The Three Daddies and a Spoiled Brat (Caption Sketch)

From the right: Me, Jeb, Nate and Mitch

The four of us were on our way to Jeb’s parent’s cabin for the weekend, and we were getting there late, so we stopped at a bar along the way to get some food, and a drink. Now, I’m the only one of us who was under 21, but I had my fake ID with me. I don’t fuckin’ know how that old cunt knew it was fake, but when she refused to serve us…I got pissed, and maybe I said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t fuckin’ faze her though–she just stared at me, and I felt this…chill run down my spine, and then she looked at my three friends, and told us to get the fuck out of her bar. We…did, but as I was leaving, she whispered to me, “If you want to act like a spoiled baby, you might as well be one.”

I felt weird for the rest of the drive. We all did, really. No one said much of anything, and we were all hungry, and I felt dumb for making a scene, and for being called out by some old bitch. We got to the cabin and started unloading, but as we did, I noticed that something was off about all of my friends. They seemed…older. Mitch had some grey hair in his beard, and his hair was receding. Nate’s beard was a bit longer, and he seemed chubbier than he had before. It was about that time, that I realized the crotch of my jeans felt warm, and when I looked down, I realized I had pissed my pants without even noticing.

Horrified, I ran inside to the bathroom, stripped out of my pants and got cleaned up–hoping no one had noticed. It took me about…half an hour? I walked back out, and found all three of my friends on the couch–fucking making out with each other like a bunch of fags! That, and all of them were white haired, and had stripped down to their underwear, showing off their hairy, chubby bodies, and I was so stunned that I fell down–and I couldn’t stand back up, no matter how hard I tried, and…and I fucking started to cry.

My three friends on the couch in the cabin, shifting

Jeb told me everything was ok, but before I could stop him, he put me in a diaper! I couldn’t even speak, everything came out as gibberish, and I watched all of my daddies having sex…and I got jealous. I got hard in my fucking diaper, and started groping myself, and when Daddy Nate saw, they gave me a spanking for being a naughty baby, and put these damn mitts on my hands! I just wanted to be a big boy like my daddies, but I was so naughty, all I could do was work myself into a fit of horniness.

Me the next morning, after falling asleep finally, still hard as a rock in my diaper

Thankfully, after the weekend, we all changed back–mostly. I…still have to wear a diaper, I can’t control it, and the only people who can change it are…are my daddies. Whenever I’m with them, they get old again, but they hate it–and they’re all avoiding me, but I don’t have a choice! I…I need to go back, and beg her to fix this, but I’m terrified. Terrified…she might just make it even worse. But what choice to we have?


New You Resolutions (Part 2) [Interactive]

Duncan read the list a few times, mostly just disgusted and confused by what was on there. Hell, some of the things didn’t even make sense, or didn’t even seem possible! There were five items on the list:

  • Stop going to the gym and work to get fatter instead.
  • Start smoking cigars, and age an extra thirty years.
  • No longer cut my hair, beard, or body hair, and grow it three times as fast, and three times as thick.
  • Cum only on myself and my clothes as often as I can, get as many men to cum on me as I can, and never shower again.
  • Replace my wardrobe with slobby clothes, and never wash them again.

He couldn’t control how fast he aged, or how thick his hair grew in–it had to just be some stupid prank someone was pulling on him. In any case, he had so much he had to get done today, and this stupid thing had wasted too much time. He skipped breakfast in his apartment–there was nothing that…would satisfy him here, went down and got in his car. Instead of going to the gym, like he thought he would, he wound up at a fast food place, went inside, ordered a massive amount of food–and ate all of it.

The whole time, he was trying to make himself stop…but he had to do it. He had to get fatter, right? That’s…what the list said. He didn’t understand where the compulsion was coming from, and eating the greasy food was disgusting to him, but he couldn’t get his body to stop, no matter how hard he tried. Once he finished, he again tried to get himself to drive to the gym, but instead he looked up the nearest smoke shop that sold cigars, went in and bought a pack, along with a lighter and a couple of ashtrays. He told himself to throw it out, but instead, he drove home, lit one, smoked it as best he could, and started stuffing his entire wardrobe into trashbags, and threw the whole thing into the dumpster. It took long enough that he finished the cigar–though it made him sick to his stomach and he nearly vomited, but he was…proud of himself, for finishing it. Proud of himself, for…for doing it, doing what he was supposed to do. Proud, and a bit…horny? Horny enough to sit down on the couch and rub out a load, which he onto his thigh, rubbing it in, feeling it get…tacky. He…wanted to shoot again, but he had more errands to run first.

He left the house again, this time going to the nearby thrift shop, and buying himself a new wardrobe–sweats and undershirts, some…used underwear, which disgusted him, and some mesh ahtletic shorts and beat up sneakers. Then he went home, lit another cigar, despite the fact he still felt sick from the first one, and he jacked off–spraying his load all over his flat belly, rubbing it in, and feeling the stubble growing there.

