I Dream of Bacchus (Part 4)

Still, after a month, things seemed to have…stabilized. He’d grown to around 275 pounds, and was hovering there. His body had filled in with hair, and he seemed to have a perpetual layer of stubble no matter how often he shaved, his hair always long and greasy. He drank three bottles of cheap wine a night, binged at a near constant rate, and endured constant ridicule, but he was feeling…somewhat more sane. And then, one night, he found himself back in the wood, but the intensity was vivid again, like that first time. He desperately tried to keep his feet from walking deeper, but like he was in a trance, he ventured towards the clearing, towards the revelry–and found someone else there, amongst the animals. It was Aarin, with a cruel smile across his face, beckoning Raury closer.

“There you are–taking your sweet time. You were almost late,” Aarin said, as Raury tried to figure out what, exactly, his ex-lover was doing here in his fucked up dreams. “Fellows, why don’t you make your Bacchus comfortable, while we wait for our other guest.”

The beasts gave a great shout and cheer, rushed over and hauled Raury towards the makeshift throne they had for him in the midst of the clearing, but he twisted and fought harder than usual, shouting at Aarin, “You–You’re the one who’s doing this to me? This is all because of you?”

“No, Raury, this is all because of you, because you couldn’t be honest. You refused to bring balance on your own, and so I’m forced to take matters into my own hands, and balance the scales myself. And of course, helping out my…acquaintances here is always a pleasure. They’ve been asking me to provide them with a new bacchus for quite some time, but I hadn’t yet found anyone willing. So, I figured, why not take someone unwilling instead?”

Raury was trying to protest and fight the beasts off around him, but as much as he loathed admitting it–he was weak. Not only physically, after his rash of changes over the past few weeks, but…spiritually as well. He’d grown to like the attentions of these beasts–his dreams felt so much better than anything in his real life, and as soon as the bladder of wine reached his lips, he drank–and thankfully, some of the care and worry slipped from his mind, and he rolled over, presenting his ass for whichever beast might desire it.

But none did–or if they wanted him, they didn’t do so immediately, like usual. He looked around, and saw that several of the beasts were hungry to fuck, but they were looking at Aarin. “What, now you won’t even let them have their way with me?”

“Calm down, Raury–we’re still waiting on our other visitor. I think I hear him now, in fact.”

Raury couldn’t hear anything, but several of the satyrs’ and centaurs’ ears had pricked up. After another minute or two, true to Aarin’s claim, someone did come stumbling out of the woods and into the clearing–it was Jared. His boyfriend was standing there, naked, with a rather confused look on his face, as he stared around at the beasts and the stranger looking at him–and Raury, of all people. He couldn’t keep the disgust from his face, the sight of the chubby, hairy, dirty man, and Raury felt so ashamed of himself–but he also felt a bit satisfied. He wasn’t going to be alone in this anymore. He could live with this, if Jared had to suffer the same fate as him–but it wasn’t the beasts who went after him, as they had Raury–no, it was Aarin who approached him, pulling him to the side, a sneer on their faces as they started kissing and fondling one another, right in front of Raury.

“No–No, you don’t get to fucking take him, he’s fucking mine!” Raury shouted.

“Yours?” Aarin said, pulling away from Jared’s hungry mouth, moving his head lower, Jared kissing at his abs, dropping lower towards Aarin’s cock. “How many men have you been sleeping with behind his back, Raury? Are they all yours too? This is balance, Raury. It’s time for the ugliness inside of you to be on the outside. It’s time for you to suffer what you have made others suffer–isn’t that right, Jared?”

Jared nodded, his mouth around Aarin’s cock–but it wasn’t clear that he even understood what was going on, or if he realized how real this dream actually was.

“Alright you beasts–I gave you your Bacchus. Now it’s time for you to give me my spell, as I requested.”

The beasts grumbled and muttered a bit–obviously a bit annoyed at having to take orders from this man. A few, under their breath, even muttered apologies to Raury, that they wanted to be serving him, and not this man, but that he would still be happy–still be their beautiful Bacchus after this. The pipes and drums began, a pulsing beat faster than the relaxing tunes they preferred, and around him, the beasts began to dance in a tight circle, chanting and singing a calamitous tune which seemed to shake Raury to his bones–but what Raury was focused on–what he couldn’t turn away from, in fact–was Aarin and Jared.

