If Brett and Bate had their rooms reversed, would their dynamic have shifted? Or would the rooms have catered to them differently?

I think the results would have been fairly similar. I think the room that would have shook things up the most would have been the nursery–in that case, what I was planning, was that whoever was the “little brother” at the moment would have to become the baby of the house, but alas, the paths unexplored, right? 

Do you enjoy writing the interactive story? If so is there plans for future stories like this? Also has what has been voted on, in this poll and past ones, what you have predicted so far?

It’s…a surprising amount of work to do these, actually, mostly because I have to constantly think on the fly about not only how to anticipate whatever it is people might want to see, but also how to keep the plot and story moving forward in one way or another. That said, this one seems to be turning out alright, even if it isn’t *quite* how I imagined it being structured when I conceived it. 

As far as predictions, Some stuff is what I expected, but I’m always surprised on occasion. That first poll surprised me, actually, where Rich ended up stuck down in the basement for this whole first segment–that was kind of where my initial plans ran aground, somewhat. It’s best to not try and predict anything–and just put as much effort as I can into thinking up interesting, and viable choices for people. I’d rather be surprised and forced to stretch myself a bit, than write the same stuff I usually do. I don’t know if I’ve done a great job of that with this story, which does feel a bit “in the box” but this next poll might shake things up a bit, if things keep going the way they’ve been heading.

“Strangers and Lovers” is beautifully done, and seems like a tender departure from your usual fast paced style. Although I’m not a fan of age regression, the yearning of the main character is immediately engaging and peaks my interest.

Thank you! It was…a bit of an experiment, but one that I enjoyed writing as well. There will be more stories to come in that setting here soon–I have lots of ideas, but not quite enough time to get them down just yet.

Are there any fetishes that you just simply cannot wrap your mind around? Whether that would be why other people find them interesting that, or because you feel strangely about it?

***WARNING: UNPOPULAR OPINIONS AHEAD***

You wanna know the fetish that people seem to love which I simply do not really understand?

Pup play.

“But Wes! You write pup stories fairly regularly! You seem to get it just fine!”

Intellectually, I understand why people are into it, and I understand the triggers which turn people on to the fetish, but I personally have no real interest or attraction to the fetish itself.

I feel, before continuing, that I should make a disclaimer, regarding what I’m *not* talking about. There is, in my mind, a distinction between people who want to be literally turned into a dog (the animal) and people who enjoy pup/handler RP in a BDSM sense. Or at least, in my head, they are different sorts of things. The animal TF itself isn’t particularly confusing for me, but the BDSM stuff loses me a bit. I should also add that just because it isn’t my thing, doesn’t mean I think it’s bad that other people do it. Obviously there’s something there that people enjoy! It’s just something about my understanding and experience with BDSM that makes it seem…strange to me.

Part of the reason for this, I think, is that BDSM–especially in the role of a sub–is very much about stripping things away. It’s about being present in the moment, and the sensation of a dom stripping away off the extraneous shit until all that remains is a blissful state of service. Or at least, that’s how I *experience* it, and I’m certain not all experiences are equal. But when I look at pup play, with the masks and the tails and performance of it, it honestly feels like the exact opposite of that sensation to me. It looks like, rather than revealing myself, I’m just burying myself within a costume and a role instead. I would be creating more distance between myself and the dom I’m playing with. That’s…just not what I’m looking for, I suppose, in those sorts of scenes. I also feel that part of being a sub involves an aspect of responsibility and service, but the pup role seems to be missing those aspects to me. Rather, it seems to be about abandoning responsibility and humanity–which could very well be the point!–but which seems to miss some of the core values that I personally appreciate in BDSM.

In any case, I’m sure other people fell differently! It could be that my view from the outside of it is very different from what it would be like for an experienced pup and handler. It’s still something on my list to try, mostly because I would like to see if my understanding of it really is wrong, or if it just isn’t something for me, personally.

tl;dr: don’t hate me, plz

Winter Vacation [Interactive] (Part 7)

Brett heard his big brother disappear into the garage, and wondered why he was heading there, when Daddy had told them both to go to their rooms. Still, something told him he didn’t really need to worry much about that–Nate could take care of himself, after all. He hefted himself upstairs, surprised by how hard it was with the extra weight of his new gut. He paused about three quarters of the way up, and wondered how in the hell Daddy was going to get up these stairs to go to bed, and thought about it, about daddy’s massive apron, covered in hair, wondering what it would be like to have one himself. His cock got hard, but he resisted touching it. Something…still just didn’t seem right to him, about all of this, even if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was exactly.

