Category: Uncategorized

VIP Package (Part 8)

I wanted to mention, at this point, that I’m rather heavily indebted to @vikingzombieboyfriend for this story. He has a…particular skill for writing about corrupt, abusive relationships, and it was this theme in several of his tales which helped inspire the twists of this one, as you may have been able to tell. 

I also wanted to give a warning: the final three parts of this story, today’s entry and the final two coming next week, are very, very dark. It’s one of the more horrific tales I’ve ever written actually–it easily ranks in the top five. Themes include SCAT, RUINATION, HEAVY BDSM, DIAPERS/INCONTINENCE, FURRY, AND SNUFF. Read at your own risk, as always.

Of course, neither Jeremy nor Samuel was ever truly gone; they were both idle passengers in their bodies, witnessing everything, feeling everything, doing everything, unable to resist, unable to deny their compulsions and desires and humiliating drives. Over the next week and a half of their vacation, each time either one of them, trapped in their skulls, believed that things couldn’t get any worse, that surely Bishop couldn’t conjure some further humiliation or depravity for them to suffer through, one of them would find their new selves descending to some until then unknown depth.

Over the next few days, Bishop focused his attentions on Gerald, making sure his cuckold slave properly understood his purpose and place in their dysfunctional triad. He made sure Gerald’s hatred towards Sammy was only matched by the young man’s revulsion. Jeremy, inside himself, tried to resist, but he found himself hating the young man too, hating him, because…he’d always hated him, throughout these years of their marriage. Hated his passivity, hated his banal indifference, hated how little he seemed to care about what happened between them. Now all of those feelings were so intense, and channeled every time he looked at him–it was impossible for them to not overwhelm what remained of his love. He wanted it to end–all of it. He wanted to beg his Master to throw him out, dispose of him, anything so he wouldn’t have to bear this any longer, but he couldn’t. He needed Master Bishop. Without him, he was just filth–and growing filthier. By the third day, his Master decided that his slave wasn’t…disgusting enough, and so he began serving as their toilet as well, drinking their piss and eating their shit with the same fervor he dedicated to his hours long meals each day, never even bothering to wash his face, horrified at his shit crusted image, and yet…so satisfied with himself at the same time.

It was then that Bishop turned his attentions to Sammy, and began twisting him further still. Samuel had learned to cope, had learned to deny what was happening to his body, to try and dissociate himself. If he could just convince himself that this was a dream, that one day, he’d wake up and everything would be normal, if he could just not care–with perfect indifference–perhaps he wouldn’t have to feel everything so…intensely. It was with some surprise that Bishop harnessed that, and began to turn it against him. Soon, Sammy was becoming indifferent to everyone–the only thing that mattered in the world was his own satisfaction and pleasure. Everyone else–aside from his daddy–existed to make him happy, to obey him, to please him, and if it didn’t please him, then it should be hidden. Gerald’s presence offended him more and more with each passing moment, and he found himself compelled to spout the cruelest comments he could imagine, pleased with how they stung the old cuck. It wasn’t long before he enjoyed hurling the abuse, and he began abusing everyone–especially the waiters and servants aboard the ship, but always saving the harshest barbs for Gerald. Not long after, he began to believe in his, and his daddy’s, utter superiority, and it only fueled his love for Master Bishop further.

His petulance had other effects–particularly a certain laziness when it came to various duties. He demanded that Gerald feed him before the cuck could eat himself. Watching the old man salivate over the food he shoved into the young boy’s mouth could bring him enough enjoyment to overcome the disgust he felt at the old man’s shit caked hands and beard. He found himself losing interest in controlling his bowels and bladder, and it made perfect sense, when his daddy told him he would have to be diapered from then on–after all, his precious boy couldn’t be expected to control himself. He was changed twice a day by Gerald, and the cuck would retreat to his room with the soiled linens, where he would devour the contents in private–unless his Master wanted to watch. Jeremy lost control of his emotions, he would throw violent tantrums, throw things, beat Gerald with the whips and canes from Daddy’s closet, and these beatings developed into full blown BDSM sessions–Gerald tied down while Sammy, diapered, clad head to toe in leather or rubber gear selected by his daddy, would beat and lash him, hurling abuse at him, while Bishop sat off to the side, watching, filming, masturbating his massive cock, always fucking his boy’s sloppy, shitty hole afterward, and forcing Gerald to devour the filthy slurry as his reward–sometimes making him crawl behind while he was undiapered, lapping it up from the floor, wherever Sammy’s permanently gaping hole dribbled it.

