Max Meets Junior (Part 9)

“Oh…sir, thank you sir…” Jules groaned, gripping the table as his employer fucked him, Junior standing beside him, kissing his stepfather, toying with his nipples, massaging his belly as he fucked slowly, and then faster, taking what he wanted, making Jules moan louder with each thrust, showing him that he wasn’t simply employed here, that he was owned, and that he was happy being owned. Then, he came, and he came deep, and when he slid his cock out, he was surprised to find that a couple extra inches had appeared, bringing the length slightly past ten inches.

“I realized I hadn’t been fair to you before, and you’re doing so very well, adjusting to all of this, that I wanted to be sure to reward you properly, Daddy,” Junior ran his hand up and down his softening cock, “I do so want you to be happy, Daddy, because if you’re happy, then I’m very, very happy.”

What was he doing? He was standing in a dining room. Not his dining room, he’d never been in here before. He’d just stuffed himself, sucked off a houseboy who he thought might have been a previous co-worker of his, and then fucked him to a second orgasm he could now see splattered across the floor beneath the table, all while his stepson had been encouraging him. This was wrong. He knew this was wrong, and at the same time, he didn’t care. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was that he liked it. He liked that it was wrong, he liked that if anyone had seen this, if anyone normal had seen what he’d just done, they would be disgusted with him. He liked that, it was turning him on, and his cock was still hard in his stepson’s hand, it was still hard, and Junior knew it, and he was smiling, and that hunger in him was still there.

“What do you think Daddy? How about some time by the pool? I love how the sun feels on my skin, don’t you?” then he leaned in a bit closer, to his ear, “And we could fuck in the open, we could fuck in the open, and someone might see us…”

He liked that idea. He liked that idea a lot more than he should, but he liked it, and his stepson led him out into the sun by his hard cock, and they fucked all afternoon long, and by the end of the day, by the time he’d stuffed himself all over again for dinner, by the time a very similar Sunday had come and gone, he had forgotten all about that old, dreary, one bedroom apartment. All about that old Max. This was his life now, but what he didn’t know, was what it was going to cost.

***

Come Monday, Max finally returned to work after his somewhat impromptu vacation away. He heaved himself out of the car–a massive breakfast already straining under his belt–and he realized he had no idea what he was doing here. He hadn’t received any sort of training for this position, and he imagined that being head of HR came with all sorts of responsibilities he had no expectations for…until he got in the building, and found himself already walking a somehow familiar path to the elevator, pushing the button for a floor much higher than usual, and arrived at his office somewhat late, but no later than he usually was–his staff waiting for him for their weekly meeting to discuss the problems of the week, and Mac found it much easier to fake the position of leader than he had expected. In fact, he began to suspect that he wasn’t faking it at all, as he delegated the tasks among his team members, reserving a few for himself–and by the time Junior arrived at his office to take him out to lunch, he was reasonably confident that he had nothing to worry about after all.

He spent a few minutes making out with his stepson in the privacy of his office, before they excused themselves and slipped out for lunch–he told his staff that he’d only be gone an hour, and Junior snickered softly–in fact, they didn’t return for two hours. Junior had insisted they go to a buffet and had proceeded to stuff Max to the gills, and he heaved himself back into the office–Junior taking a few minutes to suck him off under his desk, before letting his stepfather get back to his work, and after a few days, it began to feel like an old routine–and his rapidly expanding waistline seemed to agree. Each day, his suits fit a bit tighter, the gaps in his shirts between his buttons growing steadily, but he couldn’t seem to resist any sort of food–especially when it was Junior plying him. On Thursday, Junior was especially pleased with how much he’d eaten, and so when they returned to his office, instead of immediate sex, Junior opened up a database on Max’s computer that he hadn’t noticed before.

“A little gift, I got for you, daddy,” he said, “A database with information about every employee in the building–I know you have one you use for work, but this one is contains some extra information you might find…relevant to certain interests of yours.”

Indeed–it contained a wealth of information. In addition of headshots it contained complete physical descriptions of the employees–even the length of their cocks–as well as information on their sexual history and interests, their extracurricular hobbies, and even, in more than a few cases, blackmail material. “I don’t understand…how did you get all of this?”

