes, I think you’ll do nicely, little man,” Mr. Rawlins said, putting James down on the ground, where the massively obese adult baby gaped around with empty eyes while he rubbed the front of his pants with one of his hands, making his peepee happy and his daddy happy all at the same time, squishing his nasty shit around in his diaper. “Still, I had hoped you would be ready for school–I love a good school boy. I think I did a little too much damage for that though…let’s see then–we can’t have you wandering around in just a diaper after all. Still, I think I know just the look for a dumb, nasty and naughty baby like you.”

Mr. Rawlins wreathed his new little man in another cloud of smoke, and when it cleared, a new outfit was adorning his body–a tight fitting white sailor suit, or at least, mostly white. The crotch was stained a light yellow and the ass had brown streaks from where his diapers routinely overflowed, but James didn’t mind, clapping his hands with joy as he looked down at himself, letting loose a wet, shitty fart as he did, and looking up to his daddy for approval. He wanted his daddy to be happy–after all, his daddy could do anything he wanted.

“Ha, look at you–so handsome. You know, I was going to wait until we got home to introduce you to my special pacifier, but I…I don’t think I can wait, little man,” Mr. Rawlins said, and unzipped his pants, “Open up–daddy’s got something big for you to suck on.”

James didn’t need any more encouragement, and drooling a bit, he took the cock in his mouth and started sucking on it, feeling his pee pee start tingling again, and with one of his hands, he rubbed the front, feeling himself cum again like before, when he’d made his daddy happy. He loved making his daddy happy after all–and when the big man tensed up and unloaded his seed down his little man’s throat, James knew he’d made him very happy indeed.

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 3)

Who had he been? He’d been a university student…in a way, he supposed he still was. After all, he hadn’t actually decreased in age at all–sure, he looked young, but he didn’t think he actually was younger, and yet…in his head, when he’d been around da–no, Mr. Rawlins–it had been like he’d been a kid again. No knowledge, no common sense, no…no nothing. He could hear the help running around, and Mr. Rawlins was barking orders all around the store, all of them searching for him. Why him? What had he done to deserve this sadistic treatment? He had to get out, he had to find someone who could help him.

After a few minutes, the shopkeepers quit their frantic searching and went back to their jobs. Maybe he’d given up on finding him. If he could just wait for a couple more minutes, maybe he could sneak out the side door a little ways away. However, before he could build up the gut to make a run for it, James noticed something else. The smell–the smoke was back. Mr. Rawlins must be close by. James did his best to hold his breath, taking in as little as possible, but the lack of air was making it his head swim–making it hard to think. Maybe he should just end this game of hide and seek. He was tired–maybe Mr. Rawlins…maybe daddy and him could go home, and he could have a nap. He was feeling kind of sleepy, and relaxed.

He let out a little sigh, and then he smelled something–and felt something. His crotch was warm, and did he smell…piss? Looking down, he saw that the front of his shorts had a growing dark patch, and a moment later, his piss started to seep through the fabric and patter onto the floor. He froze there, unable to believe this was happening, but try as he might, he couldn’t stop the flow–he’d lost all control of himself, and the tears welled up, and then he was bawling like a baby.

A moment later, a hand shot through the clothes surrounding him, grabbed his arm and yanked him from his hiding place–Mr. Rawlins still smoking his pipe and glaring down at James. The guilt–oh the guilt that crashed down on him, when he saw how disappointed and hurt his daddy was that James had run away from him. He felt terrible–why had he ever done such a horrible thing? “I’m–I’m sorry daddy, I don’t know–I just…” he said, but could barely get any words out past the tears.

“Such a naughty boy I have here,” Mr. Rawlins said, “running off, and unable to control himself? I think someone needs a spanking.”

“No daddy–no!” James shouted, but the bigger man easily dragged him over to a chair by the dressing rooms, yanked down James pants and underwear to his ankles, bent him over on his lap and started smacking his bottom–hard.