They had moved closer to him–Aarin pulling Jared up off his cock so they could dance to the strange music of the beasts in the clearing, spinning faster and faster until they fell to the ground, and Aarin mounted Jared, ramming his cock into him, and Jared screamed in delight, pushing back, eager to be filled. It was…humiliating, because the only person who had made Jared scream like that before, was him. But that said, it was also hot. He was getting aroused watching the display, watching Aarin fuck his boyfriend in his stead, and unable to stop himself, he reached down and started jacking his own cock, in quick rhythm with the music and Aarin’s own thrusting. But his cock–it was smaller, and still shrinking. Soon, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches long, his balls shriveling up as well, but he didn’t care. He wanted…to see them fuck, wished it could be him, but it couldn’t–not anymore–now he was worthless.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 3)

It was later that he noticed his reflection in the mirror, and the small paunch which had appeared overnight, covering the abs he’d had the day before. He poked it and pinched it, but it was real. Maybe…maybe he really did need to go to the hospital, he thought, but he talked himself down. It was just some crazy dream, is all, he told himself, and he probably just needed…rest. He looked back at the bed and shuddered, and headed for the rest of the apartment, finding himself heading for the couch instead, where he turned on the TV, hoping he might be able to shake the dream in an hour or two–and hopefully whatever strange physical symptoms these were, they would just go away in time. He grew thirsty in a bit, and without thinking much of it, he didn’t get a glass of water, but took an open bottle of wine from the counter back to the couch with him. He’d bought it for cooking a week ago, and still hadn’t finished it–neither he, nor Jared, drank much. He didn’t bother with a glass, he just drank straight from the bottle, massaging his cock while he did so. He went up to find something else to drink once he’d finished that, but all they had was some liquor–not what he was feeling like, but it would do. He brought a pile of snacks along as well, and stuffed his face as he watched TV and drank himself into a stupor. More than once, he questioned what he was doing, and why, but it felt…right, somehow. Unavoidable.

Jared came home from work around seven, and found Raury still on the couch, passed out and snoring loudly. He stood over him, looking down at him…surprised, for some reason, but he knew that he shouldn’t be, right? Raury did this all the time–he was a bit of a drunken lout, really…but hadn’t he been different before? Jared tried not to think too hard about it, and just let his disgust overwhelm him. He can’t excuse his actions. If he wants to be a lazy good for nothing drunk, than who was Jared to try and stop him, or correct him? Jared went and put his things away, and passed back through the den on the way to the kitchen, to make some dinner for himself–assuming Raury hadn’t eaten the cupboards bare again, when he heard a strange whimper come from his boyfriend’s mouth, in between two snores. Jared looked out at him on the couch, and saw him pawing at the air, meekly–some stupid dream probably. Then, with a groan, he saw Raury arch his back a bit, and the front of the underwear he was wearing turned wet–was he pissing himself? No, it wasn’t big enough for that–the fat fuck was having a wet dream of all things. Gagging at the thought, he turned back and paid Raury no mind, eating dinner on his own, doing some work in the study, and then going to bed, all while Jared slept on the couch, deep in his dreams.

For a few weeks, Raury managed to keep some of the plates spinning in the air. He tried to keep going to the gym on a regular basis. He tried to eat healthier. He tried to keep alcohol out of the house. He tried to keep his raging horniness in check. He tried to go to work and stay focused. Some days, he even managed to accomplish two or three of those things, but no matter how hard he tried, every time Jared saw him, Raury couldn’t escape that…look of utter disgust and disdain which had appeared on his face, ever since that first big dream. He did everything he could–he even tried apologizing, but Jared just rebuffed him. He was barred from the bed, Jared insisted that his constant snoring kept him awake, and so Raury was forced to sleep on the couch every night instead. Jared hadn’t touched him once, sexually or not, in that entire time. The one time Raury had attempted to start something with him…Jared had slapped him across the face. He’d apologized, and tried to claim that Raury had just surprised him, but he insisted that he didn’t want to see Raury naked, until he got himself into better shape.

Every waking moment seemed to bring a new humiliation. He was still growing fatter, and he would outgrow new clothes within a few days–that, or they were shrinking, so they always appeared ill-fitting. His hygiene seemed to have slipped–he sweat more, and his BO had become much stronger, and taken on an embarrassing…barnyard sort of scent he was desperate to cover up, but every cologne and deodorant only seemed to make the smell stronger. People at work who used to try and ingratiate themselves with him as a rising star, were suddenly avoiding him like a plague, and his boss kept calling him in to have chats about his slipping productivity, and his sudden tendency to be caught napping on the job.

Indeed, sleep seemed to be the one thing in his life that came easily to him now, and it was the one thing which filled him with the greatest terror. So far, no dream had matched the intensity of the one which had left him unconscious for almost an entire day, but every single one took place in the clearing, with those beasts abusing and feeding him. It wasn’t too long before the stress got to him, and he started slipping further and further off the wagon. One bottle of wine a night became two and three. He would binge from the time he got home in the afternoon, until he passed out in the early evening, often before Jared would even get home from work. He found himself hornier than ever, but since no one seemed interested in having sex with him anymore–especially Jared–he found himself mastubating six or seven times a day, often right into his underwear, helplessly fantasizing about the only things that did seem to desire him–those beasts in the clearing–as twisted as that made him feel.