“I have my ways, daddy–you should know better than anyone. Now, why don’t you thank your stepson properly today? My ass is aching for your big cock…”

Of course, Max had to taste Junior’s ass first, his stepson bent over his desk while he got down behind him, spreading his cheeks with his hands, burrowing his tongue up his chute until it had loosened nicely–then he stood up and gave him a long, slow fuck. Junior ended up cumming across his desk, and Max was more than happy to lick it up for him after he’d shot his load inside Junior. However, he still wasn’t quite sure what to do with Junior’s special database–until the next week, when he passed an intern in the hallway, and his heart was struck with a need he had never experienced before in his life.

Winter Vacation #1 (Interactive)

As I said a couple of weeks ago, I have been hovering around the next goal line on Patreon, and so have decided to go ahead and start posting seven days a week, as promised!The extra two posts will be of various other kids than the usual story chunks–metawriting entries, odd experimental sketches, caption days, and interactive stories! This month (and probably some of February too) I’ll be doing two interactive story chunks, where ya’ll will get to vote on what happens next! However, voting is going to be different this time around! Rather than taking votes through tumblr, which has no system for polls, and which was always a headache, I will be running the poll through twitter instead! Twitter polls are anonymous (so you don’t have to worry about having an alt-account to vote with, if you’re worried about real name issues), and a lot easier for me to manage than trying to track down and keep track of votes over here. In addition to the twitter poll, there will be a Patron only poll over on Patreon as well, meaning Patrons get double votes! I will provide links to both polls soon after each story is posted, and the polls will be live for 48 hours. With that, here’s the first chunk! Enjoy!

“Are you sure this is right?”

I’m just following the map.”

“Do they even have street signs up here?”

Rich squinted through the windshield, and the light sprinkle of snow falling. At least it wasn’t dark–yet. The light was beginning to dim, but they couldn’t be too far from his uncle’s cabin at this point. He’d only been up here a couple times before, as a kid, but it had seemed like a good idea, this winter break, to take a couple of weeks and spend it up here with three of his friends from college–Maury, Sam, Nate and Brett. His uncle was the one who had suggested it, actually, and his three friends had been game for it. It was a couple miles away from a ski resort, so they were all planning on a couple weeks of skiing, sitting by the fire, and just relaxing before heading back to college in January.

The three friends didn’t have long to bicker about directions–Rich recognized the turn off and drove up the snowy driveway to his uncle’s cabin…only to discover that the cozy cabin he remembered from his childhood had been substantially renovated. His uncle hadn’t mentioned that part, oddly enough–or had he? He had kind of a hard time remembering the conversation with him about this, so maybe he had mentioned it, and Rich had just forgotten. In any case, while the outside still retained a cabin aesthetic…the whole place was really more of a small house, nestled in some trees. In any case, they parked in the driveway outside the garage, and while his friends unloaded their gear, he went up the porch, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. He tried the light switch–nothing. Hadn’t his uncle mentioned something about needing to find a master switch down in the basement? That seemed right to him, and so he fumbled around the main floor until he found the staircase down into the basement, turned on his phone for some light, and made his way downstairs.

The fusebox, and the master switch, was right at the base of the stairs, on the right. He flipped the lever, and heard a low grade hum suffuse the air around him–he didn’t know what the sound was, but at least something was working. Beside the fuse box was a standard light switch, for the rest of the basement he supposed, and he flipped it as a test. Sure enough, the basement lights came to life–but they weren’t the sort of light he was expecting. Instead of a normal, white light, the entire basement was suffused with red, and looking around, he could begin to suspect why.

The basement was a large, single room with concrete floor and walls, and the entire place was decked out like a sex dungeon. Slings and horses; paddles, floggers and whips hung on the wall, shelves lined with all manner of dildos–it was obscene. Was his uncle a faggot? Rich could remember, at times, how his own father had talked about his brother, how he’d always suspected there was some “other reason” why his brother had never gotten married, and never brought a woman home to show their parents before they died a few years back. That was part of why his family had stopped coming up here, actually–because his dad and his uncle had suffered quite the falling out over…something. In any case, Rich had no love for faggots himself–so why in the world had his uncle told him to come here? Did his uncle think he was a gay or something? That his friends were too? He shook his head, confused. He’d just have to make sure none of his friends came down here and saw this shit, or he’d never live it down.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit curious…and hadn’t his uncle mentioned something else in the basement that he needed to turn on? Something about the heat, or the water? He couldn’t quite remember what it was specifically, but he knew there was something else down here that he simply had to do…something with, but that he would know it when he saw it.

