Caption: Reggie’s Training

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“Please Coach, I’m still full from breakfast, can’t I work out some more?” Reggie said, rubbing his still full belly and letting off an uncomfortable belch. He was soaked in sweat, but he’d had a hard time lifting this morning, due to how full he was.

Coach just looked down at him, unimpressed. “You said you wanted to train with me, didn’t you?”

“Yes Coach,” Reggie muttered.

“And when I told you that I would train you, you remember what that meant right? That you would have to do everything I said. That if you wanted to be a bull like me, that was going to take some sacrifices. You’d have to do some things that you wouldn’t do otherwise.”

Reggie nodded.

“Besides, you are hungry, aren’t you?”

He was. He was still so full, but his lips were parched somehow. Coach tweaked one of his nipples, and a spurt of milk shot out of it and struck Reggie in the cheek. Unable to help himself, he scooped it up with a finger and sucked it clean.

“Now drink it up, and don’t question me again.”

Reggie stood up, and started sucking on one of coach’s teats, moaning as he did, his head going foggy and loopy like it always did when he drank down his milk. It wasn’t long before Reggie’s mind had shut down entirely, as he moved onto the other tit, grinding his cock and balls up against Coach’s body. Something…had been happening to them lately. The more of coach’s milk he drank, the larger his ball sack got, and the smaller his cock became, almost like his sack was absorbing it. 

When he’d drained Coach’s teats, the older man pushed him away. “Now, what are you?”

“I’m a cow, Coach.”

“That’s good. And what are cows?”

“Cows are fat. Cows are stupid. Cows don’t have dicks, we just have udders full of milk for Master.”

“That’s good. You will remember that, you will know in your heart that you are a cow, but you will still think that you are here to become a bull like me. You still aren’t ready to know the truth of what you are, of what you want to be.”

Reggie nodded dumbly.

“Now turn around, time to fatten up that ass of yours.”

Reggie turned around and bent over the weight bench, and Coach fucked his tight hole, both of them mooing and lowing, Reggie’s smaller cock spewing milk all over the floor with each thrust of Coach’s massive cock into his ass. Give him another week, and then Coach would tell him the truth. He’d never come here because he wanted to be a bull–after all, there was only room for one bull in the herd. No, Reggie would join his brothers down in the basement, stuffing themselves, getting milked all day long, and help fuel Coach’s growing protein shake business instead. Then, Coach would find another wannabe, and show they that they would be happier as a stupid cow too.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeovers (Part 3)

This is going to be the final entry in this interactive. I wasn’t planning on it being substantial, it was more about toying with the time travel story device and seeing if I liked it enough to use it in something else, perhaps something longer, or more twine focused. There’s an alternate version of this one over on my patreon, using a different set of winning options! If you support me, you can head here and check it out.


Needless to say, Jerry never showed up for his wedding. Edwin slipped into his mind that morning, while the bride was off getting her hair done for the ceremony that evening. He packed a bag, hopped in his car and ran. He didn’t quite understand why he was doing this, just that…he had to. It was the right thing to do, or at least, that’s what Edwin was telling him. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life hitched to a ball and chain? No–he knew he wanted something else, but he wasn’t sure what yet. A better life, one more suited to him. He’d just have to drive for a while and find it.

He drove for a couple of days, while Edwin wormed his way in deeper, trying to figure out what made Jerry tick. It wasn’t long before he found a good lead–Jerry had daddy issues galore. He’d been abandoned by his dad when he was a kid, and he’d never really gotten over the trauma of it, always looking for older men to praise him. He’d done well for himself, finding some reliable, older mentors in the company where he worked–where he had been working, rather. But Edwin had a new idea for his little puppet. They’d find him a new daddy, someone more along Edwin’s tastes.

He ended up in a large city, and Edwin decided this would be as good a place as any to begin his search. He took Jerry to the sleaziest, kinkiest gay bar he could find, and decided he’d find him a properly perverse Daddy to show him the ropes of his new life. Jerry had no idea what he was doing there. He wasn’t gay, and he certainly wasn’t into…this, all of this leather and rubber, the air smelling of piss and sex. He was still dressed in his business casual, and had never felt more out of place in his entire life. He ended up compensating by drinking too much, though Edwin remained clear headed–and late that night, he found what he was looking for. 

He was in his late fifties, probably. Still in great shape, wearing a leather harness, rubber vest, and rubber waders. He was smoking cigars, was covered in tattoos and piercings. Edwin slipped into the fetish daddy’s mind and poked around a bit–it didn’t take much convincing for him to start teasing Jerry, since he was cute, though obviously repressed. Jerry didn’t know what possessed him to go home with the old kinkster, but he spent the entire next day in the man’s dungeon, and it was the most exquisite sex of his entire life. By the end of it, he was begging his new Master to keep him, to train him, to remake him into the kinky pig he’d always wanted to be, deep down, without even realizing it. Dan, the old kinky bear, didn’t really want something permanent, but something about the young man’s begging changed his mind–he could do anything he wanted to him, after all. Somehow, he knew that Jerry would agree to anything.

But to test his resolve, their first stop, the next day, was the piercing and tattoo parlor. Jerry ended up with studs in his nipples, in his ears, a PA, and a new tattoo on his ass, which read Property of Master Dan across it. As far as Dan was concerned, that sealed the deal–and Jerry started his training with him that afternoon, with a trip to the local gay gym. Dan forced Jerry–or Cunt, as he was calling him for now, before settling on a more permanent slave name–to work out in just a jock, and he spent the evening in the showers, getting plowed by guy after guy, and drinking more than a few loads of piss as well. He was humiliated, but the act of service, and the delight in his dom’s eyes brought him more pleasure than he could really understand. Dan was impressed at the newbie–to go from being a virgin to gay sex to taking five loads in a public shower, it was quite impressive. All that meant, was that he could push him further.

More and more fantasies began to intrude into Dan’s mind, unbidden. He’d never really been this extreme before, but something about Cunt was bringing the true sadist out in him, and he wanted to see how far he could go. During the day they would work out, and by the last week of Edwin’s control, Dan had started Cunt on a steroid regimen, deciding he was going to be a proper muscle bull–but a total bottom, of course. No, his cock and balls were going to be pumped to an obscene size, too big to be ignored, but also functionally useless. He’d have so many tattoos and piercings he wouldn’t be able to hold down a regular job–he’d be confined to the life of a total kinkster for the rest of his days. 

Towards the end, Edwin made one last shift in them both–in their dreams, he convinced them that they weren’t just master and slave–they were father and son. That Jerry had begged his father to take ownership of him, to turn him into a proper musclecunt of a boy, so that Dan could truly be proud of him. It took like a charm, and only made Cunt more desperate to please his father, to show him what a good pig he could become. Satisfied with those first steps, Edwin returned to the present.

When he’d recovered, he found that Jerry no longer lived next door to him. This wasn’t surprising really, but the fact of it cemented for him the seriousness of what he’d done to him. He had to use the tachyon beam to find him, tracing his path from the point Edwin had left him to the present, and what he found pleased him to no end.

There was no trace of the boring, straight laced man Jerry had been. He no longer even remembered his old name–the only name he responded to now was his slave name, Bullcunt. He was massive–years of steroids and growth hormones had made his body explode with muscle, though as he’d grown older, he’d also developed a bit of a gut. At some point in his life he’d discovered saline and then silicone–his father had decided that Bullcunt’s cock and balls were going to be some of the largest on earth. Nothing could hold them at this point, other than the custom made gear Dan commissioned for his boy. It was expensive, but given his freakish body, covered head to toe in piercings and tattoos, willing to partake in any kind of sex no matter now taboo, Musclecunt made a killing as a porn star, and was lately taking more of a dom role, making young men worship his massive junk while he smoked one of his huge cigars, fisting them with his hands–sometimes both. There were two men who could actually take his massive cock, and several more training to be next in line.

Overall, it was a grand success. Edwin knew he’d have much more fun with his invention in the days to come, but first, he needed a meal from his encourager–twelve hours without a meal, and he was famished.

Stud Service

WARNING: This one has some weird stuff in it. Furry, anthro, feral, bestiality, cock swapping, nullification. Consider yourself warned.


Jason found the entire story hard to believe, but desperation could be a potent reason to keep your ass planted in a chair, sipping tea while he listened to the strangest thing he’d ever heard. The farmer across from him was offering Jason a job, though it was unlike any job Jason had heard of before, and one that all of Jason’s better judgement urged him to call bullshit on and get the hell out. But what else did he have? Just desperation–and he could tell the farmer was desperate too. That was the main reason Jason was starting to believe him.

It was March. Jason had gotten out of prison a few years prior, his parole had ended, and he was left with nothing much to show for it. He scraped by with little jobs here and there–bouncing at strip clubs, seasonal work with farms around the countryside, the occasional drug running or dealing, but he didn’t want to fall back into that permanently. It had been looking like he didn’t have much of a choice, though, because once you’d been in prison, it was like the entire world was conspiring to put you back in there as soon as it could. So when he’d struck up a conversation at the bar this evening with Rick, the man who owned this farm, and he’d offered to talk to him about a possible job…Jason hadn’t really been in a position to turn him down.

But then Rick had started explaining what, exactly, he had in mind. See, Rick’s farm was in trouble. He had a variety of livestock–horses, cows, pigs, goats and chickens mostly–that he raised and that brought in a decent income, but after a string of bad luck–or sabotage–all of his studs had died, and the fees to bring in new ones were exorbitant. Well, Rick had a few tricks up his sleeve. Apparently, it had been cheaper to go out into the woods and make a deal with a witch there–though from the sound of it she wasn’t interested in currency–and in exchange, she had given him this set of enchanted rings.

