(Caption) Gooner Ransom

How many hours had it been now? He couldn’t break his eyes away from the stream of words and pictures flashing across his screen to even look at the clock in the corner, but he knew that the last time he’d had a break, it had been four hours…but this seemed to be taking even longer than before.

It was a program had promised an automated porn experience–the site just showed him the pictures, allowing him to jack off without having to focus on anything–but whoever had made it wanted ten bucks to download it! He ended up pirating it instead, but…something was wrong. It wasn’t showing him pictures he wanted to see, it was all men, and these humiliating words, and he…he couldn’t seem to stop watching it, or close it, or anything.

Even worse, when the program paused every little while, he’d been changing, and someone had been chatting with him, demanding he pay the most exorbitant ransom, or else the program would keep running–money he didn’t even have! Tens of thousands of dollars! He’d begged the last time, asking whoever it was to just let him go, that he couldn’t pay that much even if he wanted to…and now this session had been the longest of them all…and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep stroking like this.

Almost like it was sensing his exhaustion, the constant stream of pictures finally stopped, and the chat window appeared–he gasped for breath, relieved he could finally stop–at least until he saw himself. He’d been young and thin before…but now…this wasn’t his body! He was older, at least middle aged, with a thick gut, a beard, and…and a tiny cock, only about three inches, rubbed raw from the session he’d just been through.

Since you couldn’t pay me in money, I decided to take a down payment in something you could pay me with. — the message popped up on the screen, and he sobbed a little. Now, if you want to stop, it’ll still cost you–5,000 dollars. You have an hour to comply.

He…he could maybe do that. He went to his bank, but didn’t have enough in his accounts to cover it…but maybe one of his meager investments could help? He tried to get the money out, but it was taking too much time!

*What’s taking so long? Still don’t have the money? That’s ok, I can take more payment in other ways. Make you a dirty old man, cock that can’t even work, obsessed with watching porn all day long. Maybe you haven’t paid me because that’s what you want…*

He tried to again, but the money still hadn’t cleared by the time the hour was up. The images began again, and helpless, he returned to masturbating…praying that the next time he got a break, he might still be able to pay his way out of his new fate.

Demon in the Sheets (Caption)

Like these caption stories? I post extra ones for Patrons supporting me at the $5 tier and up, over in my discord channel each week! You can find more information on how to support my writing over on my page.

So you wanted your boyfriend to be a demon in the sheets? Give your hole a real devil of a time? Well you weren’t expecting that spell you read to take itself so literally, in any case. You cast it on him, and before you even really had time to register what had happened, the fiery portal had opened up behind him, and the hands–or maybe claws and hooves would be a better word for what you saw–grabbed him and dragged him back inside, and it closed up again, your boyfriend gone, aside from the scorch marks on the carpet where he’d stood a second before.

You didn’t know what to do, but you certainly weren’t going to try casting another spell from that book. It was easy enough to cover his disappearance in the meantime–telling your friends the two of you had had a big fight, he’d left afterward, and you hadn’t seen him since. It was three full days later, and you had assumed he would be gone forever, when the portal opened back up again in your bedroom, while you were getting ready for bed, and your boyfriend stepped back out of it–only he wasn’t the same person he’d been before, and he also wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t human anymore–he was horned, his eyes burning like coals, feet and hands contorted into claws and hooves–just like the other two demons who followed him through the portal into the room. The three beasts pinned you down and started raping you, ravaging you with their massive cocks until you were exhausted, too tired to fight them, and they dragged you through the portal with them.

The police investigated later, but neither of you ever appeared again in this world–but why would you? Your boyfriend, now the rough, sexual demon, and you, his subservient worm sex slave. You’re both much happier now, I can imagine–and now, the book moves to another owner, someone else who desires power, but doesn’t quite know what they will give up to receive it.

New You Resolutions (Part 11)

Hugh stood on the stage, looking out at the audience of men below him, and tried to make out what they were saying–but he couldn’t tell anything about what they were thinking. Should he beg? Ask them to change him back? Would they take mercy on him, or would they just be even more likely to make his transformations just that much more extreme?

He didn’t have a chance to decide, in the end. There was a chime, and the first choice from the audience appeared on the screen–that Hugh would now have a history of taking steroids, growth hormones, and various other cocktails to make himself as muscular and masculine as possible. Then, he started begging, begging them not to do this to him, falling on his knees, but before he could get much out, he collapsed further, feeling the new drugs flooding his body shifting and changing him in ways he couldn’t predict.

He was growing, that much was certain. His muscles were thickening under his skin so fast, that he started showing stretch marks all over–even on his arms over his biceps, on his thighs, on the side of his gut, which now had the distinct, firm roundness of a roidgut. HIs face broke out in acne–but that was soon covered over by the hair that was filling in across his chest, back and face. The hair on his head receded, however, pulling back into just a horseshoe fringe–a side effect of the testosterone he was taking–and he also felt his chest swell yet again, his pecs ballooning to an almost comical size, his nipples swelling and growing more sensitive–that had to be the growth hormones.