But for them both, the only thing which they were sure of, was how much they loved Master Bishop, the man at the center of their lives, at the center of their entire universe. One word of praise from him directed at one of them would cause the lauded to melt, while the other would descend into fits of jealous rage. Only one of them could possibly matter. Only one of them could be the most important. Gerald believed it was him, as the vessel for all of his master’s filth and vices, allowing his god to be utterly clean and perfect. Sammy believed it to be him, for he was the hole, the son, the being who his daddy had created–the vision of the world Bishop longed to see. As the cruise drew back towards harbor in Florida, each was certain that their Master would keep one of them and cast the other aside–that they would be the chosen one.

But true to their contracts, he could choose neither, and Samuel and Jeremy awoke back in their own cabin that final morning, in their old bodies, packed to return to their old lives, with their account credited for the cost of the cruise, as well as extremely generous stipends for them both, equal to several years of work at their already high paying jobs. But when they looked at one another for the first time that morning, they each could tell, in their bones, that nothing could ever go back to the way it had been, before they’d met Master Bishop.

VIP Package (Part 7)

It was a sensation he’d never experienced, and that he could barely figure out how to describe. Earlier, he’d witnessed his body, but he hadn’t felt surprised by it, and that old body that he’d had was very difficult to even remember. When he heard the name “Gerald”, it was like even more of himself slipped under, only to be replaced by an entirely alien, and yet utterly familiar persona. “That’s…that’s not my name, sir, please don’t call me that,” he said, his voice different–weak and quiet, just a mumble. He looked up at his master, and his knees quivered a bit at the sight of him. His master–he was so fucking sexy. All that muscle, and that fucking cock…he wanted to feel that inside him so badly, but he knew his master would never want to fuck him–no, the only person he wanted to fuck was Sammy, on the bed–and the flash of hatred he felt stunned him.

He hated him. His youth, his neediness, his bratty tone.

No, he didn’t hate him, that was Samuel in there, that was his husband, but Gerald hated him. Gerald hated him so much, because he was jealous. Because he was just an old, fat slob, with a nub for a cock, and he did everything he could for his master, and he never got fucked, no, the best he got was a load of cum sucked from that awful cub’s hole!

“That’s not your name?” Mr. Bishop asked, “But that’s what I’ve called you for years. If Gerald isn’t your name, then what is?”

More of him slipped away, his memories dimming. He could…remember someone named Samuel, that he was married, that he lived in a city, and he had worked in finance, but it didn’t feel like his life anymore. It felt like a story from a book, or a description of one of the men his master had made him serve over the years. Years–those he could remember. Serving Master Bishop, doing everything he required, no matter what, serving whoever he demanded, happily so, because…because his master was a god. Because he was Gerald’s god, and he wasn’t worthy of him, no man was worthy of him, but just being privileged with his presence lit an erotic flame in his chest that couldn’t be dampened. But Master had never fucked him. Never. No matter how much he’d begged, he’d never given him that gift, not once. But he didn’t begrudge him that. It was hardly surprising that Master Bishop wouldn’t want to fuck him. He was, after all, an ugly, fat, old faggot. No one wanted to fuck him. But the envy, the jealousy. It was even hotter now, and he couldn’t even look at Sammy there, couldn’t even think of him. That such a rude boy could receive his Master’s gift, while a loyal, obedient slave was forced to do without. It wasn’t fair–but life wasn’t fair, was it? “I–I’m sorry sir, I don’t know what I was saying, I just…everything is so confusing all of a sudden.”

“That’s alright Gerald, you’re just a stupid faggot, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir, I’m a stupid faggot pig. I’m no good at thinking, I just do as my god tells me to do, please forgive me, sir,” he said, lowered himself onto his knees, and prostrated himself on the ground, feeling his massive, obese body spread out on the carpet around him.