This had been the most unbelievable part, but when Jason had challenged him on it, Rick had taken him out to the shed and shown him his new set of tools, for lack of a better word, and Jason hadn’t had much choice but to accept he was telling the truth. There, hanging on the wall, were four sets of genitals–a stallion, a bull, a goat, and a pig–all of them procured from various rival farms around the state. Jason had touched a couple, and they were warm, and alive. Now, apparently, what Rick needed was a host–and that was where Jason came in. 

Rick couldn’t do it himself–there were risks involved, apparently. But if Jason would agree to be his stud for the year, then he’d walk away with thirty percent of Rick’s income for the year–and have his room and board covered, of course. According to Rick, that would be close to 50,000 dollars if things went as well as he hoped they would. It was more money than Jason had seen in his entire life, and the idea that he could get a little breathing room was amazing–but that wasn’t quite the reason he said yes, in the end.

Jason hadn’t just gone home with the farmer because of the job offer. The bar they’d met at hadn’t been just a seedy trucker bar off the interstate. Whatever Rick had used to brew the tea hadn’t hurt either. Rick wasn’t the handsomest fellow–a bit on the short side, chubby, smoking his pungent pipe the entire time they’d been talking–but something about the way he touched Jason’s hand, pulling off his shirt, the feel of their tongues together–it was comfort that drew him in at last. Jason hadn’t been with a man since prison. He hadn’t been with a man like this since his last visit with his uncle, when he was eighteen. Something had a hold of him, and that night, in the farmer’s bed, smelling the mix of their sex with the grass and manure flowing in from the open window, Jason threw caution to the wind. It was crazy. But what was really wrong with crazy, at the end of the day? 50,000 dollars was too good to pass on, no matter what he had to do to get it. If all he had to do was…fuck some animals? Hell, it was better than running drugs and getting shot at, that was for sure. That, and Rick could be worth it too, maybe. Maybe there’d be a place for Jason here too, at the end of things.


So the plan, as Rick laid it out, was this. Mares first, in the first few weeks of April. Then, the cattle. Assuming everyone took, that would mean calves and foals in early Spring. After that, a few weeks as a goat to set up the Spring lambs, and then some time as a pig to get the sows pregnant in time for the state fair in the fall. Once the sows had given birth, Jason would knock them up again, and they’d have another round of piglets in the early Spring. For those winter months, Jason would just be himself, let the side effects wear off (Rick had not yet been clear on what the side effects were, exactly, but he assured Jason that they were temporary. If not, then the witch had promised she would help him deal with anything that lingered) and then, Jason would help him birth the mares and foals in the Spring, and get his portion of the profits.

There was just one catch–naturally–the witch’s payment. Rick would have fulfilled it himself, but he was infertile. Jason would have to be the one to give her what she wanted–a child, and while pussy wasn’t quite his thing, he’d managed before. If all he had to do was fuck some weird woman, then he could manage. Jason didn’t recall much of the encounter–they went into the woods, and things grew…strange. Impossible. There was a woman. Jason had…trouble, given the fact that he wasn’t quite sure she was entirely a woman, or entirely human, but with a little coaxing, or a little spell, he got hard enough to perform. Satisfied, she sent them on their way again, leaving Jason feeling rather…uneasy about the entire experience–but after a cup of tea and a trip to bed with Rick at the farm, it just felt like a dream, and he could set it behind him.

The first few weeks were spent working with Rick on general maintenance. The older fellow had been living out here on his own, running the moderately sized farm himself for so long, that quite a few areas had fallen into disrepair. It was satisfying work, and Jason enjoyed the chance to get closer to Rick. It wasn’t quite love brewing between them, or at least, Jason did his best to keep it from that. Love was dangerous. It compromised you. He’d allowed men to compromise him before, and it had never ended well. This was business, Jason told himself. Best to keep it that way. He did keep a little coal of hope fired though, in his chest. A little hope had never hurt anyone.

Then, it came time for the real work to begin. Jason didn’t really know what to expect. Rick handed him the cock ring he’d have to put on first–it looked more like two rings, really, but the two were so tightly sealed together he couldn’t pry them apart, no matter how hard he tried. The rings were metal, but they could stretch–or rather, they would expand, and then, once they were around the base of his cock, they constricted again. Not too tight, but a bit tighter than any cock ring he’d worn before. Rick muttered a few words, and then he gave a little tug on Jason’s cock, and the rings separated–Jason’s cock and balls coming off, and leaving just one ring stuck to his groin…somehow. He couldn’t feel Rick’s hand on his cock and balls as he set them down on the table, took the massive horse cock off the wall, and pressed the base of it to the ring still on Jason’s body. There was a slight pinch, and then he could feel it–all of it, the heft of the massive shaft and balls hanging off his body. Then, Rick gripped the double ring, stretched it out, and pulled it off of Jason’s body–leaving him with a massive horse cock where his human one had been moments before. After that, well, it wasn’t quite clear what happened to him, exactly.

It was the same sensation he’d felt when they’d gone into the witch’s woods together a few weeks before. The sense of the impossible all around him–expect now, it was inside him as well. Not…chaos exactly, it was more ordered than that. Nature was being undone, something beyond it was taking hold, and it made Jason feel nauseous as his body tried to fight it off, and failed.

He fell to his hands and knees, retching, but nothing would come up. His entire body was shuddering and shaking, muscles flexing, bones creaking. It grew more and more painful over the next several minutes, Jason caught in a delirium, until at last, some new equilibrium was established, and he found himself…remade. He was not a horse, and he was not a human. His cock, which had hung loose before, had grown a sheath that ran up the length of his abdomen, covered in sandy hair. His arms and legs were still covered in human skin, but had the proportions of those of a horse–his hands gone, and replaced with hooves–though his fingers could still be made out, even as they were sealed together. His face was human but stretched long, with a mouth full of horse teeth, his human hair running down his back and becoming a mane, with a short tail hanging off his new rump. He was horrified, tried to beg Rick to change him back, but the words that came out of his shifted mouth were garbled and unintelligible. Rick whispered a few sweet nothings, and helped him sip some of his tea.

All Jason felt, after drinking it, was horny.

Rick led him to the field where the mares were waiting, and all it took was a whiff of their sex before Jason mounted one and began fucking her while the farmer watched, pleased. As soon as he finished, he climbed off of her, and before he could try and regain control of himself, he smelled another mare, and mounted her as well. He managed three before he was too exhausted to continue, but by then…something had happened to him. Thinking was difficult–more difficult than it should be. The farmer led him into the stable, gave him some hay, which he happily ate, though the small bit of his humanity recoiled at the idea, the farmer telling him that everything was happening just like it should be, that after a couple of weeks, when he was sure all of the mares had taken, then he would change him back. Jason wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that anymore, his mind dulling more and more, until it couldn’t be quite sure of anything. What didn’t fade, was that sense of wrongness. The unnatural which had taken root in his body. It made him anxious, and only the tea Rick brough him would help settle him down.

The days after that, the horny tea wasn’t required–Jason happily followed the mares out into the fields, fucked a few more each day, and returned to the stable without a second thought. The farmer would hang out with him and talk to him, but to Jason, the words were mostly gibberish at this point. Finally, though, the day came to change him back. The farmer placed the rings around his cock and balls, removed his stallion cock, and put his human one back on–and then took the rings off.

Everything twisted again, but for Jason, it was not a sense of undoing. Rather, everything seemed to turn upside down yet again, but the result was somehow even more disconcerting. After a few minutes, he was lying on the dirty straw, panting and gasping, Rick holding him close, whispering words in his ear that Jason couldn’t comprehend, while he tried to recall what it was like having two feet, and two hands. Things came back to him, slowly. He could walk upright again the next day, and understand most of what Rick was saying to him, but it was difficult processing it, and his own speech was slow and slurred. He felt stupid in a way that he couldn’t explain, and none of this was helped by what he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror in the morning.

He wasn’t fully human again. He was mostly human, sure, enough to fool someone not looking too close. His hair had returned, but still ran a good way down the back of his neck and upper back. He was more muscular than he’d been before, but the muscles bulged rather oddly–his shoulders and thighs more developed than anything else, and his forearms were too slender. His hands were clumsy, his fingers shorter and capped with thick, black nails. His face was at least normal, mostly, but his front teeth were a bit too large. Rick helped keep him calm, along with his tea, and told Jason that all of this was to be expected, and also wasn’t permanent. His body would slowly return to normal, though the process could take a couple of months–it was why he’d planned on having Jason fully human for most of the winter, so he’d have a chance to sort himself out again. Jason was not happy to be told this when it was too late to do anything about it, but he knew he was, essentially, stuck now. He couldn’t very well leave–not looking like this. Rick offered him a raise–forty percent now–and Jason agreed, though he wasn’t happy about being lied to.

Rick did ask him, after a few days, what it had been like, and Jason did his best to recount what he could remember–but what he did remember was rather distant. Rick seemed especially interested in whether Jason could remember what Rick had said to him, and Jason couldn’t–he didn’t understand speech much at all. It was like his brain had shut off, running almost entirely on the instinct running from his cock. At the end of the week, when Rick told him it was time to work on the cattle, he was almost relieved–being some strange human bull would in some ways be easier than this…mostly human bullshit.

Once his cocks had been switched out, he found himself on all fours again, hands and feet replaced by hooves. His face was contorted with a bullish snout, though the top and sides of his head remained entirely human. His torso thickened and bulked out with more muscle, even more than when he’d been a stallion, and his thick bull cock was even more insatiable than his horse cock had been before. He spent all day in the meadows with the cows, mounting and breeding them, his mind lost in a dullness deeper than before. Rick visited him often, but a few days into his stud service, Jason noticed something…different about him. Different about the way he smelled. It was still human, but familiar in some…other way. Something in the water made him…sleepy, and he only dimly realized what was happening halfway through it, as Rick pushed Jason’s tail to the side and fucked his ass right there in the stall.