Duncan had always had quite a bit of body hair, and at his agency’s request, he kept himself shaved all over, and photoshop took care of the rest. Now though, he could see the first dark hairs coming back, much faster than they usually did…and there were so many of them! He went into the bathroom, and saw that the same thing was happening to his face, his stubble was so thick, and so obvious–he tried to shave it, but his hands just threw all of his shaving equipment right in the trash. Furious, he figured he could at least take a shower–but again, his body refused to even get in the tub. When he kept trying, his body ended up disassembling the entire shower fixture and throwing that away too.

And that was just the first day. He lost all of his modeling contracts in a week, and his agency dumped him by the end of January. He had some savings, but not nearly enough–he had, however, befriended the guys at the fast food joint where he went for most of his meals now…and while he held onto his dignity for a while, he eventually had to ask them for a job. He thought they would be disgusted by the idea–after all, he reeked like a cumrag and was so damn hairy now–but when he asked them they were eager to have him there…after all, it was handy having a cumrag around for them to use whenever they got horny. Even the owner of the place didn’t seem fazed by his hygiene, though he usually kept Duncan in the back, making fries and cleaning equipment, getting even filthier and greasier as the months wore on.

It was June when he realized, finally, how much he’d aged in just six months. He’d been 25 this year, but he’d already added another fifteen years or so, making him an even forty, according to his driver’s license, that was always accurate somehow. He was balding, his thick, already inch long beard was starting to grey, and his teeth were yellowed from the cigars he smoked almost constantly now when he was home, and always on his breaks at work. He got kicked out of his apartment for smoking and wrecking the place, and had to move in with one of his coworkers, another fat, horny slob like him, one who was more than happy to keep him around as a personal cumrag. More than once, he’d be woken up to his fat coworker looming over him, spraying his beard and hair with another massive load of cum, and Duncan, would just…thank him, and usually milk out another one of his own to go with it.

All he wanted was for 2019 to end, but he kept remembering the letter, and the party it had mentioned. He didn’t know what that might entail…but if it meant this nightmare could finally end, he’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get his body, and life, back to normal.

Of course, New Life Industries sent resolutions to more men than just Duncan. Who else got a letter from them this January?

Here’s a few options for possible targets by New Life industries. Some of these are more…revenge focused, while others are more about helping guys stuck in a rut become something…different. Also note, that there’s a space to write in your own ideas too! If I like them, I might include your suggestions in the upcoming polls to pick other victims of these New You Resolutions! Here’s the poll for Patrons (remember, your votes count for double in the Patron poll!) and the public poll is embedded below!

Porn Addiction (Caption Sketch)

Jackson knew that porn addiction was a thing, of course, but it wasn’t something that he imagined might happen to someone like him. That was a problem that losers had, losers who couldn’t get cock, or ugly old men who never left their houses. He wasn’t an addict…but the videos on this site–once he’d found it, he kept thinking about them, all the time, and thinking about them would get them horny, and he found himself needing to watch them more and more. So much so, that he’d started sneaking off to the restroom at work with his phone in hand, and he’d work out a quick load watching one…first just once a day, but then, more and more.

Just a quickie at work is all…

It was sex he’d never seen before. The guys in the videos–they were no holds barred, total freaks and perverts with no limits. He watched them do things he’d never even contemplated before, and…and once he’d seen it, he found himself obsessed with it–things that had disgusted him before, like watersports or fisting, were now just warm ups. Still, he wasn’t an addict. He was just…kinkier than he’d thought, is all. He hadn’t had sex with another guy in weeks (or was it months) but what did that matter? He didn’t know anyone like this in real life–the only way he could enjoy it was…in porn, right?

He kept denying it, as long as he could. The days when he called in sick, that he spent in his room, edging for hours, stuffing himself with food he had delivered. When he hit his limit on the site…he had to subscribe of course, but the cost just seemed to keep going up every month. Sure, he didn’t…need it, but he wanted it, and that’s what really mattered. That is, until he got fired. Until he spent three solid days in his room, edging for hours on end, watching video after video–then…he realized he had a problem. Then he realized what a mess he’d become. He’d gained close to fifty pounds of fat, his body was filthy, he…looked older. He looked like the losers he’d always imagined a porn addict might be–and he realized that was exactly what he’d become.

Jackson reeking of musk and cum, in the midst of a four hour edge session

That’s when he’d gotten the email–from the site, offering him a choice. Keep paying to watch, and the site would keep draining him. Within the year, he’d be in his sixties, massively obese, sitting in his own filth, mindlessly jacking off until he just keeled over and died from one last massive orgasm–or he could come join the company as an actor, and make all of his fantasies come true.

He was scared at first. Then his hair started to grey. Then, he realized he could barely take leaving the house at all. If he didn’t go now–he knew he would never get away. So he left. He left, and went to the address the email told him, and two days later, he was in his first film.

A brand new Jackson, with new purpose

No one would have known it was him, of course. Even he wouldn’t have known himself, if there was anything of Jackson even left in the filthy fat whore’s mind–but the company had gotten rid of all that for him. No–he was just another slave to their perverse, demonic pleasures, channeling that lust into the videos, broadcasting them to the world, hungry thinking about the souls corrupted by his unending desires, and he went back to groping his fat body and sucking at the cock in front of him, lost to lust forever.

