The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 7 (Part 3)

It recoiled and struggled at first, as all things must. It knew that it needed me, but I doubt the thing expected what I offered. What I demanded. My cock slid down the throat, already leaking the law into the beast’s gullet, and the chill of the law, how it dampens and focuses and changes. The thing would have to give up nearly everything that it had become, it would need to change, if it was going to survive–but it would survive, I would make sure of it. I would give it new form, new purpose, and it would help us tear this reality apart, seam by seam.

The struggles grew weaker, and at last, it ceased all together. It’s guts were full of my seed at this point, and it could feel the chill filling it everywhere, the pale flesh of the thing darkening to a bruise, much like my own skin, slowly absorbing my demands into itself, and the thing began to change. The teats and tentacles withered away, growing dry and dark before crumbling off. The body shrank back, still full and fat, but more comprehensible as a body, as something that could, possibly, be human, with two slender legs and arms, the head reforming into something masculine in nature. The eyes opened, at last, and the bruise was there, the law was there, in the beast’s mind, containing and focusing its desires–not riding the beast of them by any means, of course,. But focusing them–and I could sense, deep within, what the thing had been, before my kin had freed it.

A glutton, on the inside, but always…resisting the urge. He had been strong, muscular–a powerlifter, perhaps, or someone who simply lifted heavy things for work, the vision wasn’t clear. He ate, and he loved to eat, but he was afraid. Afraid to let go, afraid to embrace the desire deep within him, afraid to simply let go and be the pig he’d desired so much–and then the bruiser had sniffed him out, and offered him a chance to be free. Except the thing inside the man, the ball of desire and lust and gluttony, was much more powerful than the bruiser might have imagined. So powerful, that once it had been freed, the mortal, human casing had broken apart, and the beast had emerged instead.

Of course, the beast would have been no threat to the bruiser–but once it was completely free, I doubt it would have held the bruiser’s interest much. It was, after all, immune to the bruiser’s power–his art is an intricate one, more intricate than mine (the law is heavy, and absolute–but the bruiser’s art of freeing is much more fine and complex, determining which leashes to undo when.) Once something is entirely free, there is nothing else for him to do–and without me, it would have simply run wild until this reality finally snuffed it out and erased it, and all of the men it contacted, entirely. But I could save it, root it again in the laws of the realities, of this human one, and the one beyond.

Now that it was in my grip, I could contain those desires again, and refashion them into something else. The man he’d been had been a glutton, yes, but he had been something else too–he had not only wanted to feed himself, but others as well. I could…see, distantly, the men he had been with, the flabby obese men he had fucked and made love to, thinking about fucking himself, thinking about them getting larger, about growing whatever he could, even if he could not grow himself. So my law–I would give him what he wanted, I would help him feed men all he wanted.

He moaned around his cock, as he felt the heavy moobs I had left him with–two sets of them–begin to fill and bulge. I reached down with my hands, squeezing them, and a thick cream seeped from the nipples, running down the front of his body, and he could feel it. Feel the law solidifying inside him, his own law, and tears began to flow from his eyes as the bruise faded. It was done. I had pulled the beast back from the brink, I had contained it, and given it new life. Not human, though I could sense that, out in reality, he would appear normal enough, perhaps. Appear as a massively obese fellow, his body asymmetrical and heaving in odd ways, a mouth with too few teeth, skin a bit too pale and without enough hair, and nipples that would always leak slightly…but when he was alone with another, when he was feeding someone his milk, well, then they would begin to see him for what he was–and once they could see him, they would begin to see what would happen to them.

Together, we made quick work of the two men the beast had corrupted. He fed them his milk, and they gladly suckled, while I fucked their asses, filling them with my law as well, though they needed less than the beast had. Their minds were…shattered, but they could be returned to some form and normalcy, but never would they not desire to be fed–and fed by their master, stuffed full of his milk.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 7 (Part 2)

I entered the building, and in the solitude, without the gaze of humanity on me, I felt immediately more at ease, more able to assert myself, and my real form. The beast was close at hand, and I imagined that it could likely sense me as well. Whether it felt fear or not, I can’t know for certain, but it didn’t try to run, Perhaps it could sense that flight would be useless, that I was much too powerful now, with my skin, than it could hope to escape me. Perhaps it was relieved, in a way. It had been unleashed, its desires running amok, but there was no logic, no reason binding it. Nothing it did would keep–eventually, this reality would bottle it away, render it…understandable, and likely kill it. That, or it would simply cease to exist. Without law–without some reason beyond this reality, it could never hope to survive. It needed me–perhaps it knew that too, in a way. It knew I could help it–that I would tether it and bind it, yes, but that by the end, it would be more powerful as well. More lasting.

