Pigtown – Faceless (Part 3)

It wasn’t the best head Ash had ever gotten. There was a bit too much teeth, but Dick made up for it in raw hunger and enthusiasm. After a couple of minutes, he pulled away, gasping a bit, and gave Ash’s cock a couple of strokes. “Fuck, it’s better than I fucking imagined, fuck! Could fucking do this all damn night.”

Ash took the opportunity to pull away a bit. “Look, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I…you shouldn’t be here. I took your fucking face.”

“No, you took his face,” Dick said, pointing to Dirk’s mask, which was still lying on the table nearby. “I’ve been under there, trying to get out for fucking ages! All I needed was one good mid-life crisis, but no, he just has to keep bundling up all his shame and bullshit, like I’m just going to fucking go the fuck away! No–fuck him, piece of shit nobody. Never did fuckall with himself. Could have been getting all the damn dick this whole time, but just cooped himself up,” he stood up, and turned to the face on the table, “No fuckin’ more, I’ll tell ya that! You fuckin’ hear that, ya fuck? I’m not going back under there, never!”

“Dang man, calm down, it’s all good here, trust me,” Ash said, “You don’t have to put it back on.” Now that Dick was standing again, Ash noticed something else–that his body was changing as well. It was his skin that he noticed–it was…flaking, and when Dick idly scratched his arm, big chunks fell off, revealing more beneath it–but it wasn’t the same pink. No, it was colorful–and it took another few curls coming away for Ash to realize they were tattoos. “I think…the rest of him is coming off man.”

Dick looked down at his arms, and he started picking at the skin peeling away, and then hauled off Dirk’s clothes as well, until he was standing there naked, rubbing and picking at himself as Dirk fell away from him. “Yeah, fuck–no wonder I felt so fuckin’ itchy…” Dick said, gave his cock a few rough strokes, and the entire skin slid off, revealing a much more sizable, eight inch member with a hefty foreskin. “Fuck yeah–might need to find someone to wrap their lips ‘round this thing soon enough too,” Dick said, “You up to it Ash?”

Ash shook his head, “No, I prefer to top.”

“Whatever, it’s all good to me–I haven’t done any of it after all!” Dick said with a long laugh, and the last of Dirk’s skin fell away, leaving him free at last. There were some similarities, between the two of them. They had the same general shape–that is, out of shape–though Dick’s potbelly was closer to a proper gut. He wasn’t much hairier than Dirk had been, but he was quite a bit more rank, and his feet and hands were quite a bit larger, as were some of the features of his face, like someone had exaggerated everything just slightly, enough that any one thing would be natural, but together, it all seemed a bit..strange, and rather ugly. The lank hair didn’t help, longer than Dirk had ever left it grow, and the scruffy beard.

He looked down at Dirk’s clothes, and have them a kick with his foot. “I sure as hell ain’t puttin’ this shit back on though,” he said, “I like that, what you’re wearing. You got anymore of that?” He walked up to Ash and ran his hands along the rubber shirt he was wearing. “Yeah, fuck, I bet that feels amazing.”

Ash grinned, “Yeah, I can whip something up for you man, no worries. Rubber’s my specialty.” He got down and picked up Dirk’s shirt from the floor, and where his fingers touched it, the well-worn cotton began to shift. At first glance, in the low light, it looked like it was disappearing, but Dick could see…something catching the light in Ash’s hands, and when he handed the shirt over to him, Ash gave him a wink. “It’s be a shame to cover up that artwork, though, don’t you think?”

Dick realized the shirt was clear rubber, and he wormed his arms into it and pulled it on, loving how…constricting it felt against his skin, even though it didn’t look like he was wearing anything at all, his body just…gleaming slightly. “Yeah, fuck, this shit rocks.”

Ash was already working on the rest of the clothing, and a few minutes later, Dick was clothed again, though in a very different outfit than before. He had on rubber chaps now, his cock and balls hanging free, a black rubber vest, and two thick soled waders up his calves.