New You Resolutions (Part 1) [Interactive]

Alright, I haven’t been particularly happy with how “Home for the Holiday’s has been progressing, mostly because I kind of lost the thread on where I wanted the whole thing to go, and haven’t really been satisfied with it since. In any case, I had an idea I liked better, so I’m going to go with that instead! Something to ring in the new year a bit better. A mysterious company has been gifting people lists of resolutions–ones that they have to follow in the new year, whether they want to or not. I’ll probably do three or four different vingettes, kind of like what I did with Spook Mart a few months back, and each vingette will cover what their resolutions were, and how they ended up at the end of the year. Hope you enjoy it!

Duncan hated New Year’s more than most other holidays, and the main reason, was that, come January, the gym was flooded with so many fat asses and sorry looking losers that getting through his usual workout would often take an hour longer than usual. And so, it was with that in mind that Duncan was up early, at five, getting dressed in his gym clothes, to go out and beat the crowd as best he could.

Duncan worked as a model, and so his physique and good looks were part of his job. He knew how much work it took to look like he did, and he also believed that most people didn’t have the kind of resolve necessary to really get what they wanted. No matter how much they wanted to be thin and muscular, they’d just fall of the wagon by the end of the month (and a few might even get pushed off by Duncan himself, with a few snide glances in the locker room, or out on the gym floor). In any case, he certainly didn’t have any resolutions for himself–as far as he was concerned, his life was going perfectly! All he had to do was keep pushing on, land a few more big campaigns, and he’d be set.

He went out into the kitchen of his apartment, and before he could make himself his usual pre-gym breakfast, he saw something odd on the counter top. It was a small envelope, the paper rather classy, looking almost like a fancy invitation or something. He was certain it hadn’t been there the night before, when he’d gotten home from that New Year’s party hosted by a designer he was cultivating. He picked it up, and saw the front had no address, just his name on it, and in the corner, a monogram for something called “New You Enterprises.” He’d certainly never heard of such a thing, but thought it might be something from an agency that had been slipped to him during the party, that he’d forgotten about. He opened the envelope, and inside was a letter, and a second piece of paper that he set aside. The letter read:

Dear Duncan,

Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.


Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!


Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!


Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises

Duncan reread the letter, certain it had to be some kind of joke. It sounded idiotic–what kind of idiot company would just go about making up resolutions for other people, especially people who had no idea who they were? He crumpled up the letter, and went to do the same to the other piece of paper that had been in the letter, but his hand…refused to crumple it. Instead, he picked it up and read the short list, growing more and more horrified at what was listed there. They couldn’t possibly be serious–this wasn’t a list of resolutions, it was self-sabotage! He certainly had no plans to do anything on the list–unfortunately, Duncan was about to discover that he was going to have to do everything on the list, whether he wanted to or not. But what were the resolutions on Duncan’s list?

Alright, below are eight options for the resolutions that Duncan found on his list. You can select up to four options below, and I’ll pick three-five of the winners to inflict on Duncan, depending on how they all work together. The winning option of the Patreon poll is guaranteed to be in the mix, and Patreon votes count double! Here’s the patron only poll, and here’s the public poll:


My Summer Job (Caption Sketch)

Trevor had just graduated from high school, and had the summer stretching out ahead of him–his last summer stuck here in this small, rural town, before he went off to college in the fall, which, he hoped would let him get out of this place forever. However, college was…expensive, and while he had a good amount of assistance, he needed cash too. However, the town was…not in the greatest of financial shape, and so it was difficult finding a job. In the end, he just advertised around town as willing to do whatever work people might have for him on his property, and it ended up working out well–at least, until he drove out to Arthur Johnson’s rundown old lot a ways outside of town.

Arthur was well known as a bit of a loner, and he wasn’t seen around town very often. Trevor was nervous, but the old man greeted him warmly enough, shirtless and smoking a cigar in the already hot morning, and set Trevor to work clearing blackberry bushes from the side of his house. After a few hours, Trevor was exhausted, and when Arthur offered him a break and some lunch, he was more than happy to take him up on the offer. After they’d eaten, Arthur also offered him a smoke–Trevor had never smoked a cigar before, but smelling Arthur’s all day long had…piqued his interest. Arthur showed him how to punch and light it, and Trevor took the opportunity, once Arthur had left the room, to take a picture of himself with it, for something to tell his friends later.

A selfie, before the changes.