“Yeah…that’s it–such a naughty little man, yes you are, such a–fuck…” Mr. Rawlins said, glee in his eyes, and pushing up against his gut, James could feel Mr. Rawlins penis hard as a rock, and as much as it hurt to get spanked, it also felt…a little good. James could feel his own pee pee start hardening–it felt strange again, like when he’d kissed his daddy earlier, but a good kind of strange. He did deserve to be spanked though, he had to admit that. He’d been a very bad boy to run off like that earlier. He deserved to be punished. After twenty pounding slaps, all of his cheeks red as could be, Mr. Rawlins let him stand up again. “Now, you naughty boy, what do you say?”

“Sorry daddy…I’m sorry…” James said.

“That’s better. Now, it seems like you’re a littler man than I’d thought, since you can’t even keep from pissing yourself. Let’s see what we can do about that,” Mr. Rawlins said, took a deep draw off his pipe and exhaled a thick plume of smoke so massive it enveloped James entire body. Coughing and eyes burning, he waved away the thick cloud as best he could, but it clung to him for a few moments before dispersing, and james shivered a bit, feeling somewhat exposed all of a sudden–and for good reason. His school uniform had disappeared and been replaced by nothing beyond a thick diaper around his groin. James tried to speak and protest, but for some reason all of the words in his head were getting jumbled up and coming out as nonsense, and when he tried to stumble away, his legs couldn’t seem to balance right, and he fell down onto his padded ass, and frustrated, he started to wail.

“Aww, calm down little man, here, daddy has your pacifier here–this will make you feel better.”

Mr. Rawlins pulled something that looked a bit like a pacifier out of his pocket, but instead of a small bulb to suck on, it had a thick, three inch rubber cock which Mr. Rawlins shoved in his mouth. James started sucking immediately and felt so much calmer and happier with his pacifier in his mouth, but when Mr. Rawlins got down to see him, James still rolled over and started crawling away as fast as his short arms and legs could take him, gut dragging across the department store carpet.

“Goodness, you are a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Mr. Rawlins said, and now, as James was crawling away, he felt the weight start to pack on once again. The gut which had only been grazing the floor moments earlier was now dragging across it, forcing him to crawl even slower as his knees kept running into the apron trailing back between his legs. His face and chest packed on weight as well, making it hard to breathe, and just crawling ten feet left him completely winded. Mr. Rawlins walked over to where James was struggling for air, bent over and somehow…picked him up. James must have weighed over five hundred pounds by this point, and yet Mr. Rawlins hefted him up and brought him over to the chair he’d spanked James over moments earlier and sat down, putting the giant diapered man on his knee as though he weighed nothing at all.

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 2)

“Alright, and we can get your neck real quick…20 inches, alright. Shoulders…18 inches. And now your sleeve…28. Hmm…this is going to be a challenge. Alright young man, just two more. First, your trunk…let’s see…27”, and lastly your inseam…28”. Huh, would have expected you to be taller, like your daddy. Oh well, I suppose a little man like you still has some time to grow, right?” Howard said with a grin, and then turned to Mr. Rawlins. “Well sir, I can see why you brought him here, but I just don’t think–”

“Oh hush now Howard, you’ve been plenty helpful. Leave me with my boy, and we can sort the rest of it out.”

“Oh…uh, very well. Just call me if you need help.”

“I certainly will. Thanks much, Howard,” Mr. Rawlins said, dismissing the help and then coming close to James, who was still boggled by his reflection. He’d watched himself closely while Howard had taken those last measurements, and in each case, the man hadn’t pulled the tape tight to him…it was more like his body had changed to fill a certain dimension. His neck had thickened, double and triple chins descending to fill out the tape there. But most obvious had been his trunk and inseam, his body shortening from his six foot height with each one, until he was probably a foot shorter, maybe five foot two at max. “Well little man, what do you think?”

“You…How did…I don’t understand…” James started to say, but looking at his new form, he was simply at a loss for words. His clothing hadn’t grown with him at all, his t-shirt stretched to the limit, his jeans bursting at the seams, the collar nearly choking him, and turning his face a bit red. “Daddy…daddy what did you do to me?”

“What do you mean, boy? I didn’t do anything to you. We’re just getting you fitted for your new uniform. You start the third grade next week–aren’t you excited?”

