April Suggested Stories – Ready to Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Hey all! I posted this month’s short stories written from your suggestions over the weekend! Anyone who contributes $1 or more a month gets access to these stories, as well previous months’ suggested stories. Here’s one from last month, if you’d like a taste!

Shined Like a Mirror

“Detail oriented”. “High achiever”. “Perfectionist”. These were all terms people had used to describe me at one point or another. So, it wasn’t…surprising that I was being bothered by this, but at the same time, I didn’t exactly make it a habit to notice the condition of people’s shoes around me on a regular basis. Maybe it was the fact that everything else about his wardrobe seemed so…immaculate. The leather shirt that clung to every curve of his torso with barely a wrinkle. The skin-tight gloves holding that thick cigar of his, which I had watched him light with such care a few minutes earlier. The shine off his metal belt buckle–a detail I figured few people would even consider, or notice. The way his pants wrapped his thick thighs as he leaned against the bar, facing out, chatting with another cigar bear beside him–but then, I got to his boots, and the reason for my…annoyance. They rose up to his calves, his pants sliding inside them, and all over, the shine was immaculate, except…except for one blemish on the side of his left boot.

It was easy to see, from my perspective, because one of the lights in the bar was centered on the scuff–there was a perfect circle of shine, with a chunk of matte in the middle. I don’t even know why it was bothering me so much at this point, but I haven’t…really been able to look away from it this entire time. If he’s noticed me staring he hasn’t indicated any sort of interest–and honestly, I’m not interested in him sexually. Leather and kink aren’t really my cup of tea, but still, I should…tell him, shouldn’t I? I mean, if I’d put that much energy and thought into my outfit before going out, I’d want someone to tell me. It’s like…when a friend as food in their beard. Sure, it’s a bit embarrassing–I myself never grow one anyway–but they’d always rather you tell them than just…have them walk around looking like that.

I get up and walk over to him, he notices me as I do. His look is…disinterested. Whatever he’s looking for tonight, it isn’t me. That…makes things a bit easier, I think.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that…well, there’s a spot on your boot that you must have missed earlier, that isn’t shined right.”

He looks a bit surprised, and I point out the spot to him I had noticed, but he doesn’t seem concerned, or particularly thankful. Instead, he just looks at me and grins.

“Well, what are you going to do about that?”

I assume I didn’t quite hear that right. It wasn’t my problem to fix. If he wanted to play leather fantasy, then he should at least care about fixing his error, right? He turns away from me and continues his conversation with the other bear, like nothing had even happened, but my eyes are glued to that blemish. I can’t…just leave it. It’ll bother me all night. If he…isn’t going to take care of his gear, it shouldn’t be my concern, but…but in a move that I swear made perfect sense to me at the time, I got down on my hands and knees and started licking at the spot, getting it wet with spit, and then I buffed it with the sleeve of my shirt. To my surprise, it looked…lovely, like the blemish had never even been there. It was so shiny, in fact, I swore I could see my own reflection in the leather. I leaned a bit closer, trying to find myself, and when my face swam into focus, I let out a cry, fell backwards, and then stumbled upright.

In the mirror behind the bar, I was still…me. Young, clean shaven, slight of build, not particularly tall, though I did have a bit of bootblack around my lips and mouth. The man looked down at his boot, appraising my work, and grinned at me again.

“Thanks, boy, that looks much better.”

He pushed off from the bar and walked a couple of steps closer to me. I wanted to back up away from him, but my feet felt rooted to the bar floor.

“Tell me, boy, did you like who you saw in there?”

What…had I even seen in there? It had been my reflection, or a reflection, at least. But…but had that really been me?

“Do you need to take another look, boy?”

The hand he put on top of my head wasn’t…demanding, but it was suggestive. I was…incredibly curious, I admit it. I got back down on my hands and knees, my eyes an inch from the shimmering leather, and this time, when I saw myself, I didn’t flinch away. It was…more than an image. I was there–a different me, a possible me, but even though I could only see my face, I could also…know so much else about him–about me–about…who I could be. I was muscular–massively built, putting in as much time at the gym, under Master’s direction, as I did at work now. Building my chest, especially, those…massive pecs and thick nips I could see in the black shine. My nips were leaking, but the hormones he had me on did that. Master liked milking me, draining my tits and my little cock all at once, while his little muscle tit pig groaned for mercy and release. Distantly, in my real body, I felt his other boot underneath me, rubbing against the crotch of my slacks, making me groan. I could see my massive frame strapped down over a fuck bench, here in the bar, with men lining up at both ends to use me. Master had taken complete ownership of his tit slave now, not that I was fit for much else beyond service. Something…he’d given me had ruined my brain–thinking about anything more complex than sex and working out was almost impossible. My tit milk was squelching under me on the bench–I could smell it, even…taste it, as it ran along my chest and dribbled to the floor–I lurched forward, groaning, my cock exploding in the front of my pants as I rubbed my face on Master’s boot, trying…trying to force my way inside, into that world, but…but it didn’t actually exist. It was just…just a possibility, a figment.

“Seems like you saw something in there you liked, boy.”

I looked up at him. It was the first time I had done so, and yet it felt like the thousandth, like he’d already been a part of my life for so long. I…ached for him, for that…version of myself, as disgusted as I was by the entire vision. But I couldn’t deny it. He didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night, but I spent it on my knees beside him, cleaning his boots, and the boots of his friends. I went home with him that night, for my virgin plowing, my clothes ruined and covered in boot black. I wanted to ask Master if he’d known. If he’d…forced me to see what I’d seen. It didn’t matter, in the end. I wanted it all the same–to be master’s big titted muscle pig, and I was going to do everything in my power to make that vision a reality.