But a couple of minutes later, he started to feel…a bit strange. Still, he passed it off as nothing important, and got back to work, still smoking, but the stick was making him feel a bit sick, and his head a bit…thick, somehow. He saw Arthur watching him from the porch, smoking as well, and Trevor found himself…aroused, somehow. Still, he pressed on, the nausea passed, and he felt…invigorated. After another couple of hours, Arthur offered him a beer on the porch, and one thing led to another…and Trevor found himself on his knees in front of the fat redneck, sucking his cock, groping his own member, but it felt…strange. A bit shorter than it had been, and hadn’t he had a gut, and…and why was it so hard for him to think, all of a sudden? Arthur fed him a load, and Trevor asked to use his bathroom–and in the mirror, he just stared at himself–at the body he had suddenly. He looked to be in his forties, with a thick goatee, heavily muscled, skin tanned from hours and days working in the sun, with a short, thick cock drooling precum…but was that so wrong? He fiddled with his cock until he came, and as he did, the nausea came back–as did his real body.

He fled, Arthur laughing as he ran off, got in his car and drove off, vowing never to go back there again…but that was before the headaches set in the next day, and the nausea, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to cum, no matter how horny he got. He…could still taste the cigar smoke on his tongue, and a few days later, drived by desperation, he went back to Arthur’s place, took another cigar from him, and spent another day as Arthur’s burly handyman, fixing up his house between servicing Arthur’s cock.

He told himself that he only had to get through the summer…but as time wore on, and he spent more and more time smoking Arthur’s cigars, he found himself…losing his younger identity more and more. His car changed into a beat up pickup full of tools. His body would change back less and less. He couldn’t think as well, and the accent he had grew slower and thicker. No one else seemed to notice a thing–and when the end of August rolled around, he said a tearful goodbye to his mom and dad, but didn’t drive to school–he drove to Arthur’s, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever be his real self again.

Trev, after a day of work, with his old truck.

Trev appeared in town like he’d always been there. He was none too bright, but he could fix pretty much anything that needed fixing, and he was never hurting for work around town as a capable handyman. He lived with Arthur, and everyone suspected they might be a couple of faggots, but no one knew for sure–no one, except for any man who got a good whiff of Trev’s cigar smoke while he was working. Any man who did would find themselves unable to resist using Trev’s holes, filling the stupid, muscular redneck with their cum while Trev begged them for it, always paying him for the pleasure, but forgetting about having done it soon after–but Trev never forgot. Deep inside, Trev knew this was a lie, but he was far too addicted to go back to who he should be, and in time, he learned to accept it, and even, at times, believe it. Still, when he found out he would be spending a week fixing his parent’s roof–he rebelled, as best he could, but Arthur had plenty of ways to put Trev in his place.

And so, Trev found himself passing his father the cigar Arthur had given him. He watched as his father turned into a musky, hairy, big gutted and big dicked redneck biker, who beat Trev into submission before fucking him raw. He tried to deny liking it. He tried, but he couldn’t. And when his dad begged him for another cigar the next day, even knowing what would happen to him, and another the day after that–he knew that Arthur had plans for their little town far beyond just Trev. They both ended up back at Arthur’s that night, Arthur and his brute of a father fucking him senseless…but what could he do? He was just a stupid, weak, hick faggot, like they said he was, and that was all he’d ever be, forever. At least, once Arthur opened his cigar shop, he wouldn’t be the only one–hopefully.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 6)

Jay pulled his cock free then, and walked around to Jay’s rear, giving the air a few sniffs, “Fuck yeah, you may be a hog, but you stink like a sow in heat. You like that, I bet–any boar who gets a sniff of you is going to want to fuck you, and I bet you’ll let ‘em, you fuckin’ slut.”

Jay slid his cock into Bruce’s hole, and it felt different than it had this morning. It had felt good before, sure, but not like this. Now, it felt like some puzzle piece had slid into him, fitting in perfectly, and that hole he felt disappeared for a moment, and everything was right. He was a hog, a stupid hog, and he was getting fucked. He was getting fucked like he ought to be, and that was all that mattered in the world. Jay started off slow, enjoying the sensation of his new cock in the hog’s ass, but soon ramped up his thrusts, slamming in deep, giving the hog a proper rutting, not noticing that as he did, the phone in his pocket was starting to jiggle loose. After a few minutes, it was thrown out onto the ground beside him, and when he went to change positions, Jay heard a loud crunch underneath his trotter, as Bruce’s phone was crushed underneath his weight.

He only had a moment to realize what had happened, before the energy from the app’s data stored in the phone rushed out, surrounding them both with it’s wild energy, Jay hauling his cock free of Jay’s ass and stumbling to the ground, trying to sort out what was happening to him. A few feet away, Bruce, too was caught up in the swirl of dark energy, feeling it pick him apart, remaking him again and again, trying to sort out filter from reality and back again, until at last, it dissipated, leaving both of them shaking on the floor of the barn, and Jay leaned over and gagged, trying to settle his stomach without losing his entire breakfast from earlier on the ground.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” Bruce said, turing around and seeing the phone crushed to pieces in the dirt, “You fucking–what the fuck did you do?” Bruce’s voice was…distorted, and didn’t sound particularly human. Deep and gutteral, the vowels twisted in a mouth that wasn’t designed for them, but understandable, mostly. Jay just stared at him, and then down at the phone, and then…smelled the air, smelled something…really fucking good on the air. Something he wanted.