“Man, fuck,” Ash said, admiring the rubbered up roughneck standing in front of him, “It isn’t what I was fucking planning, but I gotta say, it suits you, Dick.”

“Yeah?” Dick asked, and moved in close, pressing their rubbered over chest together, “Then how about that dick sucking? You wanna give me some tips? I feel like I was doin’ that shit all wrong.”

“Nah man, I got a better idea,” Ash said, and pointed at Trey’s dummy body, still lying on the floor a few feet away, “Why don’t you have the honor of blowing the first load into that cumdumps guts, in a few minutes?”

Dick narrowed his eyes, at the limp figure, walked over, and planted his rubber wader on the side of its head and pressed down. It gave in slightly, like a solid rubber object might. “Nah, cumdumps too good for this fuck. This place is too go for him–piece a shit. We can do better than that, don’t you think?”

Ash shrugged.

“What happens if we put the mask back on him now?”

“He’ll be right back to himself,” Ash said.

“And what is he now?”

“Just rubber, really. I can do pretty much anything I want with it. Why, you have something else in mind?”

Dick had picked up Trey’s face from the table, and gave it a stretch, watching the features warp, eyes grimacing in pain–or he liked to imagine they were, at least. “Yeah, I have an idea for sure. A real fucking good one, too.”

Winter Vacation [Interactive] (Part 4)

“Boy–Boy! Are you even listening to me?”

Brett snapped out of his thoughts, and looked back at Maury, sitting there on the sofa, rolls splayed out around him. “I just…I was thinking…”

“Boy, you know better than that–you don’t think. Just let daddy do the thinking for you, got it?”

Daddy–who was daddy? As Brett asked himself the question, the answer came to him–Maury was daddy, of course. He was the biggest, he was in charge–he was just…just daddy. It only made sense. He was daddy, and that made him the boy, and boys had to obey their daddies no matter what. Brett chased himself around the logical loop for a moment, and then let off a sigh–he was doing it again, wasn’t he? Thinking. Such a silly boy, he could be! “S-Sorry daddy, I’ll go make breakfast!”

Brett waddled out the room, finding it a bit…awkward, walking with such a substantial gut, but it was already beginning to feel more normal. He was a big boy after all–not as big as his daddy, but maybe one day he would be, if he was good. He found his way to the kitchen, and thankfully the pantry and fridge were fully stocked. Part of him wondered why that was–after all, they hadn’t brough any of this food along with them–it was almost like someone had prepared the place for them ahead of time. Still, that seemed like thinking, and he wasn’t supposed to think–just cook. He put on an apron and started mixing up some batter for pancakes, frying bacon and sausage, and looking for whatever else would make the best breakfast for his daddy.

Back in the TV room, Maury heaved a sigh. “Too smart for his own good, that one.”

Nate nodded, “Not like me daddy–what…what can I do for you?” he asked, and stepped closer, both hands resting on Maury’s gut, kneading it slightly, making him moan.

“Sounds like to me you have your own ideas, boy,” Maury said, and pulled him closer, Nate toppling over onto Maury’s gut with a groan, grinding his hard cock into his daddy’s fatty rolls. “Get under there and suck me off boy–and when you’re done, go help Brett with breakfast, and make sure he hasn’t gotten any other big ideas while he’s alone in there.

Nate was more than happy to follow his daddy’s orders, hefted up his massive apron of fat, lined with countless stretchmarks, and found his cock. Daddy didn’t last very long, and fifteen minutes later, with a gut full of daddy’s cum and beaming, Nate followed the sounds of pots and pans–and the smell of bacon–into the kitchen, where Brett was busy working at the stove.

“How’s it going, little bro?” Nate asked, and leaned in close, breathing his cum breath into Brett’s face.

Brett recognized the scent, and his chubby face went red with jealousy. “Hey, no fair!”

“Sorry bro–being the big bro has its perks, you know?” Nate said, and bumped his gut against Brett’s pushing him slightly off balance.