In their human bodies, Jason had, thus far, been the top. Rick was a bit older, and was not endowed with anything sizable or in reliable working order. It had been easier, really, for Jason to take the lead–and he’d rather enjoyed showing the shorter, fatter farmer just what kind of a stud he could be. But after that first fuck, Rick would fuck him every day, sometimes twice, his words unintelligible, but the underlying tone was…forceful. After the first week, Jason was surprised by Rick grabbing him by the snout, and putting a thick ring through his nose, the farmer sneering at him while he snorted and grunted in pain, and then he fucked him–harder and rougher than he had at any point before…but whatever was in the water, Jason found himself enjoying it more and more, submitting to this…man, even as he dominated the cows in the field during the day.

He remained a bull longer than he’d been a horse by about a week and a half, mostly because there were more cows on the farm to service. The day came, at last, for the bull cock to come off, and was replaced by Jason’s cock again, but like before, his form was not…entirely human. In fact, the lasting effects from his time as a stallion were still there as well–such as the mane, and the teeth–and some were enhanced by his time as a bull as well. He was larger, for one thing–close to six and a half feet tall, with more muscle everywhere. He had a difficult time standing fully upright, and his hips ached no matter what he did, his hands mostly useless now, with the fingers fused at the nails in several places. The mental fog was stronger this time as well, and while he couldn’t be…certain, Rick seemed a bit different as well. He looked a bit younger, and somewhat slimmer. The more dominant attitude he’d developed while Rick was a bull remained, and even though his cock wasn’t large, he still managed to fuck Jason regularly, and also started making odd demands, having him service him, dragging him around by the ring still cemented in his nose. Jason found himself…enjoying it. Being treated like an animal, like a slave. Crawling around was one of the few ways his warped body didn’t ache at the end of the day, and with Jason’s encouragement, that was how he moved through the house, at least until it was time for the goats.

This time, Jason ended up growing smaller, but it felt good having hooves again, being back on all fours, breeding the does in the fields. He was also rather proud of his new horns–rather fine ones that Rick liked to admire when they were back in the barn after a day’s work, when Rick would fuck his ass until Jason was screaming in a voice somewhere between a human and a goat. Again, Jason noticed that after a day, Rick changed–it was that same smell. He was bigger too, more muscular, and his cock was larger. Jason didn’t complain of course, and his animalistic mind didn’t really understand any of it clearly. He just wanted to fuck, or be fucked, all the time–sex was the single most important thing, driving everything else out of his mind until his humanity was just a distant memory. But there were only a few does on the farm, and after about a week, Rick returned him to his human form–but this time, it was…different.

The cock he found the next morning, after he’d regained some of his capacity to think, wasn’t the one he could remember having, vaguely, from before his time as a goat. It was smaller–much smaller, just three inches or so when hard. The hair around it was greying as well, and when Jason looked at himself in the mirror, he knew that something was very wrong–he was too short, too fat. He looked older, somehow, in ways that he couldn’t explain, but there was so much off about his body that it difficult to tell what was really different. Was the white haired goatee around his mouth from his time as a goat, or was it because he suddenly seemed twenty years older? There were his new horns to contend with, not particularly large, but they were obvious. His eyes hadn’t returned to their human color, and were still the yellow and black of a goat. His body was still bulky with muscle, but his frame had shrunk–whether because his last form, as a goat, was shorter, or because of his different genitals, he couldn’t tell. But Rick was different too–taller, broader of shoulder, most muscular. The grey in his hair was gone, and replaced not with the brown Jason swore he could recall him having, but instead a stark black. He tried to ask what was going on, but his voice hadn’t returned. The best he could do was bleat and shout, still like a goat, and Rick told him that was alright. He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to think. He was just a stupid, horny animal after all, craving Rick’s big cock. A cock he…recognized, didn’t he? But why wouldn’t he? It was the same cock Rick had been fucking him with all Spring long, right? He’d try and puzzle it out more, but get lost along the way. Being human was hard, he decided. It was what he was supposed to be, of course, but he found himself anxiously anticipating his next round of stud work.

In the meantime, Rick’s rule grew stricter. He told him that an animal like him didn’t deserve to sleep in a proper bed, but should stay out in the barn where he really belonged–Rick kept him tied up by the ring still in his nose, all day long, visiting him a few times a day to fuck him, and talk to him, and taunt him with his big cock. The more distance he got from his time as a goat, the more his mind cleared–and he almost realized it, eventually. That the cock he had now wasn’t the one he’d had before, that Rick had…switched something on him, but as soon as Rick realized he was getting close to asking the right questions, it was time to breed some sows–and he gave Jason a new cock to keep him occupied for a few weeks.

His time as a pig was a frantic blur. There was a new hunger now, gnawing away at his mind. He needed to eat all the time, and Rick was more than happy to make sure his prize pig’s trough stayed full all day and night. The breeding of the sows felt more and more perfunctory to Jason as the days dragged on–all he could think about what Rick’s cock sliding into his piggy hole in the barn, fucking him while he squealed and grunted, or better yet, getting fucked while he was feasting on as much slop as he could shove down his gullet–but there was one thing that Rick didn’t quite count on–that pigs were much smarter than hoses, or bulls, or goats.

Confident that his hold over Jason was firm, Rick had grown lax in making sure the pigman in the barn was being fed his usual doses of the various teas he had procured from the witch over the last few months. The lustful tea, the subservient tea, the calming tea–together, they had all combined to mold Jason into a moaning animal, lusting after Rick’s cock–his perfect cock, now that he’d gone and stolen Jason’s member and cast aside his own. He hadn’t felt this strong in ages, and the longer he kept it on, the more he could see himself becoming Jason entirely–and he coveted it more than anything else in his life.

This hadn’t always been the plan–but ever since that first time he’d tried on Jason’s cock out of drunk curiosity, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else–and the witch had been plenty eager to use his new member as well, milking him of cum for her own twisted purposes, deep in the woods. Jason on the other hand, knew too much. He would have have a good life here, though, as an animal, a freakish sex animal for Rick’s private pleasure, too stupid to even realize that he’d lost all of his humanity in the process. But the usual mental stupor that usually came over Jason when he transformed didn’t come this time. And when the tea slowly flushed from his system, Jason found himself realizing, slowly, that Rick’s body was not the body he had had before–he was looking up at himself. 

Rick would taunt him, and while Jason couldn’t understand all of the words he was saying, he understood well enough, what was going to happen to him if he didn’t do something–he would never be getting his portion of the profits. He would never even get off this farm. Before too long, he’d be rendered too dumb to want anything more than his Master’s cock in his ass–and the worst part was that part of him, a part of him brainwashed too far to do anything about, wanted it too. He had to escape–he had to get help. But the only place he could go, the only person who could, perhaps, help him, was the witch.

And so, in the dead of night, when he was certain that Rick was asleep, he managed to get himself out of the pen where he was being kept–his awkward half-human form being useful for a few things at least–make his way out of the barn, and he disappeared into the woods. He couldn’t quite recall the exact location of the witch’s hut–but he could feel his way there. Feel the wrongness, the way nature twisted and warped the closer he got, the forest growing darker, gnarled, and heavy the deeper he went. He found the witch, nursing one child and obviously pregnant with another, and he pleaded with her, begged her, as best he could without a voice, for her to have mercy on him, and free him from this nightmare–all he wanted, was for all of this to go back to normal.

She got down and stroked his bristly back, cooing to him. “I’ll give you what you desire. If normal is what you crave, then so be it–normal is what you will be.”

Jason wasn’t sure what he felt, after that. After so many months of things twisting out of place, of his sense of reality warping further and further, of everything feeling like it was in flux–there was, at last, a hardening. The sense of nausea that had plagued him since he’d first replaced his cock with that of a stallion, began to settle. He was at peace, and the last thing he recalled, was letting out a heavy sigh and grunt, and passing out on the floor of the witch’s hut.

Then, he awoke in a stall, in the barn, and he knew, immediately, that things were…normal. That the state of flux he had existed in for most of the last year had faded, and passed beyond him. He knew, somehow, that he would never change again–and that filled him with a sense of relief he could barely describe–at least until he tried to stand up, and discovered the trotters where his hands should have been. They were the trotters he’d had when he’d been a pig–and he crawled over to the water trough in his pin, looked at himself, and groaned in horror. It wasn’t a human face looking back at him–or at least, not entirely. There were glimmers, here and there–mostly the eyes. But the rest of him…he was a pig. He had a piggish snout with a big metal ring in it. Floppy pig ears. A curly pig tail. His front legs ended in trotters, but his back ones ended in more human feet. His fat torso didn’t have the usual bristle of hair that he’d had before, but instead the curly body hair of a man running down his belly and back.

He tried to scream. He tried to speak. All he could do was squeal and grunt, until the commotion eventually drew Rick to come check on him, but he didn’t seem at all surprised as what he found there. Rick just proceeded to feed his favorite fuckbeast, and then plowed his ass and filled him with his first load of the day. It felt…so good, to Jason. Better than it had ever felt before, for reasons he couldn’t grasp. When Rick pulled out of him, all he could think about was how he needed more…a corrupt thought spreading through him, beginning to push out the rest of him that realized how deeply disturbed all of this was. But he had to focus on…on the cock.