April Suggested Stories – Ready to Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Method Roleplay (Part 5)

He stumbled out of the bathroom, but felt a strange sense of vertigo–he was in a hall, but not…the hall he should be in. The walls were covered with paint that was chipped and peeling, the carpet covered in stains. There should be a doorway across from him, where the computer had been in Brett’s office, but there wasn’t a door–a bit further down the short hall was one, which led to…the bedroom he and daddy shared together.

No, this had been Brett’s apartment, they weren’t living together yet, right? He opened the door, and saw the messy room covered with clothes, and he could smell them both in there, their musk, their sex…fuck, it was so hot, how much it reeked. It got Evan worked up just like it did Brett, smelling the stale, stinking air. His dad’s cum was still dribbling down the crack of his ass, and he ran one hand up it, getting it good and coated, and started licking it off, grunting and moaning as he rubbed his little cock.

Why…had he come in here again? He’d been looking for a computer, right? But…they didn’t have a computer. They were too poor for that–Daddy just had his smartphone, and that was it–but hadn’t they listened to something together? There had been something, he was sure of it, but it was like the harder he tried to grasp it, the further away it got. He…he should talk to daddy about it. Daddy would remember it right? He had to! Daddy was so smart–he was just a dumbfuck little shithead boy–or at least, that’s what daddy said he was, and daddy was usually right about those sorts of things.

He turned around and walked back towards the main room of their apartment. He could hear the TV on, and smell…smoke. The smell concerned him–was something burning? He found his daddy where he expected him, on the couch, watching sports on TV, a can of beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, but this wasn’t right. This apartment wasn’t right. Brett should be changing back to his old self, but things only seemed to be getting even worse. After all, Evan hadn’t said anything about Brett being a smoker, and now he was sucking down cigar smoke? It was like reality was moving around them, and trapping them in the fantasy they’d created.

“Daddy? I…I know it’s hard, but I think we need to change back now?”

Brett looked over at Evan, a confused look on his face, and belched. “What the fuck are you talking about, boy?”

“Re-remember? We listened to that…thing together? That song, or…or somebody speaking? Maybe it was a book. You remember that right?”

“Boy, ya know yer old man’s memory is pretty shot. Ain’t too bright, ya know.”

“But do ya remember?”

“Boy…” Brett paused, “Boy, I remember a lotta shit, but ain’t none a it makin’ much sense right now. But I’m feelin’ a whole lot better, now that I got a cigar ‘n a couple a beers in my gut, and I’d feel a bit better with my boy next to me eating out my nasty pits, so git over here, sit down with yer daddy,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.

Evan didn’t want to disobey him and get another spanking, so he did as he was told. As soon as he was on the couch, Brett threw an arm around him and pulled him in tight, Evan’s face inches from his sweaty pit, and they reeked of sex. He gave a grunt without really meaning to, and felt a bit of his cares slip away.

“Yeah, that’s my sexy boy, ya make yer daddy real fuckin’ happy, ya know that?”

“No daddy, I’m…this ain’t how I’m supposed tah look–it ain’t how we’re supposed tah look. Ya do remember, I know ya do.”

“I was just bein’ thick boy.”

“No! I was lyin’ before! Ya were right! This ain’t right!”

“People can’t git younger, Evan. I ain’t ever gonna be a kid again–the world don’t work like that. How fuckin’ dumb are ya?”

“But daddy–”

“Boy, shut up–I wanna fuckin’ watch TV ‘n not care about shit until work tomorrow.”

“Ya can’t go tah work lookin’ like that! No one’ll recognize you.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Brett said, looking at Evan like he was crazy, “I been a mechanic there fer years.”

“Ya ain’t a…mechanic…” Evan muttered, but as he did, he saw his daddy’s clothes change in front of his eyes, becoming a set of grease covered coveralls, his hands coated black, and the scent of oil and metal mingled with the other odors of their apartment. “Daddy, ya gotta stop, or ya ain’t gonna be able tah git back if ya keep goin’!”

“Course not, boy–but I got ya with me, so I’m fuckin’ good.”

“No–No, I’m–this ain’t me daddy, I don’t care what ya wanna be, but this ain’t me,” Evan hauled himself off the couch, and started fishing around for clothes to put on. He had to get out of here–maybe get back to his apartment, where he could remember himself better, and change back. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ live like this. It was just supposed tah be a game! I don’ wanna live like a fuckin’ nasty pig!”

“Boy, watch yer mouth, ‘n sit yer ass back down this instant.”

“I got a job daddy, I got a future, and a life. I ain’t givin’ that up fer some fucked up fantasy.”

“Please. You? Git a fuckin’ job?” Brett said, standing up, “Boy, yer thick as a fuckin’ brick, ‘n fat, ‘n lazy. They even fired ya from the fuckin’ garage, remember?”

“Daddy, I don’t…wanna remember that…” Evan said, but he could. He could remember how his daddy had gotten him work there after he’d dropped out of high school, but he’d just sat around eating and jacking off until their boss had fired him. And now…now he just…

“All yer fuckin’ good for boy, is sittin’ ‘round here, stuffin’ yer face, jackin’ off like a good pigson, and when I git home ya serve yer daddy like a good little porker should. Ain’t that right?”

“Nuh-uh, ain’t…nah daddy…” Evan said, but his words were slow, and even thicker than they had been. He could feel his body growing, his gut sagging and covering his cock completely, the smells of the room growing more intense. “Mean…I gotta…” and with that, his mind broke. He really was too stupid to figure this out–what the fuck had he been thinking? He knew better than that. He was…he was just his daddy’s pig–he was never gonna be more than that. “S-Sorry dad, I know I’s just a dumb pig ‘n stuff.”