“Only by like, ten pounds,” Brett muttered, but he knew it didn’t matter. Nate was bigger than him, and that meant he was in charge–just like daddy.

“Here, I know what’ll perk you up–let me handle the skillet for a bit, I have something else you should focus on for a while.” Nate put his hand on Brett’s head, and pushed him down, and he fell to his knees, his big bro’s thick cock jutting out. He licked his lips, hungrily–it wasn’t daddy’s cock, but Brett enjoyed sucking off his brother just as much, if that’s all he could get, and so he started sucking and slobbering on it, groping his own cock while he did under his apron. Nate tended to the bacon, thrusting gently into his brother’s mouth, and took a few sample pieces for himself. Had to stay big, after all–he wasn’t about to let Brett pass him, if he could help it.

Meanwhile, Maury heaved a sigh on the couch. Now that he was alone…he wasn’t quite sure what he should be doing. In fact, all of this did seem a bit strange to him, now that he was thinking about it. Was the boy right? No–no, that was a silly thought. Boy’s weren’t right about anything–that’s why they need daddies, to tell them what to do! Still, he needed to do something, but he just couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

It took some effort, and he very nearly had to holler for his boys to come help, but he managed to get himself out of the sofa and onto his feet, though he was hot and panting by the time he made it. One thing he knew for certain, was that he needed to piss–he waddled his way into the bathroom and while it was hard to maneuver himself at the urinal, he managed well enough to get his piss into the basin, listening to it drain down below, and kept trying to think about what he needed to do. He thought hard, and could almost…hear a buzzing and humming in his ears as he did, and the thought came to him like a light bulb. “Of course!” he muttered to himself, shook his cock free of piss, and stepped back from the urinal, ready for his next task.

What does Maury do, while waiting for breakfast?

  1. Take a shower with some odd, masculine soap
  2. Smoke a pipe filled with Old Fogey brand tobacco
  3. Check on the pipes in the basement
  4. Come to his senses and resist

The public twitter poll is here!

The patron only Patreon poll is here!

Voting ends on Monday afternoon!

The Votes are In! (Part 3)

Here are the results from both polls!

First, the public poll on twitter (which had 59 total votes):

  1. (give in, make breakfast) 41% – 24 votes
  2. (resist, get punished) 19% – 11 votes
  3. (resist, find Rich) 32% – 19 votes
  4. (resist, find clothes and escape) 8% – 5 votes

Second, the private patron only poll on Patreon (which had 33 votes)

  1. (give in, make breakfast) 24% – 8 votes
  2. (resist, get punished) 31% –  10 votes
  3. (resist, find Rich) 21% – 7 votes
  4. (resist, find clothes and escape) 24% – 8 votes

Here’s the total results, out of 92 votes!

  1. (give in, make breakfast) 34% – 32 votes
  2. (resist, get punished) 24% – 22 votes
  3. (resist, find Rich) 28% – 26 votes
  4. (resist, find clothes and escape) 14% – 13 votes

Alright! It looks like whatever is going on in the house keeps control for the time being. Brett will make his two friends breakfast, and then we’ll see what else this vacation has in store for them all tomorrow!

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 2)

No one said anything for a moment–the man just stood there, holding Trey’s face in his hand, and Dirk, across the table from him, gaped at his nephew’s body, limp in the seat, lying across the table. Slowly, it began to slide until it tumbled off and rolled onto the floor, face up–or what would be a face, if it had one. Something was happening to it, while Dirk watched. The clothes didn’t change–but the body underneath was. The skin didn’t look like flesh anymore, it looked…like some mix between rubber, plastic, or cloth. The dummy’s hands were just simple mitts as well. Whatever it was, it most certainly wasn’t a body anymore. Dirk took a step back from it, and ran into something–while he’d been distracted, staring at the thing, the two gimps had slid around the table behind him. Before he could react, both of them grabbed an arm, holding him in place, while their master came around the table, one hand inside Trey’s face, looking at him with a grin.

“See? Nothing under there at all. Most people are like that. Once you take away everything on top–well, there’s just nothing left for them to be, which means, they can be anything at all, isn’t that right?”