Or rather, on Rick’s old cock. If he could get the rings, if he could get Rick’s old cock at least, maybe he could fight back, try and save himself, but when he looked down at himself–Jason began to sob instead. His groin was entirely empty. The pig cock he’d been wearing for the last few weeks was gone, and the ring that remained, even when switching cocks out, was gone as well. He realized, then, that there would be no escaping this–any of it. He’d asked for this to be normal, and in doing so, he’d asked it to go on forever–he’d asked to remain like this permanently. The witch, in her immeasurable cruelty, and given him exactly what he’d asked for, and Rick, from the glimmer in his eye as he gave Jason a kiss on the snout and a playful tug on the ring in his nose, seemed to know exactly what had happened to him.

“I’ll be back in a little, piggy,” Rick said, “the witch made a little adjustment to the rings’ magic, and so I shouldn’t have to go looking for another stud anytime soon–I’ll be able to wear them myself. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to feel me rip open that ass of yours with a big bull cock? Because that’s what I’m going to do next, I think. That’s what you deserve, for running off like that. But don’t worry, you won’t be going anywhere ever again. I can see you fading already, that little light in your eyes. She said you’d last long enough to realize what happened to you, but that once you did, you’d fade faster and faster, until it’s just the animal inside you left. The part of you I love the most. Don’t worry–I’ll take good care of you. You’re my favorite, after all. All of this was possible because of you, and I’ll show you how much I love you every day, my piggy–every single day.”

New Patreon Exclusives!

Hey everyone! I have a couple short bits over on patreon that are new! First, there’s an alternate version of the next interactive chapter ready for folks to read there. I’ll have the public one ready in a few days as well. There’s also a new suggested story featuring some odd stuff–a lot of inanimate TF, superheros, living condoms, etc. What’s not to like? You can check that new tale out here. Thanks for the support as always! You can find more details out about my patreon here.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeover (Part 2)

After a few necessary precautions, Edwin fired up the machine again, and took control of Josh not too long after their first encounter on the day he moved in. He had one month, then, to set Josh on a more interesting, and in his mind, fulfilling path, than what Josh had in mind for himself.

He spent the first couple of days getting acclimated to his host. While his level of direct control was substantial, he noticed that Josh’s mind tended to push back on anything he did directly. It was more efficient, then, to work behind the scenes–send lots of little thoughts that would grow into big ones, until Josh made the desired decision all on his own–or at least, he thought he did. Edwin decided to start with a big one, just to measure the scope of his power–he was going to get Josh to drop out of school.

It ended up being easier than he’d expected. Josh wasn’t particularly good at school, and he didn’t exactly enjoy it. He mostly did it so he could play sports, so Edwin worked on that against him. It wasn’t easy. Josh had been playing baseball all of his life–it was about as close to a cornerstone of his identity as he could get. Of course, that meant that when it crumbled, every thing that came after would be much, much easier. It took a week. The greatest tool that Edwin had was doubt. He got Josh to start questioning his ability as a student easily, and after that, his skill as an athlete. With a solid dose of imposter syndrome brewing, all it took was a few hard pushes, and Josh went to the dean’s office and dropped out after one week of classes.

Of course, that wasn’t all Edwin had been up to in the course of the week. He’d already decided what sort of person he was going to turn Josh into, if he could. Josh liked his porn, mostly women, but with a few pushes, and some direct control, he had Edwin discovering an interest in a different kind of person entirely–fat men, the more obese the better. After a week, almost all of Edwin’s fantasies were about being an encourager. Feeding fat men, making them larger and larger, servicing them, worshiping them, every part of their bodies. It helped that Edwin himself wasn’t exactly small–he had Josh finding all sorts of excuses to get with Edwin–and during that first week, he discovered something groundbreaking–he could leap from person to person, in the past.

He could convince Edwin to start sucking his cock, and then leap to his own body, and make Josh worship his gut, cherish it, tell him that he loves fat old men like him, that they know how to make him happy. Then, he’d jump back to Josh when they were finished, and cement all of that praise in his ego. It was amazing, knowing that he’d mindfucked his hot, muscular tenant so easily–but they had another task before them, and now that he knew he could hop between people easily enough, that made the next task rather easy. See, Josh needed to find a new job, and it just so happened that not too far from the house was a fast food joint. Josh took an application in, and with a little hop over to the manager’s mind, he was hired on the spot.

Josh loved his new job much more than he’d expected to–mostly, he loved waiting on all of the obese men who came through. He got hard every time he got to upgrade their meals, thinking about how much fatter they were going to get with him feeding them here. He would take regular breaks to the bathroom at work to jack off, fantasizing about his favorite customers, wondering how many of them wouldn’t mind a personal feeding sometime. Edwin took the opportunity to plant the suggestion in quite a few of them, and it wasn’t long before Josh would take the leftover goods at the end of the night on a round of deliveries, stopping by at all of his regulars houses, stuffing them full all over again, and sucking down their cum as a reward.

Of course, Josh didn’t quite look the part of greasy fry cook yet, so Edwin made thoughts of hygiene start slipping from his mind. He had to keep his face shaved, but he would let the stubble grow in over the weekend. His hair grew out, sticky with grease from the grill and deep fryers. His skin started breaking out, and towards the end of the month, his manager actually had to pull him aside to talk about his BO–but Edwin made a little round of his coworker’s minds, and made sure that concern wouldn’t be an issue anymore for them. Towards the end of the month, Edwin’s work was done–where there had been a hotshot jock, there was now a greasy, hairy fry cook, obsessed with feeding fat men, spending all of his free time either delivering meals to his favorite customers, or sitting in his room at his computer, jacking off, and thinking about how much larger he was going to make them all. It was enough to make a pervert proud. With that, Edwin killed the stream and returned to the present, eager to see how the rest of the year had treated his tenant.

The headache was much more severe this time, and Edwin actually had to make his way to the bathroom to vomit. He’d spent all night in the basement and it was now mid-morning. Once he was sure his head wasn’t going to explode from the sudden onslaught, he got up, saw himself in the mirror, and grinned a bit. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, but Edwin had apparently become one of Josh’s favorite customers himself. He didn’t have a scale to weigh himself, but he had to be at least fifty pounds heavier than he remembered. He didn’t mind it, in all honesty–after all, it meant that everything had worked exactly as he’d hoped. He went upstairs and peeked into Josh’s room, where his tenant was sitting in front of his computer, masturbating as usual–and fuck, all of the fast food and feeding had rubbed off on him as well. He wasn’t the lean muscled man Edwin could half recall–he was easily 250 pounds, sitting in a pair of grungy, cumsoaked briefs, panting and grunting at a massive pig on the screen, totally absorbed in his fetish.

“If you want a real pig to worship, why not me,” Edwin said, and Josh spun around in his chair, leered at his landlord, and dragged him onto his bed, where Josh happily licked every inch of Edwin’s larger body clean, snorting and grunting the whole time like a pig himself. He drank down Edwin’s load at the end of it, and then had to throw on his unwashed uniform and get to work, leaving Edwin alone in the house, amazed at what he’d managed to accomplish with a month of control. Now that he’d gotten a taste of it, all Edwin wanted now, was more.

But who next? Edwin wasn’t close to many people, so he wasn’t quite sure. One option stood out to him though–his neighbor Jerry. A nice enough fellow, forty years old, married, no kids. Boring as dirt though. He and his wife were both teachers at the local high school, but didn’t do much beyond that. They had been married for twenty years though–Edwin recalled Jerry telling him they’d gotten married when they were twenty. He knew, now, what a year could do–but twenty years? Why not go back to the day before their wedding, break it off, and send Jerry on a life changing bender that would warp him for the rest of his days? Fuck, just thinking about it had Edwin hard as a rock…but he needed a rest. He’d take a few days to come up with a plan, and maybe get spy on Jerry’s life a bit–then he’d take a ride through Jerry’s past and wreak havoc.


Here’s the next poll! Same deal as before. Everyone can pick two options in the public poll below. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, and they get to choose four of the options. The bonus poll can be found over here.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeover (Part 1)

Had he really done it?

Edwin looked at the monitor in his basement lab, looking at the stream of data passing by. It looked…right. He moved over and examined the tachyon laser, not that there was much to see. Tachyons moved faster than the speed of light, and that meant, well, they moved faster than time itself. And moving faster than time, with the right sort of setup, also meant going back in time. He’d really done it. He put in a command in the console, and then went to the corner of the basement. Where there had been an untouched corner a moment ago, there was now a small burn in the brick wall. He touched it, it was still warm. Sure enough, the beam had done that ten minutes ago, in the past, while he was still setting it up. Not just time travel then–could he really change things?

It was complicated, of course. You can’t send physical matter back in time, after all–just tachyons. But that had been his first breakthrough, really, that he could use a tachyon beam to communicate data–a massive amount of data. Say, the consciousness of a person in the future, beamed into the past. It worked in the same room too–he’d tested it with a subject or two early on. He’d been able to beam his own conscious experience into their mind with a shot from the beam. He’d made them forget, of course, but now, if the beam could go back in time and move through space, well…

He could be anyone, really, at any point in history. Almost giddy with excitement, he set up his equipment, put on the transmitting helmet, and connected into his new setup. He already had a target in mind, in fact–he was going to shoot the beam at the young man currently resting the upstairs room from him. His name was Josh, and he was a nice enough kid. Went to the local college, played on the baseball team, liked to go out and party a lot, as young guys did he supposed. He had been one of Edwin’s earlier test subjects, and the momentary experience of being young again…it had been a rush. It didn’t hurt that Josh was attractive, and that Edwin was a bit of a pervert.

He loaded up the security cameras in the house, and found the exact moment and coordinates from the day that Josh had moved in a year ago. Then, he crossed his fingers, started the program, and the beam started to power up. One moment he was sitting there in his basement, and the next–he wasn’t. He was seeing through Josh’s eyes, one year ago. He could see the calendar on the wall and everything!