“It’s alright boy,” Brett said, put his hand on Evan’s head, and pushed his 400 pound, idiot son to his knees. “Daddy’s got some nice beer piss fer ya, pigboy–‘n then how’s about we order pizza ‘n git ya fed nice ‘n full?”

Evan liked the sound of that a lot, and he gulped down daddy’s piss, grunting and snorting as he did, and by the time he’d been stuffed full, over two hours later, neither of them would have ever believed that the day before they’d been anyone other than the incestuous pigs they were now.

Method Roleplay (Part 4)

By the time Brett was getting ready to cum in his son’s hole, he’d been plowing him for close to half an hour. The hole, which had started out tight, was now plenty sloppy, with Brett’s copious amounts of pre-cum providing ample lube, while the rest ran down between Evan’s fat thighs. Evan wasn’t think about much beyond the simple pleasures of his father’s cock–just snorting and grunting, one hand tugging at his nipples while the other rubbed the head of his short cock poking out of his fat pad. He’d already cum twice, but that hadn’t slowed either of them down–Brett had just reached around, scooped up as much of his boy’s cum as he could, and used it as extra lube, before ramming his dick back into him. His boy, after all, wasn’t really good with self-control–something he’d spent a while reminding Evan off while they’d been fucking. His son could barely keep his hands out of his pants, even when they were out in public. It would have been embarrassing, he supposed, but Brett wasn’t one to feel much shame. If anything, he was fucking proud that his son was as much of a pervert as he was, right? Still, something was bothering him about all of this, but he was so horny that he could ignore it entirely for a while longer, and feel his balls start to swell slightly, getting ready to dump one of his huge loads deep in his son’s guts, which Evan had been begging for. He started fucking harder, Evan snorting and grunting in time with his father’s deep thrusts, and at last he drove in hard and pumped shot after shot of cum into him, gripping his boy’s fatty sides tight, his sweaty, hairy gut pressed to Evan’s slick back.

“I love you boy, daddy loves you so fucking much…” he said softly, leaning over and licking up some of Evan’s sweat.

Evan was only half listening, as he was close to his third shot, and with a shudder, he blew another load all over the front of the counter, and then collapsed onto it, feeling like he’d taken enough of the edge off that he could finally think again. The bathroom mirror had fogged up, and with one hand he wiped it until he could see himself–this…other self. This wasn’t him–it wasn’t Brett behind him. He could…remember listening to something, and even he hadn’t thought it would really work, but it had done something to them, and now…now they had to figure out how to get back.

Brett’s cock was softening, and he slid out, a gush of cum following him as he did, Evan groaning at the sensation of being empty again. “Fuck boy…that…” he stumbled back, legs shaking a bit. “God, why the fuck do I feel so fucking strange?” he muttered to himself.

“Because this isn’t real, Brett–we’re just…I don’t know if we’re imaginin’ this shit or what, but we gotta go back tah who we were before–ya remember right? Ya were young, not that fat, and–”

“Shut up boy, that was just…I was just bein’ thick I thought. That wasn’t real,” Brett said, looking down at himself, hefting his gut, “I mean, I…kind of remember, but…but then how…”

“It ain’t real daddy, we gotta git back,” Evan said, turning around and looking at Brett, hoping he’d be shifting back towards…who he’d been before. Evan couldn’t really remember who they’d been–not well at least–but he could almost tell that the closer they got, the better he’d remember. Still, Brett wasn’t changing–instead, his daddy looked like he was freaking out. “Dad–Brett. It’s gonna be ok, we can fix this.”

“Ya don’t–use my name, son, ya know better.”

“Brett, we aren’t roleplaying anymore, we’re done.”

“Boy, I am the man a this house, ‘n ya do what I fuckin’ say!” Brett roared, shoved Evan around and bent him back over, before giving his ass ten hard smacks, making Evan count them off and thank ‘daddy’ after each one. When he finished, he…he found it hard to believe how turned on he’d gotten, doing that–how turned on he’d gotten by all of this. But hadn’t he hated the idea of this? Hadn’t…someone, at least? He needed to calm down, but the air in the bathroom stank of sex and sweat and he was so fucking tight–he had to loosen up.

Brett left Evan in the bathroom, and his boy tried to recover from the punishment. He’d been a bad boy, he knew better than to use daddy’s name–why had he done that? He felt awful, and yet he also knew that these feelings, this body, all of it was a lie–but he didn’t know how to disentangle himself from it. Still, getting his ass pounded had gotten him hard–like usual. Maybe…maybe a little longer wouldn’t hurt, right? He looked at himself in the mirror and knew he should be disgusted–that the old him would have been disgusted by this. This had never been his fantasy–he’d wanted to be a twink, not some dirty chubby pig like this–and incest had always turned him off, but he could…see daddy’s face in his, and it was making his cock leak again, but he couldn’t afford to get swept any further away from his real life. The file had warned about something like this, hadn’t it? That’s what he needed to do–get to the file, and maybe he’d figure out a way out of this mess.

Method Roleplay (Part 3)

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he dropped to his knees on the tile of the bathroom floor, and scooted up to his daddy’s cock, still unable to believe that his young roommate from moments before had actually…become this fucking daddy of his dreams. He could smell the powerful musk rolling off him, and it was making his hard cock start to leak–he shoved his face into his daddy’s crotch and took a few deep snorts of the smell, enjoying it.

“Yeah, you like that smell don’t you boy? You want daddy’s scent all over you.”

“Fuck daddy, you know I do.”

“Pretty fuckin’ lucky that a slobby daddy like me found a nasty boy like you, ready to worship my fucking filthy body.”

“Oh…fuck daddy…”

“Perverted fuck–you want daddy to soak you down in his smelly piss? I bet a filthy boy like you would fucking love that.”