Upstairs, he could hear his friends banging about and making their way inside the house, and Rich felt he needed to…warn them. That something about all of this wasn’t right, that it felt like a trap. He could…find what his uncle needed him to get, later. First…first, he needed to get his friends out of here. He was about to turn back to the stairs and hurry up them, when he finally caught eye of the thing his uncle had told him he needed–the the pit of anxiety in his guts twisted into another thick knot.

So, what did Rich see that his uncle told him he needed to use?

  1. One of the dildos up on the shelf.
  2. A rubber mask and suit hanging on the wall.
  3. A bed with bondage straps hanging off it.
  4. A collar and chastity device sitting on a table.

POLLS ARE OPEN UNTIL 3PM JANUARY 5TH

Here’s the twitter poll for everyone!

Here’s the additional poll for patrons only!

Max Meets Junior (Part 8)

Max was finally able to rip his eyes away up to the young man’s face, and it was a face he knew–the face of his live in house and pool boy, yes, it was that. Young, framed by a carefully manicured shock of blonde hair, smile beaming, but it was also a face he knew from a cubicle, from working closely with him for months. “J-Julian?”

“Julian sir? Please, I hate that name. Call me Jules, like you always have, it makes me feel so young and sexy,” he said with a slight growl, leaning in close, and then slid back. “Enjoy the first course! I’ll have more for you in a moment, sir.” He slipped back to the kitchen, ass swishing the whole way, Max’s eyes helplessly glued to it until it slipped through the door, and he turned to Junior.

“What…did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You…you fucking know what I mean!” Max said, “What the fuck did you do to him? To…to this house? To my…my fucking life!”

He was standing. He was standing, and his fists were clenched, and the anger was pouring through him, but Junior was unaffected. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and that only made him angrier. “Oh Daddy, if you didn’t want what I was offering, then you should have been a bit more careful about who you let into your house, and who you fuck.”

“What?”

“Look, it isn’t really your problem anyway–he’s the one who made the choice, Daddy. He was out of a job, his wife was leaving him and was going to take everything–kids, house, car, you name it. I gave him…a job opportunity, and I must say Jules has taken to it with such gusto, I’m so happy for him, I really am, and you’re going to…enjoy him so much. I do know your type, after all. Besides, you don’t even remember Julian, do you? Because that isn’t your job, anymore. No Daddy, you’re much, much more important than any of that, and I also know, for a fact, that you are very, very hungry. So why don’t you have a seat there, and eat?”

Max tried to object, he tried to fight, but somehow his stepson was able to maneuver him back into the chair and push him up against the table, lift the cover from the platter, and reveal a massive spread of food. Max found himself staring at it with the same intensity he’d had for Jule’s ass, and when Junior put food on his plate, he started…eating. And he ate, and he ate, until the platter was empty, but by then Jules had returned with a second, and Junior kept piling his plate full, encouraging him more, pouring mimosa after mimosa, and as he ate, as he stuffed himself, all of this began to feel more…normal.

This was, after all, how he spent his weekends. Huge breakfasts and huge dinners, all prepared by his beautiful and incredibly sexy Jules. Sure, he could remember Julian…a little bit, but it was losing urgency. It was losing…focus. And Junior was touching him, running his hands over him, handling the fork, feeding him, kissing him when he felt too full to go on, and then helping him eat more. It was at least an hour later when Jules finally stopped bringing in platters, when he was allowed to finish and relax, Junior pulling his chair out, stroking his bloated belly gently, giving him soft, gentle kisses between his moans.

“I…don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my whole life.”

“I think you’ll be eating like that much more often, Daddy, you little glutton,” Junior said, “Besides, it feels good, doesn’t it? Feeling heavy, feeling full, eating more than you should, being greedy. You like it.”

He did like it, but…he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit that letting go, that giving in felt amazing, that seeing Junior…seeing the way his stepson was looking at his bloat was turning him on. That his cock was as hard as it’s ever been in his life, that Junior was toying with it through the silk. When the door opened and Jules entered, it didn’t occur to him for a moment that this–him and his stepson making out–was the least bit improper. Jules certainly didn’t seem to think anything was wrong, and from the glimpse he got of his package as he walked over, barely constrained by his green jock. “How was breakfast, sir? It seems that you cleaned every plate.”