The sensation was the same–Josh was still in control, but the beam was broadcasting Edwin’s mental states on top of his. A passenger really, and Josh didn’t seem to have any idea it was happening, as he stood in the kitchen with Edwin a year ago, discussing the various rules of the house. Edwin was looking at himself–that was strange as well. He’d remembered what he’d been thinking about at this moment, actually, that what he’d really wanted was this hot young jock to get down and start sucking him off.

He felt the mind he was in lurch oddly around him. Had Josh…heard that? He had–it must have felt like an intrusive thought, or something like that. Could…no, he couldn’t make him do something like that, could he? For the next several minutes, he started forcing more and more thoughts into Josh’s mind, subtler, about how he found his new landlord attractive, how he could get a little discount on the rent, in exchange for, well, you know. He couldn’t believe it when he heard the words come out of Josh’s mouth, and knowing himself, Edwin was more than happy to oblige the young man. Josh sucked him off right there in the kitchen, and Edwin did everything he could to reward him, make his mind feel good, tell him how much he enjoyed this. When Josh was finished, and swallowing down the load of cum, Edwin killed the stream back in the present–and when he found himself back in his own mind, he had a sudden headache.

He could…remember it. Remember Josh sucking him off that day–and sucking him off once a week ever since. Sure, it had meant a fifty percent discount on the rent, but the boy’s mouth was so nice, and he was so eager for it, Edwin didn’t mind losing a bit of income. He still knew he’d changed it–but all of those memories were…harder to pull forward, and made the headache worse. He went upstairs for some water, and pondered for a moment.

How long had he been there? He’d expected a one to one conversion rate, but was surprised to find that his hour spent in the past had only been one minute in the present. That meant, he could spend an uninterrupted month in the past, and only lose around twelve hours in the present. 

One month. Fuck, if he’d been able to turn Josh into a cocksucker in one hour, what could he do if he lived in the young man’s head for a month? Who could he turn him into? He’d had so many fantasies–make the jock ruin his fit, muscular body and turn him into an obese pig. Make him his subservient butler. Convert him into a rubber gimp, maybe even as a urinal. Hell, he could warp his entire personality, drop out of school, a disgusting gooner. He went back downstairs, and started powering up the beam, hundreds of ideas circling through his head. He would go back there, and spend a month, he’d decided. See what sort of control he had over people in the past, and have some good, naughty fun while he was at it.


Alright, I thought it was time for another interactive, and I’d had this idea bouncing around for a bit in various ways, and figured it would make a decent one. We’ll probably have Edwin make some modifications to a few different people, starting with his roommate Josh. These polls will have a lot of options–I’ll mix and match the most popular ones into a result that uses several. Patrons get their own bonus poll of course! While you can only choose two options in the public poll, patrons can choose their four favorites on the bonus poll. I’ll probably do an alternate chapter or two for patrons as well, depending on how things go. The public poll is below, and the patron only bonus poll is over here.

Patreon Exclusives: “Stud Service” & “Arctos: Scents #1 and #2”

Got a couple new stories up for Patrons this week! The first one is currently in early access, which means that it’ll get posted publicly in a week or so. I’ve had it sitting around for a while and never got around to posting it. It’s got some good old fashioned weird shit–anthro, furry, feral, cock swapping, fairy tale oddities etc. You can find it here, or you can hang on for a while and catch it here in a bit.

The others are a pair of suggested stories based off ideas from Patrons. Folks liked the first one I did last week, and so I did a follow up with a different scent I’d mentioned. I’ll go ahead and post the first one in full–if you enjoy it, you can find the second one here.

As always, if you haven’t signed up for my Patreon, I’d recommend it! You get early access to full stories, as well as access to the suggestion box, all of the stories I write based on those suggestions, and the occasional freebie too. You can find more details here!


Blake didn’t know what the package was when it showed up in his mailbox, nor did he recognize the company on the label–some place called Arctos Industries. He took it inside with the rest of his mail, opened it up, and three little canisters fell out, along with a note:

“Blake,

You’re a man of discerning scent. We here at Arctos are offering you a sample pack of our new personal scents–Mechanic, Dungeoneer, and Truckstop. Now you too can smell like an Arctos man. The full strength formulas can be found at our website, once you’ve settled on your favorite. Happy scenting.”

“Fucking weird ass marketing campaigns these days,” Blake said, and looked at the three aerosol cans. They must be some kind of deodorant or body spray. Out of curiosity, he popped the top off one, labeled Mechanic, and gave it a little spray in the air.

Grease. Motor oil. Sweat. New car smell. Metal shavings. Battery acid. 

It was…strong. If this wasn’t full strength, he didn’t want to know what the real thing smelled like. But the smell was lingering in his nose, he couldn’t quite seem to shake it, somehow. Something…something was off. He realized then that he’d taken his shirt off at some point, but when? He tried to move away from where he’d sprayed it, but it followed him–he lifted an arm up, gave a sniff, and realized it was on him–he’d sprayed himself with it, but when? Looking at the clock, he’d lost…fifteen minutes? He was feeling woozy again, woozy, and…horny. That was the last thing he remembered clearly, until he found himself lying in his bed.

With a moan, he stood up, and looked around. What time was it? He looked for his phone, but it was nowhere to be seen. He got up and went into the kitchen, and discovered it was…morning. He turned on his computer, and found out it was morning…two days later. He’d just lost around 36 hours of time, and he had no way of accounting for it at all. He heard the buzz of his phone, back in his bedroom, and he found it in the pocket of some filthy coveralls he had never seen before in his life, coated with grease and motor oil. He couldn’t imagine wearing something like that ever–but then why were they here, with his phone in the pocket? The buzz had been a message from some stranger he didn’t even know, asking why he wasn’t at the shop–probably a wrong number.

Other stuff was off though. He went to make himself some breakfast, and found leftover take out from some fast food place in the fridge–shit he would have never ordered in his life. He threw it out. His hands were filthy, with grease under the nails from who knew what. He drank his coffee, and noticed the canister of deodorant was still on the counter. Mechanic–that was the last thing he’d done before blacking out. Did that have something to do with all of this? He didn’t want to test the theory–he just chucked it in the trash with the fast food, and wondered if he should call the doctor. 

In the end, he felt fine though–he watched TV for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, only for his show to be interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Wondering who it could be, he opened it, and found himself looking at a stocky guy wearing some grungy looking coveralls. He looked surprised, and then confused. “Oh, hey. Is Blake here?”

“Uh…yeah, I’m Blake.”

“No, I mean…big guy, roommate?”

“I live here alone, no other Blake as far as I…what are you doing?” Blake asked, as the shorter guy started sniffing the air. 

“I…I smell him, he’s here somewhere,” he said, and pushed past Blake into the apartment.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” The guy made a beeline for the trash can, and pulled out the canister, then came back and sniffed Blake. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out of my apartment.”

Blake tried to shove him back out into the hallway, but before he could, the guy pulled off the top of the canister and sprayed Blake with the Mechanic scent again. As soon as he smelled it, he blanked out again for a second, and when he came to…he was…different. 

“Fuck, I knew you had to be here, I had to smell you again,” the guy said, his face shoved into Blake’s armpit. He…He was naked, mostly naked. But something was off. He was bigger, hairier. He tried to push the stranger away, but ended up using his hand to shove him harder into his armpit. Things began to swim, losing more clarity, and then, he wasn’t in his apartment.

He was in a bathroom. Not the cleanest bathroom he’d ever seen. It was obviously a business bathroom, single occupancy, lock on the door. Blake looked around him, totally disoriented, and saw himself in the mirror, face coated in grime, wearing the coveralls he’d found in the apartment, the nametag patch on them said Blake. They fit…poorly. They pooled around the work boots he had on, which were also too small, and hung off him, like they were made for a guy at least a hundred pounds heavier. What in the world was happening to him? He found his phone in his pocket, but couldn’t unlock it–someone had changed the pin on him to something he didn’t know. He could see the date though–he’d lost…five days this time! How was that even possible?

He left the bathroom, and found himself in the lobby of a mechanic’s garage. One of the customer’s waiting did a double take when he came out, then buried his face back in the magazine he was reading. Blake, red in the face, left the lobby and looked for his car, but it wasn’t anywhere that he could see. He was still wandering about when the guy who had shown up at his apartment before came jogging over to him.

“You! Where…where the hell am I? What did you do to me?”

“Hey, easy now, calm down, I can explain,” he said, but he just pulled the canister from his pocket and shot it all over Blake’s body, “I was hoping a smaller dose would be ok, since we’re running low, but the full strength spray should arrive today–it’s all going to be fine.”

Blake choked and gasped, and he…he could feel it. Feel his body growing larger, his gut filling out the front of his coveralls, hair receding and filling in with grey, a bushy beard across his face, and the stench! Fuck, he smelled fucking good, made his fat cock get hard and start leaking in the front of his favorite coveralls…but what was he doing out here in the parking lot? Last thing he remembered, he’d needed to take a piss, and his boy wasn’t around to drink it for him. “What the hell, I fergot some shit again…” he muttered, embarrassed. That had been happening lately, just…losing time without any explanation. 

“Don’t worry Daddy, your medication will get here today–you’ll be feeling better soon enough,” Sam said, and gave the massive, smelly mechanic a hug, taking a deep inhale of his scent, his own cock going crazy. “It’s lunch time Daddy, why don’t we hit the drive through, and we can both get fed,” he said, and groped Blake’s crotch.

“Fuck boy, sounds like a plan tah me,” Blake growled to him. They hopped in the used truck they’d bought a few days before–he didn’t know what he’d been thinking, buying a little car he could barely fit into, but this was so much more comfy. They headed for the drive through–Blake would get his usual massive meal, and while he ate, his boy would get a load of mechanic cum for his troubles.