The two gimps on either side of Dirk nodded in tandem.

“They were like the two of you once, decided to mouth off a bit. I have their faces now, and if they serve me well, I might give them back one day. Would you like that?” he said, addressing one of the gimps, “Do you think you’ve earned the right to be someone again yet?” The man ran a gloved hand across one of the gimp’s facelessness, and it shuddered with pleasure, and nodded quickly. “Well too fucking bad–you don’t fucking think shit. You know that. You’re nothing. Fucking forget it. Maybe I should go home and just throw your face in the fire. Hell, maybe I should give your face to someone else, someone who might enjoy it. What do you think? Some derelict off the street? Think he could pretend to be the hotshot vice president like you were once?”

The gimp didn’t do anything this time–it didn’t move an inch.

“That’s what I thought,” the man said, and turned to Dirk, “Now, how about you? I wasn’t planning on adding to my collection tonight, but since the two of you were trying to leave, why don’t we just keep you two here? Well, your bodies at least. Your faces will come with me, for the time being. Set the two of you up as a couple of cumdumps and urinals in one of the backrooms, get you good and full, and maybe in a week, I’ll put your faces back on, just so you can feel what it’s like.”

Dirk shook his head, “No, look, I’m sorry alright? I–he’s a dumbass, I know, but we didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Well trouble found you anyway, fucker,” the man said, pushed his fingers against Dirk’s neck, and slid them under his face. “Don’t worry–you won’t have to think about anything, soon enough–you’ll be too busy drinking piss and cum to worry about anything for a good long while.

Dirk fought, and the man teased him, running his fingers gently underneath his face, the gimps’ grip on him tightening. He could…sense them getting excited, but they were always excited when Master was excited. Dirk could feel it–the skin starting to pull away from him–except then he was the skin. He was pulling away from himself. He couldn’t scream or shout for help, he could see, but his eyes couldn’t move, he just felt himself being lifted away from the head, and then he was there, hanging from the stranger’s hand, and he heard a strange, and yet familiar voice let out a long whoop, and laugh, while the man stepped back.

“Fuck man! Fucking hell! I’m fucking free, free at fucking last!”

Dirk landed on the table, face down. He couldn’t see what was happening, but he could hear. Something was wrong. He…he was missing something, he realized. That voice in him, that voice that was always there, whispering to him. Sometimes loud…but that had been when he was young. He’d kept it quiet for so long, but it, that voice–it was the voice that had urged him into the bar.

The stranger was just staring, confused. When you took someone’s face–there wasn’t usually another one beneath it. But here, staring right at him, was the same face of the man he’d just stolen–or at least, kind of the same. He had a full beard, for one thing, his mouth twisted in a crazed smile as he laughed, eyes bloodshot and wild, nose crooked with a thick ring in the middle of it. “Fuck!” he said, “I could just fucking kiss you, ya fucker, thank you!” he said, and lunged forward, slipping from the two gimp’s grasp, and slamming into the stranger, pushing him back onto the table, and he did kiss him, roughly, the master unused to such–forwardness, but he did enjoy it. Still–he pushed him off, and stood up, wiping his lips of the man’s slobber.

“Alright, what the fuck just happened. How in the hell were you under there?” he asked.

“I’ve been under that fucker his whole fucking life man. Fucking trapped. You don’t fucking know what he’s fucking like! The shame, the inhibition. Never wanting to do anything, fuck, it was all I could do to get him to masturbate every other day, and even then he had to do it in the damn shower, where no one would even fucking hear him! Fuck! I’ve wanted that fucker off me my whole god damn life, and I knew…somehow I knew this place could do it, I fucking knew it! And you–fucker, I owe you a fucking blow job, is what. The name’s Dick by the way,” he said, got down, and started opening the fly of the Master’s pants.

“Uh…Ash…I’m Ash,” he said, and then gasped as Dick swallowed his cock to the hilt.