“He looks like a fucking blob, he’s so disgusting…” Sammy said, quietly, but loud enough that he knew the old man could hear him clearly. His face burnt a bit red…but the boy was right. He was disgusting…and…and he liked it. He always had. He knew he could improve himself. That with effort, he might even, one day, earn the privilege of taking his master’s cock, but he knew he never would. He was incapable of improving himself. He was weak, so weak. The sight or smell of food sent him into a ravenous hunger, and he would gorge himself without care. He’d gone without washing or caring for himself so long, his own filth no longer even bothered him. The fact that this disturbed and disgusted the men around him only thrilled him further because…because…

“Now, now, Sammy. Gerald has his place here too, just like you do.”

Jeremy slipped away entirely, and Gerald could finish that thought. His own vile nature thrilled him, because it only made his god of a master appear even greater by comparison. His corpulence, his sloth–it only made Master Bishop more powerful and graceful. Almost as though Gerald were storing his Master’s own vile tendencies inside him, protecting him from their influence. He would chainsmoke cigars, so Master would have no need to smoke. He would guzzle beer and wine, so Master might be temperate. And he…he would abstain from sex, so that his Master might pleasure himself with anyone, at anytime. His pleasure would be gained through his master, through service to his master, and maybe, one day, his devotion would be rewarded. He looked up, the massive cock swinging hypnotically between Master’s legs, and he longed to be called to service it, his entire body quaking with desperation…but Bishop just turned away, and walked back to the boy. “Alright Sammy, where were we?”

Bishop slammed his fifteen inch cock back in, and Sammy nearly screamed, while on the other side of the room, Gerald died a bit inside. He stumbled up, and walked to the humidor–he needed a cigar, a rough one–Sammy always hated how much they stank up the room–and then…and then something to eat, hopefully. Gerald could use a good gorge–he always felt better stuffed to the gullet.

gravick:

Richard sat at the poor lit bar, silently
fuming what happened earlier in the night, replaying how it lead up to
it in his head. A friend from work had approached him to set him up on a
Valentines date. Richard would have declined, but after seeing a
picture of the guy he had been quick to agree. Having dressed up in a
rather expensive suit, Richard waited at the restaurant for nearly two
hours when his date was a no show, He had gotten a text from his friend
that had him cursing loudly and storming out the restaurant. The texting
having said ‘Sorry man, Todd said he recognized you from a hook up you
two had a few years ago and said he wasn’t interested in dating a
douche.’  Which Richard couldn’t believe how stupid the guy was. Sure a
few years ago he slept around more than he does now, but he was a catch!
Late twenties, good looks to go with his hot body, not to mention being
a successful business man and having a good amount of money in his bank
account. This Todd guy should have been lucky Richard hooked up with
him all those years ago, more so when he had agreed to the blind date.
Richard found himself pulling into a bar, the place looking like a dump,
with a bunch of motorcycles and big rig truckers parked around.

Normally
he’d avoid a seedy place like this like the plague, but he needed to
get drunk and according to his GPS the closest bar other than this pig
sty was almost an hour away. Which brings him to where he’s at
currently, sitting on a bar stool, far from the other bar patrons as he
can be, waiting from the burly man working the counter to stop running
his mouth and take his order. “About time,” Richard snaps, when the
bartender finally approaches him. The bartender ignores his snappy
attitude as he asks what he wants to order. Rattling off his drink
order, the bartender politely tells him they don’t carry drinks like
that, mainly just beer, whiskey, and other hard drinks since that’s what
most their patrons drink. When he sees the man opening his mouth to no
doubt rant, he quickly adds. “But I can give ya something I think you
might like from a special home brew of mine, on the house of course.” he
says, disappearing into the back, plucking a green bottle from the
fridge he keeps locked up, handing it to Richard once he’s back out
front.

“So bud, want to tell me what’s got you all pissy?”
the bartender asks, as soon as Richard takes a swig from the bottle.
Richard wrinkles his face, the alcohol having a strong kick to it, but
finds it’s not bad, definitely drinkable at least. Richard takes another
sip of beer before he launches into his crappy night. “Like can you
believe that shit? Dude thinks I’m a douche cause I left after we hooked
up a few years ago.” He snorts out a laugh, already fairly drunk from
just a couple sips from the beer. “Big deal right He should have been
thankful I even gave him a second glance back then, hell even now! I
mean look at me dude, I’m a total catch, any guy should be lucky if I
spare them a second glance right?” Richard rambles on. The bartender
just gives him a tight smile in acknowledgment, no doubt his special
brew is already starting to work on the guy, his clean shaven face
already darkening with days growth of stubble, his chiseled jaw starting
to become pudgier, his suit even looking as if it’s starting to expand
outwards as Richard gains a small gut.  