Summer Commissions!

Hey all!

Summer has arrived, and with it, a bit of extra time on my hands, so I’m going to be open for commissions for the next few months, probably until September so. My commissions tend to be in high demand, so to keep things less/more fair (depending on how you look at things) I will not be giving away “slots” on “a first come, first serve” basis, like I have in the past. For one thing, I don’t know how many commissions I will be able to finish over the next few months, and so I don’t know how many slots to “offer,” and two, I’d rather not have anyone feel left out because they’re not quick enough on the draw.

So here’s how it will work! Most importantly, COMMISSIONS WILL BE MADE AVAILABLE TO CURRENT PATREON SUPPORTERS FIRST! Anyone who puts at least a dollar in the pot will get early access, and priority treatment. Depending on my workload and the number of requests, commission might not be granted to non-Patrons, so the best way to improve your changes of your request becoming a story is by becoming a Patron. But first, here are the kinds of commissions I will be writing:

2000 – 5000 words. The rate for stories is 2 cents a word, so a 2000 word story would cost $40, and a 5000 word story would cost $100 dollars. You are of course allowed to put a hard cap on word count, if you want to budget less than the maximum possible price.

No celebrities!

Fan fiction will *probably* be rejected, unless I’m familiar with the content. If I have to research it, I won’t write it.

Furry content is fine, but if you have a particular fursona in mind, please be ready to provide supplimental descriptions/references/character sheets to make my life easier. As is the case with fan fiction, any request requiring a substantial amount of outside research will likely be rejected.

I will be accepting requests through Patreon, over tumblr messenger, or email at wesley.bracken@gmail.com. Don’t worry too much about having all of the details hammered out–I prefer to discuss ideas with commissioners before settling on a formal idea. Once we’re both satisfied with your proposed request, I’ll add it to “The Pot”.

“The Pot” is going to be a public (available through google docs) list of all the requests I’ve vetted and am willing to write. IT IS NOT A QUEUE! I reserve to right to select requests to write from the pot in any order. ME PUTTING YOUR REQUEST IN THE POT IS NOT A GUARANTEE THAT YOUR STORY WILL BE WRITTEN. Some requests I accept into the pot will likely not be written at all if I run out of time. If I decide to select your story, then I will require a down payment through paypal of $20 dollars, with the remainder due on completion of the story. ONLY AFTER I RECEIVE YOUR DOWN PAYMENT ARE YOU GUARANTEED A STORY. I will probably only be pulling stories out of the pot two or three at a time, and taking out more as I finish previous stories. So, what will make it more likely for me to choose to write your story in the pot? Basically, my goal is to finish as many stories as possible over the next few months. If I think I can get your story written faster than others, then I’ll probably choose it earlier.

Requests made by Patrons and non-Patrons will go into two separate pots, with the Patron requests taking priority. Only after I’ve emptied the patron pot completely will I start working on projects from the non-patron pot!

So, that was a lot of info. To summarize the process:

You send me your story idea over Patreon, tumblr, or email.

We discuss your idea.

If I feel I don’t want to write your idea at all, or if it won’t fit within the parameters of this round of commissions, I will reject it. Otherwise, I will add it to the appropriate pot. (Note: If we discuss your idea over tumblr, or over email with an address that isn’t linked to Patreon, I will need you to confirm your Patreon status to me before your request will be put in the patron pot.)

Your story will probably sit in the pot for a while as I work on requests. Have patience!

In time, I *hopefully* will choose your story from the pot, and ask you for a down payment.

You send the down payment of $20 through Paypal. PAYMENT FOR COMMISSIONS IS ONLY ACCEPTED THROUGH PAYPAL!

I write your story!

You send me the remaining balance, we discuss any small edits or revisions you would like to see, and once it’s finished, I send you a completed copy of the story.

Pretty simple right? This process lets me finish the maximum number of stories in the least amount of time. Hopefully I’ll be able to empty both pots! That depends on the number of requests I receive and accept. At the very least, I hope to empty the Patreon pot for certain, but we’ll see how the next few months shape up!

I’ll open up the pots and start writing stories in early July, after that month’s patreon payments all clear. That gives you about a week or so to think about your ideas. I’m happy to discuss ideas with anyone interested in the meantime, so we can be ready to hit the ground running next week! As always, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me, and I’ll clarify anything that’s confusing!

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 2)

He tried to fight them off, he tried to run. Most of all, he tried to wake up. But this, he could sense, was no longer a dream as he was accustomed to experiencing them. This was now something else–a vision, or a visitation.

“No, please! I’m just lost is all,” Raury said, trying to push the two stinking goatmen away from him, “Just tell me how to get home, and I’ll leave you be.”