Pigtown – Faceless (Part 1)

“What kind of fucking bar is this, anyway?” Trey asked, looking around again. “The fuckin’ city, Unc–I just don’t fucking get it sometimes.”

Dirk nodded, feeling uneasy and uncomfortable as well…and even though he knew, in his guts, that he and his nephew should leave…some other, deeper part of him, kept his ass glued to the chair where he was sitting in the bar. Trey’s cousin–and another nephew of Dirk’s–was getting married back at home the next week, and had wanted to have his bachelor party at some of the strip clubs in town. At some point, Dirk and Trey had gotten separated from the main group, and ended up here, in a bar called Pigtown. It had…sounded like a strip club, but now that they were in here, drinks in hand…he realized there were no women. Just a room full of men in the low light, music pounding from some other room nearby, some of the slipping off behind a curtain every once in a while, and on less occasion, a man came stumbling back out, eyes wide and breath short.

“I think this is some fag place, Unc,” Trey said, “Fuck, look at those fuckers over there, who the fuck would wear shit like that?” Trey pointed off to another corner of the bar, where three men were sitting–or, where one was sitting, and two others were kneeling on the floor beside him, while the one sipped his beer. It was the two kneeling that had captured Trey’s fascination–both of them clad head to toe in rubber gear, without any skin to be seen at all. “It’s fucking disgusting.”

He said the last bit loud enough that the whole bar heard him, including the man sitting at the table with the two gimps, who smirked, but didn’t acknowledge Trey beyond that. Dirk…couldn’t help but get a bad feeling about all of this. Trey was a bit of a hothead, and certainly had no love for faggots–not that he should, of course. Fags were pieces of shit to Dirk too, but he had grown into more of a live and let live philosophy as he’d gotten older. If they just kept their creepy shit to themselves, away from Dirk, then what did it matter to him?

“Maybe we should get the rest of the guys, and come back here, show these fuckers what a real man can do,” Trey added, and chugged the rest of his beer. “Come on, Unc, let’s get the fuck out of this dump.”

Dirk nodded, and stood up–Trey tried to do the same, but only got have way before a hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair. “What, leaving so soon? But the night’s just getting started!” It was the man from the table, the two gimps close behind him, looking like two shiny black statues. Their masks–they weren’t just masks, were they? If anything, to Dirk, it didn’t look like something was covering their face–if anything, it looked like they were simply faceless, their identifying features scrubbed away entirely. It was the lack of any contour–usually, wearing a mask, you could still see the contour of a nose and eyes and mouth, but the two drones…it was so smooth. He told himself it had to be the light, keeping him from seeing it, but he was unnerved all the same.

The other man was wearing less, and didn’t have a mask on at all. His head was shaved close, and he had stubble across his face the same length, giving the impression he’d razored all of it a few days ago at the same time. He was wearing a rubber shirt, with a leather jacket over it, and leather pants and boots. At a distance, he had seemed less imposing, but this close it was clear he was heavily muscled–more than a match for Trey, who for all of his big talk, had never had the physique to back up his boasts and threats. It had gotten him into plenty of trouble, but he was a bit too thick to learn his lessons. “You two aren’t from around here, are you?” he said, leaning down close to Trey’s ear, “Yeah, you don’t quite know how things work around here, I don’t think, so why don’t I show you?”

Trey felt one of the man’s bare hands curl around his neck–and then after picking at his neck for a moment, he felt…his fingers slip underneath his skin, like an edge had appeared out of nowhere on his body. He panicked, but the other hand on his shoulder was pressing down with an impossible weight. He looked over at Dirk with terror in his eyes, begging his uncle to do anything, but the older, pot bellied man was just looking on in horror at what was happening.

“You see, around here, we don’t have a lot of patience for men who come in here wearing masks like this. No–we like to see who you really are, underneath all the posturing and bullshit you’re throwing around, like you know something about anything,” the man slipped his fingers further under the edge and got a grip on the flap of Trey’s skin he’d found, “But you–I don’t think there’s anything under here, do you? Not under either of you, probably. Just a whole lot of bullshit–how about we check?”