Richard downs the
last of his drink, his mind feeling foggy, “I should, I should.” Richard
slurs his words, clearly very drunk as he can’t finish saying. ‘I
should call a taxi.’ Instead the bartender comes around the bar, his big
hand coming to rest on Richard’s shoulder.“Should come on to the back
with me, right?” the Bartender then leads Richard into the back. The
other bar goers giving the two knowing looks, smirking and telling the
bartender, Dennis, to have fun. With each step Richard changes more, his
stubble beard he had grown, grows fuller, grey hairs starting to spread
out of the unkempt beard. Richard’s suit looks close to bursting open,
Richard’s muscular body he spent years working and maintaining fading as
it softens with body fat, his pecs sagging  and rest on top of his
large hairy gut, his gut growing so large causing the buttons to pop
open, allowing the enlarger belly to sag outwards over his waistline,
Richard grunts, shifting uncomfortable as he walks his pants feeling
painfully tight as his tight bubble but balloons into a large flabby
ass.

“Why not we get ya out these rags?” Richard hears
Dennis say, allowing the other man to strip him out of his ruined suit,
he looks down at his fatter hairier body, frowning in confusion. ‘This
isn’t how I’m suppose to look?’ he thinks before he feels Dennis’ large
hands start rubbing Richard’s new gut. “Coming out nicely bud.” Dennis
says, Richard moans forgetting about what he was thinking about prior,
focusing on how good it feels to be touched like this. Dennis’ hand
moves down, touching and grouping Richard’s smaller fat cock. Feeling
his cock touch is like a switch his flipped in Richard’s mind, instantly
going light headed, moaning as new thoughts flood his mind, memories of
being a obese trucker named Rick taking over his mind. “Fuck, Fuck man,
keep it up need ta, need ta cum bad!” Rick says, his voice deepening
and gaining a southern drawl to it.

“Turn around.” Dennis
grunts, Rick happily turning around and exposing his fat ass to Dennis,
when he feels Dennis cock penetrate his hole more memories flood Rick’s
mind. Memories of hanging out in rest area stalls, bar bathrooms, and
just about anywhere he can, waiting for men to come in and stick their
dicks in the holes in the stall, sometimes Rick even making holes if
there are none. Sucking those faceless men off greedily, pushing his fat
ass against the hole even and allowing them to fuck his ass raw,
willing to bend over or suck off any man that orders him too, as long as
he gets a mouth and ass full of cum out of it. “Yer a good pig aren’t
ya bud?” Dennis grunts, thrusting harder and deeper into Rick’s ass.
Rick grunts and nods. His body starting to becoming sweaty, giving off a
strong body odor as if Rick doesn’t shower, which he doesn’t, he
thinks, Ricks slick back hair becomes greasy and grimy, growing in a
long unkept mess.

Rick grunts and moans, his fat hand
starting to jerk his stubby cock, not long after does Dennis thrust into
Rick once more, blowing his load deep in the fat truckers ass. Rick
orgasming not long after, his load, and with it his old life’s memories,
sealing his fate, against the wall he’s leaned up against. Shortly
after Rick’s naked body is starts to be covered, filthy worn out jeans
covering his lower half, the back half dampens as a noticeable wet spot
forms from Dennis’ cum, His top half covered up by a stained white tank
top and plaid over shirt, a worn out trucker hat appearing on top of his
head. “Damn Dennis, really did a number on mah ass this time.” Rick
laughs, “Don’t think you’d complain.” Dennis says, the two heading out
of the back room.  "Well I gotta get back on the road, wanna stop at the
rest stop close before I have to drop my haul off.“ Rick says, “Fuck
Rick, just got fucked and already wanting more?” a random guy calls out.
Rick laughs, lumbering off and hefting his large body into the bed of
his filthy big rig, driving off down the road to start his new life.