James nodded his head, but hadn’t be been going to college? No, how could he go to college? He didn’t know much of anything–he could only read those small books daddy had for him in his room, and he wasn’t very good at math yet–he still had trouble adding sometimes. No way could he be ready for college. Looking at himself in the mirror, he did look rather…fresh faced. While he knew he was almost twenty, and he looked grown up, some part of him still looked…very young. He turned away, finding it uncanny, and found himself staring at Mr. Rawlins instead…and he felt, strange. This big, old man who had so disgusted him with his smoking earlier now seemed…safe. Fatherly. Someone he could trust…maybe even…love?

“Still, you have nothing to worry about. Doesn’t your new uniform fit nice? Doesn’t it make you look handsome?” Mr. Rawlins asked, and James turned to the mirror quickly enough to see his ill fitting clothes start to shift and squirm. the t-shirt which could barely stretch over his belly and chest expanded and split down the middle, becoming a light grey dress shirt tucked into a pair of dark shorts with a massive waistband but didn’t quite reach his knees. Below that, grey, woolen socks crawled up his thick calves, and the sneakers he was wearing darkened and shimmered into nicely shined dress shoes, and as a tie snaked its way around his collar, a vest and coat pulled themselves up over his body, before finally a smart looking cap popped into existence on his head. He looked like a young kid going to one of the fancy prep schools, and he did look rather handsome. “See, didn’t the nice men do a nice job on your uniform? You look rather dashing, wouldn’t you say, little man?”

He came up behind James, and what started as a pat on the back became something rather more intimate, as Mr. Rawlins explored James new body with his firm hands, running them up under his coat and around his belly, his beard grazing the back of his neck, and making James’ peepee tingle in the strangest way, and he blushed a bit in the mirror, being this close to his daddy. “Thank you daddy, it’s very nice,” James said, “I like it.”

“Well, if you really want to thank me, how about you give your daddy a kiss?” Mr. Rawlins said, spun James around and leaned down, pushing their lips together and shoving his tongue into James’ mouth. James wanted it to feel good–he really did. He wanted to enjoy the taste of tobacco on his daddy’s lips, and the feel of his rough beard on his soft cheeks, but it was wrong. All of this, all of it was just so wrong, and in a moment of muddled clarity, not even certain why he was doing it, he pushed Mr. Rawlin’s away and dashed off as fast as his short, chubby legs could carry him. “Boy, what do you think you are doing? Get back here this instant!” he heard his daddy should, and guilt–oh the guilt, but he had to get away. Daddy–no, Mr. Rawlins–he’d…he’d done something to him. He hadn’t been this dumb, or this fat, or dressed like this earlier, had he? The further from the smoke he got, the clearer it seemed he could think, but he couldn’t get out–all of the shopkeepers were on daddy’s side. He had to hide. He passed the children’s section and darted into the racks, eventually ducking under and hiding in the middle of a thickly stocked circular one, doing his best to keep his huffing breath quiet, and just think.

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 1)

This story is a rather old one, and a rather infamous one, which caused a bit of a ruckus over on the old NCMC when I first posted it there. It got removed (for fair reason) and I never bothered to post it anywhere else, though I thought I had posted it here at some point! In any case, it involves a lot of diapers, and rather severe mental age regression, which is the reason it got removed to begin with. If that’s not your thing…well, don’t read it.

It started simply enough–James was out shopping at a department store looking for some new clothes before the start of his university classes the next week, and wasn’t finding much he liked. He had just about resigned himself to finding nothing there and heading for the next shop, when he smelled something that made him panic a bit–smoke. He looked around, wondering whether something had been set on fire and if he should try to warn people, but he didn’t see anything like that, and when he caught another whiff of the smoke, he realized that it didn’t quite smell like smoke…well, that wasn’t the best way to put it. It didn’t smell like, “something is on fire” smoke. It was sweeter, and he could recognize it from some of the seedier pubs he’d crawled past with some of his friends after finals. Someone was smoking a pipe or a cigar in here–but this was a department store, right?