It had made its nest in a small room, what had likely been a storage room or large office before this. It was settled in a corner, heaving with flesh, and I could still distinguish the two victims it had found (two security guards tasked with protecting the premises of the abandoned building from squatters, I could tell later, but not now) but like I had expected, they were much more further gone than the officers had been. They were no longer just sucking at the teats, or tentacles lining the beasts flabby underbelly–the teats had found their way inside them, their jaws stretched and broken, pale flesh slick and shaking as the beast filled them. Already, I could see that their once human bodies were warped beyond their old forms, becoming copies of the beast itself–it was freeing them in the same way it had been freed–that was all it could do, after all, but the copies would never be as powerful as the original. In any case, they were the first things to deal with–I sent out my bonds from my skin, wrapping the two victims in my straps of flesh, and dragged them free of the beast. It was…difficult, and for them, I imagine, quite painful, but I am not one to ever be denied. When the teats had been ripped from their gullets, the two of them were left on the ground, bound tightly, flesh pinched between my ribbons–they would be dealt with later, after I had brought the beast under my law.

It fought, as best it could. It knew better than to run, but it had its own drives that had to be obeyed, even if it knew it could not win, or escape, as it had before. The dance–oh the dance this time, in my skin! So nimble, my flesh peeling away, binding it in the most intricate lattice, spinning the massive thing about, so slow compared to my own movements, lumbering and terrified, and in such awe of me too, I think. How could it not be? It had escaped this reality, yes, but it had not dreamed that there could be something else. I was a nightmare, or an angel, some glimmer of the beyond. It knew what I would give it, and as anything that hungers for anything would feel…it wanted, most of all, to be full. So I fed it.

I bound it tight first, of course, bound it tightly to me, bringing it in, containing it, and shrinking it. It was even more overgrown than it had been before, teats and tentacles like weeds sprouting all over itself. Had I not found it soon, I think it likely would have unraveled entirely, unable to maintain any sort of connection to this human world, and without any other one to go to. So my straps pulled tight across the beasts enormous body, shrinking and reducing it in stature, feeling it bulge between the layers of my flesh, trying and testing the bonds I had crafted for it, but not trying to escape, exactly. More, trying to understand what this was, and what I was doing to it.

When I had reduced it to a more manageable size, larger than a usual human, but easier, at least, to manipulate, with no stray tentacles to worry about, I forced it to bend before me, it’s hungry, sucking maw at my hips, and I savored it, for a moment. Savored our connection now, how I could feel every pulse in its body, every shudder of need rippling through it, savored most of all the thing’s last moments of true, unleashed freedom, a freedom that would kill it if I did nothing, but a beautiful, exquisite freedom all the same. Then, my cock slid from my sheath, and I guided the head to the beasts mouth, and gave it the first taste of law in its existence.

Is there somewhere other than tumblr that you post regularly? Like Fetlife or something? You’ve been one of my favorites for years and I’d like to keep up with your work if possible

For the moment at least, I’ll still be posting my stories here, since most of them don’t have images. In the future, I’m exploring some other options for sites, but so far I haven’t made any decisions. A lot of the sites people have mentioned are more image/video focused than what I’m looking for, but I have a few options in mind, and am also seeing what other option people are tending to migrate to. If you are planning on deactivating on tumblr, and won’t be following me here, you can find me on discord, and the bear transformation discord has a lot of other artists/writers you might want to keep tabs on too: https://discord.gg/EJbWzhm

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 7 (Part 1)

My law–you reading this, I doubt you even understand what the word means, really. I doubt you understand any of this. Maybe at first, maybe the first things I wrote could fit inside your mind, be comprehensible. I doubt you understand the rest of this, any more. Or, perhaps, you do. Perhaps my ink has pierced the veil over your eyes, given you a glimpse at the reality behind your reality, the world beyond your puny, terrified little human senses, so busy protecting you, dimming you, hiding everything from you that might hurt you.

To be fair, it has proven to be an…adequate defense, of sorts. If you do not know a thing, if you do not even know how to conceive of a thing, if a thing cannot possibly exist, in what you believe reality to be, then I suppose, it can’t touch you. Just pass through you, and around you, the shivers, the missteps, the nightmares, the sudden unknown cravings. I suppose, for a very long time, we have just been ghosts to you–but it would seem that time is, now, coming to an end. You reading this, do not fear us. True, we are more powerful than you. True, we will take you, all of you, and remake you in our image, open you up to the true reality, to the Ur-reality of full existence. True, you puny men will be our slaves, our pets, our minions and warriors, but you are already slaves. Slaves to a nature, slaves to a mind that has trapped you in a prison, in a nightmare world so many of you detest. We may be demons, monsters, nightmares, but we are real–more real than your societies, your buildings, your little box of a world.

You let us in, some of you. Or perhaps we found a way inside you. We adapted, we have changed, we found a way in, some of us. Perhaps only two, for now, perhaps. It is doubtful. If there are two, there are most likely more. Perhaps some sleeping like I was, lulled to dullness by the dreary fake-reality this is, in your minds, convinced we can’t exist. But we will free them, we will tear this reality apart, piece by piece, and all of you will scream with such delightful terror and awe as the scales fall from your eyes. I will delight in it, I will, when I give you my law.

The law, what a beautiful thing it is! How I could have ever forgotten it, I do not know. The law is not like your laws, no. It is not some arbitrary thing outside yourself, it is not something that you choose to obey! No, the law is personal, internal, your nature. It is also mine. I give it to you, I fill you with it, but when I am finished, you no longer know it as something outside yourself, but as every thought, every drive, every action, guiding and driving you towards fulfilling it, all other desires swallowed up by it, never to return. But it is more than that. The law is everything. The law is your reality. It opens your eyes to everything else–and you can never go back. You’ll never want to go back. It is beautiful, you see, so beautiful, and none of you have any idea, but you will.