He was horrified, but felt…unstable. He was so angry all of a sudden, full of energy, but he had nowhere to put it. He didn’t notice the next announcement above him, that in addition to these changes, he was going to lose some of his cognitive ability, and actually devolve somewhat–becoming hairier more apelike in appearance. The hair covering his muscular body thickened even more, making it difficult to even make out the skin beneath it from a distance. The hair on his face thickened as well, his beard creeping up his cheeks, though nothing grew back on the top of his head, even as his brow thickened, his eyebrows joining into one single brow.

HIs bones were aching as well, his legs shortening slightly as his arms grew longer–not quite enough that he actually walked like an ape, but enough to make him seem out of proportion–and the muscles of his shoulders, neck and arms exploded in size again, only making him seem more imposing, even hunched over as he was.

In his mind, Hugh felt like everything was closing in on him somehow. His emotions were running wild, and his rational mind was crippled–mostly, he was terrified. Terrified of the men laughing and jeering at him, terrified of the bright lights of the stage. All of this was too much–and he made a break for the side stage, only to be rebuffed, a collar fitted around his neck, and he was shoved back out.

He wasn’t alone now though, there was someone out there waiting for him, a chubby, grungy looking fellow leering at him like he was looking at a pet. Someone had purchased him–but as far as Hugh was concerned, he had no intention of leaving this place in a cage. Still, before he could do anything, the man hit a button, the shock collar activated, and sent Hugh to his knees, screaming in surprise and pain.

The rest of the men watched as the fat slob coerced the monkey man onto all fours and fucked him, Hugh terrified of the shock now, and how powerful it was. The man told him that he was going to be the newest member of Hugh’s family–that he’d seen what a cute little pig his son had become, and he’d just needed to have them both. Of course, Hugh wouldn’t be able to work looking like this, but that was alright. His new Master had plenty of money for them to live on, and Hugh would be able to focus on being their personal sex pet from now on.

When Hugh woke the next morning, back home but now in his new steel cage, he was furious. Furious at…well, at he didn’t know what, but he was angry. His son entered, naked with his new uncle, and gave Hugh a shock to quiet him down, and then the two fat slobs shared a kiss. They would play with their pet later–but for now, his new uncle wanted to see what his new nephew was capable of.

And meanwhile, a new set of men were receiving new letters from New You Enterprises, offering them a chance to change their lives–maybe not always for the better in their mind, but they were always changed–that much was certain.

THE END — A new interactive (of some sort) will start next week!

Losing Control (Original Version)

I’m hoping to publish a longer story once a week or so, but I know that I won’t be able to always have sizable new content for you all. However, one thing I have been wanting to do for years is organize all of my stories in one place with a more comprehensive tag/category system, so this is the beginning of that project. When I don’t have a new story to post for the week, I’ll go back in my archives, clean up an old story, and repost it here. I’m going to be starting off with some stories that I haven’t touched in a very long time–like this one! My first story, almost twelve years old! Like a small child. Almost a teenager even. A story that is also a tween. I think this is now sufficiently weird.

In addition, for some of these, I’m planning on working on fixing up some of the writing, and also potentially extending them. I already have an extended rework of this story is process in fact. Some of those enhanced versions will be published here, others will be for Patron eyes only, depending on how I feel about them. I do want to preserve the original work, however, so I won’t be cleaning these archive versions up too much. The writing is a bit…well, it was twelve years ago! I was trying very hard. In any case, some of you might not have ever seen these stories, and others might like to revisit them, and now they will all be in one place, eventually! Hooray!

(Original version, published 4/22/2007)
I’m not a fan of destroying peoples’ lives, but sometimes they just deserve it. Being a wizard, it’s important to not lose control and let your power go to your head. Of course, I feel that I have a certain duty however to assist other people in realizing that they shouldn’t let their power go to their heads either. For example, do you remember Mike, the quarterback?… No of course you don’t remember Mike, Jerry’s the quarterback now and always has been. Let me just tell you a story then. Let’s say that there was this guy on campus, and he was a quarterback, and very popular, with a great body. All of those things would give a guy a lot of power, right? And a reasonably good person might use that power to do something good, right? You know…instead of picking on a wizard just because he would rather read a good book of spells than spend hours at the gym grunting like an ape, right? Well let’s say Mike wasn’t a reasonable good person, and that he did pick on a wizard, and that wizard felt like Mike was out of control. Or perhaps he had to much control. So all I did was make him lose a little. Ok, so it wasn’t really a little, but let me get to the story.