In fact, watersports had never really been much of an interest for Evan, but for this man? He…he’d probably do anything he asked him to do, without any doubts. He nodded, and after a could of moments, Brett started pissing, aiming his stream all over Evan’s face and chest–and he nearly came just from that alone. Why had he thought he wouldn’t enjoy this? Of course he fucking enjoyed this! He…he bathed in his daddy’s piss every…every chance he got, didn’t he?

He opened his mouth wide, and Brett directed the stream there, watching his boy gulp it down, stroking his cock, and grinned. “Gonna fill up that gut of yours boy. You want a big gut like daddy, don’t ya?”

Evan nodded without much thought, and kept drinking.

“Yeah, you wanna be just like your daddy, don’t you boy?” Brett said, grabbing Evan by the back of head and pulling him closer to his cock, pushing the head into his mouth as the piss slowed, “Fat, stupid, hairy, lazy, horny all day and night. Just like your daddy.”

Part of Evan was trying to push back–after all, for him, part of the pleasure of older men was the difference between them. Him–old, fat, grungy, and perverse–and him–young, slender, clean, and corruptible. But…had there been more? He had always liked the idea of an older man corrupting him, ruining him, hadn’t he? It seemed like he had, but everything was a bit fuzzy.

“Course, ya ain’t gonna be like your old man in every way, right son? Not with that little boy prick, and that hungry ass of yours. Still, I’ll keep ya plenty satisfied.”

Evan could swear something strange was happening to his cock, while he started sucking on daddy’s cock. It wasn’t growing soft, but it was getting smaller. And his hand kept brushing up against something else–his belly–but he’d been toned, hadn’t he? No–he shouldn’t be worrying about these things, he needed to focus on his daddy, and making him happy, getting him good and horny so he can fuck his boyhole, and make him scream–fuck, that’s what he needed. He’d feel better after a nice ride on daddy’s cock.

“Fuck boy–talkin’ bout it makes me fuckin’ want it. Git up and bend over the counter.”

Evan didn’t need to be told twice–he knew what happened if he ever disobeyed his daddy after all–and it wasn’t like this was an order he’d ever disobey anyway. He hauled himself up–which seemed a bit more difficult that it should have been, and daddy had to give him a hand, but he made it, turned to the counter and leaned over, facing the mirror, and he froze. That–that wasn’t him. That wasn’t his face, with the scraggly beard, overgrown hair and zitty skin. That most certainly wasn’t his body either, behind him, with that big gut hanging off him, his ass much, much wider than he remembered…or…or did he? Something didn’t seem right, but before he could sort it out, Brett, behind him, had slicked up his index and third finger with slobber and shoved them into Evan’s ass, making his boy shudder and groan, pushing back onto his daddy’s fingers.

“Oh fuck, thank you daddy…”

“You’re welcome, son. You know it’s always a pleasure for me, and you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Oh…Oh fuck daddy, more…more than anything!”

“Yeah, because you’re a good boy aren’t so? A total slut for your nasty father? My fucking pigboy? That what you wanna be son?”

“Oh fuck daddy, that sounds…fucking hot…”

“Fatten you up even more, open up this hole of yours, cleaning my body and drinking my fucking piss all day long?”

“Dad, get your big fuckin’ dick in my piggy hole, I can’t fuckin’ take it. Ya know I hate it when you tease me!” Evan said, grunting and snorting and shoving back on Brett’s hand, trying to get as much inside him as possible.

Brett was stroking his own cock with his free hand, and didn’t notice was it was growing again, to nearly eleven inches, so thick he couldn’t meet thumb and finger around the shaft–even with his big hands. He let a gob of drool roll off his tongue and land in his palm, which he used to coat the head of his cock–he liked it a bit dry in his boy’s hole–and then started pushing it inside. Evan suppressed a cry of pain, but he’d take it for his dad–he’d do anything for him, after all.

Method Roleplay (Part 2)

“Did it work?”

Brett didn’t want to say that it had, but he certainly had fallen asleep, hadn’t he? And he felt…kind of strange, almost like he wasn’t all here at the moment, or like some little hole had opened up in his head, and something was…coming in, or going out. “I don’t know…do you feel…kind of strange?”

“I feel pretty good, actually,” Evan said, standing up, “Even if there was nothing to it, at least I got a good nap. So, come on–you ready to give it another shot, daddy?”

“You know, I don’t…actually feel that horny right now–how about later tonight?”

“That doesn’t sound like my daddy–my daddy is always fucking horny,” Evan said, got close and started groping Brett’s crotch through the shorts he had on, and to Brett’s surprise, his cock had gone from flaccid to hard in less than a second…or had…hadn’t be been hard the entire time? It was hard to remember, exactly. “Please don’t…call me that Evan. I’m serious, I feel really weird–don’t you?”

“I always feel weird when I’ve been too long without my daddy’s cock in my holes. And why don’t you want me to call you daddy? Whenever your boy calls you daddy, it turns you on, doesn’t it? I can feel your cock throbbing daddy, don’t lie to me.”

“B-Boy, you’re…fuck…” Brett leaned back, just enjoying the sensation of Evan’s hand kneading his cock and balls.

“Yeah daddy, let your boy take good care of you–you just lay back and play with that big furry gut of yours, and those meaty tits while you’re boy gets a taste of thick daddy cock.”

Yeah, fuck, that did sound hot all of a sudden. He leaned back in the computer chair while Evan started hauling open the fly of his shorts, and as he did, he felt his shirt ride up–he pulled it up the rest of the way, rubbing his big gut, coated with hair…but…it felt bigger than usual. He just had a bit of a paunch, but this gut…it was big and round, like a beach ball, and it obscured his vision of his boy sucking him off more than it should. There was more hair than before too, and when he pulled his shirt up, and off, he saw that his nipples were both the size of pencils, jutting out from his fat chest, and he started to breathe a bit quick. “Evan…Evan, this isn’t right, I’m not…I don’t actually look like this!”