Caption: Lunch With My Uncle

I post captions somewhat regularly over on my discord channel, which is reserved for patrons! There’s a sizable archive at this point, and new ones posted each month. You can find out more information here.


My uncle had always been hard on me. No, that’s an understatement. He always hated me, I think, or something, because he spent most of my youth criticizing me for anything, really. My dad always told me not to take it to heart, that he was family and still loved me, but when I came out, well, my uncle had a few choice words to say about that as well. Needless to say, as soon as my parents didn’t force me to see him anymore, I didn’t speak to him for years–but things change, sometimes. 

A few months ago, I decided to reconnect with him. He’d been through two divorces by this point and didn’t have any kids of his own–not really surprising to me, and he was lonely. So I decided to start having lunch with him on a regular basis. I’d moved back to town where both my parents and my uncle lived after college, and so we started meeting for lunch–first once a week, but after awhile, we were meeting every day–I can be pretty insistent, you see.

“Go on Unc,” I said, Dig in,” I said, when the waiter brought our food out.

He just sat there, looking at the three entrees I’d ordered for him, looking a bit sick to his stomach. He’d been meeting for lunch for most of a year now, and my uncle was looking a little, well, chubby. Hell, I eventually made him tell me how much he’d gained, and he was over 300 pounds at this point. 

“Please…please, I’m sorry,” he said to me, quiet enough no one around us could hear. He’d started doing this lately, trying to apologize, and it was getting a bit tiresome.

“Your food’s getting cold, go on now,” I said, and picked at the salad I’d ordered for myself.

“I don’t…wanna eat anymore. Please, I…I’m so full already, and–”

“If I wanted to hear your excuses, I’d be your therapist, now eat up, pig.”

There was a flash in my eyes, and he picked up his fork and started shovelling bites into his mouth, faster than he could really chew.

“There we go, that feels better, doesn’t it? Filling all that emptiness inside your soul with food, because you never bothered to fill it with anything else. Makes that dick of yours hard too–go on, give it a rub, pig.”

With one hand still stuffing his face, the other reached into his lap, under his gut, and started groping his cock, right there in the busy restaurant.

“You know, I’m getting really tired of your complaining all the time when we have lunch together. I’m being rather civil, you know that, right? I could have you tear off all your clothes, right here, shove your face in that bowl, devour everything until you cum, squealing and grunting like an animal. Right in front of these normal families, enjoying your lunch. Is that what you want me to do pig? Is that what you want to do?”

I could tell by the shudder that my teasing had gotten the expected reaction–he’d shot his load right into his underwear. We ate the rest of the meal in silence, and when dessert came, he was a good pig and ordered a triple helping, all by himself.

While we waited for it to arrive, I decided to ask him something that had been on my mind, as I’d been watching him pack on all these pounds. “So, what does Martha think of your new look?” Martha was my aunt–not quite as cruel as he was, but she’d had her moments too.

He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but with a little nudge, he spilled the truth. “She hates it. She complains about it all the time, calls me all sorts of disgusting names. She won’t even sleep with me–I’ve been sleeping on the couch for a month now. She says I can come back to bed with her when the springs don’t squeak when I lay down.”

“When’s the last time you had sex with her?”

“I don’t know. Months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s not easy to be a man, horny all the time because of how monstrously fat you’ve become, and your wife won’t even touch you. That just makes you even hornier too, since knowing how disgusting she thinks you are is so humiliating, right?”

He was crying now. I almost had him to sobs, but I held back, because we were in public. “Well, I think you deserve a reward, for being such a good piggy, and gaining so much weight. I have someone who would love to help you out–but you need to eat all of your dessert,” I said, as the three plates arrived, “but then I stole the spoon that came with them. “You need to eat them all with your hands.”

He blanched, but with a little cajoling, he gave in. He was horny, and he hadn’t had someone else touch him in so long, and the looks of everyone else in the restaurant as he stuffed his face with his fat paws was too good. Of course, I didn’t tell him the important details. I had a muscle bound friend of mine with an eight inch dick waiting back at my place. I was helping him out with a few problems of his own, and he’d agreed to fuck my fat uncle for me–provided he could do him rough and raw. I had no problem with that of course–and my uncle would deal with it. He wasn’t going to have a choice, after all.

The Pig Squad

Week One Debrief, From the Training Journal of Officer Bernard Matthews

Look, I’ll be the first to admit that the squad had some issues, alright? But we weren’t any worse than any of the other squads in the state patrols, I can tell you that. Harrison could get a little rough with folks out on the highways. Everyone knows that Klein is a racist, though he can keep it in usually. Ricci does his best as sergeant, but his heart isn’t really in it. His dad was a cop, so he had to be too, you know? Sure, the lawsuits look bad, but most of them got settled easily enough. Hell, I’ll point you to five squads in this state with records worse than ours, but hell, one high profile chase goes wrong, and suddenly we have to do something about it. Something being, of course, this fucking psycho bullshit re-training.

I heard from Lewis that this is all because the quack doctor is some friend of the governor’s brother or something. Someone’s always greasing someone’s shaft, right? So the whole squad has to spend five fucking weeks off patrol, and instead we’re locked up in a classroom all fucking day long, with this old fuck prattling on and on at us, making us watch these boring ass movies about how we can work better as a team, how we can better serve the community, it’s all a bunch of horseshit. I’ll tell you this right now, after one week, I’ll gladly get the squad to shape up just so I don’t have to sit through this trash ever again.

And now, we have to keep a journal too, whatever. Something about helping the doctor assess the course’s effect over time. Well here doc, when you read this in a few weeks, here’s what I want you to know. You’re a fucking piece of shit quack, with no fucking idea what it takes to be a police officer. How about that for a baseline? Five weeks from now, we’ll all be back on our bikes, laughing about what a fucking waste of time this all was, and you’ll have your chunk of government money–that’s what this is all about I bet.

What else was there–oh right, the drugs. We have to take these pills too, apparently. Don’t know what they are, but they give them to us at the start of the day, and make sure we all take them. Harrison got found out when they tested our piss for it on Wednesday–he’d been hiding the pill under his tongue and spitting it out later. Had to have a “private” session with the doctor about that. More bullshit I think. At least they’re feeding us well–though without going to the gym, I look a little flabby. Wish they’d give us some time for physical activity at least–then this wouldn’t be quite so mind numbingly boring. We even had to watch a bunch of videos over the weekend at home–they were so dull I can’t remember a thing about them. Whatever–nothing else to fucking report this week, other than to say, go fuck yourself Doc, you fucking queer. As for me, I’m heading to the strip club with a couple of other guys from the squad. I know I could use a good fuck right about now, after a week of this shit. Just four more to go.


Week Two Debrief, From the Training Journal of Officer Bernard Matthews

Alright, so I think something strange is going on with those drugs they’ve been giving us, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. They don’t give us a lot of private time–we always have the doctor or one of his various assistants watching us throughout these sessions, but the few times we’ve been able to talk to each other, we’re all reporting the same things. All of us are eating more. We just can’t help ourselves, and the fact that the doctor always has a full snack bar for these sessions isn’t helping. I’ll look down in the middle of one of his boring videos and discover I’ve demolished a massive load of candy and other snacks without even realizing it–and worse, I’m still fucking hungry, every time!

Fields said that he was taking a shower the other day, and when he looked down, a bunch of hair was clogging the drain. He’d just lost all of the hair off his body in a single shower, and apparently a bunch off his head as well. I hadn’t really thought about it until he said something, but I realized that I couldn’t recall the last day I’d needed to shave my face. I don’t grow a lot there, so I can usually get away with every other day, but I couldn’t think of when I’d shaved over the last week my chin and cheeks are perfectly smooth. When I checked the rest of my body, it was smooth too, and a lot of my muscular definition had been swallowed up in a thick layer of fat. My hair was even looking thin, and receding higher than it should have. It has to be those drugs. None of us want to take them, but when the doctor gives them to us, we can’t stop ourselves. I’ve…noticed that a lot, actually. The doctor gives us orders, and we all follow them, without even really thinking about it. It only got worse with the physical exam on Friday.

We all had to strip naked, together, and hell if it wasn’t obvious that something was happening to us. All of us were smooth as a button. Klein had lost his goatee entirely, and looked 50 pounds heavier. Hell, all of us looked 50 pounds heavier, if not a bit more. We were ushered into the doctor’s office, poked and prodded by his assistants, and then we had to answer all these…sex questions while we had electrodes hooked up to our cocks! It sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with police work, but while I…I wanted to say something, I wanted to stop it, I couldn’t do anything at all. Just answered his questions like some stupid dolt, and then they gave me a new uniform to wear for the rest of the re-training. We could wear our civilian clothes home at least, but we’d have to change in the locker room every day before the sessions started.

I wore it the next day. We all did. The shirts and breeches are so tight on all of us, with all of the new weight we’ve put on. It’s more like a dress uniform, but the tightness–the rigidness…it made my cock a bit excited. We even have to wear perfectly shined leather boots, gloves, and a hat while we sit in for sessions now. In it, I feel like I’m sweating so much, but during one session, I caught myself grabbing my crotch while the Doctor spoke, and looking around, I wasn’t the only one doing it.

I’ve heard rumors that a few guys are going to try and push back. I don’t know what they’re going to do exactly, none of them are guys I tend to run with–Klein, Harrison, a few others, Ricci probably, since he’s always one for bad decisions. I don’t know if they’re going to go to the chief, or if they’re going to try and take matters into their own hands…but I’m staying out of it. I…I just, it’s so hard to think now, that I’m sitting here at home. Last week I went out to the strip club, had a session with Sonja afterwards, and I couldn’t even get hard. She offered me a blue pill, and I just left. But now, I think it’s…smaller. My balls too. And I haven’t gotten hard thinking about a woman in…days? Just at these sessions, in my new uniform…fuck, what’s wrong with me? I need to fucking eat something, fuck this. Why am I even writing this down? I don’t want the doc to read this…


Week Three Debrief, From the Training Journal of Officer Bernard Matthews

I don’t know what to do. I feel like…I know that this is wrong, but…but fuck, sitting here, rubbing my gut, smoking one of my cigars, feeling my little dick get hard, it all just feels so right, all of a sudden. 