Mike had just got home from a frat party where he had a wonderful Saturday night. Not only was there plenty of beer, but the girls had been almost as bottomless as the stockpile of kegs as well. If he counted right, he had made out with ten, gotten blowjobs from six, and fucked two. The girls went crazy over his six foot three, 230 pound chiseled body, and blue eyes. Of course, he may have lied to a few of them, like when they asked if he loved them. He didn’t, but their bodies were damn hot, and that’s all that mattered to him. He unlocked the door to his apartment off campus and stepped inside. Dodging a pile of old pizza boxes, he threw his coat onto the couch and stumbled into the kitchen for a final beer before going to bed. He should clean up his apartment, but he didn’t really care that much. We wasn’t here most of the time anyway, he reasoned. He opened the fridge, pulled a can out of the 12 pack box, and sat down at the table, shoving a stack of papers aside to make room. One of them fell in front of him, and as he picked it up, the salutation caught his eye, “Dear Mike, the asshole jock.” He read the first line a few more times, thinking it was the beer, but there it was, written in script on a piece of plain paper. Curious, he went on the read the rest of the letter:

Continue reading →

Arctos: Gaining Powder (Caption)

He knew he should have never trusted that site online. Arctos–a company he’d never even heard of, but the gaining powder was cheap, and the results it promised were great–if, as it turned out, a bit ambiguous. After all, Max had bought the powder hoping to gain muscle. However, after the first time he mixed it, by the time he’d gotten back from the gym…well, he had gained something, but it wasn’t muscle, it was a potbelly.

He was horrified at first–he tried to call the company, sent emails, but while he did…his mind kept wandering, thinking about how satisfied he’d felt when he’d drank that shake earlier, how…full he’d been. He was starting to get hungry, and he started snacking, and eating, but that emptiness wouldn’t go away, not until he gave in, mixed himself another shake using the powder…and sure enough, he grew again, his potbelly becoming a small gut–but now it was also covered in hair, and rubbing it felt…so damn good.

The hunger didn’t go away though. It hadn’t gone away in days. He’d tried to throw the powder away, but everytime he did, a new bottle would appear on the doorstep from the company, like they knew what he was trying to do. Still, he wouldn’t give in, he…he wouldn’t. Still, strange things had been happening at night, and he was still getting bigger, and hairier, thinking about men, jacking off thinking about them worshipping his fat body, feeding him, servicing his cock…

He woke with the huge bottle at his lips, the shurry sliding down his throat. He’d been sleep eating, apparently, mixing the drink during the night–but his hunger was too much–he wanted it all. He tried to stop himself, but couldn’t–he drank it all, and could feel himself ballooning larger, growing even hairier than before, and when he finally finished, he was nearly 600 pounds, so heavy–but for the first time in a month, he actually felt full–and horny, but he couldn’t reach his cock.

Still, that wasn’t a problem. The chaser let himself in with the key Max had given him without realizing it, got down in front of Max on the couch, and started servicing him, as he had been for weeks, and Max…decided that being big could have its benefits after all.

New You Resolutions (Part 10) [Interactive]

Leroy didn’t really know what he was doing on stage, or why he was there. The year had been a blur really, especially as his intellect continued to diminish once he’d entered his Master’s service. By now, he could barely remember that he had ever been someone different before all of this–it seemed…crazy that he could be someone smart, someone with any kind of authority at all. He wondered what all of these men were doing, as the MC told the audience to begin voting–maybe one of them would…take him home? Maybe he’d get to service them all…that…that could be hot, but it wasn’t his place to want things. He would take what he was given, and it would be good enough–that was a lesson he’d had to learn the hard way.

The MC looked up as the first decision was made by the audience, and he perked up in some surprise. “Well,” he said, “It looks like Leroy here is going to get a second chance–or a bit of one at least.”

Leroy…had forgotten that was his name. But when he heard it, more began to come back to him, more memories, more knowledge, more…sense of himself. He didn’t forget what had happened to him over the course of the year, of course, but all of his old memories and knowledge were restored to him–and if anything, that only made everything worse. He…didn’t want it anymore. It had been so easy! Just being a slave, not having to think about anything other than his Master’s orders, but suddenly he could think about…everything, and he could remember how he had behaved for so long…and he hated that person he’d been.

He’d been cruel for no reason, and there were so many handsome students he should have been…servicing this whole time…right? He knew that wasn’t quite right, that his head, even with all of his knowledge, was still faulty–but he hadn’t lost any of his new desires or fetishes–and in fact, when the next decision popped up on the board, he was going to have quite a few more to add to the already sizable list.

His master, over the last year, had subjected him to all sorts of kinks–but for the most part, Leroy hadn’t really enjoyed any of them. The most important part of his world was service–he…wasn’t doing any of this to feel pleasure himself, he was doing it because submission was what he deserved. But now, memories of his master tying him down and whipping him, of fisting him, of feeding him his piss…those were all things he had wanted…right? He could feel his cock struggling to get hard in his cage, something it hadn’t done in ages, and he was…embarrassed by this sudden loss of control, and went to hide it from the crowd, not wanting them to see it…but if they did see it, maybe they would punish him. He…did like being punished. He deserved it, and he also…did enjoy it.