The satyrs just bleated with laughter, each one grabbed a leg and dragged him over the earth into the clearing. “Nonsense, little Bacchus! You are our honored guest. We’ve been waiting for you to find us here, and I assure you that we can’t allow you to leave until you’ve sampled some of our hospitality. Feast with us! Drink!” He was well within the clearing now, and the two satyrs released him. He scrambled upright and went to run, but found he’d been completely encircled by the freaks. This close, he realized that their bestial nature was far more pronounced than any humanity they might have–and they were all naked, without exception, cocks from all over the animal kingdom surrounding him. “Here–sample our wine, young Bacchus! It’s been compared to sweet nectar of the gods.”

The satyr shoved a strange, bloated sack into Raury’s hands. It felt like a water balloon, but the surface seemed to be more like the lining of the stomach. It was thin, and semi-transparent–inside, he could see a deep burgundy liquid sloshing about. “My name isn’t Bacchus–I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Raury, and please, I just want to go home,” he tried to hand the bladder back, but the satyr refused to take it.

“Ah, so young and silly! The Bacchus has a name! Young human–you might be a Raury, yes, but you are also a Bacchus. Now drink. Sample our pleasure! It does not do to be so rude to your hosts here! There are far worse things in these woods than us, and we can just as easily abandon you to them instead, and keep the deal in other ways.”

The gazes of the beasts surrounded him were chilly, and while he didn’t want to–knew, somehow, that he simply shouldn’t–he raised the nozzle of the bladder to his lips and drank a mouthful of wine. It was sweet–sweeter than any port he’d ever tasted, and left a film all over the inside of his mouth which seemed a bit greasy. The beasts urged him on further, demanding he drink more, and so he did, and when the satyrs dragged him over to a long stone table, laden with strange faire he’d never seen before in his life, he ate as well, drinking from the bladder as he did, and he felt the mood around him loosen up. The music began again, and many of the beasts danced wildly around the torches. Soon, Raury felt woozy, and when he tried to walk, he tumbled instead, landing on the ground. “Oh no! Be careful our Bacchus!” a pigman and minotaur rushed over and picked him up, carrying him over to a pile of rugs and carpets near the center of the feast. “Please, rest here–allow us to care for you, our Bacchus.”

The beasts brought more wine, and more food; Raury tried to resist, but the world was too blurry and off kilter for him to stop them from stuffing the food in his face. The faces if the beasts seemed to have turned cruel, their laughter menacing, the music growing quicker and agitated. Hooves and trotters were tugging and ripping at his clothes, and soon he was as naked as the beasts surrounding him, all of them poking and prodding at his body, until one of them rolled him over onto his full gut, making him belch and nearly vomit. The first cock slid into his ass with a bleating cry, and another beast came around to his face, forcing open his mouth and fucking his skull.

He quickly lost count of the beasts abusing him. The wine was dulling him further, and part of him even began to enjoy the treatment, finding himself craving the cum as much as the wine and the food the beasts plied him with in between each cock. At some point, the wine finally overcame him, and he passed out in the dream, falling into a deep blackness which seemed to have no end or beginning–and then he awoke with something between a moan and a scream in the bed he shared with Jared, alone. Sunlight was streaming through the windows–and from the wrong direction. He scrambled for his phone, and discovered it was four in the afternoon. He’d gone to bed around ten the night before–had he really just slept for almost sixteen hours straight? It was with further terror, that he realized it was Thursday–he’d missed almost an entire day of work. He had to call his boss, he had to figure out some way to explain this, but he felt sick to his stomach, and his head was spinning.

He staggered up to his feet and made his way to the bathroom, just in time to drop in front of the toilet and puke up the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He stared at it for several minutes, unable to believe what he was looking at. The water was crimson–not with blood, but with the wine he could still smell. There were bits of food, and a…substantial amount of white, foggy froth. At last, he flushed it down, and got back up to his feet, found his phone and called his work, using illness as an excuse. He’d been so sick, he’d hallucinated calling out in a delirium this morning, and Jared was taking him to the emergency room, he lied. Like usual, the biggest lie he could imagine paid off–and he didn’t have to worry about work the next day either, which relieved him.

Summer Commissions!

Hey all!

Summer has arrived, and with it, a bit of extra time on my hands, so I’m going to be open for commissions for the next few months, probably until September so. My commissions tend to be in high demand, so to keep things less/more fair (depending on how you look at things) I will not be giving away “slots” on “a first come, first serve” basis, like I have in the past. For one thing, I don’t know how many commissions I will be able to finish over the next few months, and so I don’t know how many slots to “offer,” and two, I’d rather not have anyone feel left out because they’re not quick enough on the draw.