At the top of the stairs there was a hall with several rooms splitting off. A second bathroom–also equipped with a urinal, like the one downstairs, and a few bedrooms. He went to the next door, opened it, and as soon as he did, he gagged. Whatever was in this room…it reeked. He stepped back a bit, shaking his head. That couldn’t be his room. It just…it couldn’t be. But the stench, now that he smelled it…it did seem familiar somehow. Comfortable, even. He tried to leave, fully intending to get out of the house and never come back, but instead he walked into the room, eyes watering, and shut the door behind him.

Once shut it, he felt better. The air was muggy and humid–and almost immediately Brett felt himself start to sweat. He wiped his brow and looked around, disgusted by the room around him. It was filthy. Empty food wrappers and containers were scattered everywhere, mixed in with the dirty laundry that made up most of the clutter. There was a closet lying open, but there was nothing inside but even more clothing, also dirty–why in the world was there so much of it?

He felt dizzy in the heat of the room, and he went over to the bed and sat down on it…and when he did, he felt it…squish beneath him. The surface was wet, and a thick plume of filthy air billowed up around him, and when he inhaled it this time, he just felt more of his mind shut off, his jaw dropped open, one hand went to his cock and started stroking it slowly. Yeah–this was better. Much better. He was back where he belonged now, he could tell. He’d been wrong before, when he thought about leaving this–and he laid back on the damp, stinking mattress and jacked off a bit faster.

As he laid there, he could start to pick out some of the specific odors around him. Piss–there was lots of that. His stomach turned for a moment, as he finally realized why, exactly, the mattress felt so soggy…but then it just didn’t bother him at all. In fact, knowing the thing was leaden with his own stale piss somehow made everything so much…hotter. There was sweat, too–his own sweat rolling off him. He lifted an arm and took a whiff of himself, still unwashed after days of looking after daddy, and it smelled amazing. It wasn’t enough though–it still just wasn’t quite right. He’d missed something, but what?

It clicked in his head, and he smacked his forehead. He could be such a stupid, stinking boy sometimes. He wasn’t dressed, of course! He rolled over, intending to sit up on the bed, but it was hard work, for some reason, liks his body wanted to move as little as possible. He managed, however, to make it back to the edge, and he fished around in the piles around him, looking for something that smelled…right, tossing things back that dissatisfied him, and pulling on the things he found that interested him. A nasty wifebeater, some ratty briefs, some socks–and then a couple more socks on top of those–he liked it when his feet got nice and rank. Satisfied with his choices, he laid back down with a contented sigh, and continued masturbating, face snorting from his pits now, hand shoved down the front of the briefs, working on his cock, which had started leaking precum profusely into the fabric.

His balls were growing–swelling in the stank briefs, and as they grew, he could sense his own mind growing dimmer. He tried to cling to his thoughts of escape, but they slipped away from him, and soon he didn’t even feel like he was missing anything. He was just a nasty slob in his stinking room, jacking off like he always did, when Daddy or his brother didn’t need him, not that he was good for much. He was…fucking worthless, actually. He could cook, he supposed, but that was about it. He knew that should bother him, the fact that he was just wasting his life up here, but he loved it. He wanted to be worthless. He wanted to waste himself on porn and masturbation, living in his stinking man cave. The first orgasm came, but it only got him hornier. Brett could chain ten or twelve loads a day, his underwear eventually completely saturated with his fluids, and he’d still usually have a wet dream or two in the night, humping his nasty mattress until he came.

He needed to piss, and he knew he should use the urinal, but when he tried to get up from the bed this time, inertia won. Fuck–he was so fucking lazy, he wasn’t even going to make it to the bathroom. Not this time, at least. The piss started to flow, and there was so much of it, flooding through his briefs and soaking into the bed below him, and he came again, and again, and again, until he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do than waste his life as a worthless slob.

The next few days were quiet. Daddy and his two boys adjusted to their roles rather quickly, and it wasn’t long before they had forgotten about their old lives entirely, their gear thrown out into the backyard by Nate, who only saw the four duffel bags as junk. They ate–with Daddy always pitting his two boys against one another to see who would be the big brother for the day. Nate usually won, but Brett could pack away his groceries on occasion, and when he did, he loved bossing his brother around, ordering him to suck on his huge, nasty feet while he jacked off onto him. Nate, on the other hand, would use his brother as a biker pig out in the garage, when he won–at least, when daddy wasn’t using them both for his own pleasure.

It was about a week later, halfway through their alleged vacation, that a new car pulled up into the driveway. The mastermind had been watching the events unfolding, and was very, very pleased by the four young men’s progress–but now it was time for stage two, whatever that might be. So, who is our perverse Mastermind, anyway?

  1. It really is Rich’s mysterious uncle, who brought along Rich’s father for extra fun.
  2. A group of nerds they bullied looking for revenge.
  3. The football coach, who is possessed by a demon of sloth, lust and gluttony.
  4. A mad scientist, happy some guinea pigs wandered into his trap.