Evan pulled away and stood up, blinking at Brett’s bigger gut and tits–and realized the nine inch cock he’s been sucking on was only supposed to be five and a half. He reached out, and rubbed Brett’s furry gut, unable to believe it was really there, but more turned on than he could really imagine. “I…I mean, I guess it worked then, didn’t it?”

“This…I don’t think I can do this, Evan. Change me back!”

“Calm down, it’s just an illusion caused by the hypnosis. It’ll go away. Just calm down.”

“Then how in the hell are we both seeing the same fucking thing! I’m 26, I can’t look like this.”

Evan didn’t have an easy answer for that one, but he didn’t really want to answer it–he was too fucking turned on looking at his boyfriend there, becoming more of the man he’d always wanted him to be–could it go even further? “Daddy…you’re just confused is all. You’re just remembering things wrong. You aren’t 26, you’re turning 50 next month.”

“Shut up boy, I’m fucking serious.”

“You had a bad dream–this is who you are. A big bellied, extremely hairy, big dicked daddy bear. You get confused sometimes–after all, you aren’t that smart. Pretty much all you think about is all the dirty, kinky sex you want to do to your boy, day in, and day out, isn’t that right?”

“Boy, you need tah listen to your fuckin’ daddy.”

“No daddy, listen to me. Go on, look at that big flabby gut covered with silver hair, give this huge cock of yours a nice stroke, feel that thick beard of yours and how much you’re balding. You aren’t 26. You aren’t that young kid you think you remember–you’re my big, dirty, perverted daddy, aren’t you?”

“Boy, ya need tah fuckin’s shut yer fuckin’ mouth!” Brett growled as he hauled his ass out of his chair, shoved past Evan and made his way to the bathroom in his apartment. It couldn’t be true. He was so…so fucking sure, but when he got in there and turned on the light, and say himself in the mirror…there he was. His huge gut hanging out, covered with a thick layer of hair, his half erect and leaking daddy cock hanging out the front of his grungy boxers, thick beard across his face, a month or two overgrown, crawling up his cheeks. Hair a mess and balding badly, more silver than the brown of his youth. What…what in the hell had he been thinking? His boy was right–he wasn’t some young kid! God, he can be fucking thick sometimes…and yet, something was still nagging at him all the same–still, it probably wasn’t important, right?

“Fuck, I can’t…believe it,” Evan said beside him. He’d gotten to the doorway behind Brett, and he still could barely believe his words had really done that to his boyfriend. It didn’t seem real–in fact, the changes he’d just seen were seeming less real by the moment. Words…they couldn’t do this. No, this was just his daddy, of course–the same he’d always been.

“Fuck boy, sorry, daddy was outta his fuckin’ mind, but I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now,” Brett said, leering at Evan–at his boy–stroking his fat cock nice and slow while he did, “Yer horny daddy’s ready tah play–now git the fuck down here ‘n help daddy out.”

Fighting With Science (Part 2) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s Patreon exclusive story is up, for everyone contributing five dollars or more a month! It’s the second part (of three) of last month’s story, and in this part the title starts to make more sense! There’s brutal fight clubs, hyper muscle growth, violence, abuse, humiliation, pain play, and more inside! If that intrigues you, and you aren’t helping me out already, then consider throwing five dollars my way each month! It helps me keep providing regular content to you all, and with another 50 dollars, I’ll be getting started on creating a complete, searchable archive of all of my stories on the internet! Thanks again for all your support, and I hope you enjoy!

Fighting With Science (Part 2) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Method Roleplay (Part 1)

“Fuck daddy, you get your boy so fucking horny…” Evan said, as he stroked Brett’s cock–he looked up at his boyfriend, but Brett was just looking away, cheeks a bit red.  “Come on, you said you would give it a shot.

“I..it’s just weird, is all, I mean, I’m younger than you, Evan.”

“It’s roleplay, it doesn’t matter how old we actually are.”

“Yeah, but…look, I don’t get this stuff. I just want to fuck. It’s easier, and I don’t feel like I’m trying to tell some story to you the whole time.”

Evan sat back on his heels, and scowled a bit. “You’d like it if you just gave it a chance! You liked those stories I showed you, didn’t you? That’s what you said.”

While Brett had said that, he’d meant more to appease his boyfriend’s fetish, than as an endorsement of his own interest. He’d never really seen the attraction of being with an older guy himself, and honestly, it kind of freaked him out, and made him question their whole relationship. If Evan wanted to be with an older man so much, then why in the world was he with Brett? Sure, Brett did *look* older in some ways–especially with the beard and slight paunch, but he was only 26 to Evan’s 29. The whole thing just…didn’t make any real sense to him, and pretending made him feel silly and very un-sexy.

“Look, come on daddy, your boy just wants to make you feel good is all.”

“Look, Evan, I’m just not that into it, alright? I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work for me,” Brett said, “I…Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok? But I’m gonna go.”

Evan tried to stop him, but never tried to apologize, and Brett got his clothes on and left Evan’s apartment, still feeling strange and confused. Why couldn’t he find any normal guys? Everyone seemed to have some weird fetish that they wanted Brett to be completely into–like Jeffery, who he’d dated for a few weeks before he’d started begging Brett to piss on him. He shook his head–compared to that, this was actually pretty fucking normal, he supposed.