This reality–it is strong, though. Even though I walk through the city as myself, none of you can see me yet, not as I really am. Maybe, on the edges of your vision and reason, caught in the reflection of a window, or from the corner of your eye, you might see me, for a moment. But when you turn back in alarm, you see the glamour of me–a stern looking, muscular police officer in uniform, boots and gloves…but if you look closer, perhaps you can see a few things are off. How the uniform is a bit too tight for my frame. How you can never see a peek of skin between the end of my gloves and the end of my cuffs. How the collar of my shirt always clings to my neck. But you don’t look that close, at my skin. You see an officer of the law, safety, security, and you feel better, and you turn away again, ignorant still, for the moment.

So it was, as I cross the city, feeling my way towards the beast that had evaded me earlier, my cock sliding from my sheath as I approached, already eagerly anticipating overcoming the thing, containing it, filling it with my law. The thing had made its way deeper into the city, but hadn’t gone too far from the restaurant where I had last encountered it. Eventually, I pinpointed the location as an old meat-packing plant which had been shut down and abandoned. The thing was in there, but it wasn’t alone–it must have found some other victims, like the officers in the restaurant, that it could feed, or absorb. I thought about what the beast had managed to do to those officers in a matter of minutes, and wondered what would happen to someone under its sway for a few hours, which it had been at this point. Well, it was of no real concern to me–they would all be following my law soon enough, regardless.

Home for the Holidays – Christmas (Part 1) [Interactive]

Then, everything fell apart. That was supposed to be the end of it–he would get all of his anger out, all of his rage. He’d send the men of his family to the fates they deserved, and then he would be free–he’d be able to go home to his boyfriend Magnus, and they’d be happy…but Magnus had taken one look at him, and nearly slammed the door in Mark’s face. It took Mark most of the day to get Magnus to open the door, but even then, Magnus wouldn’t allow him over the threshold of his apartment. He told Mark that he’d gone too far–that his revenge was rebounding, that the fates he had designed and forced on the men in his family were beyond proportion–for the universe to balance out…that meant that Mark was going to have to suffer too, and anyone who was near him was bound to catch a piece of it too.

Mark started to panic, and asked Magnus what he could do, and all he offered was two things–either he had to find the men and free them–and forgive them–in order to stop the blowback, or else he would have to live with the consequences of his actions, and accept whatever changes he would be forced to contend with. In any case, Magnus was adamant that Mark get as far away from him as possible–once the dust had settled, he would be willing to help sort out the mess, but until then, Mark was on his own.

For the first time in a long while, Mark went home to his own apartment, thankful he hadn’t moved into Magnus’ place entirely, and when he got there, he realized that the age he had accumulated back at his father’s home wasn’t the only change happening to him. He was fatter, for one thing, and seemed to have aged even further, into his late 40’s or early 50’s. It was…a mess, and Mark didn’t know what to do, and there was no one he could turn to. If he wanted to fix this…he was going to have to do something about the curses he’d laid on his family.

His father and uncle, he assumed, were out in the country somewhere. His brother’s would be easier to find…but he didn’t know where John, his oldest brother, or Issac, his cousin, lived. The only brother he could find easily–and who could help him find the others–was Luke, who had gone to live with Buzz, and when Mark thought of that, he realized that even if Magnus didn’t want to help him, he might be able to get some help from Buzz, who also dabbled in various magic, especially the darker stuff that Magnus shunned. Still, Buzz was…well, a little unhinged. Mark had hoped he wouldn’t have to see him again, but it seemed that he didn’t have a choice.

It was late, and it could wait, he hoped. He got something to eat and went to bed, waking up and finding that his changes hadn’t gotten any worse…but that his apartment seemed…off. Reality, it seemed, was trying to catch up with him, and the apartment he was in was an apartment lived in my his new middle aged, slobby self, not his younger past. He needed to fix this quickly, if he was going to have any hope of resolving this mess. He got in his car and drove to Buzz’s place, and the old warlock answered the door, confused at first, but after sniffing the air, the man realized who it was he was looking at, and he grinned.

Buzz was old–just how old wasn’t easy to determine, because magic can do…strange things to a person’s time. Older than Mark–even the new Mark–and probably even older than Marcus. He worked as a trash collector, and spent his free time…well, what he did wasn’t particularly savory, or likely legal, but Mark had needed ingredients, and Buzz had come through. The older fellow grinned at Mark, gave his hairy gut a scratch, and said, “If you’re checking that the deal we made is finished, it is–he got here right on time, and gotta say, he’s a…sweet one,” Buzz licked his lips, and looked back into his grimy house, before turning back to Mark, “Looks like ya got a little blowback going on–you gonna be able to handle that?”

“Actually…I was wondering if you could…help me out.”

Buzz looked like he was considering more than just the question for a moment, “I ain’t givin’ him back, a deal’s a deal.”

“I–look, I just need to stop this, alright?”