“Absolutely…delicious,” he said, Junior taking a moment to suck on his neck, “You’re a wonderful chef.”

“You know,” Jules said, “I have other talents other than cooking.” He stepped forward, his neon package inches from Max’s face, “Perhaps, sir, I could interest you in dessert?”

He shouldn’t. He was reaching out, groping Jule’s package roughly. What was he even doing, anymore? This…this wasn’t him. This wasn’t something he would have ever considered doing before, in that other life. His hand gripped Jules by the cock and pulled him closer, shoving his face into the pouch of his jock, sniffing and licking, listening to his houseboy moan, run his hand through his hair. He hooked a finger in the strap and tugged it down, freeing his young, already erect cock. He licked the head gently, and then began sucking, one of his hands slipping behind him, probing his taut hole with one finger. Junior had his silk shirt unbuttoned and was working lower, slipping his stepfather’s cock free from his pants and licking gently, slowly. It was a tease, but Max didn’t mind. He was enjoying this. These young men, desperate for him, desperate to please him. Because he was important. Because he mattered. He held Jules at the edge for a while, listening to him moan, two fingers inside him, pressing into him, and finally he came. Only then did he heft himself up from his chair, gut aching but he pushed past it. Junior had kept him hard, had kept him prepared, and he pushed Jules over the table, pushing his cock inside him with a single, firm thrust.

Max Meets Junior (Part 7)

This is a continuation of an older story of mine, one I never got around to posting, because it never got completely finished. That said, I thought this next portion was worth sharing! The first six parts can be found here:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Max woke up, naked, lying in a king sized poster bed, in the middle of a room approximately the size of half his apartment. He had absolutely no idea where he was. He threw off the sheets and scrambled up, wracking his brain. The day before, he could remember saving his job, he could remember talking with Mr. Herman about who to fire, and then he’d come home, and Junior had been here, and he’d fucked him. Finally fucked his hot stepson in his young ass, and fuck it had felt good, so fucking good. He grabbed his cock, and gave it a stroke, remembering how it had grown, seven inches of thick cock, but none of this should matter, he shouldn’t be thinking about Junior he should be trying…trying to figure out where he is.

But he knew where he was. He was home–his home. He had never seen this room before in his life, but he knew it was the master bedroom of his very large home in a gated community, where he lived with his stepson Junior. He knew that he could afford the mortgage because he was no longer a low level manager, but rather Vice President of Human Resources. It couldn’t be true, Things like this didn’t just happen overnight, and yet here he was, wriggling his toes into the carpet of his massive bedroom, admiring the broad windows overlooking a beautifully manicured backyard and pool surrounded by a high sturdy fence and thick foliage for ample privacy. His kingdom. His own private estate. His, and his stepson’s, and no one else’s.

He felt a strange rush in him, at that realization. An odd satisfaction, a pride that felt alien to him. He’d always felt good about himself, for being a man of modest means and simple taste, easily satisfied, but suddenly, looking out at this place, there was voice clamoring in him for more. He had more than he could ever need, but was it enough? He turned away from the window, suddenly finding it a bit hard to breathe. What was all of this? How could any of this have even happened? He wanted it, he knew that, he was glad for it, but…but should he want it? Would he have wanted it a few days ago?

Then, a more important question occurred to him–shouldn’t he be at work right now? He’d talked to…Mr. Herman yesterday–Wednesday–even though that felt like a past life. Shouldn’t it be Thursday? He grabbed his phone–it was already ten in the morning. With a panicked rush, he ran around the room opening doors until he found a walk-in closet stuffed with suits much more expensive than anything he’d ever owned previously, pulled one out and started getting dressed. He had underwear and pants half on when the door opened, and a completely naked Junior stepped into the room, and looked at him quizzically. “Daddy? What are you doing? It’s Saturday.”