He took another look around, and sure enough, he could see the haze thickened up around the suit department. Curious to see who would be so brazenly breaking the law about smoking indoors, he headed in that direction, and from a bit of a distance, spotted the culprit–an older gentleman in the middle of getting measured for a suit. He was a sizable gentleman, well, sizable was a nice way of putting it. He was fat, and quite fat at that, and rather old, probably in his sixties or so, with a horseshoe of white hair and a full but neatly trimmed full beard. The shop assistant had just finished measuring him, and was helping the man back into his anachronistic suit, all perfectly starched and pressed, and after a couple of minutes, James realized that he’d simply been staring at the man blatantly the entire time like a fool. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his mind was feeling as hazy as the room around him. He needed to find someone to get the man to quit smoking.

He saw another attendant working the suit department, and James strode over to him. “Hey,” he said, “aren’t you going to do something about that?”

It took a few seconds for the attendant to realize someone had spoken to him–his eyes were distant and a bit glazed over, but finally he blinked a few times and noticed James standing next to him. “Oh…I’m sorry sir, is there something I can help you with?”

James rolled his eyes, “Yes, you could get the guy to quit smoking for one. Don’t you people know it’s against the law?”

“Oh…” the attendant said, “Well, that’s Mr. Rawlins. He always smokes when he comes in here.”

“And you just let him?”

The assistant just stared at him for a few moments, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Yes…we always let Mr. Rawlins do…anything he wants…” he said, his voice trailing off, and then his eyes glazed back over and he forgot James was there entirely, going back to sorting his suits.

“What in the world is going on here?” James said to himself. Everyone in the store was acting strange, and he suddenly wondered if he shouldn’t have even gotten involved. It would have been smarter to have just left, and taken his business elsewhere. He turned around, ready to leave, but saw that the way was blocked by Mr. Rawlins’ himself, fully dressed and smoking his pipe.

He was big. Bigger than James had first thought. Certainly he was fat–but he was also tall, and the way he loomed over James somehow made him feel like a little kid looking up at the principal. He stammered for a second, looking for words, but his voice failed him, and he just lapsed into silence.

“Hello there, young man. I don’t remember seeing you here before. Do you work here?”

“Oh…uh, no sir…I’m just a customer. I uh…should you uh…be smoking in here sir? I thought…well, I just…isn’t that against the law?”

Mr. Rawlins let out a booming laugh which was somehow infectious, and it seemed to James that his earlier concern was somehow childish. Of course Mr. Rawlins could smoke in here–Mr. Rawlins could do anything he wants.

“Tell me, little man, what were you shopping for today?”

“Oh…uh…just some for some new clothes for school.”

“Did you find anything you like?”

“Not…Not really…” James said.

“Yes, well, I imagine it would be difficult finding clothes to fit a husky boy like yourself.”

Husky? Who even used that word anymore? Besides, James was anything but husky–he was as thin as a rail.

“Well, come on, my little man, and let’s see if we can’t find something that might fit that frame of yours so you’ll look good when you start school next week.” Mr. Rawlins held out his hand for James, and without really knowing why, he took the gentleman’s hand and let him lead him towards the fitting station. “Howard,” he said, addressing the man who had measured him earlier, “I’d like to fit my little man here for a school uniform. We’re having a hard time finding something in his size.”

Howard, that same glassy look in his eye, smiled. “Well of course Mr. Rawlins, anything for you, sir.”

“Good man. Alright young man. Get up there and Howard will get you all measured for your uniform.”

Something wasn’t right, and yet, he was here for school clothes right? It was just lucky for him that Mr. Rawlins and Howard were here to help him find something in his size. He got up on the stool and looked at himself in the mirror, but it seemed like his reflection was perfectly normal–his usual, slender frame. But then why had Mr. Rawlins called him husky earlier?

Howard got his fabric tape and came over to James. “Alright young man, how about we get some measurements? Lift up your arms for me.”

James did as he asked, and Howard pulled the tape around his chest, noted the measurement, and then did the same around his waist. “Alright, looks like a…48” inch chest, and a 50” waist. Goodness, you are a big boy, aren’t you? Mr. Rawlins does love his little men big, doesn’t he?”