Before Trey could say anything, the man lifted the edge, and Dirk watched as the edge pulled away all around the base of Trey’s neck, and the man drew it up Trey’s head quickly, his nephew’s face going blank as his features came away from his body, attached to the mask the man had created. He pulled it free, and Dirk found himself staring at a face just like the two rubber gimps behind the man–no features, simply…blank, and then Trey’s face fell forward and collapsed onto the table, limp and lifeless–nothing more than a dummy.

Winter Vacation [Interactive] (Part 3)

Did it even make sense to call this a movie? Maury wasn’t sure, because so far, there was no plot, there was no…nothing. The title had rolled, and after that, it was just clips and pictures of all of these massively fat men–almost all of them eating something. It was stupid, whatever it was…but he couldn’t quite get his hand to go to the player and eject the disk. Still…he had to get rid of this. If the other guys saw him watching this, what would they think of him? It was…weird, right? So he forced his hand towards the player, but he couldn’t get one of his fingers to hit the stop or eject button because he had a death grip on the doughnut in his hand.

Where had he even gotten that? He tore his eyes away from the screen for a moment, towards the snack bar off to the side, and sure enough, there were several boxes of doughnuts there, just begging to be eaten. If…If he ate it, then he’d have a free hand to stop the player, right? He pushed the pasty into his mouth, chowing down on it, chased it with a glug of soda he’d gotten from the fridge nearby, and then got another doughnut–too late to remember that he should have stopped the disc first. Still…why stop it, really? It was kind of relaxing, right? He should…get a bunch of snacks, and sit on the couch, and just…watch for a while. He hurried to the snack bar and loaded up his arms, trying to be quick so he wouldn’t miss anything, and then went back to the couch and plopped down on it, just as Brett and Nate rounded the corner, and peeked into the room, drawn by the odd sounds coming from the TV, which sounded…almost like porn.

It wasn’t porn though–both of them were confused as to why Maury was sitting there, stuffing his face, eyes glued to the screen and watching other fat men stuff themselves as well, most of them without shirts, showing off their huge, overflowing guts. “M-Maury? What are you watching?”

“It’s a movie called Flabulous! It’s awesome you guys, come on–have a seat, there’s plenty to eat.”

Neither Brett nor Nate were really interested in watching a video with a bunch of clips of men eating…but now that they were watching it, they were a bit hungry. What was the harm in a little snack, after all? Brett and Nate sat down on the couch with Maury, both of them eating idly, more and more, all of them losing track of just how much food they were shoving into their guts, none of them listening to their guts growling, the belches they were throwing off–and how their shirts were all starting to ride up slightly, as they ate.

Soon, the men on the screen were naked, many of them jacking off, sometimes even being fed by other men on the screen, who were usually fat as well. Maury suggested that Brett focus on feeding him for a bit, and then looked over at Nate, stroking his cock, his chest and small gut covered in food, and told him he had a different snack for him–a better snack, and with a bit of suggestion, Nate was between Maury’s legs, sucking his cock, drinking down his cum and whatever morsels fell down near his mouth–which was quite a lot, in fact.

The movie kept playing, hour after hour, the men on the screen growing bigger, their feeding more and more gluttonous and perverse. Maury began slathering himself with food, making his two friends eat it off his body while they worshipped him, his thin, athletic frame now lost under a hefty gut and large moobs, his ass widening as well. The only breaks any of them took was to go to the bathroom, to flush their soda piss down the urinal, but none of them needed to shit, for some reason. It seemed like everything they were eating was being instantly metabolized into fat–and none of them noticed a thing wrong with any of it–especially not Maury, who was quickly becoming the leader and instigator, encouraging his two friends to focus on feeding him more and more–and it showed.