As he struggled with these new desires, his body was changing as well, as the third decision came up on the screen–that Leroy’s already substantial body modifications were going to become…even more extreme. The first thing Leroy noticed was that, even though he wasn’t getting hard anymore…his cock was still swelling. He pushed down the diaper he was wearing, and the cage popped off after a moment, and he could see that his cock wasn’t getting hard–no–it was…swelling up with silicone. His cock was growing wider, the head disappearing inside a sheath of taut flesh, and his sack swelled so large that he would never be able to hide it, no matter what he wore. He touched his cock, for the first time in nearly a year, and felt…nothing much at all. It felt like his cock was trapped…inside of itself, and he realized the cage hadn’t really disappeared–it had just changed form.

In addition to the silicone, the filthy tattoos he had gotten on his body over the last year multiplied, until nearly every inch of skin, even on his face, was covered in lewd words and designs. The piercings grew in number as well, and also in size. After a few minutes, he realized that he had become a total freak…and that he loved it. He pulled the filthy diaper back up, seeing how swollen it was around his inflated junk, and all he wanted was…was for someone to use him.

But no one in the audience wanted him–instead, he spent the evening servicing any man who was interested, and when morning came, he…had a new vision of himself. He would be a teacher, of sorts–he would go find his old students and give him a new education, show them how to treat a faggot freak like him–whether they wanted to learn, or not.

At last, it was time for the fourth and final subject. Hugh emerged from the side of the stage, wearing his coach uniform, and feeling…terrified. He had just watched three other men all warped even further into their new forms–and he…he didn’t that to happen to him. He just wanted things to go back to how they’d been–he’d do better! He…he was tired. Tired of working at the school all day, and then having to service his bratty son all night…the stage hands shoved him out, and the MC announced him to the audience, and he awaited his fate.

Alright, here’s the final poll for this interactive! We’ll wrap up Hugh’s fate next time, and start a new interactive story of some sort next week! Here’s the final patron only poll as well!

[Caption] A Present for Coach

Fuck, I can…smell myself…I never knew I smelled so fucking good.

I didn’t really believe it, when coach told me what was going to happen, that I was really going to shoot my essence into this fucking jock, turn myself into a weak old, impotent man for him…but I’m so happy I did. I’d do anything for coach, ever since…ever since he cast that first spell on me from that book, told me I was going to be his obedient slave for the rest of my life, and it’s true. Not only can I not disobey him…I don’t even want to. Obeying him brings me the greatest pleasure, and now…now I can give him even more, all of my youth, all of my strength. Sure, I…I’m old now, and I can barely get a hard on–though smelling myself is doing a damn good job–but I didn’t deserve it.

He’s the one who deserves to be young, and strong, and I just hope after he puts it on and absorbs me that I’ll still be able to serve him. He…he said that I’ll just be a worthless old faggot after this, but I can still suck cock, and he can fuck me, and…and even if he doesn’t want me, I suppose that’s alright. At least I could give him this, all of myself, as a final token of my service to him.

Maybe…he’ll fuck me, after he absorbs me. Maybe he’ll bend my old ass over, and fuck me with his young cock, shoot a load of cum into me, fuck! I hope he does, I hope he gives me that much at least. I’d better get this to him right away–I can’t want to see my master in his true prime!

Of Favors and Family – Episode 1 (Part 5)

It was going to be another half an hour or so, before they got to the place where Wade hoped Bart still lived, deep in the woods and mountains over the town, the places you avoided unless you had grown up there yourself. In the back seat, Jeremiah whimpered for a while, and then fell silent–the first time the pup had been quiet the entire day. Wade knew he should feel bad…but in all honesty, he didn’t. He’d liked it, fucking that pup’s hole like that. Not like…at his office, where the pups who gave it up to him were usually scared and resigned–not scared of him, but scared of the army. This was the first time he’d fucked someone who was scared of him–just him, not the power he had, or his reputation, or his rank. Just…him. It was a rush, and one he hadn’t really expected, and Wade was a bit terrified of just how…complete it made him feel. He wanted to do it again…and if he couldn’t find Bart, he really was tempted to just stash the boy somewhere around here for his own devices.

He parked the car at the end of a gravel path, barely wide enough to get the car down, and got out. It would be better to approach on foot, in any case. At least Bart was a congenial enough fellow, even if he didn’t like people all that much. The chances of him shooting Wade were slimmer than most of the rest of his family around here. Maybe not much slimmer, but…slimmer. Down the path, it opened up into a clearing, where a ramshackle house stood, one that had obviously been there for quite some time, and which had been expanded over the years, growing bigger and a bit sprawling as older rooms had fallen apart and been rebuilt, as the family had swelled and then contracted. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, which was a decent sign. Off to the side, of the clearing was an acre or so of tobacco growing–most of his family out here in the sticks made what little living they did off the land in one way or another, trading and bartering and squabbling amongst themselves to make ends meet. Bart’s great grandfather had happened upon tobacco as his wheelhouse, and Bart, apparently, was still growing enough to keep everyone in the mountains well stocked.