Polls will go live in a few minutes!

Winter Vacation (Part 6)

Brett and Nate left the kitchen, and while Brett peeled off and headed upstairs, Nate continued on the ground floor, which seemed…odd to him. Usually bedrooms were upstairs, right? But something was telling him that his room–the right room–was down on the ground floor. He found a small mudroom with two doors. One had a small window that led out into the backyard, and Nate took the other one, which entered the garage.

For a cabin in the mountains, it sure was a spacious garage. It had three doors, and much to Nate’s surprise, there were already vehicles parked inside–an old pickup, and then four motorcycles in the other two spaces. But why four? There was only him, his little bro, and their daddy in the house, so didn’t they only need three? He spent a moment trying to sort out who, exactly, would need the fourth bike, but the dull buzzing in the air made it hard to keep the thoughts and numbers straight in his head. Instead, he saw another door on the other end of the garage–and that, he somehow knew, was his room.

He weaved through the motorcycles, all of them sizable Harleys, and went into the room–into his room, his head corrected him. It was completely disconnected from the house–the only way to get there was through the garage. That was…strange, right? But then again, it seemed…logical. Didn’t…he spent most of his time in the garage anyway? He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, exactly, but it didn’t seem right to question it either. The room itself was small, with a double bed in a corner with flannel sheets, a closet and a dresser, a stereo and a TV set. The one nice luxury was an attached bathroom–but it didn’t have a shower, just a toilet and a sink. The air smelled like grease, and it was cold–he should put some clothes on, shouldn’t he? His clothes were back by the front door of the house, though…it would be better to just see what was in the closet.

He went to the closet, unsure of what to expect, exactly, but when he opened the doors, he was mostly surprised by how…little there was inside. A pair of jeans, some flannel shirts, some pairs of boots, grubby pairs of overalls and coveralls–and leather. Lots of leather gear he might imagine a biker wearing, and all of it was well worn, and…smelled. The same odd smell of the room, but he grabbed a pair of stained briefs, an undershirt, and one of the pairs of overalls, and started to get dressed. They seemed…massive, and yet fit him snugly. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was because he hadn’t quite yet gotten used to how fat he had become, or if it was because the clothes had seemed to…shrink to fit. In any case, the clothes seemed as greasy as the air around him, rubbing off on his skin somehow. It wasn’t…unpleasant, and yet it didn’t feel quite right either. He settled on the pair of cowboy boots, pulling them on with some thick woolen socks, and when he stood up and saw himself in the mirror in the bathroom, he was a bit taken aback.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he should be wearing. He shouldn’t be this fat, or this dirty, or feel this gross. He was about to take the things off, when he felt something hard in the back pocket of the overalls, reached back, and pulled out a small tin of chewing tobacco. The sight of it gave him a great sense of relief–he’d feel much better with a proper lipper. He packed the chaw into his mouth, feeling the slight tingle as it went to work, and his eyes glazed over slightly. This was right. He just…needed some time to adjust. Maybe he should give the hogs a little tune up? The family wasn’t exactly riding much in the summer, and Nate always wanted to keep everything in the garage in peak working condition. He turned on the stereo, let it blast country music out into the garage, and got to work, humming along easily with the songs he didn’t quite recognize, and soon enough he was singing along, his voice slowly picking up the same drawl as the singers–and then becoming even more extreme.

As he worked, his body was changing too, slightly. He kept drooling spit down onto his chin without meaning to, and where ever the black tar went, hair grew in, leaving him with a thick mustache and a goatee after an hour. The grease and funk of the clothes was wearing off onto him as well–along with something else. Colors were beginning to appear on his skin–patchy at first, but then coalescing into patterns and images–tattoos all over his arms and chest. The hat on his head was doing wonders for his hair, as well. When he took it off to wipe his brow, a thick mullet had appeared running down the back of his head, and as he spit out some tar, he didn’t even notice a couple of teeth come loose and end up on the floor of the garage with the rest of the grease stains.

In his mind, he found that knowledge about engine repair was pushing out everything else. It was…easy to think about mechanical parts, and fixing things, but everything else just seemed so…difficult to him. He knew he wasn’t the smartest fella, but he could fix just about anything you handed him, and he was pretty handy around the house too, if something was broken. Pleased with his work, he took a break to lounge about in his bedroom, packed himself another lip of tobacco, and jacked off to some porn on his little TV, thinking about daddy and his little brother, what those two might be getting up to at the moment.

No poll today! Tomorrow we’ll catch up with Brett, and see what his slobby room had in store for him.

Alpha and the Boys (Caption)

Due to various circumstances, I have to delay the next couple of parts of Winter Vacation to Sunday and Monday this week.