VIP Package (Part 6)

Jeremy woke up the following morning–or at least, what he assumed to be the following morning–in an unfamiliar room. After dinner the night before, Mr. Bishop had taken him to the Salon, a sprawling complex in the tail of the cruise ship–though he could remember almost nothing of his time spent there. The staff had told him that the experience was proprietary–in order to maintain secrecy, not even VIP guests were allowed to remember the inner workings. The two of them stepped inside, and then he was here, lying in what seemed to be a very small bed, in a room quite a bit smaller than the one he’d been staying in with Samuel–and he was alone. He tried to get up and sit on the edge of the bed, but the first couple of attempts were thwarted by some massive weight that seemed to be dragging him back down. At last, he managed, and he felt…his own flesh shift around him in the most uncomfortable, disturbing fashion–and looking down…he was no longer in his body, or more accurately, he was no longer in the body he remembered being in.

But where he’d expected to feel some measure of shock, there was…just a recognition. He knew this body wasn’t correct, and yet, he also couldn’t clearly every remember looking any different. With two hands, he hefted up the massive apron of hairy fat which hung down between his thighs, pushing them apart, and let it fall, the flab smacking against his thighs. Her knew, in his mind, that he’d never felt anything like this, and yet his body…already knew what it would feel like. With the help of a night stand, and quite a bit of grunting and groaning, he managed to get up on his feet. He felt disgusting, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was appalled at his sudden size and body. He felt greasy, and when he lifted a flabby arm, he actually stank–more than just simple body odor, and more like someone who hadn’t bothered to wash in quite a while. Again, the disgust was muted–it simple seemed…right to him, that he be like this. In any case, he needed to piss. There were two doors in the room, and the first he tried did lead to a small toilet–no shower–with a mirrored wall on one side. He had to sit down to piss, when he discovered he couldn’t even find his cock buried inside his own fatpad, and as he released, feeling…piss pour out from his gunt, and run down his balls, he stared to the side at himself in resignation.

He was old. At least sixty, if not seventy. Most of the hair on his head was gone, aside from a wispy horseshoe around his temples, though he had a massive beard hanging down to his chest and a thick mustache which nearly hid his mouth. Grey hair coated him wherever he looked–in fact, he looked rather similar to Mr. Bishop–although his current standard of hygiene was quite a bit lower, and he certainly hadn’t graced Jeremy with his endowment. Once he’d finished pissing, he continued searching for his cock, and was able to feel the presence of a nub, though he had no ability to grab it. His balls were sizable, but seemed to have been absorbed into his fat. He got back up with some effort, relying on the metal bar installed on the other wall, and went back into the bedroom. There were no clothes anywhere that he could see, so he opened the other door and stepped into a massive suite–and on a king size bed below a bay window, he saw Samuel, or Sammy, getting plowed by a muscular bear, with the kind of body he’d always wanted to have, but between work and his own limits, he’d never managed to realize it.

At the sound of the door opening, the muscle bear looked over at him, and Jeremy recognized him by his face–it was Mr. Bishop. “Ah, there’s the sleepyhead. I was worried you’d sleep the day away, you fat, lazy fuck.” He pulled out of Sammy, who moaned in displeasure. His cock seemed to be even larger than before, if that was possible–perhaps it was the same size, but more had been buried away in his previous body. “I trust you slept well? How are you adjusting?”

“This–what, you turn me into a fat old fuck like you were?” Jeremy asked, “And you get the kind of body I can only dream of. What the hell is any of this for? I don’t fucking get it–why not just do this to two of the ship’s muscle fucks?”

Mr. Bishop laughed. “I’ll tell you what I told your husband, the first afternoon we spent together, before he rode my cock for the first time. My fantasies are complicated.”

“Daddy? Daddy! My boyhole’s still so fucking hungry, please fuck me some more, daddy…” Sammy moaned, one hand reaching back to the rosy crater his hole had become, probing it, aching inside for more.

“Boy, you’ll get plenty more in a bit. But come here and tell me what you think of your husband. Do you think he’s sexy?”

Sammy looked over, and his face twisted up in a grimace. “He looks…kind of dirty. And where’s his cock?”

“He has a microcock buried up in that gunt of his, that’s all,”

“What good is a cock like that?”