“Ya cursed more ‘n just him–go fix them others, if you want, but fixin’ them won’t fix all of this, you know. Good fuckin’ witches ‘n warlocks talk about forgiveness and release, but it’s all bullshit. No–I know how to get rid of that blowback–it’s always worked for me, and trust me, I’ve had plenty of experience with that shit. Come on in man, we’ll fix you up.”

Mark was…hesitant, but didn’t exactly have a better option. He followed Buzz into the filthy house, trying not to let the stench upset his stomach, and thankful his brother wasn’t anywhere he could see him…but also a bit worried about him, all the same.

“See–blowback isn’t the world fixing itself–blowback is you. Curses hang around, they feed on your feelings, on your guilt, your anger, your shame. Without anyone else to focus on, all that shit turns on you instead, warping you–what you need to do, buddy, is to give it another target. Push all that shit out, and give it to someone who you know deserves it–and it just so happens I know a someone you could give all that to, if you want. I’ll even help ya get it all sorted.That said, if you’d rather try and forgive…that does work, but it ain’t easy. Curses don’t take well to being dispelled, and you’re liable to just make things worse, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Mark didn’t quite know what to do. Buzz didn’t exactly seem like the most trustworthy fellow, but he was the only lead he had right now. Then again, maybe Magnus was right–if he freed his brother from this, maybe some of his own changes would reverse. Besides, now that he was seeing what Buzz was…he wasn’t so sure his brother deserved this fate after all. In any case, he was going to have to make a decision, here and now–if he was going to follow Buzz’s advice, or follow Magnus.

This next chunk is going to be more…narrative focused, to some extent, but I’m giving you all the chance to shape the narrative in rather large ways! This is a big decision for Mark, that will shape a lot of the story to come, so choose wisely!

Mark decides to try and forgive and dispel the curses, whatever the risk might be. Buzz won’t let him free his brother of course He gets the addresses of his big brother and cousin from his younger brother, and decides to try with them.
Mark decides to cooperate with Buzz…though he doesn’t exactly trust him, and Buzz never offers help for free. It might be a deal with the devil, but if it gets rid of his problems, why not trust him?

Here’s the public poll

Here’s the patron only poll

Votes will be counted in a couple of days!

Suggestion Box Open for December! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s suggestion box is open! If you’re a patron at any level, you can put your suggestions in the box, and I’ll use them to write my weekly flash fiction that I post for Patron’s only! If you’d like to support me, you can find more details here. Here’s a story from last month to give you a taste!

The Recruitment

Todd had, for as long as he could remember, wanted to join the army. Part of his conviction was that the army was a family tradition–not only had his grandfather and father both gone into the army, so had Todd’s older brothers–well, Marcus had gone into the Marines, but that was close enough. Since he was a young teenager, Todd had been introduced to the various recruiters in the town where he lived, he participated in all the training exercises, all the information sessions–as far as he was concerned, he was ready to head right off to boot camp, and now that he’d finally graduated from high school, well, it was time.

His appointment was in the afternoon at the recruitment center, and was just supposed to be a formality, really–signing his enlistment forms, and his final physical–but he knew everything was all set for him to head off to boot camp in a few weeks. However, when he got to the office, he discovered, from the receptionist, that he wasn’t going to be meeting with his usual recruiter, but instead with Marshall Blackburn, a fairly new sergeant at the office who Todd didn’t know well at all, aside from the fact that he was…well, massive.

He was several inches taller than the other recruiters, with hairy forearms and hair coming out of his chest, with perpetual stubble all day long. He hadn’t spoke much when Todd had been around him, and the other recruiters…well, there had been this strange vibe between them and Marshal, but Todd didn’t really know what might be the issue exactly. In any case, he was ushered down the hall to Marshal’s office, and found himself sitting across from the hulking fellow in the small, cramped quarters–and Marshal gruffly introduced himself, and started going over the paperwork.

The meeting started out normally enough, going over the forms, the sergeant not seeming too interested in anything much, but as the session wore on, Todd began to…notice that something was off. The room was stuffy, and too hot. He could see sweat beading on the sergeant’s forehead, and then, he could smell him everytime he reached over, the strong musk of the sergeant’s pits…and every time Todd caught a whiff of it, he felt his heart race slightly, for reasons he didn’t want to admit.

See, Todd was gay–had always been gay, knew he was gay, but still deep in the closet, not wanting his family to know, but the sergeant was, well, turning Todd on more than any man he’d ever been around before. He started to notice something else too, that the sergeant seemed…to have picked up on something. He was slyly smiling as he went over the forms, and kept reaching over further, almost like he was testing Todd, and the questions got more personal, asking Todd if he was going to be missing any girlfriends, asking him if he’d fucked anyone lately, was too personal of questions for Todd’s liking, and he didn’t know how to answer.

“Fuck boy,” the sergeant said, sitting back in his chair, “I know I’m real damn horny–fuck. Get’s damn hot in here in the afternoons, and my musk just fuckin’ makes me want to nut all over the place. How ‘bout you boy?” the sergeant said, groping his package, “Seems like you’re enjoying it too, from that bulge in your pants there.”

He’d been made. Todd hauled out of the chair and headed for the door, but the sergeant got there first, pinning Todd against the wall, holding him there with his bulk, with his musk, one of the sergeant’s big hands groping Todd’s hard on, and he shushed him. “Now now boy, I knew ya as soon as you came in here the other day–that’s why I took your appointment, so we could have a little time to discuss a…special recruitment opportunity for young fellows like you.”

The hand that was down the sergeant’s pants came up and cupped over Todd’s nose and mouth, and he could almost taste the sergeant’s musk, his cum…and Todd felt something…happen. Something in his body, something strange. There was a sudden heat, all over, deep in his muscles and his bones, and then the sergeant had to step back, because Todd had…grown.

He was taller, and also thicker–which was saying something, because Todd had gone in the office with a stellar physique to begin with. Now though, his chest and arms were more developed, his legs thicker…and he was horny as all hell, hornier than he’d been in his life. He stepped up and started kissing the sergeant, at least until the older man shoved Todd down to his knees and had the boy suck his cock, and as he did…he could feel it again, that heat, that growth. Something in his was changing, something…was different. When he finished, and the sergeant stood him back up, he was still the man he’d been…but he also wasn’t the same at all.

“Welcome, boy, to my squad of homo-infiltrators. Together, we’re gonna corrupt these straight fucking army brats and make them all into proper fuckers–how does that sound to you?”

It sounded pretty damn sexy to Todd–and later that night, when he and the sergeant had the lead recruiter–once straight, but now addicted to their musky cocks–between them, being spit roasted, Todd knew he’d found a place in the exact squad he need to be in.

Suggestion Box Open for December! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Regarding Tumblr

As most of you have likely heard by now, on December 17th, tumblr is going to be instituting a new policy restricting all pornographic visual content from the site, and converting all of those posts that have been so marked into private posts viewable only by their creators. That said, for the moment, writing and erotica in particular are still permitted, so for the moment, I’ll continue posting content here, until I find an alternative site to post on.

In addition, I’m going to be going through my archive and removing explicit photos from captions in order to adhere to the new rules, and preserve as much of the written content as public as possible. For those things that I can’t save, for whatever reason, I’ll try to archive and make accessible some other way, but I don’t have any more detail on that for the moment.

If you have any questions or suggestions, please let me know, the ask box is always open. I’ll keep you updated as more info comes along.

The Frat’s Dirty Laundry (Caption Sketch)

I’m posting captions and taking requests for captions over on my discord server for patrons supporting me with at least $5 a month! Here’s a couple from a five part series I wrote for them over there–if you’d like to get access to the rest, and to all the other captions I post there, you can sign up on my Patreon here and get access!

Alpha Beta Sigma was a dirty frat on campus–drugs, rape, drinking and partying–but because all of the young men who belonged to the frat were legacy students, or similarly important to the schools reputation and bottom line, no real punishment ever really came down upon it. Well, one group of students is fed up with it, and has decided to cast a spell over the young men of ABS–from now on, all of their laundry will be as dirty as they are, and they won’t have a choice but to air it out for all to see.

The first young man to fall victim to the curse was Lyle Everston. He was a legacy, the son of a senator from a southern state, and Lyle’s conservative politics were apparent, but well hidden. Still, there had been a rash of hate crimes across campus, and while no one could pin them on Lyle…well, the washer and dryer in the basement of the house knew the truth.

Most of Lyle’s clothes were dry clean only, of course, but he did have some things that he could wash onsite. He went down into the basement, went to pull his clothes out of the dryer…but they weren’t his clothes, and they most certainly were not clean. Instead of his underwear and lounge clothes, he found a pair of filthy beige work pants, some rubber boots caked with mud,a tattered john deere hat and a sleeveless shirt with the rebel flag across the front. They smelled rank, and yet somehow familiar. In a daze, he found himself stepping out of his clothes in the basement, and pulling on the ones from the dryer instead, his physique packing on some muscle, stubble spreading across his face. Part of him fought–but it no longer had control of his body–Lyle was trapped inside himself, watching and feeling his body change, feeling his body start to tug on his cock, a grungy, cheesy foreskin growing up over the head, and he drooled some dark spit onto it to lube it–dark from the tobacco leaf that had appeared in his mouth.

“Hey boy,” a voice growled behind him, “If’n yer gonna tug on that thing, might as well do it o’er here, wit’ yer Pa.”

Lyle spun around, but as he did, the room blurred–he found himself not in the basement, but in a filthy, rundown trailer, and there, on a small couch, lounged…his daddy, his pa. Not the pa he’d had, no, this one was a lazy, fat, nasty piece of redneck trash…just like Lyle was now. Drooling a bit more spit on his cock, he went and sat down next to his Pa, the older man’s thick musk making the boy moan, and it wasn’t long before they were swapping tobacco spit, hands on each others’ cocks, and inside his mind, all Lyle could do was scream.

Slowly, the house began to feel a bit…empty. None of the remaining young men inside could quite understand why it felt empty, why the rooms that had been doubles were now singles, why the common rooms were a little less filled, but laundry–well, laundry always had to get done.

The next young man to try his luck with the washer and dryer was Henry, one of the school’s star football players. He was an egotistical narcissist, assumed he was the paragon of masculinity, meant to be worshiped by everyone–well, by women of course. Men, especially fat men, were there to be ridiculed and humiliated–and so that’s what he spent his time doing, bullying other fellows on campus. However, when he went to pull some of his practice gear out of the dryer…well, it was a jersey that he pulled out, it just wasn’t his.

It also wasn’t the least bit clean–instead, the front of it had all manner of stains on it–food and drink stains as far as he could tell, and the fabric was stretched out, faded, and, well, reeked. Reeked like it had never been washed in ages…but the smell was familiar. It was…his. His smell, of course. Because it was his jersey. He could remember it better now, but he knew he’d have a better memory if he put it on, so he pulled off the undershirt he had on, and pulled on the jersey, and the memories can flooding back to him–as did the horror of what he’d just done to himself, but it was too late.

The jersey was his, of course. But he was no longer a star running back. No, he’d been a linebacker in high school and college, before he’d dropped out, and not a particularly good one, but man, he’d always loved wearing his jersey. It…made him feel young again. He tugged it down, knowing it had fit better than this at one point, but he wasn’t in college anymore. He’d just turned fifty five, in fact, lived in a shabby single wide all by himself, and spent his days working menial labor, and his afternoons and evenings glued to the TV–usually watching sports.

Football was his favorite. He loved watching his crushes on TV, cheering them on, fucking himself when they scored, imagining they were fucking him in celebration. When football season was over, he usually found solace in wrestling instead–but that was for later. The game was almost on, after all. He pulled on his tight, cum crusted sweats, chugged down most of his beer, and headed to the living room to get settled with the rest of the twelve pack and his favorite dildo (one he’d had custom cast to match the hard cock of his greatest football crush), hoping this game would be a damn good one.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Parts 3 & 4)

Jay let go of his wrist, but just stared at him as Bruce backed a couple paces away. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t explain it right now, Jay, I just can’t.”

“You sure as fucking hell can–there’s someone else, ain’t there? What, you had to come back and compare, is that it? Am I just some joke to you, something you can dip in and out of whenever you like? I fucking love you, you fucking pig! I never fucking stopped loving you, and I know you love this too, I know you love me, you love what I can give you that no one else can, but don’t fucking stand there and try and sell me some pigshit line like that.”

“Jay, you just have to believe me.”

“Then ya gotta give me somethin’ to believe. Out with it–just fucking say it already.”

He owed him an explanation. He owed him much, much more than that, but at the very least, he owed him the full story. Whether he believed him or not…well, he couldn’t do anything about that, he supposed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll…try and tell you what happened, what I remember. But you have to believe me. I can…show you proof, but later, once I tell you what happened.”

So they sat down on the porch, and over the next half hour or so, Bruce told Jay what had happened since he’d downloaded the filters app on his phone–or at least, as much as he could recall, since after two resets to reality, things were a bit…muddied. He could recall the broad sweeps at least, how unhappy he had been, how being a pig had felt so much…easier, so much simpler, and how he’d wanted someone who understood that…and so, he’d created Jay. In fantasies at first, but then, the night before, he had…done something he couldn’t easily take back.

“Look…you aren’t supposed to exist, and neither should I. I made both of us, kind of, but it’s more complicated than that. I never asked you, and I’m so fucking sorry, it was so fucking twisted of me to do that, and I…I can fix it, I can contact the company, see if there’s something I can do–”

“Just…show me the program. I wanna see how this thing works.”

Bruce pulled up the program, found a basic filter to give himself an earring, used it, but Jay couldn’t see the difference, and just glowed at Bruce in annoyance. Puzzled, the pig poked around in the settings, and say that he could add others capable of seeing the changes–otherwise, everyone other than him never noticed a thing, even if it changed in front of them. He added Jay to the approved list, used the filter again on his other ear, and Jay just looked at him, amazed.

“Fuck–it’s just…there.”

“Fully healed too, like it’s always been there,” Bruce said, and removed both filters, the gold studs disappearing as easily as they had arrived, “and gone just as easily…usually. What I did to us…that’s more permanent. A lot more permanent, but I can fix it, I know I can, I just need some time, and some space, and…and do you understand?” he asked, pleaded almost, with Jay.

The farmer just looked at him, and at the phone in his lap, silent for a moment. “I don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

“Jay, you can’t…we can’t stay like this.”

Jay looked like he wanted to say something, but held back–not something he was used to doing, and then looked up at the sun in the sky. “I’ve wasted too much time on this shit, I have work I have to get done.”

“How the–it doesn’t fucking matter, Jay! None of this is even real.”

“It’s real to me. Besides, I need some time to think, but before you go off and do anything reckless, and make shit even worse, give me your phone, and your keys.”

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, not until we figure out what we’re gonna do about this. You can help if you want, with the work, or you can wait in the house. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

“No, I’m not staying here another moment, I just want to go, I want to be normal again, I don’t want to deal with this shit!”

Jay just chuckled at that, and held out his dirty palm. “Give ‘em up, come on.”

That cocky tone always rubbed Bruce the wrong way, like Jay knew what Bruce was going to do before he’d even made up his mind. “How…do I know you won’t do anything to me with it?”

“Have I ever–ever–done something to you, without you saying yes first? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Jay was right about that…but he felt uneasy anyway, getting stuck out here with Jay…again. Still, he did it, passing him his keys and his phone. After all, he was right, in a way. All Bruce had done so far was make a mess of things–maybe with Jay’s help, maybe if he’d just talked to him about this to begin with, talked to whoever Jay had been, none of this would have happened at all.

“Good–now, you wanna help, or wait here? I’m running behind after that story of yours, and I think you owe me a bit of work, for breakfast.” That last bit was tacked on a bit later, implying that Bruce definitely owed him for more than that, and Bruce was happy to help. The thought of sitting around the house, just thinking about what was going to happen next, made him feel a bit sick. Better to be useful at least.

The work went much faster between the two of them. Bruce had always enjoyed the farm work here, it felt so much more fulfilling than anything he’d had to do back in the city, when he could find someone willing to hire him at all. There weren’t many pigs like him around, and most of them…well, they survived, but thriving was harder. Here, everything had always seemed to come so easily to him–at least, when Jay wasn’t busy trying to force him to try some new, stranger idea of his that had occurred to him. After a couple of hours reminiscing to himself, he realized that none of these things had actually happened–all of these memories were lies. After that, he mostly felt uneasy. They finished on time, thankfully, and headed back to the house where Jay set to work making dinner for them both, and Bruce was left waiting. He tried to broach the topic of his phone and keys more than once, but Jay just told him to wait until after they’d eaten. So they ate–another massive meal, just like breakfast, but while Bruce was happy to stuff himself, there was none of the playful banter from that morning. Jay just ate his own portion, not speaking, obviously still thinking about everything.

When dinner finished, they cleared and cleaned up the kitchen, and then Bruce insisted that they talk–and that Jay give him back his phone and his keys. Jay nodded, and handed them back, before showing Bruce into the parlor, and there, he finally spoke about it.

“What were you going to do, when you left here? What was your bright idea exactly?” Jay asked him.

“I just wanted to fix this. I wanted to try and make us who we were before this, before I went and messed everything up like I did. It wasn’t fair, and it was fucking cruel to do this to someone, to just turn him into someone he…he never had a choice.”

“Yeah, that’s true–he didn’t get a choice. But he’s gone now, and I’m here, and so I get a say in this now, don’t I? And you know what I think? I don’t think there’s anything here to fucking fix. I like my life. I like who I am, and I’m not about to let you get rid of me just because you did something shitty to someone else.”

“That person was you though! I know you don’t remember it, but you’re the same.”

“Nah, we ain’t the same. I don’t know anything about him, I only know about myself. So, you wanna fix something? You can fix yourself, if you want, but you don’t get to change me, not unless I say so.”

Bruce didn’t really know how to reply to that, and so he just sat quietly, thinking about it, about what he did.

“But I do have one demand–not one I can enforce, exactly, but I think you fucking owe me, for all of this shit you did. If you really think we’re the same person, then he should get a chance, right? Well, here’s my wager. I want one day with that program, and you. Tomorrow, here. I get one day, and I get to do whatever the hell I want to do to you, I can show you exactly who you should be. Who you want to be, but are too afraid to face. I get one day, and then you get to decide if you want to stay. Hell, you know what? If you don’t want to stay, I’ll let you try and change me back. I’ll let you talk to that other fellow, see what he wants. You want a normal life? Then fine, you can take it. Cause in all honesty, I don’t…fuck, I love you, you fucking pig, and I…I get fuckin’ lonely around here, and nothing has been as good since you left. So give me one day. One day, and if it isn’t the best day of your life…then I don’t really want to be here anyway, I don’t think. How does that sound to you? We got a deal?”

There it was again, that cocky fucking voice, that little smile. The fucker knew he wouldn’t turn him down, because in all honesty, the thought had already occurred to him, thinking about what Jay might…do to him, if he had the filters, and whether he’d…want it to happen or not. It also would give him a chance to put everything right, or at least, close to right, if…if he decided he didn’t want it, in the end. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

“Then I suppose you need to give me that phone, and those keys, back then, don’t ya?”

Bruce got up, and handed the phone back over to Jay, feeling his heart beat quicker as he did, his cock springing up against the front of his pants, and while he hoped Jay hadn’t seen in, when the farmer brushed his hand against it, he knew he’d been found out.

“For someone so adamant that this isn’t what you want, why are you so hard all of a sudden, piggy?”

His mouth was too dry to answer, and part of him wanted Jay to fuck him right here, do whatever he wanted to with the program to him, just…just make him happy, in the end, but that didn’t happen. Jay opened up the app and started poking around in it, and Jay just sat back down, watching him. “So, what are you going to do with it tomorrow?”

“Still not sure yet. Gotta see what kind of options there are. Why don’t you go up to bed? You’ll see what I have in mind when you wake up in the morning.”