Max stared at him. “Saturday? But…but yesterday was Wednesday, and I have to meet…Mr. Herman, we have to discuss Julian, the…the patents…”

“Oh Daddy, don’t worry about that! I took care of it for you. In fact, I took care of a lot of things for you, as you can see.” Junior crossed the room to where Max was, pulled the shirt from his hand and examined it for wrinkles. “I do hate it when people make me dance hard for my job, you know, but I must say it is always so much more satisfying when they finally give in. And you gave a whole lot, much more than I ever expected.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

“Daddy, it’ll be a bit hard to adjust I know, but I did it all for you–for us. So we can be happy. Now get those pants off–I’ll have Jules iron them for you this afternoon. For now, let’s find you something more comfortable to wear, and then it’s time for breakfast.”

Max tried to protest, tried to pry a more coherent explanation from his stepson, but Junior seemed more interested in clothing, sifting through the closet until he settled on a set of red silk pajamas which he cajoled Max into. The fabric felt amazing, but not nearly as amazing as Junior’s hands on his chest. He leaned in and tried to kiss him, but Junior stopped him with a finger. “Now now, we can’t get started with that just yet, or we’ll never get out of the bedroom today.”

“Would that…really be a bad thing?” Max asked, running his hands over Junior’s shoulders.

“”Oh, but Jules has put so much effort into breakfast, I’d simply hate for him to have wasted it. He does so admire you–not partaking would be rather rude, you know.”

Jules–Junior had mentioned that name several times now, but he still had no idea who he was talking about. He tried to ask, but the question was forgotten with a short, but intense kiss shared between them, as Junior buttoned on the silk shirt. Then he broke away, fetched a pair of leather loafers, Max slid his feet into them, and he followed his naked stepson out of the bedroom and into the house proper.

It was…big. That was the fact that kept occurring to him, as they moved down the hallway lined with guest rooms, a study, a small library, down a curved staircase to the ground floor, where he was finally able to smell and hear food cooking in the kitchen–however, they didn’t go to the kitchen–Junior led him to the dining room instead, where the long oak table which could seat twelve had two settings at one end. He took his place at the head; Junior poured him a mimosa, and then whisked off to the kitchen to see whether Jules was ready. He only had a moment to marvel at the opulence of the room, before Junior opened the door and a young man, no older than twenty-two or twenty-three strode into the room carrying a covered platter, wearing nothing other than a neon green jockstrap. Max was facing the door, and all he could do was stare, his jaw agape at the young man striding across the room, his eyes glued to the young man’s crotch, bouncing to and fro as he set the platter down in front of the two settings. “Good morning, sir,” Jules said with a giggle, “Glad to see someone was able to…rouse you this morning.”

The Coachman’s Cure (Sketch)

Based off the character from Pinocchio. 

The coachman had started out, at first, for the money of it. You could make a pretty penny off a jackass, back when they were useful–mines, the circus, farms. What did it matter, a few children disappearing here and there? Why go asking questions about Pleasure Island off the coast, who had built it, and what it was for? It was convenient, and profitable, and so long as those two boxes were checked, the coachman was satisfied. But it wasn’t long before there just wasn’t as much gold to be had from an ass anymore. The world was changing and so he began looking for other ventures and schemes–but he soon found that things were not nearly as simple as he’d imagined.

There were the dreams, at first. Lost on the island, wandering among the attractions and bars and rides, all alone, the braying in the distance coming closer until he would wake in a cold sweat, hands flying to his ears and mouth, certain he would be changed in the night, but always normal, for now, but the dreams only grew more intense. He took the boys there on a hunch, and sure enough, with a fresh shipment of asses bound for the mainland, he slept like a baby for weeks–but the nightmares returned, and the coachman understood. The island wasn’t simply a place for profit. For all intents and purposes, it was an employer–one he would need to keep pleased, if he was going to have a happy future.

He kept up his other business for a while, but everything fell by the wayside before long. It was just him and the island, unchanging with time, never growing old, always on the hunt for stupid young men to lure across the water, and ferry back in their cages. The island seemed to consume more and more of him, in time. At times, he would catch himself wandering among the attractions, talking to it like it was a person–it never replied, but he knew what it would say, in any case.

It got harder and harder, even as the island grew hungrier and hungrier. He couldn’t keep up–he wouldn’t be able to keep up, for too much longer, not if he didn’t find a better trap. Still, he’d managed to get a few…deals going, with some of the fraternities at the colleges around the city. They would send troublesome young men his way, and in return, he’d give them a fresh mascot (if they wanted) and a sack of gold for the pleasure. Gold was easy, after all–the island could give him as much as he needed, to sweeten a deal. But he could tell, now, that he was losing himself–his humanity. Slower than most, but it was happening all the same.