As he approached the house, Wade saw some movement over in the field, and a head popped up from the tobacco–one that he didn’t recognize as Bart’s. The pup, whoever he was, wasn’t nearly old enough to be Bart for one thing, and for another…he didn’t even look like a hound. He looked more like a labrador, with a thick mane of golden blonde hair, a bit matted and uncared for, but handsome all the same. Wade, however, wasn’t going to take any risks, and he help up his hands, indicating that he was approaching unarmed. He didn’t know who this fella could be, but one thing was for sure–he wasn’t family. No one in his family would stoop to have anything to do with any dog other than a fellow hound, and certainly not a labrador! There were only a few reasons why he might be here–and none of them bode well for Bart, or for Wade’s luck in finding a place to stash Jeremiah that would save his own hide.

The lab just stared at him, looking a bit dull eyed and fuzzy, like he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of a visitor. He gave his head a shake, and that seemed to cause a bit of clarity to come to him–much to Wade’s surprise, the lab took a look around, and then bolted towards him through the rows, still looking around, ducking low, like he didn’t want someone to see him. Wade backed away, not at all sure of what the young pup’s intentions might be, and he fell down at his feet, looked up at Wade, and whined. “Please–ya gotta git me outta here, I…I forgot, a lot, he made me forget stuff, but I…” he whined again, obviously searching for words, “I ain’t supposed tah be here! I…Help me, please help me…”

Wade just froze, not at all sure what was going on, and before he could really appraise the situation, the door of the house burst open, and an old hound strode out, cocked a shotgun, and leveled it at Wade. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, showin’ up here, but you best step the fuck away from mah boy, if ya don’t want a whole bunch of buckshot in that…” the hound paused, gave the air a sniff, and then squinted at Wade through the scratched glasses he was wearing, “Wait a minute, Wade, is that you? I know that fuckin’ smell anywhere.”

“Uh, hay Bart…sorry tah drop in so unexpectedly…” Wade said, still eyeing the shotgun Bart was holding towards him, until the older hound pulled it up, and he relaxed. The one person who didn’t relax was the lab on the ground between them. He was cowering, and whimpering, and shaking, and in a complete terror.

“Don’t you mind none, Wade! I always got time fer family, ya know that. Didn’t think ya’d be comin’ back, not after ya got intah the army. What was that…a couple years ago?”

“It’s…uh, more like twenty.”

Bart gave his whiskers a scratch, like he was mulling over some stuff in his head. “Fuckin’ smoke,” he muttered eventually, “Lose track of shit…Eh, two, twenty, what’s it matter! I’m just happy tah see ya…” he said, and pulled a beat up looking pipe from the front pocket of his overalls, and started filling it with some tobacco from the pouch at his waist. “As for the boy here, don’t mind him, he’s pretty fuckin’ dull, and don’t really got much sense. Just helps me out with the crop round here, is all.”

Wade looked from Bart, down at the lab curled up on the ground, and then back at Bart–and he could tell that something here wasn’t adding up right, not at all. Bart had never been one for help, or company–the only company he was interested in was a hole, usually, and now that he was standing here, looking at him…he could remember more…in fact, how in the hell had he forgotten so much of this? Bart…had liked him. Liked him a lot, liked his ass a lot, and Wade…had just let him fuck him, whenever his older cousin had asked for it, and he’d never been able to say no. Bart…had told him that he wanted him to come deeper into the mountains with him, live with him, be…his, but before he’d been able to, he’d gotten sucked up into the army in town, and he’d never been back. He’d forgotten all of this, and remembering it now, it was like some strange part of his head had opened up again, and when he looked down at the young pup, he realized something else–he realized that he knew exactly who this young lab was.

It had been about five years ago, when a young, poor lab from the poor side of town had gone missing. Wade remembered him–he’d been a new recruiter then, the war had been fresh, things had felt…hopeful, and then the young fellow had just up and disappeared overnight, and no one could find him anywhere. His mother claimed he’d been abducted, but no one had been able to explain how a strapping young lab could just be whisked off into the night with no evidence. In the end, the disappearance was explained as a runaway, and he was swept under the rug back in town…but apparently, he hadn’t run off into the city, like everyone had thought. He’d…run into the mountains? No–it was clear he didn’t want to be here, he–had Bart…

“So, what are you doing here, Cousin?” Bart asked, breaking Wade from his revelation. He’d finished packing his pipe, and was no toasting the top with a match, getting ready to light it properly.

“I…well, it’s a bit complicated. Maybe we could go inside, and talk about it?”

“It ain’t about my boy, right? He is mine, you know.”

“It’s not about him, no. I–you know what they say, blood is thick around here, Bart, it ain’t my business.”

Bart sighed, struck another match, and lit the pipe properly this time, puffing thick clouds of grey smoke out into the air around him. Some of it wafted in Wade’s direction, and as soon as he smelled it, he knew the scent. It made him sick to his stomach, it made him horny, it made him want to run, but his feet were somehow frozen to the dirt under his boots. Bart took his time, waved the match out, and then walked over to where Wade and the pup were. “I wish I could believe ya, cousin, but I don’t think your blood is as thick as you claim it is, since ya went and ran off, ya know? Still, can’t say I’m too surprised that you came running back here–I did always want you to feel safe. You feel safe here, don’t you?”