He looked down, and saw that he had changed back, somewhat. He was closer in size to the man he’d been before, but still had the boar’s face, the bristle beard and back hair, his cock closer in size to his human one, but still pig in shape. He got up, trying to focus, but everything seemed so…hazy, like his brain was running a couple speed slower than it usually did. He just felt…stupid, really, and rather than the haze clearing, it only seemed to be coalescing around his mind, gaining further hold, making thinking harder and harder. He…needed to fuck, mostly. He was still so horny, and something smelled so good…

He stomped over to Bruce, grabbed hold of his hips and went to thrust, but the pig scrambled away as best his bulk would allow him. Still, Jay was stronger than him, and he caught him, and fucked him, Bruce yelling at him, begging him to stop, but Jay didn’t want to stop. Jay was horny, and Jay wanted to fuck, so that was what Jay wanted to do–and he could see the hog was enjoying it too, even though he didn’t want to admit it. That was ok–Jay…knew what they both needed well enough, and he would take care of them. He would make sure they both got what they needed. When he finished fucking, his mind cleared somewhat, but the haze was still thick. He tried to listen to what the pig was saying, about how they needed to change back, how they had to contact some company and fix this, how they needed help…but Jay didn’t really care. Everything was fine…but there was work he had to do on the farm. He told the pig this, and the pig got angry at him, screaming at him, and Jay didn’t like hearing that, so he dragged the pig over to a pen and locked him in, Bruce screaming and hollering at him to come back and let him out, but Jay didn’t see any reason why he would want to do that, and Jay did know best.

Jay felt better, doing his work, working up a good sweat, and when evening came, he went back to the barn, fed the pig, and fucked him again. The next morning, he did the same thing, and life fell into a certain rhythm. Jay…found himself loving the pig, somehow. Loving the way he smelled at least. Loving how it felt to fuck him. Loving how fat he was getting off his slop, but the pig never seemed to love him back. The pig was angry at first, and then desperate, and eventually, gave up. Maybe he had realized that he loved Jay too, as much as Jay loved him. Love didn’t need to be complicated after all. Love could, on occasion, be the simplest thing in the world.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 5)

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it! He was too weak like this, he was too scared, and too gentle, and too…too much in love to take what he wanted. He wanted Bruce to be his pig, to be happy as his pig, but he could see now that Bruce was too terrified to pursue it. He needed to be someone else. Someone forceful. Someone who cared less, and wanted more. Someone with bigger balls than he had. So Jay had dug into the app, and started filtering out everything about himself that was weak, layering everything else on, making someone who could do it, someone who could take what they wanted, someone who could do what Jay was too kind to do. Someone who could show Bruce what he needed, someone who could give them both what they wanted–what Jay knew they wanted.

And that is who was staring down at Bruce now. He recognized him as Jay, but knew it wasn’t the same Jay who had left the barn before. He was…huge, at least seven and a half feet tall, thick with muscle and fat, covered in bristle from face to trotter. He had, apparently, taken Bruce’s words to heart–Jay was as much a boar as Bruce was a pig, thick tusks pushing out from his short snout, bristle running from his coarse, wiry beard over his head and down his back, a treasure trail running down the front of his thick gut, broad shoulders, thick hips, massive thighs, huge trotters a foot from Bruce’s face, and all he could do was smell him. Perhaps he wasn’t even as imposing as Bruce thought, staring up at him, but so much of what he was seeing depending on what he was smelling–what he smelled was more important. This was an alpha, this was his owner, his master, his ruler, his top, his partner.

“:Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Jay grunted out, and followed with a snort, “We both were pathetic, really. Well, no more of that shit, I don’t think, do you?”

Bruce couldn’t do much other than snort, and just blankly stared at the thick bulge in the front of Jay’s overalls, while the boar pulled out his phone, and in the app, started tweaking a few of Bruce’s filters, and after a moment, he took a picture of the hungry, sex-desperate pig below him, and watched him start to shrink–slightly. The massive bulk which had enveloped him a moment ago, pinning him to the muddy floor of the barn, receded enough that he could stand up and move again, but he didn’t shrink to the same size he’d woken up at. A few other changes swept over him, a softening of some of his features, but twisting in other ways, especially in his face, which looked less like a pig than before, and more human, though he still had his floppy, ring pierced ears and a prominent pig nose pierced with a doorknocker ring. Bruce felt other changes more profoundly on the inside–a dull pain in his guts and groin especially, and he realized, after a moment, through the fog of the pheromones pouring off the boar in front of him, that he’s lost his nuts. The hefty sack he’d had a moment before simply disappeared, his cock shrinking to a much smaller nub, and he found that all of that sexual energy directed at his own pleasure refocused on the stinking boar in front of him, and without even thinking about it, he forced himself up, gut still dragging along the floor of the barn, licking and chewing at the front of the boar’s overalls, hungry for his cock, hungry to serve, hungry for…for so much. He felt like a pit had grown inside him, a hole, and he needed to fill it more than anything else. Food, sex, pleasure, sevice, all of it would fall into it, but Bruce could already tell it would never be full. Had it always been there, in his guts? He didn’t know for sure, but he could already feel it swallowing his fear, his weakness–there wasn’t room to be afraid inside him anymore. The emptiness would either eat him, or his fear, and as he felt it disappear, everything felt so much easier.