With most, it was the ears first. The ears, the teeth, the laugh. But with him, it wasn’t–it was his cock and balls, much to his embarrassment. He woke up one morning, to find a sheath running up his crotch, an eight inch cock flopping out–humanish, but also…wrong. He tried to ignore it, and stepped up his recruitment efforts, but it only got worse–the fur spreading from his crotch up his belly and down his legs, the beginning of a tail pushing out above his ass. He knew he had to do something–but what? He asked the island, he begged it for an answer, but it gave him nothing.

He picked up a shipment a couple weeks later–twelve frat brothers going on a pleasure cruise around the cape, with a stop at a mystery destination for an evening of pleasure. He could hear them from the caves at the cove, the laughter turning to screaming turning to braying–and listening to it, he found his inhuman cock beginning to…harden. He tried to ignore it as best he could–any indulgence on the island was enough to tempt things along, and he still had no intention of letting go of his humanity now, not after so many centuries of this. But his cock didn’t soften, and it wasn’t long before a figure came tumbling down the steps of the cove, hobbling and lurching for the boat.

There was usually a clever one, but the coachman could deal with them easily enough. He picked up the gun and leveled it at the donkeyboy charging toward him, bringing him to a halt, and told him to turn around and go have some more fun with his friends. The young man pleaded with him, everything word a frightened bray, and looking at him, his cock was growing even harder, forming a massive, obscene tent in the front of his pants. He…knew what he wanted–what the island wanted–but was it safe?

“You wanna…you wanna be normal, boy?” the coachman said, setting the rifle aside, “I got a cure, I suppose, but you won’t like it.”

The donkeyboy nodded and scrambled for the boat, but pulled up short when the coachman undid the front of his pants, and unleashed a massive, foot long donkey cock, stiff and leaking. His eyes went wide, and the coachman laughed. “Come on boy, you wanna be normal again? A real boy? Then suck, ‘n if you do real well, I can help.”

The donkey boy shook his head, but as he retreated, his hands and feet both solidified into hooves, leaving him wobbling on his hind legs a moment before he fell forward onto all fours. What choice did he have? He trotted up onto the deck of the boat, and started sucking at the coachman’s inhuman cock. He grabbed the donkeyboy by the long ears and started fucking his throat, working the shaft in as deep as he could, and it was only a minute before he felt sweet release, gout after gout of donkey cum pouring from his balls, directly into the boy’s mouth, and as he drank, the coachman watched as the last of the boy’s human face was swallowed by fur, a snout pushing out, and he brayed in confusion and horror at himself–but before he could run, the coachman had a loop of rope tight around his neck, and hauled him down into the hold of his ship.

When the new donkey was secured, the coachman inspected himself–he was by no means back to normal, but the hair had receded slightly, and the head of his cock flared slightly less–how many loads would it take, he supposed? His balls were churning again, the distant braying of the boys on the island making him hard, and he set off from the boat. There were bound to be a few holdouts left–why not allow himself a bit of pleasure too?

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 8)

“Well I gotta say fucker, for a cub, you make one hot fuckin’ daddy, you know?”

“Well don’t get used to it–that’s not…something I usually do…” Carter said, still feeling mortified. This was so unusual for him,

daddying out for an evening and waking up with a cub in his arms? That wasn’t usually his style at all. He’d been in for quite a shock, when he’d untangled himself from the young muscle cub in his bed, gotten up and seen himself in the mirror. The changes from the night before had reverted quite a bit, but that didn’t make it any less jarring to look at himself, covered in hair still matted with the cub’s dried cum, beard down to his chest with several streaks of white. The muscle cub, a young man named Wyatt, had been surprised as well, that the sexy daddy who’d picked him up while he was out of it on a Hot Shot had ended up being a chubby little cub like this. His tongue was thick still, and his cock was a bit less red, and a bit less hard, but he could go another round–not that the cub was likely up for it.

“Got any coffee? My head is pounding.”

I can make you some. Those Hot Shots at Cubster’s can be a doozy.”

“Fuck, I should know better. Those things always fuck me up,” he said, “Still, it’s worth it–how about that fuckin’ load, man? Ever seen one that big?”