James did some mental math in his head when he heard the numbers, but his head was moving so slow. After all, he’d just barely started multiplication in school, but still…48 and 50 seemed like rather big numbers. Hadn’t he had a 28 inch waist last time he’d measured himself? But in the mirror, there was no way he could have a waist that small–he’d been eating too well and for too long for that. Indeed, he could see that his chest was thick with fat, with two big moobs hanging down, pushing out his t-shirt, his apron of a belly dropping a couple of inches below the bottom. He felt suddenly embarrassed to be wearing something so ill fitting in front of Mr. Rawlins, but the old man was staring at him with such lecherous eyes, he didn’t think he cared.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 9)

WARNING: SCAT

It takes a little huntin’, but I eventually find mah way tah the little stream runnin’ by the cabin. I gots the amulet with me, but it’s sealed up in a plastic container–big enough that it should float–I’d bury it ‘round here somewhere, but I can’t risk Unc or mah Bro findin’ it. They wouldn’t understand what this fuckin’ thing does tah people. I can’t even trust mahself, not really. Even now…there’s this voice in mah head, tellin’ me I’m bein’ dumb, that this ain’t what I want, but I can tell it’s a lie. It’s the amulet, puttin’ shit in mah head, tellin’ me I was in college, ‘n livin’ in the city. I fuckin’ know that ain’t right–I ain’t that dumb. A faggot whore like me, goin’ tah college–no fuckin way!

This is the best, fer all a us. I seal it tight, and test it in an eddy–makin’ sure it floats, ‘n then I chuck it out intah the current and watch it flow away downstream, makin’ sure I don’t see it get caught on a root or anythin’. As it goes away, the voice starts fadin’ too–it’s a relief, really. I feel good fer the first time in days. I feel like mahself, like I’m supposed tah feel. I wipe mah hands dry on mah dirty jeans, ‘n head back tah the cabin, wonderin’ if unc’s woken up yet from his nap.

The cabin has seen better days–sure as hell don’t look as good as it did a few days ago–I think–but it’s home, right? We all like it here, anyway–here with family. Where we all belong. I head inside, ‘n I can hear Bro ‘n Unc goin’ at it already in the other room–figured they’d wake up first–after all, they didn’t need nearly as much work as mah Pa did. Yeah, Pa had been a real piece a fuckin’ work, let me fuckin’ tell ya, but he’ll be feelin’ much better now, trust me, now that he know’s just how important family is. Once he realizes just how much he needs me.

I did what he asked–first. I made him mah Pa, just like he’d told me to do. He wasn’t very happy ‘bout the rest a it, but we got everythin’ sorted out over a couple a hours. Told ‘em how much he loves me, how much he loves his whore son, how much he loves mah holes, how he thinks about bein’ with me night ‘n day. Still–that wasn’t enough fer me. I didn’t just want him tah love me–I want him tah need me. I want him tah need all a us. After all, family’s got tah stick tahgether, but Pa–he had a real mean streak. Thought he could go it all alone. Well, I helped him see the truth, sure as fuckin’ hell I did.

“Fuckin…what the fuckin’ hell happened tah me?”

That’s mah cue, I think–it’s Pa’s voice, at least, so he must be wakin’ up finally. I head into his room, and It’s the smell that hits me first. We can’t get him real clean anymore, not as big as Pa’s gotten, so he stinks pretty much all the time–still, I don’t mind–I love the stink of a dirty fucker, after all. He’s there on the bed–a massive heavin’ pile a flesh. Nine hundred pounds a flesh, tah be exact. I walk around the side of the bed, hearin’ ‘em wheaze ‘n start tah panic, his arms flailin’, legs tryin’ tah push up against his bulk, but it ain’t no use. Pa ain’t been up outta that bed in years now, ‘n wit his appetite, he ain’t never gettin’ outta there again.

He looks o’er ‘n sees me, and I can see it. I can see him tryin’ tah be mad, but the love fer me he feels every time he sees me washes it all away. “Boy–son, fuck–what the fuck did ya do tah me? This…this ain’t right. This wasn’t the deal. I can’t…I can’t move…”

“Course not, Pa. Ya know that. Ya ain’t moved from that bed in three years.”

He’s crying now–I can’t tell if it’s because he’s so happy tah see me, or because he’s terrified. Probably both, but the first one’ll wear the other one out soon. “Where’s the necklace–the amulet. Where it it!”

“Don’ know what ya talkin’ ‘bout Pa–musta been a dream ya were havin.”

“Ya…Ya fuckin’…fuck!” He flails some more, trying to roll over, but it’s no use. “Please son, I gotta take a shit…”

“Don’t worry none ‘bout that! That’s what we keep Unc around for, right?” I turn and call out, yelling for my uncle tah git in Pa’s room, and a few seconds later, my uncle bounds in. He stinks worse than the rest a the room, but he don’t mind–all Unc wants tah be, after all, is a cumdump and full service toilet–ya’d bee surprised what men round here are willin’ tah pay fer his services–some guys refuse tah piss ‘n shit anywhere else. My bro comes in after, stinkin’ a sweat–he was probably just fuckin’ Pa’s hole wit his ten inch cock–big muscular beast of a top, he fuckin’ is, but dumb as a rock. Only one with any sense left in this family is me, after all. “Come on Bro, let’s lift.”

Together, we grab hold of the chain hanging off to the side of the room, and haul up Pa’s legs by the ankles, and Unc dives for the grungy crack as soon as he can, lickin’ ‘n suckin’ at Pa’s hole–and he lets go, horrified, but already settlin’ intah the norm. We knot the chain up, keepin’ pa’s legs high, ‘n when Unc’s done with his meal, Bro hops up next and starts plowin’ Pa’s hole, makin’ him moan ‘n hollar–and I get up on his flabby chest, straddlin’ him, and kiss ‘em, ‘n let Pa suck on mah cock, seein’ how happy he is, servin’ his son, his favorite boy in the whole wide world.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 8)

I stumble back into the room, where my brother and daddy are lying on the bed and the floor…no, not my brother, he’s my…my cousin. I have to remember that, I have to try and remember how things were, but it’s so…hard to think about everything, all I want to do is sleep. I know that if I sleep, everything will make more sense, but I need to get to Gabe. If I can get to Gabe, he had a plan, he knew something about all of this and what to do. I’m just a dumb whore, but he’s my brother! Sure, he’s…mean, most of the time, but he’s smarter than me ‘n daddy combined, so he’ll know what to do for sure. As I walk to him, I stumble and have to catch myself on the wall, trying to keep myself upright, but it’s so…hard. I can feel my skin burning, my body burning. I’m changing again, but I can get there, to the bed. I push my way there and collapse beside Gabe, shaking him, trying to wake him up…maybe I can wake him up with the amulet…but I don’t have it!

I look around for it, my sight blurry, but I see it over by the wall where I stumbled, but it seems so far away now. Still, it’s my only chance…I lunge for it, and fall…but I’m just so tired, and I can’t reach. I’ll…sleep now. Sleep for a while, and when…when I wakes up, everythin’s gonna make way more sense, ‘n Gabe’ll know what tah do, cause mah brother Gabe…ain’t no one in the woods ‘round here smarter ‘n Gabe…

*

I don’ know which one wakes me up, the shock tah mah collar or the heavy, steel toe boot tah mah gut, but I’m coughin’ ‘n sputterin’ on the cold floor, lookin’ up at my brother Gabe loomin’ o’er me with a cruel sneer on his face, the same sneer he always gits on his face when he’s beatin’ up me or Pa. But wait–wasn’t…there was somethin’ different before, I know it, but I can’t focus well enough tah figure it out–mah brain ain’t made fer thinkin’, like Gabe always says–I took after Pa, after all. Only thing I’s good fer is fuckin’ like a good little whore pig.

“Lazy fuckin’ bitch,” Gabe says, and hocks a wad of spit across my face. “That’s enough fuckin’ sleep for you, we got customers, ‘n they’re all eager fer yer holes. Remember, if I hear another fuckin’ complaint about ya talkin’ back, or knickin’ someone wit’ those teeth a yers–ya know what’ll happen, right?”

“Yer…Yer gonna pull out the rest a ‘em bro, I know.”

He follows that up with a kick tah mah nuts, makin’ me groan, “That, ‘n I might take those jewels a yers too.”

I nod, and he leaves my room–and I’m tryin’ tah think, tryin’ tah ‘member what was happenin’ before I fell asleep, cause it was so…important, but I can’t think a anythin’! Still, this ain’t right, I know it–Gabe…he ain’t my brother, not really. I…I gotta git outta here, find mah uncle–he’d know what to do, he’d remember everythin’. I head for the door, but git stopped short when the chain catches mah shock collar and tugs me back–the chain hammered intah the concete floor, next tah the ratty mattress where I sleep, ‘n eat, ‘n everythin’ else. I’s afraid tah look down at mahself, but nothin’ shocks me…really. Not the heavy steel cage welded ‘round mah cock, leavin’ mah balls hangin’ free fer easy kickin’. Not the faggot tattoos all o’er mah pale frame. I know it ain’t right, but it feels…good, all the same. Then the door opens, the first john pushes his way in, ‘n it starts, ‘n it don’t stop fer hours.

That’s how Gabe advertises us ‘round these parts–two full service faggots, cocks locked, ‘n hungry fer anythin’ ya wanna give tah us. I been doin’ it mah whole life, as long as I can remember–gettin’ fucked, drinkin’ piss, lickin’ out nasty bodies, gettin’ whipped, punched ‘n paddled. I like most a it, even. Still, it’s a couple hours later that I see it–the glimmer along the wall, buried in some of the dust and filth around mah room–’n I ‘member the amulet. If I can git tah it–I can figure this all out, I just know it. I can put things back the way they oughta be, once ‘n fer all, fer all a us–I think I can remember how things should be at least…

That session ends after a few more hours, and Gabe comes in wit the hose, orders me ‘gainst the wall, ‘n hoses me down in chilly water–then tells me he’ll have food fer us once he’s done wit Pa. He leaves again, ‘n I’m alone–I just fuckin’ hope this chain is long enough. It ain’t quite–I end up flippin’ ‘round ‘n usin’ mah toes tah grab the chain a the amulet, but I git it. I git it, ‘n it’s…warm, ‘n I can remember more, a little bit, at least.

Gabe come back in a few minutes later, ‘n I put ‘em under, tell him tah unlock mah collar, ‘n then fall asleep on the mattress while I sort some shit out. I leave the room…’n the cabin, fuck, it’s fallin’ tah pieces, looks like no one done a lick a work ‘round here in ages, but in the livin’ room, I see him, still lyin’ there. It must have been most of a day at this point, ‘n I can smell it, mah uncle sittin in’ his own mess, right there on the sofa…and I remember what he said, when I demanded the truth. That he didn’t love me, not really. That he was just gonna make me a slave, like Gabe’s done tha me already, but I don’t wanna me a slave anymore! No–I may be a dirty whore, ‘n I fuckin’ love cock, but I…I wanna do it fer me, now. Cause I want to, not cause someone makes me. But more than that…I want him tah love me. I want him tah love me like he promised. I want him tah need me, I want him tah want me. He’s…mine. He’s gonna be mine, ‘n we’ll be happy, I can make sure a it.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 7)

We went to the other room in the cabin, all three of us, and Gabe was in much the same position he’d been in when I’d left–lounging on one of the twin beds, smelling his pits, and jacking off. As soon as we entered and he saw that me and my uncle were gripping the talisman together…the look on his face chilled me, and I remembered what he’d told me about my uncle…but what choice did I have? It was cooperate with him, or live the rest of my life as daddy’s whoreboy–and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of this, but maybe if I just cooperated, I could try and put a few things right.

Besides, my uncle loves me, doesn’t he? I certainly loved him. He won’t…hurt me, not if I do what he wants.

“Alright boy,” he said, “Your tour of duty as my idiot son is done. I have a new job for you now.”