It was easy to be a pig. It was easy to suck his master’s cock, easy to snort in his musk, easy to love him. He loved him! Bruce loved him so much, loved him in ways he could have never allowed himself to love anyone before. He’d taken away the fear, he’d taken away the weakness. Jay had freed him, had made everything easy, so easy, so smooth, so empty. He wanted to make him happy too, wanted to be a good pig, wanted to give him everything he could, be everything that Jay wanted him to be, wanted to tell him all of this, but even with his human face, his voice hadn’t returned. It didn’t matter–if Jay didn’t want him to have a voice, than he didn’t need one. He could show him in other ways, he could show him what Jay’s love meant to him.

“Yeah, that’s the kind of attention I wanted this morning from you, you stupid hog,” Jay said, while Bruce sucked his cock, “I have a feeling these changes are going to open up new horizons for you, pretty soon–and if you don’t like them? Well you know what? I can just fucking make you like them. I can make you forget anything was ever different. I know what you need, you fucking hog, I always knew what you needed most, but you were too chickenshit to figure it out for yourself. Well, now you don’t have to think about anything, other than filling up that need sitting in your fucking soul–that, and keeping my boarcock good and happy.”

Home for the Holidays – Episode 2 (Part 5)

“Well, that was a good start, I think,” Buzz said, as Mark came out of the bathroom, “but you still have a ways to go, before you really blossom into your own, I would say. Magnus told me about the curses you laid on those other guys in your family, and I think a few of them…got off a bit too easy, if you ask me. Why don’t we pay that oldest one a visit, eh?” he said, and pulled on a jacket over the filthy clothes he’d pulled on while Mark was collecting himself in the bathroom.

“No–no more of this, I–What…what the fuck happened to me? What the hell are you doing to me?” Mark said to him, “Please just…just let me go, I didn’t know what I was doing! I’ll put things right, I promise, I’ll do what I can, and–”

“Oh be honest, would you?” Buzz said, “Don’t bore me with the lies you tell yourself.”

Mark tried to keep speaking, after Buzz had interrupted him, but he couldn’t–he couldn’t keep talking, because it wasn’t the truth, not really. He wasn’t sorry, about what he’d done, not to any of them, but he was…terrified. Terrified of what it was doing to him, of how…much he was enjoying it. “Please, I’m scared, I don’t understand what you want with me.”

Buzz sighed, “You’ll understand soon enough, what you are, really. Who we are, too. You can’t even see us yet, not really,” Buzz said, and smiled at him–and for a moment, Mark saw…something else, other than the rotten teeth in Buzz’s head. He saw…fangs, sharp and glistening, and behind them, a darkness–

He shuddered, and kept shaking, nearly crying. Buzz had to order him to get dressed, and Mark ended up wearing some of Buzz’s cast off clothing, since that was all that fit his sizable frame now. He was…disgusted by how filthy they were, but wearing them made his pig cock rock hard all the same. With that, they climbed into Buzz’s truck and headed for John’s place in the city, to see what had become of him in the last few weeks, since Thanksgiving, and they left Luke alone–Buzz assured him his piggy brother wouldn’t get into any trouble on his own–probably.

John, on the other hand, had been struggling with his new habits, trying to control them and deny them, but it was a battle he’d lost rather quickly. Within a few days, he’d relented to the smoking, and was chaining as many cigars as he could during the day. He stopped doing his laundry and showering, anything to build up his own musk, but he still prefered the grungy clothes Mark had given him on Thanksgiving–though his weeks worn, unwashed underwear was starting to get some good character, as were his socks. But it was the fucking which was the worst–he…craved it, all the time. Keeping a dildo inside him helped, but it wasn’t enough. He’d…tried to keep up with his girlfriend, but she wasn’t what he needed anymore. He started cruising for cock on the internet, usually bringing over three or four guys a day to plow his itch into submission–but it wasn’t enough. He…needed Mark’s cock inside him again, he knew it had to be his, but he had no idea where his younger brother had gone off to.

So, when Buzz and Mark knocked on his door, and John opened it–even though it didn’t quite look like his brother, he knew it was him, and his heart leapt. Unable to help himself, he dropped to his knees and pleaded with him, and at first, Mark thought he was begging him to get rid of the curse–but no. John was begging him for a fuck. Nothing was the same as his brother’s cock, nothing could satisfy him–and while Mark was horrified, Buzz saw no reason why he should leave his brother so desperately unsatisfied. He pulled his strings a bit (though he required less of a push that Buzz had expected) and soon they were in John’s bedroom, on his sex scented sheets, Mark shoving his piggy cock into John’s hole raw while Buzz watched, stroking himself, and musing about what to do next.