So here’s how it will work! Most importantly, COMMISSIONS WILL BE MADE AVAILABLE TO CURRENT PATREON SUPPORTERS FIRST! Anyone who puts at least a dollar in the pot will get early access, and priority treatment. Depending on my workload and the number of requests, commission might not be granted to non-Patrons, so the best way to improve your changes of your request becoming a story is by becoming a Patron. But first, here are the kinds of commissions I will be writing:

2000 – 5000 words. The rate for stories is 2 cents a word, so a 2000 word story would cost $40, and a 5000 word story would cost $100 dollars. You are of course allowed to put a hard cap on word count, if you want to budget less than the maximum possible price.
No celebrities!
Fan fiction will *probably* be rejected, unless I’m familiar with the content. If I have to research it, I won’t write it.
Furry content is fine, but if you have a particular fursona in mind, please be ready to provide supplimental descriptions/references/character sheets to make my life easier. As is the case with fan fiction, any request requiring a substantial amount of outside research will likely be rejected.

I will be accepting requests through Patreon, over tumblr messenger, or email at wesley.bracken@gmail.com. Don’t worry too much about having all of the details hammered out–I prefer to discuss ideas with commissioners before settling on a formal idea. Once we’re both satisfied with your proposed request, I’ll add it to “The Pot”.

“The Pot” is going to be a public (available through google docs) list of all the requests I’ve vetted and am willing to write. IT IS NOT A QUEUE! I reserve to right to select requests to write from the pot in any order. ME PUTTING YOUR REQUEST IN THE POT IS NOT A GUARANTEE THAT YOUR STORY WILL BE WRITTEN. Some requests I accept into the pot will likely not be written at all if I run out of time. If I decide to select your story, then I will require a down payment through paypal of $20 dollars, with the remainder due on completion of the story. ONLY AFTER I RECEIVE YOUR DOWN PAYMENT ARE YOU GUARANTEED A STORY. I will probably only be pulling stories out of the pot two or three at a time, and taking out more as I finish previous stories. So, what will make it more likely for me to choose to write your story in the pot? Basically, my goal is to finish as many stories as possible over the next few months. If I think I can get your story written faster than others, then I’ll probably choose it earlier.

Requests made by Patrons and non-Patrons will go into two separate pots, with the Patron requests taking priority. Only after I’ve emptied the patron pot completely will I start working on projects from the non-patron pot!

So, that was a lot of info. To summarize the process:

You send me your story idea over Patreon, tumblr, or email.
We discuss your idea.
If I feel I don’t want to write your idea at all, or if it won’t fit within the parameters of this round of commissions, I will reject it. Otherwise, I will add it to the appropriate pot. (Note: If we discuss your idea over tumblr, or over email with an address that isn’t linked to Patreon, I will need you to confirm your Patreon status to me before your request will be put in the patron pot.)
Your story will probably sit in the pot for a while as I work on requests. Have patience!
In time, I *hopefully* will choose your story from the pot, and ask you for a down payment.
You send the down payment of $20 through Paypal. PAYMENT FOR COMMISSIONS IS ONLY ACCEPTED THROUGH PAYPAL!
I write your story!
You send me the remaining balance, we discuss any small edits or revisions you would like to see, and once it’s finished, I send you a completed copy of the story.

Pretty simple right? This process lets me finish the maximum number of stories in the least amount of time. Hopefully I’ll be able to empty both pots! That depends on the number of requests I receive and accept. At the very least, I hope to empty the Patreon pot for certain, but we’ll see how the next few months shape up!

I’ll open up the pots and start writing stories in early July, after that month’s patreon payments all clear. That gives you about a week or so to think about your ideas. I’m happy to discuss ideas with anyone interested in the meantime, so we can be ready to hit the ground running next week! As always, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me, and I’ll clarify anything that’s confusing!

vikingzombieboyfriend:

So, I got myself in some serious financial trouble recently. I’m finishing up my current commission commitments in the next week but unfortunately I can’t wait that long for new work. I need to line up new jobs, fast, or else I’m going to be in big trouble. I always give discounts to returning art customers. I can do that for new customers now, too, through 7/5/17. If you’re interested, contact me at awesomeviking76@gmail.com and let’s see what you have in mind! My specialties are bears, furries, and (now) Orcs but of course I could draw anything. Let’s chat!

Hey all!

An excellent artist and writer has run into some hard times. If you have need of any illustration work–he could use it! He might also be open for story commissions if you ask.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 1)

“Don’t make this a big deal, Aarin,” Raury said, as he got his clothes on, “You’re the one who said you didn’t want any strings, remember?”

“These are fucking strings, you fucker, and now I’m in the fucking middle of it. You could have at least fucking told me that I’m the fuckbuddy in this situation. Does he even know about me?”

Raury laughed, and shook his head.

“Oh that’s real fucking sweet of you. Turn me into a fucking homewrecker. Do you know, what this sort of shit does to people’s spiritual health?”

Raury just rolled his eyes and got dressed a bit quicker. Aarin was sexy–lithe, dark Mediterranean complexion, that fabulous hair rolling past his shoulder is waves, and that black beard set against his blue eyes, but as soon as he started in on his druidic, gypsy, paganistic bullshit, he did his best to exit the conversation, and the room, as quickly as possible.

“You have to tell him–I’m not going to have my balance fucked with just because you’re too chickenshit to ask someone for an open relationship. No fucking wonder I haven’t felt like myself lately, this is all fucking you!”

“Would you fucking calm down with your fucking magic mumbo-jumbo? It’s fucking fine,” he grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. “I’ll text you, alright?”

“If you don’t fucking tell him in two fucking days, I’ll know, Raury.” Aarin said, following him to the door, “If you don’t, then I’ll take matters into my own fucking hands.”

Raury whirled around, “You stay the fuck away from him–and like he’d believe you anyway, if you tried and tell him. You know what? Fuck this–I’m sick of your fucking magic shit anyway. I’ll go find someone else to fuck around with, since you can’t fucking be cool.”

With that, Raury pulled open the door and left Aarin’s apartment, leaving him fuming inside. He should have known this would happen with someone like Raury, but the energy he put out was so damn useful. Still, Aarin knew he couldn’t simply let this stand. He’d give him two days–48 hours-and if he hadn’t done anything to right this, then Aarin would be forced to balance the scales some other way instead–and Raury would have to deal with the consequences in…other ways.

A forest. Deep forest. He never remembers how he got there, or why he entered, and while he knows he should be trying to find his way out, he can sense that, instead, his path is taking him deeper still. The air is still and muffled, but on occasion, he can hear the sound of…animals in the distance. Goats bleating, donkeys braying, cows mooing.

It was now two weeks since Raury had fought with Aarin at his apartment. True to his word, Raury had ghosted him, even when he’d sent him some cryptic text a few days later–he didn’t even remember what it had said, he’d just deleted it and blocked the contact. But starting that night, he’d had a recurring dream, or nightmare…he wasn’t quite sure how to classify it. What he did know, was that each time it occurred, it was so vivid–every detail remaining with him when he awoke. He’d wanted to tell Jared, his boyfriend, about it when he woke up…but each time he’d hesitated, feeling like it would be wrong to mention it to anyone for some reason.

He was getting closer to the sounds now. Where before there was only a hint of sound in the stillness, it was becoming a rather raucous noise. Other sounds were coming through as well–the clink of metal and glass, stomping and clapping, flutes and drums and strings playing odd, discordant tunes.

Each night, the dream had grown longer. The first few nights, he’d only been lost in the forest, certain that someone–or something–was watching him, but nothing ever made itself known to him. Now, he’d begun hearing the sounds of some strange celebration deep among the trees, but the closest he’d gotten was the glint of a torch between two trunks. Tonight, however, felt different. He was deeper in the wood, but also deeper in his sleep, deeper in his mind. He was so…desperately curious, as to what was in the woods. He felt that if he could just find whatever event was occurring, that then, perhaps, the dreams would stop.

He saw the glint of light, in the distance, and realized then, how dark the forest had become. Whether it was because twilight had arrived, or because the forest overhead had become so dense as to block the sky, he didn’t know. He could barely see his hand in front of his face, and he crept closer, drawn to the light, drawn to the sound of laughter, following the odd, muddled scents of musk and manure and wine. He drew closer, so he could see who was there, and found himself confronted by the strangest sight–the creatures weren’t animals at all–or rather, they weren’t…entirely animals. He recognized the forms of some from myth–satyrs and centaurs, though their forms were uglier, more bestial than what he might have imagined. There was no clear distinction between the human and the animal in their bodies–everything seemed to have grown together into a jumble. But the faces, at least, if slightly warped, were human. That seemed, easier, somehow. It wasn’t until he’d overcome the shock that he realized how quiet things had grown, and that the beasts had turned towards him at the edge of the clearing, staring at him. They didn’t seem surprised–they seemed to have been expecting him, and from the glint in their eyes, he was no longer certain he should have found this place at all.

He tried to run back into the wood, but he got only a few yards before two satyrs rushed after him and tackled him, driving him face first into a mass of loam. “There’s our new Bacchus! Just like he promised.”

“Then we keep the deal. Come, little Bacchus! Come with us and be merry.”

For this week’s last recommendation, you have to go offline! A month or so ago, @cigarpervdad recommended this book on his tumblr, and being the curious sort, I thought I’d check it out. I have a few…issues with it–the sex scenes are great, the love story is…overwrought, and the story world has some odd inconsistencies that bother me–that but’s worth a post of it’s own.

On balance I’d say its worth a read, especially if you like detailed bondage and SM play. You can find it on Amazon here!

I had just moved into a new apartment and I was struggling to move all of my things in. Luckily for me, my new neighbor offered to give me a hand. He was an older gentleman, maybe in his early forties, but he was surprisingly strong and made the work go by much more quickly. He introduced himself to me as Greg, and I invited him in for a beer after we got all the boxes out of my truck. We were both sweating a lot, so he jovially suggested taking off our shirts to let the ceiling fan do its job. I laughed and agreed, and soon we were drinking shirtless. He had a pretty good body for an older guy, a decent amount of muscle with plenty of dark colored chest hair. We chatted for awhile, and he told me to come by if I ever wanted some company. I thank him for all his assistance and then set about the task of readying my apartment to at least be able to sleep in that night.
I usually saw Greg a couple of times a week in the next two months. He was always hanging around whenever I needed help, whether it was bringing in groceries or moving in a new sofa. I really appreciate it having a friend that I could count on. He loved relaxing with me, usually shirtless, and drinking beer on my porch. I’m not sure why, but for some reason I was doing terribly with the ladies ever since moving in. It seemed that no matter what I tried, I could never get spared more than a passing glance. I was used to getting laid almost every weekend in college, so this was a big change for me. I remember complaining to Greg about it one night, and he nodded understandingly. He apparently didn’t get a lot of action either, since women didn’t want an older guy who wasn’t well off financially, so we toasted to our poor results and mutual bad luck.
The next time Greg came over, he seemed like he was excited. We had just finished moving a dresser up the stairs and into my room, and now we were relaxing shirtless with a few beers. After our third one, Greg said he had an idea, something to solve our issues with our lack of sex. I was keen on what insight he could provide, so I finished my beer and sat attentively. He then told me it wasn’t too uncommon for two blue-balled dudes to help each other out, that a blowjob between buds wasn’t weird, and we would both feel better after getting off with something other than out hands. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t consider myself gay, but I was honestly considering swapping head with my older neighbor, as I was tired of beating off every night alone.
I felt anxious about being unwilling to go down on him after he got me off, so I hesitantly said we should finish another beer first. He got us a fifth, and pulled off his pants while recommending I do the same. We then sat together, in just our underwear, quickly drinking beer to get ready for the next step. I belched, then cautiously moved next to him on the couch. He casually slid off his pants, revealing a semi hard cock with a big foreskin covering the leaking head. Greg grabbed his dick and gave it a few strokes, and I watched in awe as it hardened to a thick eight inch pole, dripping precum down the shaft. I nervously grabbed it and began to stroke him, not wanting to dive into it with my mouth. He closed his eyes and told me how that felt good, that I should go slow so I wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable.
I continued to stroke Greg’s dick while my own was clubbing up in my boxers. It felt surprisingly erotic to be giving another man a handjob, and I felt pretty sexy knowing my hand was causing my neighbor to emit small sighs of contentment. I knew I considered myself straight, but if he was willing to do this to me too, then maybe it was worth a try. I bet over the couch to try to suck him, but he opened his eyes. He told me to get down on the floor and suck him there, that that would be the most comfortable for both of us. I agreed, then slid off the couch as he spread his legs, his hard cock still dripping a copious amount of precum down onto his large hairy sack.
I used my arms to grab his legs, then I slowly lowered my mouth onto his big leaking cockhead. I was expecting it to taste salty and gross, but instead his precum tasted good. Yes, it was slightly salty, but it was the taste of masculinity. Also surprising was how good it felt to slide my tongue around his foreskin. I began slowly licking up what he had leaked so far, finding myself enjoying it more and more. I realized that if I could suck him more pleasurable than I had jerked him that I would be rewarded with much more precum. I zealously began trying to shove his dick down my throat, but gagged when his large cockhead hit the back of my throat. He put his hand on my head, rubbing my hair, and told me that deepthroating would come with time. He said I was doing a good job with what I had, and that I would have plenty of time to practice.
I slowly bobbed my head up and down his dick, using my tongue to swirl around his head, licking his frenulum, and shoving about five inches of his girthy shaft into my mouth. I used my right hand to gently fondle his sack, rubbing his big nuts to entice him to produce more precum for me to lick up. I continued this for several minutes, blissfully pleasuring Greg and slurping up all the precum he would produce. He then used his hands to hold my head in place, saying he needed to get off and that I just needed to relax. He than began facefucking me, driving his cock into my mouth at a fast pace, moaning louder and louder.
He starting saying I was such a good cocksucker for a first timer, that he would get me trained up into a perfect mouth for his dick, that I would get addicted to sucking his daddy cock. With a roar he began shooting his seed into my mouth, spurt after spurt of hot jizz that had me swallowing frantically so that I wouldn’t spill a drop. After the second swallow I moaned around his dick as I felt myself shooting my load from sucking him to completion. Greg proceeded to empty his balls into me, shooting what must have been a quarter cup of cum down my hungry throat. With a moan he slid his dick out of my mouth, but moved my face so I was resting on his balls. He saw I shot too, and laughed. He told me this was a perfect arrangement, that any time either of us was horny I could suck him off and I could shoot hands free. Plus I would get all the cum and pre I could handle. I wasn’t sure about it, but then he squeezed another drop of semen out of his mostly flaccid cock, smeared it onto his finger, then stuck it into my mouth. I moaned and chubbed up again, revealing how much I enjoyed this. It only took one time, but I was hopelessly addicted to Greg’s daddy cock.