He looked at me, pleading silently, but I don’t know what to do–then, he’s gone, eyes blank and dull. He…I can tell now that I’m touching the talisman, that he’s been under my uncle’s thrall for a long time–long enough that he can’t resist it much at all. My uncle walks us over, and he barely needs to speak, Gabe is so receptive to his power, and as he lays there, I can almost…see him changing, and my father too, whenever I look back at him by the door to the room.

My uncle is tell Gabe that he was wrong–that Gabe isn’t his son at all. No–Gabe is the son of my father instead, and always has been. But they have a very, very special relationship. Gabe is a hedonistic slob, sure, but he’s also got an eye for faggots, and he’s known his dad’s a true fag ever since he started climbing into bed with him as a teenager, begging his son to let his dad suck him off, and Gabe never was one to turn him down. No–if anything, he encouraged him, teased him, led his father deeper and deeper into his depravity, until at last he accepted himself for what he was. Pure faggot. Nothing but a receptacle for the fluids of other men, destined to give them pleasure with his holes and nothing else. It’s been years now, with Gabe renting out his father’s holes to all the men in the trailer park, and training him himself, of course. See, his dad sometimes got ideas. Ideas that he wasn’t really a faggot, that he was a person. That’s why he had to wear the shock collar. That’s why his cock was locked up in a steel cage, ready to get poked with the cattle prod. That’s why he’d had all his teeth pulled out with pliers, and all the tattoos covering his body–especially the word faggot across his forehead. So he wouldn’t forget, ever again, that he was nothing more than a worthless, piece of faggot trailer trash, and his son’s whore to boot.

I’m listening to my uncle describe all this, seeing it all form in my mind’s eye. I’m horrified, sure, but the rush of it–it’s intoxicating, and all I want to do is ride my uncle’s cock again, to feel him inside me, feel him love me again. The talisman is glowing, and I sense that things are coming to fruition–as my uncle finishes, there’s a wave of light, and it strikes us all–but I see it sinking mostly into Gabe and my father, and they collapse–Gabe back onto the bed, and my father to the floor. It’s done–and all the changes I could see, they’re happening. My father wasting slightly, colorful ink appearing on his body. Gabe losing some of his fat as he beefs up into a proper bruiser, always prepared to put his father in his place.

Our father, I mean.

I realize then that there was one thing my uncle didn’t change. He didn’t change me at all. I can…feel the light in me too, and it’s making me kind of woozy as we leave the room and return to the living room. I tell my uncle that I’m not feeling good, and he just nods, pulling the talisman from my hand.

“That’s because you still belong with them, with your daddy and brother in there, Evan,” he said, “You’re still their whore, but if you thought your daddy was bad? Just wait until Gabe gets a hold of you.”

“That…That wasn’t the deal!”

“No–the deal still stands, boy,” my uncle said, and handed the talisman to me. “All you have to do, to get out of that? Make me your dad–your real dad. If you do it before the last spell affects you, you’ll be free of them both. We’ll have our own life together–a good life. Make me your rich, smart, suburban dad, and I’ll give you the life you’ve always wanted.”

It had been a trap. I could feel the dizziness washing over me more now, but I fight it–harder, and focus on my uncle, and the talisman. “A-Alright. I will. But you…you need to sleep…”

I’m not as practiced as my uncle, but soon he’s snoozing on the couch. The talisman, it’s helping me stay awake, and keeping that last spell at bay, but if I don’t act quickly it will sweep me up into it too. Still…Gabe had been right so far, about everything. How could I really trust my uncle? Hadn’t…hadn’t he done this? To all of us? I have to know. I can’t do anything unless I know for sure.

“Uncle Max…in this trance, you have to tell me the truth, do you understand? The entire truth, you cannot lie.”

He nods, slowly, and I brace myself.

“Uncle Max, do you love me? Really? Like I love you?”

He shakes his head no, slowly, and it…it crushes me.

“What were you going to do to me? Were you going to make me happy?”

He shakes his head no again, and this time mutters a few words, how he was going to turn me into his little leather slave whore, once I’d given him the life he wanted.

“Sleep–you’re going to stay asleep until I wake you up, no matter what,” I said, choking back tears–but at least I know now. I know I have to fix this, and put it all right…somehow.