“It’s not good for anything boy. But suppose he had a cock that was worth something. Would you want him to fuck you?”

“A fat old man like that? No, he’s gross–I want you to fuck me some more daddy–come on!” he said, and wagged his ass to and fro.

Jeremy just scowled, “That’s not Samuel–that’s some fucked up toy you turned him into. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

Mr. Bishop smiled, but it conveyed no warmth. “True–he doesn’t. But I play a long game, and it’s quite satisfying. So Jeremy, why don’t you fuck off to the depths of your brain for a while. I’d rather play with Gerald.”

February Suggested Stories – Ready For Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

wesleybracken:

For everyone donating at least a dollar to my Patreon, you can see three little short stories written from people’s suggestions earlier this month. Hope you all enjoy! I’ll have this month’s exclusive $5 and up story up here soon as well!

Thanks again for all of your support!

February Suggested Stories – Ready For Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

VIP Package (Part 5)

Jeremy sat, and watched Samuel fuck himself on Mr. Bishop’s massive cock. He didn’t watch because he wanted to–he kept trying to force his eyes to look in any other direction, but Mr. Bishop had ordered his undivided attention, and so he sat, and took it all in, and felt…sick to his stomach. It wasn’t just that his husband was having sex with another man in front of him–part of it was how fucking ugly that man was: old, massively obese, obviously a total pervert. It was also…the fact that Samuel hadn’t once bothered to even look over his shoulder at him. Jeremy wasn’t even sure if Samuel even knew he was sitting behind him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if this was realy Samuel at all, anymore.

It was hard to say for sure, given how drunk he’d been in his room two days prior, but his husband seemed to have changed even more than before. He really was fatter–and not just by a few pounds. His entire body type had somehow shifted over the course of a few days. Where before, Samuel had been a seasoned muscle bear, the man fucking himself and crying out in pleasure didn’t look like he could be much older than twenty. It was…his skin. He could remember noticing that detail before, but his entire body was just a perfect, pale peach. Barely a freckle or a mole, and not a single hair that could be seen anywhere, aside from on the top of his head, and even then, the thin, short hairs had become a startling blonde. It couldn’t be possible, people couldn’t just change like that, but he could still see that birthmark on his shoulder–it was the one mark that remained on his skin at all. It had to be him, but then how was any of this even possible?

“Boy–I think we should change positions, for a bit, you’re giving me a cramp. Be a good boy and bend over the table–look that husband of yours in the eye, while you push back on my cock.”

“Yes daddy,” Samuel moaned, and without even dismounting, he twisted himself around the shaft, facing Jeremy now, and slid down so he was standing on the ground–the massive member remaining deep inside him the entire time. Mr. Bishop leaned back a bit, legs wide, and two waiters pushed his chair a bit closer to the table, allowing Samuel to thrust his hips back and fuck himself while leaning over the table. Jeremy could see both of them now, his husband’s eyes staring at him–they were so…cold, and uninterested in him–and Mr. Bishop, smiling at him around that cigar of his.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Jeremy?”

“Fuck you–what the fuck did you do to him?”

“Oh, the salon here is capable of the most fabulous makeovers. You can be anyone you’d like, provided you can afford it, like me.”

“This is fucked. You can’t fucking do this to people! We aren’t your fucking slaves, you sick fuck.”

Mr. Bishop just laughed. “You, Jeremy, work in finance. Hedge funds. Your husband works as a corporate lawyer. Just who, exactly, do you think you serve every day already?” Mr. Bishop waited a beat. “Me. Men like me. You make me money. You could very well have made me the money I’m paying to control you right now. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be duly compensated for your…services.” He took a long drag off his cigar, and when Jeremy said nothing, he continued. “I’m honestly surprised you care so much for him, the way you so casually fucked off with that whore the other day, and all those other days. Poor Sammy here didn’t have much choice but to numb himself, to just stop caring about you. It was easy, after your last rebuff. He has more important things to worry about now anyway, don’t you boy?”

“Yeah daddy, like your big cock!”

“Yes, just like that–pretty much only that, in fact.”

“I don’t know how you know any of that shit,” Jeremy said, “But–so what, this is just some fucking game to you? You get to just fuck with our lives for fun, because you’re rich and you can?”