It was clear that John had gotten off relatively easy–he still had his day job after all, he still had his luxury apartment, and while these habits might bring him low eventually, that was no reason that Mark and him couldn’t speed up the process a bit. Besides, piling another curse onto him would only accelerate Mark’s descent into his own power. By the time Mark had cum up his brother’s ass, John sobbing in relief, Buzz had settled on the curse he would add onto John’s predicament–but what did he decide on?

Alright, since I haven’t been able to find a decent ranked choice platform that doesn’t break halfway through the month, I’m going back to a more traditional poll system. However, I’m giving you all the ability to select more than one option in the poll, so feel free to pick two or three of the options if you have multiple interests! The poll is also embedded in the post now, so you don’t need to go anywhere else to put in your vote. Here’s the options for what Buzz has in mind for John next.

  • A demonic curse — infuse him with demonic lust and sloth
  • An inanimate curse — make him a living pipe that needs to be smoked
  • An obedience curse — give John a few more commands to make his life even worse
  • An physical curse — twist John’s body into something filthy and inhuman

Everyone can vote using the poll below, and if you’re a Patron, you can find the Patron exclusive poll here!

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 4)

“You made me like this, don’t forget,” Jay said, as Bruce squealed in panic, desperately trying to move himself with his too short, too weak legs, “You made me! I know I’m right, because I’m just a reflection of you–you wouldn’t have made me want this, if you didn’t want it too, but you’re just too stubborn to understand your own head! I know what’s best! I know what you really want! And I’m gonna fucking show you…I’ll…fuck!” Jay said, and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door behind him, leaving Bruce there, squealing still, trapped within his massive, nearly nine hundred pound body, realizing that he had just made things so, so much worse without even trying.

All of this. He’d made all of this. This was all him, every decision, every false step, every idiotic word, every cowardly choice. All of it had led him here, trapped in a relationship with the same man he’d been with before, when he’d been human. Neither of them had changed, just the dressing, just the obsessions. He had to get out of here, he had to get help–but how? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak–as far as most people were concerned, he probably just looked like a pig–an ugly, strangely shaped pig in some ways, but just a pig at the end of the day. Maybe he’d always been this pig. He gave up for a moment, and just laid there, listening to the farm, listening for Jay, really, wondering what, exactly, he was going to do next.

He…had never seen Jay this angry, he didn’t think. He had been upset when Bruce had left that day, and said he wanted to break up with him. Upset, but not…mad. He’d seemed more upset at himself, than he’d felt angry at Bruce, like he had failed somehow, or angry that he was letting something slip away. Mostly, he’d…done everything he could to avoid alienating Bruce further, he’d left the door wide open to keep going, and that was all Bruce had needed to come back–because all of his protests aside, all the good reasons he had for leaving, he’d always wanted to come back–he just…had never thought it would end with him here.

Time passed again, just as slow as the morning, but now, instead of mildly eager anticipation, all he felt was a dull, muted terror, and the certainty in his gut that all of this, in the end, really was his fault, but even then, he couldn’t quite put everything together, how all of his little weaknesses had compounded together into this nightmare, like the fat pinning him to the earth that he occasionally tested himself against. Denial struggled along anyway. This couldn’t be his fault. Sure, he had made every choice, and every action, that had landed him here. Sure, he was weak, and terrified, and both Jay and Jean had just wanted what was best for him, both of them just wanted him to be happy in the exact way Jay and Jean thought he should be happy, a happiness that terrified Bruce more than just about anything else, because he wasn’t happy. Because happiness would require change, and work, and acknowledging that something inside himself didn’t want to be happy, didn’t think he deserved someone else, didn’t think he should even exist. But this wasn’t his fault, this couldn’t be his fault. It was the app, it was Jean, it was Jay, it was anything else, everything else conspiring against him. But still, he was left pinned there by his own mass, grunting and squealing, wondering if he should cry, wondering if he should scream, he should think of something to tell Jay when he got back, he should be ready to beg, anything other than this mute acceptance, which was all he could seem to muster.

He didn’t have to wait as long this time, at least, before Jay did return, the sound of the barn door creaking open behind him, and he tried to twist his fat neck and see him, Bruce unsure of what either of them was going to do now. He couldn’t see him, though–but he could smell something…something unlike anything he’d smelled before in his life. It smelled like sex, it smelled like beautiful, fragrant desire and rutting and cum and sweat, and unable to stop himself, he was drooling, his cock hardening deep within his flab, and he started rocking back and forth, trying to pleasure himself, even as the smell grew stronger. He could barely focus on anything at all, beyond the smell, when Jay finally rounded Bruce’s massive frame and stood in front of him, only wearing his overall now, but he was no longer the same man who had stormed off from the barn an hour earlier.

Jay had been furious. Furious not so much at Bruce, but at himself. Furious at how weak he was, at how desperate he was, at how this stupid pig could get him so riled up, that even when Jay had all the power in the world, he still felt helpless before Bruce’s terror at himself. He’d gone back to the farmhouse and stared at himself, trying to sort out what he was feeling, wondering about who he had been before this, wondering what he had done to Bruce to make him turn him into this thing. Bruce…had to want this, didn’t he? Bruce had made him! He was just a reflection of Bruce’s desires in the end, right? But if he was just a reflection, then who was he really?