The movie played for a full day, and the three men stayed awake for the whole time, never sleeping a moment until the screen went black, and all three of them collapsed in exhaustion. It was the next morning when they all started to wake up, and look at the room around them, which they’d destroyed in their feeding frenzy. Maury was still on the couch–all five hundred pounds of him at this point, His clothes ripped and tattered around him. Brett still had on his underwear–barely. His briefs were stretched tight across his three hundred pound frame, and the waistband was starting to tear apart when he rolled over, yawned, and belched. Nate was in a similar condition, around 300 pounds, blinking blearily, trying to understand how he and his two friends had all packed on so much weight in just a single day. He…wanted to panic, but that soothing hum in the air helped him keep his cool.

It was all going to be ok–after all, the three of them were…flabulous now, right? Yeah! Super flabulous, just how…how they’d always wanted to be. Looking at Maury, still snoozing, Nate couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, and hoped one day he’d be as large as his friend was now too.

“Jesus…what the fuck happened to us?” Brett said, hefting up his gut, “I…Did we just eat for two straight days?”

“Fuck, still kind of hungry,” Nate muttered, “Anybody want breakfast?”

“Breakfast sounds great,” Maury said, “Why don’t you go cook us something man. I think I’ll just…sit here for a bit longer.”

“No, guys, fucking listen to me. This isn’t fucking right–and where in the hell is Rich? Have you guys seen him at all since we got here?”

Both Maury and Nate looked at each other, and then at Brett. It was…worrisome, they supposed, but what were they supposed to do about it exactly? The hum in the room got a bit louder, and Maury shook his head. “No–this is dumb. It’s time for breakfast. Brett, go cook something for me–and make plenty of it.”

Brett…knew he should do what Maury told him to do. He had to do what Maury told him to do. He was…the biggest, after all. Being the biggest came with certain…benefits, like being in charge. But this was still wrong–he knew it, and he had to try and do something about it.

What does Brett do?

  1. He gives in, and spends the morning cooking breakfast like a good friend.
  2. He keeps arguing with Nate and Maury, until they have to punish him.
  3. He secretly searches the house for Rich’s whereabouts.
  4. He secretly searches for clothes, so he can escape.

The public twitter poll is here!

The patron only poll is here!

Polls are live until Friday afternoon!

Winter Commissions are Open!

wesleybracken:

So, the holidays have come and gone, and a series of rather unfortunate events have left a sizable hole in my wallet. But, I also have some extra time on my hands, and so, from now until probably March or April (depending on interest and my own workload) I will be open for commissions!

The process will be much the same as it was last summer (click through for a longer explanation of the process). I will not be offering a limited number of commission slots! Instead, I will be using the “pots” method, as before. If you are interested in a commission from me, send me a message or email, and we can chat about your idea and see if it is feasible, and something I’m interested in writing. Once we hammer out an idea together, I will add the idea to the pot. As I have time, I will take ideas from the pot and commit to writing them–at that point, the commissioner will owe me a down payment, and I’ll get to work.

Agreeing to put a story in one of my pots is not a promise from me that I will definitely write it, though I will do my best to get to everyone. Once you provide a down payment, however, you will be guaranteed a story for sure. Like before, I will be limiting commissions to 2000 to 5000 words. The down payment for a story is $20 dollars, and the total cost of the story is 2 cents a word (minus the down payment, of course). I will only accept payment through paypal. If you want a longer story, I am open to that–but the story will be written in 5000 max word chunks, and each chunk will have a separate spot in the pots. 

Like before, there will be two separate pots, one which is high priority, and one which is low priority. The high priority pot is reserved for Patreon supporters only–anyone giving at least a dollar a month will get their commission finished first! If you aren’t backing me on Patreon, I’ll add you to the lower priority pot, which I will start taking stories from after I’ve cleared the Patreon pot entirely.

If you have any questions about the process, or would like to request a commission, you can send me an email (wesley.bracken@gmail.com), message me here on tumblr, through twitter (@wesleybracken), discord (Wesley Bracken#4835), or for patrons, through Patreon’s messaging platform! 

Thanks, as always, for reading!

Just wanted to give this another boost! If you’re interested in a commission, send me a message and we can chat about it!