What was happening to him? Wade could…feel all of these memories swarming up around him, so much that he’d forgotten, so much that he’d wanted to forget. Going into the army, he’d been able to focus on something else, on becoming someone else, someone other than the runt running around in the woods and hills, getting into scrapes, making nothing of himself, getting sucked into whatever web Bart had been weaving, so much time spend in this…this smoke, his mind almost a constant haze for months, before he got plucked from it by a recruiter at the high school before he could drop out…

Why had he come here? It had seemed like such an obvious decision, back in the car. These woods, and these sounds and these smells…when was the last time he’d even been back here, that he could recall? Back when his mother died? Perhaps. It had always held such anxiety, but he’d never been able to piece it together, and had always just attributed it to some general resentment of his hill upbringing…but there was so much more, so much that he had forgot…

Bart walked up, waved a paw in front of Wade’s face, but the hound’s eyes were drooping more than usual, and didn’t seem interested in focusing on him at all. Bart exhaled a plume of smoke into his snout, just to be sure, and then bent down, fed a bit of smoke to the boy at Wade’s feet. “Boy, were you going to try to get away from me?”

“Y-Yes Pa, but…but I…”

“Hush boy,” Bart said, “Go down in the cellar, and get in your cage–we’re gonna have a long talk later.”

The pup started whining again, but did as Bart told him, stumbling back to the house, around the side, and down into the cellar underneath, leaving Bart and Wade alone next to the field, both of them wreathed with smoke. Bart waved a bit of it away, and snapped his paw in front of Wade’s snout, jostling him from his memories for a moment, to realize he was…still there. There as himself, not as some lanky teenage pup, terrified as his older cousin groped him in the underbrush, smoking, telling Wade how…happy they would be together. How he knew exactly what Wade needed, how Wade was going to be everything that Bart needed and wanted too. But he wasn’t there. That…was the past. It was the past, and he…he was here, later.

“Alright Wade, what the fuck are you doing here? You going to try and drag me back to town or something?”

Wade shook his head, swallowed a couple of times and tried to get the words in his head to organize themselves in a manner than could make sense. In spurts and false starts, he managed to tell Bart about Jeremiah, the pup in his car, handcuffed. The deal he had cut with him to get him out of enlisting in the army, but how the plan had gone awry, and…and what Wade had done in the underbrush, and how he’d brought him here, because…because he was safe here. Because he…he’d somehow known that his cousin would know what to do, and might be able to help.

Bart was skeptical at first, but he knew that the smoke would draw out the truth–Wade wouldn’t be able to lie with this much of it in his system, or at least, not lie well. He told Wade to show him back to his car down the path, and when they got there, Jeremiah was still in the backseat, still terrified. As soon as Bart opened the door, Jeremiah tried to kick him, but the he told Wade to help him hold the boy down, got some smoke in Jeremiah’s face, and his face eventually went a little slack as Bart’s special blend entered the pup’s system, giving Bart a chance to…admire him.

After Wade had run off, all those years ago, Bart had…well, he’d been furious at first, and then that fury had subdued to some extent, and he’d been content to just soldier on as best he could, alone, getting the occasional fuck from the boys of the family in the woods when he needed one, but…none of them had really interested him in the way Wade had. Still, that loneliness had only grown, as years had gone by, until in his desperation, Bart decided to…try something incredibly risky, something he would have never imagined doing, had he not hit a level of crushing desperation–he started going into town. Once a week, maybe, he’d get the old truck running, drive the hour or two to get there, and he would walk up and down the streets, looking at the young pups going home after school, admiring them…and then…he chose one, a runty labrador, seventeen or eighteen, who always walked home alone, and one day, Bart struck up a smoky conversation with him…and a few weeks later, the pup ran away from home, ran off into the hills where Bart picked him up, and took him home with him.

It had been…difficult, getting the boy to an agreeable state. With Wade, in their youth, the blends he’d found to work him over were powerful enough to subdue him in the moment, but hadn’t left much room for Bart to manipulate him, often because Wade rarely seemed to recall much of anything from their encounters in the brush. With this new pup, Trent, he had been able to work on his blends, finding ones that were gentler, and more insidious. The pup no longer could remember much of his youth back in town (though he still knew the vague outline of it, and knew that Bart held him here under his control) but it had been enough to suck the resistance from him, enough to let the pup out into the sun to help with the crops at the very least, though almost always supervised. Obviously he had misjudged the pup to some extent, but he was confident that could be remedied. All of this could be remedied. In fact, all of this was, as far as Bart was concerned, turning out to be more of a boon than he could have hoped. Not only had Wade returned him him after all of these years, but he’d brought a most delightful little gift along with him, one far nicer than the mangy pup he’d settled for on the streets of the town a few years ago. Not only was this one handsome, and vigorous, and even a bit plump–he was a hound! Bart had always been a bit disgusted with himself for settling for a labrador, but this–well, perhaps he might have a proper son after all.