I read what I wrote last week, and it feels so far away now. So much happened since I wrote it, but I…I just keep hearing Doc’s voice, and…and fuck, he makes me feel so good, thinking about him. I like feeling good, I just want all my brothers to feel good too, right? Why wouldn’t I? If we just relax, and follow the program, I can tell everything will be alright, but part of me is telling me I have to fight this. That this isn’t my body. That I don’t smoke cigars, that I don’t want to be fat, that the feeling of my leather gloves on my cock isn’t heaven on fucking earth. But I don’t think we can fight it. Hell, look at what happened to Klein and the others when they tried.

It was Tuesday. Wednesday? I don’t know, they all blend together. I saw Doc yesterday, I know that, and it was two, three days before? I was already dressed, in the main room, had taken my pills and gotten in my seat. A few guys on the squad were all missing at this point, the ones I knew had been planning something, and a couple others that didn’t surprise me. Most of the bad apples, you might say–the ones who were causing the bulk of the issues in the first place. A few minutes after I noticed that, the assistants (I call them that, but they’re guards, aren’t they? Keeping us there like that, controlling us) dragged them all in, kicking and flailing. Fuck, that was a sight. Doc came out, asked them why they were late, and Klein ripped into him, yelling and shouting, accusing him of all sorts of shit, trying to hypnotise us, warp our minds, fucking with our bodies. The rest of us just sat there. I was scared, honestly. I knew he was right…I think? I don’t know, I just feel so out of it.

Doc tells the assistants that they all need a special group sessions with him for the day, and the rest of us just rewatch some of the videos we’d already seen, while the assistants watch us. I try and focus on them this time, really hard, but by the end of the day, hell if I can remember what the videos said–though I knew they were ones I’d seen before, somehow. I knew that I…I knew what they’d said, even if I couldn’t say it, or think it. We change out of our uniforms at the end of the session, and the rebels are there, eyes…glassy. They’re smearing some weird cream on their crotches, vile smelling shit. Harrison bent over, and I swear I saw something in his ass. A plug or a dildo, who knows what. None of them said anything, and the next day, all of them were on time, fully dressed, took their pills like good hogs, and sat down.

Hogs–why did I just write that? Reading it makes me so fucking hard, why the fuck…I can’t think about that, I can’t handle this.

I know what I have to do. I just gotta cruise through. Make sure no one notices me. But then, yesterday, Doc holds three of us back. Wold, Fields, and I. We all go into his office, he…talked with us, about stuff. Then Wold and Fields left, and it was just the two of us.

Now, I’m scared. I’m scared, because this is the first time I can really remember something Doc said to me, clearly. He asked me why I’d never pursued a leadership position in the squad, and I told him the truth, that I didn’t want the trouble. That it was easier to just go with the flow, rather than try and push back against a bunch of shit that will never change. I learned years ago that you can fight the racists like Klein, or the fascists like Harrison, or the legacies like Ricci, but there’s always more of them that show up. Doc just nodded. Then he handed me a bunch of cigars and a set of videos. Told me to watch them this weekend, and smoke at least two cigars a day for the rest of training.

Everyone else was gone, when I’d left. I didn’t notice until I got home that I was still wearing my uniform–it was the first time I’d worn it outside of the training. I looked at myself in it, in my mirror, and I hardly recognize myself. Smooth face and head, fat body squeezed into the thick cloth and shiny leather. It made me leak. I’ve gotten through half the discs, I think. I don’t know what they’re doing to me, but thinking about Klein and Harrison, how stupid they’ve seemed for the last few days, thinking about that…plug in Harrison’s hole, fucking hogs. Need a good boss to tell them what to do. Yeah, plug their hogholes, make ‘em squeal, that’ll–

Fuck, what a fucking mess. Filled the front of my fucking breeches with a load, just thinking about those stupid hogs of mine. Fuck, why am I writing this? What is he doing to me now? And why the fuck do I keep farting so dang much?


Week Four Debrief, From the Training Journal of Officer Bernard Matthews

I broke him. Fuck, and it felt fucking good doing it, fuck.

This week was different. Instead of group sessions, Doc scheduled individual meetings with all of us. Mine was early on, which kind of surprised me, since I’d just had a personal session with him a few days before. He asked me how I’d liked the cigars that he’d given me. I’d smoked them all over the weekend–I hadn’t really been able to stop once I’d started them. They didn’t really hit me like the few cigarettes I’d had before. There was a bit of a nicotine rush of course, but mostly I felt…powerful, when I was smoking one. Powerful, and dominant, and I’d usually found myself thinking about my squad brothers, about how they looked in their uniforms, and more and more, how they might look out of them, kneeling in front of me, and…

Fuck, is this me? Has this always been me? I can’t really remember how I used to look, you know? I try. I look in the mirror, but I can’t picture myself with hair on my head. I can’t imagine what I’d look like if I managed to lose the weight I keep putting on somehow. 

I told all that to the Doc. He just nodded, and then he asked me whether I’d noticed myself farting more. I blushed–I’d been passing gas the whole time I’d been sitting in his office, trying to keep them quiet, but more than a few had been at least a little noisy. I’d belched a few times as well, when I was trying to talk. I told him I didn’t know what was causing it, but assumed it was just how much I’d been eating lately, but he told me to relax. He was my closest confidant, after all–I could be myself around him, if I wanted to.

Well, apparently “being myself” meant leaning back, groping myself, sniffing my own farts while I told him all of my…disgusting fantasies I’d had about the other men in the squad. As horrified as I was, I couldn’t stop myself–and more than once, I came in the front of my uniform, and Doc just smiled at me in the oddest way. I don’t recall a lot after that. He spoke a lot, but as always, I just zoned out when he was speaking, though it had been a full hour when I finally realized what was happening. He told me that for the rest of the week, I would be leading workouts with the squad while he was having individual meetings. I asked him why Ricci wasn’t doing them–he was the squad’s sergeant after all. Doc told me not to worry about it. As I left, I remembered that he had been one of the guys involved in the little revolt, so the answer was obvious, in the end.

The next day, with a fresh supply of cigars, I started putting the rest of the pigs through their paces in the gym. It had been relatively unused in the training up until then, but now, all of us were sweating up a storm, and for all the weight we’d put on, I was surprised to find we were all…stronger. I could bench 200–I’d never been able to do that in my life, though I let a massive fart rip when I did. The rest of the guys were a bit…confused as to why I was put in charge, but I whipped them into shape well enough, and as more and more guys went to see the Doc, their attitude towards me changed more too.

I found Lewis in the locker room after a workout, rubbing his shiny boots against his tiny cock, moaning and grunting…and when he saw me, fully dressed in my own uniform, his jaw just about dropped. I…I don’t know why I did it. I ordered him to get down and lick mine clean. He was reluctant, but once he sniffed my farts, he went into a bit of a frenzy, eventually humping my boots, tongue hanging out, smooth flab coated in sweat until he came all over them, licked them up, and told me, “Thank you Sir, for letting me serve you.”

I was horrified. But that night, sniffing my farts and belches, all I could think about was how hot it had been, and how I wanted to do it again, as soon as I could. Other guys were picking up interests of their own. A few confessed to me that they’d started using dildos–it was the only way to get their little cocks to cum any more. Harrison needed to be fisted, apparently–the Doc had prescribed him some drugs to help him get stretched out enough so he’d be ready by the end of training, and I wondered what it would feel like, my fat fist shoved up his hole, making him beg for mercy. Some just wanted to smell me, my farts, my belches–they couldn’t get enough of it. By the end of the week, I had the whole squad eating out of the palm of my hand, and fuck if that wasn’t a powertrip. Then I realized I hadn’t seen Klein in a couple of days. I asked Doc, but he avoided the question–then, on Friday, during a video, he had me follow him instead–and he showed me where Klein was through some one way glass.

He was in a small room, staring at a screen flashing a seductive series of spirals into his face. He was clearly zonked out–eyes unfocused, drool rolling down his first and second chin. He was completely naked as well–and that was when I saw the result of that strange cream all of them had been using. Klein’s cock and balls were…gone. Just a piss hole in the middle of his crotch, and nothing else. “Hog”. I thought it again, and now I knew why I had thought it the first time. There were the pigs in the squad. Then there were the hogs like Klein, Harrison and Ricci–and then there was me, something else entirely. A pig too–but the head pig, I guess.

Doc turned off the screen, and after a couple of moments, Klein came back to himself, shouting and yelling, trying to get out of his restraints. Doc told me that this was a leadership test–Klein was ready and primed, all I had to do was get him in line, and show him how a hog ought to behave. I protested, but the assistants shoved me into the room, undid Klein’s restraints, and he charged at me.

I just…reacted. I was so much stronger than him, I just…knew I was, and I had him shoved up and pinned against the wall in a few moments, grinding my crotch into his ass, cigar tip warm against his cheek. It felt good. He deserved it. He had to be put in his fucking place. It didn’t take me long–just a few belches to knock him off balance, get him horny, then a blast from my ass, and he couldn’t stop himself–he dug in and started eating out my smelly hole–and fuck, it was the best feeling I’d ever had. Ten times better than an orgasm, as Klein’s thick tongue dug deep into my ass. By the time I was finished with him, he was well broken, face glazed with a few loads of my cum. He kept thanking me for letting him have his favorite snack–his Sergeant’s hole.