Mr. Bishop leaned forward a bit, and spoke in Sammy’s ear, “He caught on quicker than you–he really is the more cynical one. Fuck a little faster boy, I’m getting close.” he leaned back, and kept smoking, while Sammy picked up the pace, sweat pouring from his smooth skin. “Yes. Because I can. And because the two of you were going to be miserable anyway. And because you’d be divorced within the year. And because if someone is going to ruin your relationship, I might as well be the one to do it, since I’ll actually enjoy watching the two of you fall apart. Or who knows, maybe a change of pace will give the two of you a better appreciation for one another. Oh fuck boy, that’s it–here it comes. Daddy’s gonna fill up that boyhole nice and full.”

“Oh fuck daddy, yes! Fill me up nice and full!”

With a smoky groan, Mr. Bishop’s balls began pumping a massive amount of cum into Sammy’s guts, and the young man’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body shivering–after all, his daddy’s orgasms was ten times more powerful for him than one of his own. Mr. Bishop looked out at the table, and shook his head. “Oh Jeremy, you didn’t eat any of your meal. You must be starving.”

“I couldn’t very well eat without being able to look at the plate,” he spat back.

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to eat something else then–something…more suited to your palate. Boy, please feed your husband all of that cum in your ass. After all, that’s now your favorite food in the world, right Jeremy? Other men’s cum felched from the dirty ass of your slutty husband? I’m sure you can remember all of the many times you’ve eaten it now.”

Jeremy felt like his mind was twisted out of shape, but a moment later, everything was clear–especially all of his new memories of sucking cum from Samuel’s ass. He knew that they weren’t real, that they hadn’t actually happened, right? Or…or had they? In either case, as Sammy moved around the table, he quickly got down on his knees behind him, pressed his tongue to his husband’s crater like hole, and started lapping up the cum dribbling helplessly from it, quaking with pleasure and hunger. The load was massive, but he ate all of it while Mr. Bishop watched, humiliated and yet…so satisfied in other ways.

“Alright–Sammy, a friend of mine wanted to use you for an evening. I told him he would have to wait a day or two, but he should be happy to take you tonight only. He’s in suite 23. You’ll obey him like you would me, but return to our suite at midnight, understand? If he turns you down, then I want you to find as many men to fuck you as possible before midnight, and then return home.”

Sammy nodded, “But what are you doing, daddy?”

“Oh, your husband and I have an appointment in the Salon this evening. Don’t worry, I’ll be there tonight when you get back.”

Sammy nodded, gave his daddy a kiss, pulled on his skimpy bathing suit and ran off, leaving Jeremy alone with Mr. Bishop. “You’re a fucking sicko,” he said.

Mr. Bishop just laughed, and led the newest part of his VIP package to the Salon, for a makeover of his own.

VIP Package (Part 4)

The next morning, Jeremy woke up, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of what had happened the night before. Most of the details had been lost in the drunken blur, but he was certain it had been Samuel waiting for him in the room, and yet…it hadn’t seemed like Samuel. He certainly hadn’t behaved like Samuel, or even looked much like him. For a bit, he tried to convince himself that it hadn’t actually been him at all, but then how could he explain the birthmark, or how he’d gotten into the room, or how he’d even known who Jeremy was? Still, he’d seemed…out of his mind, first trying to jump his bone, and then he’d just up and left. Where in the world had he even gone? After his hangover subsided, he searched the ship, high and low, but quickly discovered just how much of the ship was, in fact, off limits to him.

The boundaries were as invisible as they were strict; he would be heading down an unmarked corridor, when a member of the staff would appear–seemingly out of nowhere–and escort him back to the main concourse, with a gentle, pleasant reminder not to be too much of an explorer. He found himself growing a bit obsessed with the ship’s VIP passengers, but as hard as he sought them out, he was unable to even find one to talk to. They all seemed to be cloistered within their own section of ship, none of them bothering to mingle with the rest of them. They had a separate dining room, separate floors, separate rooms, separate casinos…he again accosted the help desk, and was rebuffed even faster than before. Samuel was safe, and when the cruise ended, he would be returned–they spoke of him with the same care they would  discuss a piece of lost luggage.