It was a small change in his life, but it was a good one, he supposed. Doug hadn’t exactly lived the most active of lifestyles, rather, he quite enjoyed being sedentary. But it wasn’t doing anything for his health, or for his waistline, and so at his doctor’s, and his wife’s, urging, he’d started walking. Three or four times a week, he’d take off from his house and go down to the sizable park a mile away, do a circuit, and then walk back. It had been a couple months since he’d started, and while he hadn’t lost any weight, he did feel better. It was one late spring day, warm enough to wear shorts and regret it later, that he got to the park, and decided to take a quick breather on one of the benches beside a large field.

There were three young men in the field, throwing around a frisbee, none of them wearing shirts despite how chilly it was, and as Doug sat there, he found himself watching them play. It was difficult to pin down how old they were exactly–they all seemed a bit too old for college, but he certainly got a fraternity sort of vibe from them. Still, there wasn’t a college anywhere nearby, so he had no idea why they were playing here, in this park. Several times he intended to get back up and continue his walk, but each time something would distract him–a bead of sweat rolling down a chiseled chest, the thick thigh and calf as one of them jumped to make a catch, the glinting teeth of a smile. Doug’s cock was hard, tenting out the front of his short, but he barely even noticed, and just kept watching and staring, even if he couldn’t quite figure out why, exactly, he was still doing so.

The young men finished their game, all of them covered in sweat, and to Doug’s surprise, they walked over to where he was sitting. Had they all noticed what he was doing? He went to stand up quickly and move away to avoid anything embarrassing, but one of the men blocked his way with a laugh. “What’s up man? Saw you watchin’ us. You wanna play?”

Doug laughed, assuming it was a joke, but none of the three men laughed with him. “I mean, I haven’t played anything it years,” Doug stammered, “But, uh, thank you for the offer.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! We can help, you know. Come on–we’ll show you.”

Doug wasn’t about to take the three young jocks up on their strange offer, but his feet turned and followed them anyway, walking behind them as they left the park, walked a short distance and arrived at a house, where he assumed the three of them lived together. Once inside, all three of them immediately stripped out of their shorts, leaving them wearing nothing other than their hats, their jockstraps, and their sneakers.

Doug realized, then, how hard his cock was, and didn’t know what to do. Why were these young men turning him on so much, suddenly? He’d never felt a gay bone in his body, but he…wanted these men, in a way he couldn’t quite fathom. “I…you know, maybe I should leave.”

“Hold on now, I thought you wanted to join us?” The one in the yellow jock said, and he tossed Doug a black jockstrap, “Go on–see if it fits man.”

The other two nodded along, and he noticed each of them was wearing a necklace. From a distance, they had seemed innocuous, but up close they were chains padlocked into place. He looked at the jock in confusion…but then he started undoing his shoes while the three men watched, took off his shirt, shorts and underwear, and when he was completely naked, he pulled on the jockstrap.

“Ooo…no, that doesn’t fit at all, does it boys?” the leader said, and the other shook their heads.

“Sure doesn’t, Alpha–look at how tight that big gut a his is stretchin’ that strap!”

“Yeah, ‘n that puny old cock ain’t even fillin’ the pouch none,” the other said, with a guffaw.

The words stung–and at the same time, turned Doug on. He shoved his hand in the pouch and started working his cock, but it seemed…wrong. His cock was smaller, and completely soft–and also harder to reach. His gut seemed larger than it had been…and was it hairier too.

“Come on, you dirty fucking pervert–get out of that thing before you stretch it out.”

Doug did as he was told, and when Alpha shoved Doug down onto his knees, he stuck his nose right into his yellow jock, snorting and huffing, still working his soft cock over, but as horny as he was, it refused to harden at all.

“Looks like the pervert’s having some trouble–Red, help him out, would you?”

Red hefted Doug’s ass up, and slipped his thick fingers into Doug’s ass–and then his entire fist. As he worked over Doug’s prostate, an orgasm finally came, and he spurted a few globs of cum from the head of his puny cock.

“Alright pervert–you’d better get on home now, where you belong.”

“N-No, wait Alpha, can’t I stay a little longer? I…fuck sir, you and the boys are so hot…”

“Well, you’ll just have to watch us through the windows with the rest of the perverts–now get the hell out of here.”

Still naked, and barely understanding what he was doing, or why, Doug left out the front door, still completely naked, and went next door–which was in significantly worse repair. Inside were all the other perverts. Old, disgusting lechers just like him, crowding around the windows, aching to see Alpha or the boys playing, always jacking their worthless cocks, only able to cum when Alpha summoned them for some humiliating chores or to be a sex toy for the evening for his boys. Doug…clung to himself for a little while, but soon he was just another nameless pervert, like the rest, aching only to serve his Alpha and the boys, and perfectly content to watch, until his next chance came.