Maybe he was overreacting. He’d just…never been that adventurous of a guy in bed–he just liked to fuck. Still, he could do that and just throw a few ‘son this’ and ‘boy that’ in there, right? But why couldn’t Evan just be happy with him as he was? Why did he have to pretend to be someone completely different to give him great sex? He didn’t know what to do, and sleeping on the issue didn’t help resolve anything either. In the end, he called Evan, who finally apologized, and they decided to try and carry on–but after that, things remained a bit awkward. It was clear Evan hadn’t given up on his fantasy, and his insistence only made Brett feel further alienated. He figured they’d call it off soon enough, mutually or otherwise, but instead, Evan pinned him down one night a couple of weeks later with a proposition–hypnosis.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Brett said, after Evan told him about the hypnosis file he’d found on the internet.

“Look, all it does is make you…a bit more open minded, and imaginative.”

“There is no fucking way, this is fucking dumb. Shit like this doesn’t even work!”

Evan gave a growl of frustration, “So what if it doesn’t work? Then it’s not like you’ll have lost anything anyway, right? Why not at least try it?”

“Because this is even stupider than pretending to be your fucking father.”

“Not my father, my daddy. It’s different!”

“Like I fucking care!” Brett shouted, “All I want is some normal fucking sex! That’s what I like! What about what I fucking want? If you want some old fuck, then why the fuck even date me?”

Neither of them said anything, and Brett assumed–hoped really–that he’d said enough to end things between them, but Evan just took a deep breath. “Because I love you Brett. Because this is just sex. I don’t…really want to be with an older guy, I want to be with you, and I just don’t get why this is so…difficult for you.”

Brett wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but he suddenly felt like an asshole–and that only made him angrier somehow. This wasn’t his fault–the problem wasn’t him, was it?

“Look, all I’m asking is you give it a try. Listen to the file, and try one more time with me, and if still doesn’t work, then fine, I’ll never mention it again. You’re more important to me that a fetish, and I want you to know that.”

Brett sighed–he knew this wasn’t going to work, but why not try and make him happy? He did really like Evan after all, and they had a good thing going. But he wasn’t going to do it alone–no, if this was Evan’s thing, then he should sit through it too. “Fine, I’ll listen to it–with you. Both of us listen to it, so you can see how fucking silly it is, and then I’ll give it another shot, alright?”

“I don’t need to listen to it though.”

Look, the file says it’s generalized–it isn’t about being a daddy, right?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the harm?”

Evan sighed, but agreed to his condition. It took them a bit to set up the computer so they could both listen to it with headphones, but they managed. They started up the file, and a voice started speaking: “Welcome to the open minds, open realities file by MasterCrux. Be warned–this file is intense, if you go too deep into an alternate reality, you might never get back out! You’ve been warned!”

Brett snickered, and Evan socked him in the shoulder as the induction began. Soon enough, both young men were slack jawed and staring at the screen blankly, while the voice droned on, and on, and on, and when they woke, feeling rested an hour later, neither of them could quite remember anything that had been said, but both could sense that something…was different, all the same.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 5)

Everything had been going so well.

“I want a fucking answer, you fucking piece of shit–what the fuck were you doing to my fucking jock that it fucking looks like this?” Daryn held up the shredded underwear so Jasper could see it–but he already knew what it looked like–the waistband broken and mostly gone,  about half the pouch remaining, several chunks gone and the edges frayed. He’d been stupid to take it, but he’d been so hungry, and he’d done so well for two months–hadn’t he deserved a reward?

He really had done well–even Mr. Wadsworth had said so to him. He’d lost quite a bit of his weight from that first binge, and with a…meager diet every day–a cup of piss water, a few cum soaked pieces of tissue–he’d managed to keep the worst of the hunger at bay, and still keep his wits about him, but it hadn’t always been easy. He’d fallen off the wagon a couple of times–never as badly as that first taste, but enough to know that if he wasn’t careful–and if he didn’t keep Daryn completely in the dark–then things were bound to get much more complicated.

The jockstrap had been taunting him for days at this point, just lying on the floor by the trashcan in Daryn’s room. It smelled…so fucking good, so fucking delicious, and it wasn’t like Daryn was going to miss one of his many, many jockstraps, right? So he’d taken it back with him into his room one night, and started devouring it, unable to believe how good it tasted, and how horny it made him. He savored it, portioned it out–a bit of waistband tonight, a little patch of crusty pouch tomorrow–maybe he should have just disposed of the evidence in one go, maybe then he wouldn’t be here, in this mess, with Daryn looming over him, throat dry, not sure what sort of lie he might even manage to tell.

“You want to know what this fucking looks like?” Daryn asked, “It looks like something has been fucking eating my jockstrap–that’s what it looks like.”

It…maybe a mouse, or something?” Jasper replied.

“And why in the fuck did I find it in your room, hidden under your fucking pillow? This is my fucking jock–you don’t take my shit, you fucking pig.”

“I’m sorry, I just…I was hungry–” Fuck, did he just say that?

Daryn just stared down at him, and then sneered. Without saying a word, he shoved the jock into Jasper’s face, and unable to stop it–he’d never figured out how to stop it–he started drooling, knees shaking slightly, and Daryn mopped it up with the fabric. “I always wondered why you seemed to drool every time you looked at me, you know that? If you were so fucking hungry, all you had to do was ask nicely. So, let me hear you ask, fucker. What do you want?”

Jasper sealed his lips, unable to trust his words.

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” Daryn said, “I want you to be hungry, Jasper. I’f I’d known, I would have done a much better job feeding you.”

Jasper’s jaw dropped, and Daryn took the opportunity to push the half-eaten jockstrap into his mouth. “That’s a good little dump–go on and finish your meal, and then we’ll see what else I can feed you.”