Samuel ended up back in the room that evening, hoping that Samuel would come back–but he didn’t. This was, somehow, even worse. Could things have been different if he hadn’t gotten so drunk the night before, and maybe managed to fuck his husband? Would things be different if he hadn’t fucked everything else up already? Why was he even blaming himself? This was fucking Samuel’s fault, running off with some fucking rich fuck behind his back! But in the room…he hadn’t seemed happy. He’d seemed terrified and desperate. Jeremy didn’t know how to process any of this; he’d never been good with relationships and feelings. Around midnight, he went out and got drunk again, and then continued his bender early the next morning after work, not planning on stopping until the cruise was over, or Samuel showed up with an explanation.

The staff cut him off around three in the afternoon, after he got into a one sided screaming match with another guest he’d stumbled into by the pool bar, and the staff insisted that he get something to eat. Two men escorted him to a dining room, Jeremy protesting and raving. They were entering the dining room–a massive, three story tiered room, and he looked up, and there, on the third floor overhead, next to the railing, he saw him. It was Samuel, sitting at a small table across from some old fat fuck, laughing his fucking head off, and all Jeremy felt was rage. He threw off the two hulks helping him walk, and staggered over to the nearest stairway, ignoring the “VIPs and Guests Only” sign, and got up a floor. The staff above was already waiting to intercept him, but he just started screaming out Samuel’s name, but his husband didn’t even notice…until he tried the name ‘Sammy’. At that, his husband’s head turned in curiosity, saw him, his eyes rolled, and he turned back to the old man across from him, who had been watching Jeremy’s entrance with a smirk. Cursing and punching, the staff dragged Jeremy back downstairs, where he supposedly belonged, and deposited him at a table–but if he hadn’t felt like eating before, now the thought of food did nothing for him at all.

The waiters brought him platters, he asked for booze, and was turned down. He tried to steal a bottle of wine from a table near him, and was intercepted before he could even stand up, like the fucks knew what he was thinking. He felt trapped in a massive room, convinced that he could hear his husband’s unusually high laughter drifting down from above, and he was certain it was over. His marriage was over, his life was over–and then a member of the staff approached him, and said that a VIP guest had requested that Jeremy be added to his package.

He listened, numbly, as the man gave him the same limited explanation that had been given to Samuel at the pool, and he had only one question for the man, when he’d finished the offer. “If I agree to this, I can go upstairs?”

“Guests who have been added to VIP packages are granted access to VIP exclusive areas and events provided their VIP has given them permission to be there. This is covered in more detail in our terms of service, which again, I am required to strongly suggest you read before providing your affirmative consent.”

“I don’t want to read it, I agree.”

The staff member smiled, and presented a small screen to Jeremy–he pressed his thumb to it, but barely felt the shock race through him, as drunk as he was. It froze him in place all the same, and the man inserted his VIP control chip at the top of his spine. “Thank you for helping us provide our VIP members with exceptional fantasy experiences. Please follow me, and I will take you to your VIP, where he will assume control of you for as long as you remain a part of his VIP package.”

Jeremy had a difficult time understanding what the man was talking about, and he’d already stood up and followed him for several paces before he even realized he was walking. He wasn’t stumbling like he had been, either–as drunk as he was, his pace was perfectly even–nearly robotic, in some way. The anger in his gut began to melt into fear–is this what Samuel had gotten himself into? At the top of the stairs, the waiter let him directly to the table where his husband was sitting with the older man, or rather…on the old man. Samuel was straddling him, naked, the man’s massive cock buried in his hole with Samuel moaning in pleasure, gripping his daddy’s rolls of fat tight.

Mr. Bishop turned to Jeremy and smiled. “Hello there, Jeremy. I wasn’t planning on inviting you to join us for another day or two, but since you’ve proven to be rather…nosy, I figured, why not move on? My boy was getting a bit boring, all by himself, anyway. Do have a seat. We’ve already eaten, but I’m sure the waiters can find something for you.”

February Suggested Stories – Ready For Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

For everyone donating at least a dollar to my Patreon, you can see three little short stories written from people’s suggestions earlier this month. Hope you all enjoy! I’ll have this month’s exclusive $5 and up story up here soon as well!

Thanks again for all of your support!

February Suggested Stories – Ready For Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon