I’ll Change for You (Part 9)

It was only half an hour or so, but it felt like an eternity. When the door to the bedroom next opened, the butler was there, now naked and wearing a set of leather manacles, and Burt entered the room, clad head to toe in a perfectly tailored leather suit, gloves and hat–though it was distinctly crotchless, allowing his massive, ten inch cock to hang free. “Now boy, why don’t the two of us pick up where we left off?”

Herman got on his knees before the dean, before his…Master, at least for the night, and sucked his cock, and once again, like before, Burt could feel the arousal welling up inside him, the pendant he had on under the leather shirt almost hot against his skin. But there was no fantasy running through his mind, not this time. Instead, everything around him became more and more vivid, every flick of Herman’s tongue across the head of his cock sending shivers running through his gut, massive thighs, and second and third chins. He knew what he wanted. He knew what they both needed.

“On the bed boy–that’s enough sucking. Daddy wants to see how his new boy’s hole feels.”

Herman was all too eager. Despite the pain in his gut, he got up and laid on his back, as Burt ordered him to do, legs in the air. Burt got up as well, pushed his legs back, and slowly slid the head of his cock into Herman’s ass. It was larger than anything he’d ever taken before, but somehow it slid right into him like it belonged there–because in Burt’s mind, it did. But it more than belonged in there, Burt could…see Herman now, the true version of him, at least a hundred pounds heavier than he was now, clean shaven from face to toe, his boy cock caged up, looking at his daddy while he fucked him with desperate desire…but beyond lust, he felt…love.

Love. A deep, unrelenting affection. This was more than he had with Jules, Jules was a meer mirage of this. No–he loved this boy. Loved him to the ends of the earth, loved him so dearly he would do anything for him, be anyone his boy desired him to be. And if his lovely, lovely boy desired nothing more than he be a short, obese, pipe smoking daddy bear with a ten inch cock, mercilessly ramming it deep into his ass while he cried out for more, and more, and more–well, then Burt was going to give it to him. He was going to give this boy everything he’d ever desired.

He came. He came, and he saw the shape of the boy’s moans resting in the air, he heard the color of his smooth skin, he felt their wills bending together, their fates melding into some singular strain of life. He felt a yes–a grand, all abiding yes resonating in their bones, tuned together as his boy came as well, a massive volley of cum erupting from his caged cock and up onto his heaving belly. He felt a mighty love warping them into shapes neither of them could have imagined, a terrible love, a horrific love, and he was left weak and trembling, tears streaming down his face from the beauty of it, and the sight of his daddy’s crying filled Hermy with great unease.

“Daddy? Daddy, what’s the matter?”

Burton gave his head a little shake, his eyes refocusing on the boy before him, and he smiled. He was happy. He was so…enormously happy. So happy, he could forgive the boy cumming without permission, all he wanted was to hold him tight to him for hours–and so he did. Jules came by a couple hours later, silently slipping open the door to see, and saw his two masters sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms, the lights still on in the room. He didn’t begrudge them, not anymore, though he had been so fiercely jealous of the boy those fifteen years ago, when the dean had met the newest member of the faculty and fallen deeply, inexplicably in love.

But now–now he couldn’t hold it against them, either of them. There was a place for him here as well, in service, but he could never come between them. There was no space there, they were…inseparable, somehow, in a way Jules couldn’t explain, not even after serving them all this time. It was a beautiful love, but also terrifying. Looking at them, he was crying without even knowing why, shaking as he turned out the lights, and retreated down to his small room in the basement, where he was safe, and alone.

It was a couple of weeks later now, and Spring had begun to shake itself from a dull and dreary Winter at long last. Burton and Hermy were striding down the street, hand in hand, discussing the work of the day. Unable to maintain a relationship at the college, Hermy had instead begun teaching at a local private school. It wasn’t his passion, and he did miss the research, but he knew it was for the best, so he could be with his daddy. He felt, at times, like he’d lost something, a piece of himself he hadn’t even been aware of having. It wasn’t his anymore–he’d given it away, and there was no getting it back.

He looked over and saw a strange old man, standing outside a shop somehow wedged impossibly between a bodega and old electronics shop. He was grinning, and watching them walk down the street together. He looked over at daddy, and he too had noticed him, and Daddy gave to old man the slightest of nods, like an old friend from another life, and then suggested they returned home for dinner.

In what way has your writing changed over the years? Do you see something that old you would not have done in writing , but present you is doing and vice-versa?

I think the thing that has probably developed most is a depth of character, and a depth of theme I wasn’t really capable of mustering when I was a newer writer. I think the best way to see the progression is to read the first BBOC story I wrote, and compare it to the new City of Bears piece I put out back in January. Especially because, now that I look at them again, they’re kind of similar in a lot of ways.

what kind of stories are in that compilation?

A lot of stuff. Quite a bit of slob content, if you like that sort of thing, including some scat. Weight gain and age progression feature in a lot of them as well. There’s a shorter Pigtown story, a sequel to “The Audition”, and a Halloween and Christmas themed story too. All of them are based off of previous flash fictions I wrote based off of suggestions by Patreon supporters over 2017, so if you’re curious, $1 dollar would get you access to those old files, and you could check out some of the themes for yourself.

Percentage… How likely do you think that the America we recognize, rule of law, institutions and traditions, etc, will be around after Trump? Right now I’m feeling 60/40 but not sure which side is which. If America fails, we all are free to become our deepest filth, imho.

I mean, not much of America has changed at all under Trump. We’re still a dying empire, clinging to the last shreds of a century of imperialism, fueling it with a massive military industrial complex, while at home we impose a racial caste society and heavily militarized police state targeting anyone and everyone brown. Trump is just the pleasant mask of alleged liberty slipping off, and I doubt it will be going back on anytime soon.

As far as America failing, what about this screams success? I’d certainly put us down in the failure column myself. So go on pig, I’d love to see what that deepest filth of yours looks like.

Will you do bodybuilder slob/filthy transfomations again? And would oyu start a new CYOC stroy thread for oyur reader to mix in?

I haven’t done much muscle stuff lately, have I? The latest interactive seems to be going in that direction, as ya’ll will see tomorrow, but I can keep it in mind for sure. As for starting a CYOC story, I never seem to know what to do with those, but if you have an idea, or a story you’d like me to continue and develop over there, I’m still open for commissions.

So technically I like my musk that I make myself, and I find a lot of guys like it too.. but I don’t really enjoy other guys muskiness. I can count myabe two guys whose musk has really been enjoyable to mee but other guys I’ve been with just smell bad to me.

I mean, every guy is different, and every guy’s smell is different. I personally haven’t found a guy I don’t enjoy smelling, though several have found mine to be too intense for them to handle. It’s a personal thing, I guess.

Speaking of, do you relate hypnosis through musk towards smell memory?

Not really. I think for me, I always imagine it as being so intense, that it short circuit someone’s mental capacities, rendering them totally open to suggestion. The smell memory idea is a nice twist–I kind of like that. Like someone being able to smell like your dad, or your boyfriend, your brain tricking you into believing this stranger is them, when it’s someone else entirely.

Got a question? I probably have an answer! Maybe not a good answer, but I can bullshit my way out of most things. Go ahead and drop it in my box. 

Also! Anyone supporting me on Patreon who would like to suggest a story idea for this month, you have another day or so to do it! You can find more details here.

Also x 2! If you are enjoying the interactive stories I do, and would like to read more like that, check out the collection of interactive stories I published last week! Three dollars gets you ten new stories, most with alternate endings and randomized elements to keep things interesting. You can find that for sale on itch.io here.

I’ll Change for You (Part 8)

He hauled himself up from the chair and went to the kitchen, where a naked man in his 40’s was bustling about, naked aside from leather manacles on his wrists and ankles, and a cock cage riveted in place–at Jules request. Burt rather enjoyed men to have pleasure, but ever since they had met fifteen years prior, Jules just a student at the time, he had longed to be Herman’s live in slave. He’d dropped out and moved into the basement, and Burt had never been dissatisfied–well, perhaps on occasion, but a session in the dungeon always fixed things right up. “How is it coming, boy?” he asked.

“Dinner will be ready right at six thirty, as you requested, sir,” Jules said, giving him a little bow from his position at the stove, “Is there anything you need from me in the meantime?”

Burt shook his head. “No–but I do need you to play the part for this one–at least for one night. I doubt Herman will need the performance after one dinner. Make sure you’re dressed by five-thirty, manacles off as well.”

Burt could see Jules’ unhappiness in a slight sigh before nodding. Clothes were strange for him in the house, and he hated taking the manacles off especially–he claimed he felt unbalanced without them. Still, Master’s orders were Master’s orders, and he kept cooking away, while Burt returned to his study, selected a pipe, packed it, lit it, and then went to relax, ordering an old fashioned from Jules while he waited, catching up on some reading while he did. The time slipped by, and Herman was early. The bell rang at five-fifty, and Jules rushed to the foyer, immaculately dressed in his house uniform, and greeted Herman at the door, before ushering him into the sitting room where Burt was sitting, pipe wafting smoke.

“Good evening, Dean,” Herman said, the nerves apparent in his voice. The title caught Burt off guard for a moment–he’d been a professor earlier in the afternoon, but apparently he hadn’t caught on to his latest position. He was a dean, wasn’t he? The Dean of Humanities, in particular, which helped explain some of Herman’s nerves.

‘Have a seat, Herman. What can Jules get for you? He makes a fine cocktail, though he’s best at the classics.”

Herman asked for a Manhattan. Burt approved, and Jules fetched a drink, all while juggling dinner at the same time. He’d been such a poor student, back in the day–so good that he’d managed to find his calling, eventually, in Herman’s employ. The drink came, and they made small talk. Herman’s eyes flitted about the room, but were drawn back to Burt’s pipe several times. Burt offered him a smoke, but he declined. It was no matter–he’d take whatever Burt gave him soon enough, the dean was certain of that.

Jules summoned them to the dining room, where Herman found a massive, luxurious feast all up and down the space–far too much for two people to hope to eat, and after the sizable lunch earlier in the day, he felt a bit queasy. “I…I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite, at the moment,” he muttered, knowing full well what was likely to happen next. Burt shushed him, and sat him down, piled his plate eye, and got him started, and only after Herman was eating well, did he take a serving of his own, as large as Herman’s, and begin eating himself. Each time Herman slowed, Burt would encourage him further, and the encouragement became orders, and orders became demands. Burt touched him–lightly at first, lying hands on his shoulders, but found his way lower and lower, over his belly, down into his crotch where he groped Herman’s hard cock, always continuing their conversation as if nothing strange at all was occurring, Jules slitting in and out, taking dishes and bringing others, until Herman, at last, insisted.

“I can’t! I can’t, sir, please…Please, I feel like I’m going to burst…” he moaned, clutching his gut.

Burt chuckled, “Oh? But we can’t forget dessert now, can we?”

Herman looked up at him in horror, unable to even imagine, and watched as Burt undid the front of his pants, and allowed them to fall around his ankles, and lifted up his gut. “It isn’t small, by any means, but I have a feeling you have the…appetite for it, don’t you boy?”

Indeed he did. Burt was so short that Herman had to awkwardly bend over the arm of the chair to get at his cock, even when sitting down, but he’d been lusting after the dean for so long now, the two of them playing so hard to get…or had they? The last two days had felt so strange to him, this beautiful, domineering man simply appearing in his life like he’d always been there, like he’d walked from his dreams and appeared fully formed in reality, and Herman wasn’t going to let this chance pass him by.

“Yes, that’s a good boy–you like sucking on daddy’s big cock?”

Herman tried to answer, but Burt drove his cock in deeper, making him gag slightly, before pulling away a bit, Herman gasping for air. After a few minutes of teasing him, Burt pulled away, squatted down and pulled his pants back up. “Jules, I think your guest will be spending the night–would you see to him? No need to prepare a guest room, I think the master will serve just fine for us both.

One last time, Herman tried to speak his doubts, that their relationship was breaking so many ethical boundaries that it couldn’t happen–and yet, when the butler helped him from his seat…he relented. He wanted this. He didn’t care what it cost him, he didn’t care what might happen if anyone found out. He wanted this. He wanted…he wanted him, Burt, more than anyone else he had ever desired in his life…and somehow, Burt wanted him just as much. The butler led him upstairs, got him free of his clothing and into the bathroom, where Herman had a shower–and the butler also helped him clean out…other things, telling him that the Master of the house preferred his men to be spotless, before entering his bed. Then, when he stepped out, imagining he would be getting into his own clothes, the Butler, instead, had something else in mind. All he found himself wearing was a leather harness strapped a bit uncomfortably tight around his gut, and a black jockstrap, before being ushered into the sizable Master bedroom, and told to wait.