It wasn’t hard, eating it. He’d already noticed that his teeth had changed in odd ways, becoming a bit serrated, better for tearing apart fabric and tissue, and his slobber made swallowing the thing down so easy. Daryn was so happy too–why had he been trying to keep this a secret from him for so long? Daryn was only too happy to feed Jasper a load of cum and piss next, and as soon as he’d tasted both of them fresh and from the source, Jasper knew he’d never be able to do without either ever again. June was still two months away, however–if he didn’t push back, then what would happen to him? To them both?

The next day, Daryn was distressed to see he’d wiped away a small chunk of the gains his prior temperance had earned him, and he went out, planning on telling Daryn he couldn’t do this anymore. That he was alright with being hungry, if it meant he could be himself again. Instead, he found himself on his knees, sucking down three loads from Daryn before his roommate had to leave for class. He sobbed on the kitchen floor, both because he was so full and satisfied than he’d ever thought possible, and also because he knew he’d likely lost his one chance at ever getting back into his previous life.

Still, his mind didn’t last long enough to really understand what he’d lost–with Daryn now making sure his dump was constantly fed, within a week Jasper had lost most of capacity for thought. He spent the day wandering the apartment on all fours, heavy gut dragging along the floor behind him, snorting and rooting around for anything his master might have left him to eat. After devouring the contents of his gym bag one afternoon–his cleats included–Daryn was forced to keep his pet kenneled up during the day, and he’d let him out when he got home each day, fed him load after load of cum and piss and the food scraps from dinner, before fucking the thing’s tight hole, and putting him back in his cage for the night. When June rolled around, neither of them could even remember the fact that Jasper had once been human–he was just a pet now, a dump really. Still, Daryn saved a lot of money on his five year lease–especially after Mr. Wadsworth corrected the mistaken “multiple tenant” fee and changed it to a pet fee instead. Yeah, Daryn figured they’d both be staying here for a long time–but Jasper was happy anywhere, as long as he always had a gut full of his master’s filth.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 4)

When every wad had finally be taken from the can and consumed, and after Jasper had also searched the surface of the desk and the floor for anything he might have missed, he realized he’d eaten everything. He’d just spent half an hour devouring his roommate’s cum soaked trash, like some fucking freak, and here he was, actively looking for more. He felt like he was going to throw up–no, that was a lie. In fact, what he felt was good. He felt somewhat full for the first time in over a week. No, but he knew he should feel like throwing up, that he shouldn’t want to keep any of that filth in his body, and so he stumbled up and went into the bathroom, knelt down in front of the toilet…and realized this was a much worse idea than he’d thought.

The toilet reeked of Daryn’s beer piss from the night before and this morning, and it hadn’t been flushed since. Jasper had added a load of his as well, but it was overwhelmed by the sheer force of Daryn’s stench, and he was so thirsty after eating so much dry filth. He’d tasted the wads of cum and that hadn’t been bad, right? Maybe just…just a little, so he could feel better. He started cupping his hands and using them to scoop water up to his mouth, but it was too slow–he grabbed his water glass from the counter and used that instead, bailing the water out and chugging it down, upset by how week and diluted it tasted, but hungry for it all the same. When he couldn’t get anymore into the cup, he shoved his face in and licked the bowl clean, screaming at himself to stop, to control himself, to do fucking anything other than this.

At last, it was the sound of Daryn’s key in the door which tore him away. He crawled across the hall and into his room, locking the door behind him as Daryn entered. Daryn…couldn’t see him doing that. He couldn’t know. What would he think, if he knew what Jasper had just done? He’d probably kick his ass, right? That…that seemed right, but he could imagine something else. Maybe he’d…take pity of Jasper. He was so hungry after all, and maybe a fresh load of piss and a load of cum right from the source would…would be better. The fresh cum had tasted so much more satisfying than the older ones at the bottom, hadn’t they? These were thoughts he couldn’t afford to entertain, so he climbed into bed, feeling sick with himself, and when Daryn demanded to know where he was, he managed to convince him that he was sick–and in fairness, he did feel sick, finally. Feverish, aching, his guts and body on fire.

“Well, what would you expect, for eating so much disgusting filth in one sitting? You’re lucky your new body is designed for this,” he heard an older voice say over him, “Don’t worry–you’ll feel better in the morning, though you’ll also find yourself a bit worse for wear. Still, one setback doesn’t mean you have to give in completely, right? I’m sure you’ll find the will somewhere to carry on.”

It was one of the most painful nights of his life, but eventually sheer exhaustion allowed him a few hours of sleep–not that his dreams offered much solace. The hunger was still there, along with all of the shame. He shouldn’t be doing this, this isn’t who he was supposed to be, and yet he felt so…well, when he woke up. The pain had lifted, the fever had stopped, and most importantly, the hunger which had been eating away at his sanity for too long now had abated. It was still…there, of course, but he could manage it now, right? One binge like that, and he’d be good for a while. He still felt a bit weak, however, because getting out of bed was more difficult than it should have been–and it wasn’t until he got to the mirror that he realized that more had changed in the night than he might have imagined.

It was the added weight which was the most obvious. After whatever confrontation they’d had, he’d weighed about 225–fat, but not too far out of the norm. Now, however, he had to imagine he was pushing at least 275, if not closer to 300–a fact made much, much worse by the fact that he’d shrunk another three or four inches or so. The fat was rolling off of him now, his gut becoming closer to a proper apron, and when he hefted it up, he was distressed to see his cock and balls had also continued shrinking, and were even a bit difficult to see in the pad of fat beginning to grow around them. His body was hairless now, and there was some…stink coming off of him that was difficult to describe, but which turned his stomach all the same–some vile mix of rot and cum and grime and…and he couldn’t stand it. Is this what he was going to be? He’d rather fucking die, wouldn’t he?

“Now now, I knew you were weak, Jasper, but I never imagined that you might be a coward.”