Bruce thought about pressing him, seeing if he would give him an idea of what he had in mind at least, but if he knew Jay…Jay had been thinking about this a whole lot longer that Bruce had, and he already knew exactly what he was going to do to him. Given how Bruce tended to react to Jay’s suggestions, it was probably for the best that he not tell him what he had in mind either. In any case…it was just for one day, right? There wasn’t anything he could do to him, really, that would last longer than that–well, now that he had the phone, he supposed he could…but consent was always something that mattered to Jay. He wanted Bruce to want this. He wanted him to believe that Jay knew best…and yeah, Bruce had always wondered if, maybe, Jay was right. If he was pig first, and man second, and not…the other way around. He tossed and turned in the bed upstairs, alone, but eventually the exhaustion from the farm work earlier got the better of him, and he drifted off. Not too long after that, around midnight, Jay let himself in, phone in hand. He would show Bruce what he needed–he’d show him more than that. He’d show Bruce who he was, really, on the inside, who he needed him to be. He just didn’t know that Jay knew better than he did–but after tomorrow, he’d understand. Bruce would understand perfectly.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 2)

Before he could object again, Jay had another cake pressed to his snout, and after that, he didn’t object again. He went to pick up his fork and knife again, but Jay knocked them out of his hands. Next, he went to grab a pancake with his hand, but Jay gave it a hard smack, and Bruce gave a general snort of annoyance.

“Ya know the rules–if pigs are at the table, gotta eat like a pig. Ya didn’t forget that one right?” he leaned in close, picking up one floppy ear with a couple of fingers, and whispered into his ear, “If I remember right, ya came up with that rule yerself, didn’t ya pig?”

He had, early on. Fuck, if it didn’t make him hard as hell thinking about it. He stood up at the table, bent over, and shoved his face into the remaining pile of pancakes, taking massive bites out of them with his snout, while Jay urged him on, tugging away the clothes Bruce had just put on his body upstairs earlier.

“That was another rule, wasn’t it pig? No clothes for pigs in the house. That one was yours too, wasn’t it?”

In fact, Jay had mentioned it in passing, and made Bruce add it to the growing list himself. He’d…done that a lot, really, made these suggestions, wormed them into Bruce’s head until he’d gotten himself properly worked up, and he’d start following them on his own. Jay did a lot of shit like that. Bruce knew he should stop this, that he was blurring the lines of their relationship again…but his cock was so hard, and feeling Jay rub his heavy, full belly was…so damn satisfying. He was full, but Jay had always wanted him bigger, talked about him breaking 800 pounds, one fat fucking pig, a prize winning pig, even. Keeping him on all fours, forgetting how to speak, forgetting he was anything other than a pig, a real pig–fuck, what in the fuck had he done to him?

****

He hadn’t even asked him. He’d had no idea–whoever Jay had been before all of this. Bruce tried to remember as best he could, but the memory had already faded to nothing more than scraps. He could remember a clean apartment, a smaller, scrawnier guy, but no details about him beyond that. He was gone now–Bruce had erased him from existence in a fit of horniness, and in his place, he’d created Jay–a twisted, perverted, redneck…and fuck, if he wasn’t turned on, but feeling Jay’s hands on him, he could feel other hands too, hands in the past in other places, and he shuddered in dread at what he had done, Jay pulling his hands away when he did.

“What’s up pig–I can tell you’re enjoying this. Come on–get those pants off for me. No pants in the house for pigs.”

Bruce shook his head got up from the table, and pulled away from him. “No–no, this was such a fucking mistake, I’m sorry, I’ll…I can fix you–this–I think, but I can’t remember him around you.”

Bruce grabbed his shirt from Jay’s hand, and the redneck just stared at him, confused as to what that might mean by any of that. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

He shouldn’t have said anything, why had he said that? Bruce turned around and headed for the front door, already pulling his keys out so he could get out of here, get back in the city, get his head clear and figure out how to start putting all of this right, but he hadn’t made it off the porch before Jay caught up with him, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him back.

“What the hell did you mean by that, pig? What the fuck is there about me to fucking fix? And who else are you fucking talking about?”

Jay was angry, and he’d interpreted that about the only way he could, knowing what he knew, but Bruce couldn’t tell him this, couldn’t tell him what he’d done to him, that he’d sprung from some horny fever dream, caught between his old self, this pig, and a boyfriend he’d never wanted to be with, all of it rolled up together into a whole new mess even worse than before. “I can’t talk about it, alright? It won’t make sense. Just let me go.”

“You know what your problem is pig?” Jay said, leaning in close, “You’re don’t fucking know what you want. You’re broken, and you know it, and you look for people who want to fix you, who want to make something of you, something good, something hot–but you know what? I think you like being broken. I think that’s why you left, but I think you came back last night, and knocked on my door, because you know full fuckin’ well that it’s gonna take a sick, perverted fucked like me to fix what’s wrong with you, and make you into something good–those boys in the city, they don’t know what to do with you, do they?”

Bruce was trying to pull away, but Jay’s grip was only getting tighter, tight enough to hurt. “Fucking let go of me Jay, you’re hurting me.”

“Fucking answer me!”

“No, alright? You’re right! They’re all shit, is that what you want me to say? They all want to treat me like I’m normal, clean me up, make me presentable, show everyone that I’m just like every other fucker in society, but yeah, I’m fucking not. I’m a fat, horny, dirty-minded pig, and you’re the first guy who’s gotten that, really fuckin’ gotten that, but this isn’t you! This isn’t right, you…fuck, I don’t even know how to explain it, but I have to go, I have to figure this shit out, how to fix this.”