He had to be someone, he had to be someone himself, someone beyond Bruce! He thought about the lonely nights here, after Bruce had abandoned him, how empty he’d felt, how he’d been willing to do anything not to feel that anymore. How everything without Bruce had felt…pointless. He couldn’t go back to that. He couldn’t be without him again, he couldn’t go back to feeling that empty despair, he would kill himself, or he would let Bruce do it for him, undo him, try to bring back whoever had been here before him. But he didn’t want to die. Didn’t he deserve happiness? Didn’t he deserve a chance to get what he wanted out of life?

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 3)

“Well, even if ya don’t want to stay like this tomorrow, I gotta say, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life, pig,” he said, and stood back up, “How about you? It seemed like you were having a good time.”

Bruce didn’t quite know what to say about it. He had…enjoyed it, he supposed, but then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. His body had just done what it wanted to do, and he’d just been along for the ride. “I–*grunt*–I did, but…but hell,” he said, paused to shake his face, flinging bits of slop everywhere, “I…it was intense…” was all he could really think to say. He looked back and up at Jay, and saw it wasn’t exactly the effusive praise that Jay was looking for from him, and while he felt bad…what was he supposed to do? Lie? “Look, I…it was hot, yeah, and I…fuck, that was a damn good orgasm, but none of that…was me, you know? I didn’t have any control of myself! I was just so damn hungry, and so horny, and…and is that what you really want from me? Is that it? Is this all I’m really good for, to you?” The question hung in the air, and too late, Bruce realized that he had spoken something that should have never been spoken aloud. It had broken something between them, a contract, one Bruce had only been aware of as subtext–and the look of confusion, and then reproachment on Jay’s face…did not seem to bode well for him, particularly.

“I’m just trying to show you how good things could be if you just let go for a little while!” Jay said, sidestepping the question, “Maybe it’s good that you felt like things were out of your control. Maybe you don’t need to always be wondering if something is right–maybe you can just relax for a while, and do what feels good! What’s so wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! I liked it, I just…you know what? You weren’t even having sex with me, just now. You were just fucking a pig–a pig you made…me inhabit, a pig though, just an animal. You always told me…you always told me you liked me more because I wasn’t just a pig, but is that…what am I to you, really?” he asked, turning around to face Jay, feeling more hurt the more he thought about it, the more he felt…used, the more he felt like something in this had violated him, somehow. “I think you should change me back now, and…and I’d like…I don’t know, just…not like this.”

“Look, why don’t we just calm down for a little bit. You just told me you liked it!”

“Jay, this…this is a fucked up, and I know you know it. Just change me back, alright, and we can talk about it, but this is fucked!” he shouted, “I know you get off on me acting like an animal, but I didn’t think you literally just wanted to have sex with a fucking pig, you know? Fuck, I…I fucked you up so fucking much, I’m so fucking sorry, I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I–”

“I didn’t ask to be like this!” Jay shouted over him then, “I don’t know who the fuck I was before this, and you can’t just fucking lord that shit over me, like you fucking know me! At least I fucking know who I am, you know? At least I fucking know what I want! You’re the one who comes crawling back to me. You’re the one who wants this, but is too fucking cowardly to do anything about it!”

“Fuck you! You’re a bigger fucking pig than I ever could be, you know that? Some fucking loser farmer out here, fantasizing about fucking his pigs all day long, so fucking excited that he could make it happen finally. You’re the fucking coward–just go fuck that big hog of yours, and leave me the fuck out of this!” Bruce shouted back. He wanted to get out more, but Jay pulled out the phone from his pocket, moved something around on the app, and he heard the click of the shutter. A moment later, his words dissolved away into nothing more than oinks and squeals–he could still think all the words he wanted to say, but nothing would come out other than pig noises. He quit lunged for Jay’s hand that had the phone, hoping he could grab it with his mouth, but he was much too unwieldy–and after another shutter snap, Bruce could feel his body growing again, piling on even more fat, his gut growing down until it brushed against the ground, and then laid on it, his legs straining, trying to move his sudden mass, but having no luck at all. He was…immobile, and all he could do was squeal and grunt at Jay in anger and frustration, while the farmer looked on at him, scowling and furious–mostly because he knew that Bruce was right, mostly.

Jay…did like pigs. He liked pigs more than people, and always had, but not…for sex. Not until he’d met Bruce, had that bridge been crossed in his mind, and ever since they’d met…he’d been so frustrated. Frustrated by the fact that Bruce was so close to giving into his inner pig at any moment, so close to giving Jay what he needed, and yet…that irritating, fallible, doubting human would somehow always get in the damn way, every time! He just wanted him to let go, he just wanted to show him how happy Bruce could make him, if he just…if he just stopped being so damn human all the damn time. It wasn’t right, what he’d done, he knew that–but it was what he wanted…and to hell with what Bruce wanted, he told himself. Bruce didn’t know what mattered. Bruce wasn’t doing shit with him life. He…owed this to Jay, for what he’d done to him.