That’s right–I’m the squad sergeant now. It makes sense, I guess. I do have the biggest cock of the whole fucking bunch, even though mine’s just a couple of inches. Doc gave me the honor of letting me grow a mustache too this weekend, with a special cream–a thick, dark walrus over my lip–a sign of my authority and maturity. I feel it too–everything else is fading faster and faster. I don’t care if it goes, really. I’m ready. My squad is ready. We’re gonna be the best fucking motorcycle cops in the state, me and my brothers. I’ll make sure of that. And really, we have Doc to thank for all of it.


Week Five Debrief, From the Training Journal of Officer Bernard Matthews

Fuck, I’m so damn proud of my squad of pigs! You know, when we started this training, I didn’t really know what to make of it, but looking back on it, and seeing how far all of my pigs and hogs have come, I really couldn’t be more proud. Fuck, just thinking about all of them at the retreat this weekend has my little pig cock all hard in my breeches again. 

Doc announced my promotion, officially, on Monday. None of the pigs were surprised of course–it was just natural that I ought to lead the squad–after all, I’d like to see one of those pigs try and grow a mustache–much less get harder than an inch! The hogs couldn’t really care less–but then, the hogs aren’t really much for caring, or thinking really. The six of them usually sit in a little cluster, drooling and rocking back and forth, riding their plugs like good little hogs ought to do. Klein, Harrison, Ricci and the rest–they were good brothers, and they’d be good cops too, but like Doc said, the more some guys think, the more trouble you get. Best to just smooth them out all over–brains included.

We spent the rest of the week going over the new order of things. No more unnecessary stops, no more racial profiling, no more use of force. Mandatory community service events. We were gonna be good pigs, like Doc said, and do everything by the book. We were here to serve, after all. Service is the cornerstone of what pigs like us do–that’s what Doc says all the time. Serve like good little pigs, and everything will be just fine. 

Then came the weekend, and the big retreat. As a reward for doing so well on our training, we were going to spend the whole weekend at a campground in the woods, that Doc had reserved just for the squad, the assistants, himself, and a few special guests that he wouldn’t even tell me about. We all got in our uniforms and piled into the bus. I had Klein next to me, and the fucking hog wouldn’t tear his snout from my pits the whole way there–at least, unless I was letting him suck my cock out the front of my breeches.

The retreat was a blast. It felt so good getting back to nature, and really just going wild. I knew some of the special guests there–the governor’s brother, for one, who grabbed the first pig he saw–Fields I think–shoved him down into the dirt, and started fucking his hole, while the pig squealed in excitement. There were some of the higher ups in the department, and even the chief of the Metropolitan Police Department. I had a session with him myself, since Doc told me he was going to be a bit reluctant. But once the chief got a whiff of my farts and my belches, he came around–eating out my dirty hole before fucking me with his big fuckin’ cock! Fuck that felt so damn good, I fuckin’ love gettin’ plowed. Doc told me I’d done a real good job on him, that the city would definitely be partnering with him for a round of training with their own troublesome cops. Doc rewarded me with a fuck–and damn, can that man fuck. Makin’ me squeal like a dirty animal, cock oozing load after load as he rams his big cock deep inside me, fuck, I’d do anything for him, I really would.

Harrison spent most of the days and nights in a set of stirrups, naked except for his boots, with one fist after another shoved deep in his hole. Ricci ended up in the toilets, guzzling piss. Fucker smelled like a urinal all the way back home on Sunday. Klein was pretty much always buried under one ass or another, though he usually found his way back to mine before too long. He says, “There ain’t no ass like yers Sarge! Tastiest fuckin’ crack there is.” Fuck, that dumb fuckin’ hog, I fuckin’ love him though. I love all my brothers, and I couldn’t be more proud of them, and how they’ve performed over the last five weeks. We’re gonna be the star squad this year, just you wait.

But the best part–that was the gift Doc gave me on Sunday. I know that what my squad needs most is to get fucked–hell, I doubt I’d be able to think if I went a few days without getting fucked myself. Only problem is my little two-incher can’t even get in any of the pigs–we’re all just too damn fat! Well Doc gave me the best gift–a fucking strapon. Big nine inch rubber cock I can put on, and ream all of my fuckin’ squad, right in a line. In fact, that’s what I did, when I got it–ordered them all to line up and salute, then had them bend over, and I fucked ‘em all, one after another, until I brought all of them to a squealing orgasm–even the dickless hogs. By that point, I was so horny that I begged Doc to fuck me, right there in front of my men, making them all watch, telling us all that he was the Master of all of us, that we were all just stupid pigs now, and we would do what we were told–and the person giving the orders was Doc. Fuck, I ain’t felt that satisfied in my whole damn life as I was on the ride home, Doc’s cum leaking out into the seat of my breeches with every fart, already excited for next years retreat that Doc promised us. Provided we’re good pigs of course. But of course we will be! What else could we be, anyway?


Three Month Assessment, From the Files of Doctor Leoncett

Our third trial of the training program, using a rather troublesome squad of motorcycle cops with the state police, concluded three months ago. In that time, the state police has seen a dramatic decrease in complaints leveled against members of the squad, both internally from other police members, and externally, from civilians. While it is still too soon to judge the long term stability of the program, the short term results are an unqualified success.

There have been some mentions made about the sudden change in appearance by the squad–especially the rapid weight gain and hair loss that is a result of the pharmacological treatment regimen. The same mentions were seen in the earlier studies as well, though the addition of the sergeant’s rather smelly means of suggestion has subdued some of the concern, helping them adjust to the new manner of the squad’s functioning going forward. 

Morale is high. Cohesion is high. Sergeant Matthews was an excellent selection for the leadership role, and his quarterly review was exceptional, both from the squad below him, and from his higher ups in the chain of command. 

Some side effects have been noted. The additional castration treatment given to the especially troublesome elements of the squad seemed to have an additional impact on their mental faculties. Even after three months, their average IQ hovers in the mid 70’s, while the baseline for the rest of the squad is closer to 90, as is our target. I’m not sure this is a detriment, but perhaps uncovering the mechanism causing this would give us a finer grade of control over the result, allowing us to tweak it as necessary. One subject, an Officer Harrison, did degrade further, closer to 50 or 60, and had to be retired from the force. I found a home for him, and he is living happily as a fist pig several states over, for a pair of lovely gentlemen, in exchange for another round of research funding. 

Other projects are on the horizon as well. The governor’s brother continues to be an asset. Having the sergeant of the squad spend some time with the city chief of police during the retreat paid great dividends–I have been given oversight on the entire force’s training schedule come Fall. While the conversion of the entire force using the program would be too obvious, being able to select small groups of officers for specialized training and testing is an great opportunity for this project. The future is bright–with a few more contacts, we might even be ready to create a standardized program for nationwide rollout to departments across the country my as early as next year. And after that–well, with all of these pigs at my disposal, who will stop me then?

Early Access: The Pig Squad

Hey all! Here’s a new story for patrons to enjoy. I’ll post it publicly for everyone else in a week. A squad of troublesome motorcycle cops have been selected to undergo a new re-training program to help them become a more cohesive, cooperative team. However, one of the cops thinks that the doctor running the program might have some ulterior motives behind the strange training sessions. Here’s a sample from the story to whet your appetites. If you want to read the whole thing, you can find it over on my patreon page.


Week One: 

Look, I’ll be the first to admit that the squad had some issues, alright? But we weren’t any worse than any of the other squads in the state patrols, I can tell you that. Harrison could get a little rough with folks out on the highways. Everyone knows that Klein is a racist, though he can keep it in usually. Ricci does his best as sergeant, but his heart isn’t really in it. His dad was a cop, so he had to be too, you know? Sure, the lawsuits look bad, but most of them got settled easily enough. Hell, I’ll point you to five squads in this state with records worse than ours, but hell, one high profile chase goes wrong, and suddenly we have to do something about it. Something being, of course, this fucking psycho bullshit re-training.

I heard from Lewis that this is all because the quack doctor is some friend of the governor’s brother or something. Someone’s always greasing someone’s shaft, right? So the whole squad has to spend five fucking weeks off patrol, and instead we’re locked up in a classroom all fucking day long, with this old fuck prattling on and on at us, making us watch these boring ass movies about how we can work better as a team, how we can better serve the community, it’s all a bunch of horseshit. I’ll tell you this right now, after one week, I’ll gladly get the squad to shape up just so I don’t have to sit through this trash ever again.

And now, we have to keep a journal too, whatever. Something about helping the doctor assess the course’s effect over time. Well here doc, when you read this in a few weeks, here’s what I want you to know. You’re a fucking piece of shit quack, with no fucking idea what it takes to be a police officer. How about that for a baseline? Five weeks from now, we’ll all be back on our bikes, laughing about what a fucking waste of time this all was, and you’ll have your chunk of government money–that’s what this is all about I bet.

What else was there–oh right, the drugs. We have to take these pills too, apparently. Don’t know what they are, but they give them to us at the start of the day, and make sure we all take them. Harrison got found out when they tested our piss for it on Wednesday–he’d been hiding the pill under his tongue and spitting it out later. Had to have a “private” session with the doctor about that. More bullshit I think. At least they’re feeding us well–though without going to the gym, I look a little flabby. Wish they’d give us some time for physical activity at least–then this wouldn’t be quite so mind numbingly boring. We even had to watch a bunch of videos over the weekend at home–they were so dull I can’t remember a thing about them. Whatever–nothing else to fucking report this week, other than to say, go fuck yourself Doc, you fucking queer. As for me, I’m heading to the strip club with a couple of other guys from the squad. I know I could use a good fuck right about now, after a week of this shit. Just four more to go.


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