I’m on vacation this week! This is a featured author you should go support! I’ll be back with original content next week.

Source: amateurgaylovin

I was traveling to Germany for two weeks as part of my jobs cross training program. I worked in sales, and they like to send their new employees, especially ones straight out of college, abroad to get some traveling and work experience. I really love my job, and it paid very well, so I was pretty excited to be able to travel on the company’s dime. I packed up plenty of clothing for the trip, and the flight was a breeze. When I got to my hotel there, I was very excited to find out that I was in a single room. Most other guys on this trip had to share, but I guess I was the odd man out.
I stripped out of my clothing after the trip, admiring my smooth lean body in the mirror. My long blonde hair came down to my neck in a fashionable and messy style, and my clean-shaven face and sparkling blue eyes ensured that I had the interest of ladies very frequently. I admired my fit, trim body too. I would try to go running every morning and lift some evenings in order to stay cut, and I looked great for 22. I slid into my casual clothing and planned to hit the bars since I did not have to do anything until noon the following day and the time zone change would keep me up anyhow.
I woke up with a rather wicked hangover when my alarm blared at 10 a.m. I started to roll out of bed, and I noticed that I felt off for some reason. I tried to sit up, and I noticed I had substantially more of a midsection than I did before. Coughing a little bit, I stumbled into the bathroom and flicked on the light. I was dumbstruck with what stood before me in the mirror. Gone was my youthful body, my preppy haircuts, and my young and innocent looks. Instead of man in his late thirties stared back at me. I had a bit of a guts and my body was completely covered in brown hair. My beard had grown in, and I could even see white hair among my face. I felt horrified, but also I felt like I was lacking something. There was a deep craving inside of me that I had not known before and I felt sweaty and anxious. I did my best to clean myself up in the shower, and I shaved my body for 30 minutes to get all the disgusting hair off. I towelled off and stepped out and looked in the mirror, and was panicked when I saw it all simply grew back in when I stop shaving.
I went to go change into my slacks and sports jacket, but was pleasantly surprised to discover the closet filled with an array of fine suits. My anxiety eased a little bit as I began putting my clothes on. I slid the silk socks at my feet, and then I noticed I seems to only have bright colored jock straps for underwear. Puzzled by this, I grabbed a red and black one and slid it on. It caressed my much larger pouch comfortably, and would do for now until I got some boxer briefs. I slid on a white V-neck shirts and began getting into my button down. A nice blue one would do for today. I then started putting on the pants, a dark grey with a nice cuff at the ankle. The tire came on next comma and I expertly tied a double windsor with a Paisley silk tie. The belt and shoes came on next, polished black soft leather that I laced up carefully and swiftly. The jacket was last, and I eased into it.
I looked at my reflection again in the mirror. I was still missing something from my morning routine. Yeah, I looked good and ready to go in to the shareholders meeting, but there was something else I was missing. I walked back out into my hotel room, and I noticed a carved wooden box on my bedside table that was not there before. The word humidor came to mind, but I was not sure what that was. I opened the box and inside were several earthy smelling cigars, two boxes of matches, and an engraved cigar cutter. Of course! I hadn’t had my morning cigar yet. I pulled one outs and unwrapped it, expertly cutting it before walking out onto the balcony with it and my matches. I lit up and begin puffing standing and looking out at the city before me, feeling the last bit of anxiety disappear when I began smoking. I would need to grab a cup of coffee and a pastry, but then I could comfortably walk into my presentation.
I had heard the company had sent some young guys from the Stares to sit in on the meeting at observe, so I would get plenty of eye candy while I presented. I could feel my memories changing and rearranging the more I smoked, reinforcing my new life as a business executive. I could also feel my cock starts to tent a little bit, and I understood now why I wear jockstraps with my suit. I couldn’t have my fat cock leaving a trail of pre-cum inside of it and the large pouch jockstrap would be one of the only ways to keep me secure. I was also going to need to find a piece of ass tonight, as I could not seem to remember fucking last night. Yeah, it wasn’t too hard to find a cute hairy guy around here to come over and ride my cock. Just one of the perks of being a vice president I suppose. I finished my cigar, idly rubbing my bulge as I stared out over the city from my penthouse suite. I just had to get through the day, then I could smoke another cigar, hit up some cute guys, and live the high life.

I’m on vacation this week! This is a featured author you should go support! I’ll be back with original content next week.

Source: therageoftheoctopus