He turned around, and found Mr. Wadsworth in the room with him, sitting on his bed, watching his surprise register all over again. “What…why are you doing this to me? Please, I can’t do that again, I won’t let myself become…whatever fucking crazy shit you’re fucking doing.” Jasper knew that the words sounded idiotic, but his head seemed to be caught in muck as well, and it was hard putting thoughts into words.

“I’ve just been waiting for you to understand all the rules of the game, is all,” Mr. Wadsworth said, “and it is a game, you see. You can still win, if you’re smart, though I won’t lie–you are at a…significant disadvantage. But you see, your body only changed because it’s processing that alpha’s filth–if you manage to abstain, then you’ll recover in time. After that binge of yours, it would be a month or so, but you’ll be normal eventually, if you can hold out. If you make it to the end of your lease this June, then I’ll have had my fun, and both of you can go on your way, in your old bodies, like nothing was ever wrong at all. But lose too much of yourself and I might just keep you both for a long time.”

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 3)

It was early afternoon by the time Jasper stopped and decided to take a break from cleaning the apartment–mostly because his gut had begun to growl a bit. This seemed…a bit odd to him. After all, he’d eaten a sizable breakfast–much larger than he could ever remember eating before this–and while cleaning up the apartment he’d also found himself drawn back to the kitchen every hour or so for some sort of snack. It just…felt good to eat, all of a sudden, and while part of him knew this was wrong, that if he wanted to get his old body back he’d have to stop eating…at the same time, he didn’t want to threaten Daryn, right? If anything…wouldn’t it be better if he was fatter? Less muscular? Less…less of a man than him?

No, he pushed that aside. There was something really weird going on here, and as soon as he finished cleaning up for Daryn, then he was going to go find Mr. Wadsworth, and that old fuck was going to explain what exactly was going on here. This, he was certain, wasn’t the way things were, or should have been, and if that old man had anything to do with this…well, Jasper was certain he could figure out some way to make him fix it, even if he didn’t know what, really, needed fixing. Still, whatever this hunger was, it really was bothering him–he went back into the kitchen, and rather than the lighter junk food he’d been eating, he made himself a sizable lunch, and then devoured it on the couch while he watched TV. When he was finished, he leaned back and let off a nice long belch, expecting to feel full…but while his gut was straining, the hunger he’d been feeling wasn’t satisfied at all.

Distressed, he kept cleaning, and was nearly finished when Daryn returned home from practice, reeking of field and sweat, and he sat down right on the couch, naked, and started watching TV, demanding a beer from the fridge, which Jasper hurried to fetch for him. As he walked away from his jock roommate, however, Jasper had to wipe his chin–something had just made him drool spontaneously, and that growling in his gut was only growing more intense. He occupied himself with preparing dinner, bringing Daryn beer after beer as he knocked them back, and every time he got close to him, Jasper found himself drooling, starving for something but he didn’t know what. He took a plate out to Daryn when dinner was ready, and then devoured a portion five times the size in the kitchen at the table, but the food tasted…dull. It wasn’t what he wanted to eat, but what in the fuck was he so hungry for? Stuffed to the gullet and profoundly unsatisfied, Jasper spent the evening on some schoolwork and then went to bed, hoping his body would settle down in the coming days.

Instead, everything just got worse. Jasper spent the days in relative misery, desperately trying to fill some hole in his belly that he couldn’t explain or even discuss. He tried all kinds of food, anything he’d usually craved in his life, but nothing tasted satisfying. He tried to drink it away, but all that did was provide him with a massive hangover, and a furious Jasper later, when there wasn’t enough beer in the place for him to drink that evening. The drooling only intensified, as well–if he caught even a whiff of Daryn’s musk, his mouth would simply overflow, and his gut would twist into knots, but he didn’t want to eat Daryn. He found his salivation was triggered by other things as well–the nasty piles of sweaty gym laundry Daryn left for him to do, the smell of his piss left in and around the toilet, and the trashcan brimming with cum soaked tissues by Daryn’s computer.

He’d tried to contact Mr. Wadsworth, but the office said he was on a two week vacation, and that since he was out of the country, he was impossible to contact. Jasper doubted this somehow…it seemed like he’d talked with him once or twice since Daryn had fucked him, but he couldn’t remember where, when, or any real details. It was over a week of this, and Jasper was so frustrated he’d be willing to try anything. He could sense that there was something he could do, that the solution was somehow obvious, but it was almost like he was refusing to see it. That…that if he finally understood the problem, and the solution, that might somehow be even worse. One afternoon, while Daryn was out, he couldn’t take it any longer, and he broke down into sobs in the living room. “Please–please, just tell me what to do, I can’t take this anymore!” he shouted–though who he was talking to was unclear.

But the next moment, Mr. Wadsworth was standing beside him, smiling down at him. “Jasper, we’ve already discussed this several times. You know how to make it stop. You know what your body needs now. If you really want to fight it, then this is the price you’ll have to pay.”

“Please, I can’t…just change me back, please.”

“Now, now, I would never do that!” the older man said, “That would ruin my fun. Now come on, I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting right now. Everything you need is right in his room–just go give it a try! You can always stop if you don’t like it, right?”

Yeah…yeah, he just needed…a taste is all. One taste, to get it out of his system, and then he could keep fighting. He was just so tired now, and he needed it so badly. He went into Daryn’s room, to the trashcan he’d never bothered emptying, drool pouring from his mouth. He picked one up–still a bit sodden from a morning load, and pushed it into his mouth. He’d expected it to be dry, but the amount of spit his body was making actually helped it go down so…easily, and fuck, it tasted so good. He fell to his knees, grabbing wad after wad of tissue and cramming it into his mouth, swallowing it all down, horrified at himself, and yet he couldn’t fucking stop.