“Alright cousin, I think I can definitely help you out with your little problem here,” Bart said, talking to Wade while he felt Jeremiah’s body with his paws, testing it, groping it, seeing how the pup reacted to him. “But don’t think…don’t think this fixes what you did, Wade, when you went and ran off on me.” Bart stood back up and fed Wade some more smoke, feeling him as well, remembering how the he had felt back then…and he couldn’t help himself, he’d thought he’d never get another chance again, but now…

“Strip, Wade, strip, and tell me how much you want my cock in that hole of yours, right here. Tell me how much you’ve missed having your big cousin fuck the daylight outta ya.”

Wade…didn’t want to do this. He’d never wanted to do this, even when he was a teenager…but the words were falling out of his mouth, and he was on his paws next to the car, pants down, Bart behind him, cock sliding free of his sheath, and then sliding into Wade’s hole. It was…hard, to try and focus. His memories kept slipping–was he a pup, or was he older? How old was Bart behind him, anyway? It felt like just yesterday that he’d been fucked by him for the first time, just was raw, just as traumatic, even as his brain and his mouth, at Bart’s prompting, told him how much he loved it, all of it, how much he’d missed this.

Bart finished quickly, something that Wade was thankful for. Then, together, they dragged the incapacitated Jeremiah out of the car and hauled him to the house up the path, and then down into the cellar as well. There, Trent was in a small cage against one wall, still whimpering and whining, and Jeremiah was thrown in with him, Bart telling them both to be good pups, behave, and be quiet. Then, he turned to Wade, told him that the two of them needed to have a chat, and then Wade could be on his way–for the moment.

It was long after sunset by the time Wade finally managed to work his way back to his car, a second load of his cousin’s cum leaking down the inside of his thighs…but things were clearer now, that they’d talked. Wade…knew why he’d come back here–why he’d brought Jeremiah here. He’d…felt so guilty, for so long. He hadn’t known it, he hadn’t even realized it, but the reason he was so deeply unhappy, the reason behind his cynicism, and his self-loathing, and his corruption, was all guilt. Guilt that he’d run away, and left Wade, all those years ago. But Jeremiah was a new start–a peace offering, and thankfully, Bart was more than happy to forgive Wade all of his sins of his youth, so long as Wade agreed to…help him out. And in return? Bart would help him too. He would help Wade too–and give him what he really needed. He needed family. He needed these woods. But mostly, he needed Bart’s smoke, and his cock–everything else would follow from there.

Coming Updates to Patreon and My Posting Schedule

Hey Everybody!

Now that things have settled down somewhat, after a very hectic fall and winter–including starting a new job, moving twice, the death of tumblr, and a whole slew of other things going on both online and offline–I feel like I both now have a chance to take a bit of a breath. It’s also a good time to take a look at revamping some of the broader aspects of how I post and publish my stories in general, and look at whether I’m providing the sorts of content that a) you all want to see on a more regular basis, and b) managing my time and energy to make sure I avoid a burnout which, to be honest, is looming over the horizon to some extent–but then, when isn’t it?

The largest piece of this whole puzzle is the death of tumblr back in December, which was, while a blow, a bit of a blessing in disguise. There were more things that I hated about tumblr than things that I liked, and while I had adjusted my stuff to succeed on the platform as best I could, I was never really happy with how my stories looked or were organized on the platform. In particular, the thing that was an unfortunate necessity on the platform, was that I felt I had to break my stories into smaller parts that I would post in long series, mostly because long form text posts were really aggravating to find on your feed, and because the general attention span of tumblr seemed to be…rather short. When I started this Patreon, it felt natural to just keep posting stories in this manner, and so I tailored a lot of my goals to focus more on quantity of posts–but now that tumblr isn’t relevant, I have an opportunity to go back and look at whether the choices I made to accommodate that platform make sense or not now that I’m primarily posting elsewhere. I don’t think they do, and so I want to make some changes to the kind of content I’m posting, and also the form I’m posting it in.

The biggest change I will be making going forward is that I will no longer be posting stories in short chunks, as I have up to now. Having asked some Patrons and other readers over the last few weeks, the general consensus that I have been receiving is that the short chunks make the stories difficult to read, hard to search for, and the trickling out of content breaks up the flow of the story in a way that isn’t really conducive to enjoying them. After this current story wraps up, I’ll instead post stories in their entirety–or for very long stories where it makes sense to have soe breaks, I’ll post them in episode/chapter long chunks all at once.

However, I do still want to provide you all with regular content of some sort, both here on Patreon, and over on my new blog on WordPress. I most certainly want to continue doing the interactive stories I have been doing, and hope to post two chunks a week on a regular basis of whatever interactive is currently ongoing. To supplement that, I will be posting a variety of shorter content on a regular basis as well–captions, short sketches, more general musings and blog posts about my process, reviews of other stories I find interesting, and probably archival posts, as I go back through my archive in order to collect older stories into more readable chunks, and just to revise and revisit some of the stories I wrote in the past that I could improve upon now. I’m not planning on a rigid schedule, but I would like to continue posting five days a week or so, though depending on my other commitments, it could fluctuate from week to week.

Since I’m revamping all of this, I decided to take another look at my Patron rewards, and will, starting in March, be making a few changes to the tiers I currently have. Some of the major changes will be:

The archive at the $1 level is going to be easier to access–instead of adding people manually to access it, I will simply be providing you with an open link to the folder. I will also, in the near future, start adding some other work to it, because the pile of unfinished stories and things on hiatus is, sadly, always growing.
As some new Patron exclusive content, at the $1 level, I will be posting a weekly roundup of stories, sites, art and various other stuff that I have found throughout the week that I found interesting. A number of people have mentioned missing the roundups I used to do, and now that tumblr is gone, finding new stuff is always more of a challenge. I tend to have decent luck though, so I’ll help as best I can!
The suggested stories, both the ability to submit suggestions and access to the finished stories themselves, will be moving from the $1 tier, up to the $5 dollar tier instead.
Folks at the $5 tier will have access to exclusive sketches, sneak peeks of stories in progress, early access to finished stories, and access to other exclusive content!
Starting at the $5 tier, you’ll have access to my discord channel for Patrons! I’ve been testing the server out for a while, and I’ve found it a decent place to chat, run RP sessions with patrons, and post captions stories. Folks at the $5 dollar level will get access to all the captions I write (and they’ll always be posted on the discord server first) and also have the ability to suggest ideas and photos of captions they want to see!
Folks at the $10 tier will continue to have access to my current drafts and work in progress. I know stuff has been hectic lately, and I’ve tried to keep up with permissions, but if you’re a ten dollar patron, and you don’t have access to my drafts folder on google drive, let me know, and I can get you added!

All of these changes, aside from the shifting of the suggested stories to the $5 dollar tier, will be phased in over the next week or so. The current batch of suggestions is already in the works, and I’ll continue giving $1 tier patrons access until the beginning of March. There may be more changes and new kinds of content coming in the rest of the year–I’m working out the possibility of RP sessions for patrons, some sort of reworked commission system, and various other ideas, but I want to test my workload before adding any new commitments! Sometime this summer, I’m also looking at readjusting the prices of my tiers as well, which I haven’t really looked at since I started this several years ago–but that’s all in the future for the moment.

Thanks as always for your support, and if you have any questions, leave a comment below, or send me a message!

World’s Largest Cock (Sketch)

You can’t really blame him for staring, I mean, I’ve never met a guy who’s larger than me, and I can be a bit of a showoff. Sitting here in the stall, swinging my big, foot long cock back and forth, and he’s just standing there, watching, can’t look away, doesn’t even notice that he’s done pissing, he’s too focused on it. After all, how could you not want to look at it? And the more you look at it, the more you want to touch it.

At least, that’s what I’m suggesting. He protests a bit, gets red in the face, but he can’t look away, can’t step away, can’t figure out why his own cock is so damn hard, staring at mine. He starts edging closer, and then he has a hand on it, feeling the veiny surface, and just like I told him, as soon as he starts touching it, he starts thinking about how it must feel to be on it, impaled by it, his hole left gaping and ruined for life by my massive cock.’

He’s scared, of course. Who wouldn’t be? He’s a virgin, he’s never even thought of taking something up his ass before today, but it’s so…big, how could he not want it? It’s a perfectly normal reaction, I assure him, but he’s going to have to work at it, if he wants to get ready.

Each guy who comes in, he begs them to fuck him. Truckers, bikers, dads, old men, young men, college kids–they all do of course. Once they see my cock, they understand his need, they understand how much work he has to do. They all fuck him, raw and unlubed–that’s the only way I fuck, after all, so he’d best get used to it.

After four or five hours, he’s naked and sweating, his hold gaping, cum leaking from it, and he tells me he’s ready. I give him a go, and while I can get the head in (an impressive feat) I can’t get any deeper. He goes back to begging. Fists now–the bigger the better, and soon, he starts taking two at once, and then–then I fuck him. I ride him ragged, but now he knows what it feels like to get fucked by the biggest cock in the world. Now he knows what it feels like to be dumped on the floor of a dirty rest area, hole gaping, unable to close back up, jacking his own cock helplessly, trying to cum, but knowing he can’t–because nothing can feel as good as my cock did in his virgin hole. Because nothing will ever feel as good, ever again, because you can’t get fucked by my cock and not lose something.

He’s older now, hair white, muscles withered with a new potbelly, eyes dull and hopeless. He knows I ruined him. I took him manhood, his virility, his youth–all of it went into my cock, to make it just a little bit bigger, a little more irresistible. He doesn’t hate me though–he thanks me, knows that I deserve it more than he does, begs me for another fuck, but I just leave the worthless fucker there. Don’t feel sorry for him though–he did beg for it, after all.