Carter had seen a few larger, but not many. Mostly he was trying to connect the dots of the night, and the day, before, but nothing seemed to line up very well. Still, it had been a wild night–and now it was a new day. You just had to roll with it sometimes, and sort it out as you go.

“You, uh, wanna take a shower, while I brew a cup for you?” Carter offered.

Wyatt shook his head, raised one arm over his head and took a sniff, “Nah–Daddy loves when I come home smelling like fucking–drives him nuts! If I hurry, I can catch him before he heads off to work, and he’ll probably add his load to yours, if I can keep it in there–damn, you really stretched me out!”

Carter smiled, “I feel like I should at least get you breakfast or something.”

Wyatt just shook his head, and hauled on his rubber shirt. “Thanks man, just the coffee, and then I should get going.”

There was something welling up in Carter’s chest, some…longing he didn’t quite know how to explain, or put into words, but he swallowed it back down while he made a pot of coffee for them both. The cub took a mug and nearly chugged it, and then put on his sneakers and then bounded back up, a big grin plastered across his face, a grin that seemed…son familiar to him. Had Carter seen him before? Known him from somewhere? He didn’t really want him to leave, and yet he had no real reason for feeling that way, as far as he could know. Perhaps in another life, they’d known each other. The city felt like a parade of ghosts to him, at times. All of your lovers were just strangers in waiting; every stranger was a lover to be made. It could feel so lonely one moment, and then like the coziest family the next.

He walked Wyatt to the door, and gave him a hug and a kiss, smelling the cum on him, feeling a desire for another round rising in him, and in his crotch. He wasn’t really one for cubs, ever, but something about this one just made him…hungry.

“You know, I’m pretty much always free on Thursday nights–you wanna meet up again next week? I’d love to see you in some rubber, if you have any, maybe spend the night at Slick’s, see if we can’t bring that dirty daddy out again to play some more,” Wyatt said with a grin, “He was a lot of fun–not that you wouldn’t be too, of course.”

Carter said that he would like that, and they traded phone numbers to keep in touch, before Wyatt slipped out of the apartment and down to the street, joining the other throngs of men parading home after another night out in the city. The loss was there, but it was easing somewhat, and Carter made himself a nice breakfast to go with his coffee, since food usually made him feel much better, and by noon, he was feeling more like himself–and looking more like himself too, except for a few smile lines in his brow, and a couple flecks of grey in his goatee. Still, he had to admit that they looked good on him, in a way. He laughed at himself, imagining him changing into a bear. It was hard to imagine after being a cub for so long, but it wasn’t exactly out of the question, now was it? Hell, if Wyatt had his way, he’d probably be a full fledged daddy for real by this time next week. There was a buzz from his phone, and it was from Wyatt–a picture of his pert ass, cum dribbling down the inside of his thigh.

“Just like I thought–the smell of you on me got Daddy all excited. Thanks again, see you next week hot stuff.”

Carter grinned, feeling his cock throb, and jacked off to the picture, before sending Wyatt a pic of his load. Every stranger was a lover to be made–never had that felt more true to him in his lives.

-END-

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 7)

“I’m not going to fuck you, Wyatt, not like this.”

“You want to fuck me though. You want that daddy dick in this cubhole so fucking bad, I can fucking tell,” Wyatt said, and he crawled over, rubbing his red goatee against Carter’s shorts, “You wanted me in the club–I saw you staring at me the whole time, and fuck, it was so fucking sexy. They told me if I drank it, I’d, fuck, I don’t even know anymore, it’s too fucking hot in here.” He hauled off the rubber shirt and chucked it on the floor, “I want you Carter–I want you to know that I still want you, and I…I know you want me, and I can’t leave without this, and you want it too, I can fucking tell. So fucking come on daddy, give me that fucking cock.”

Carter tried one more time to convince Wyatt that this was a bad idea, that in his state, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted, but Wyatt got up, pushed Carter against the wall and kissed him, and the musk rolling off him, the way his saliva stung his lips and numbed them slightly, the heat of his muscles pressed against his soft chub–Carter stopped fighting, at some point, and leaned into it. “Yeah, fuck, when I was watching you cub out on that dance floor–you’re right, I wanted you fuckin’ bad.”

“I know daddy, I know. I wanted you to.”

“You say that to every daddy, I bet.”

“So what if I do? That doesn’t make it less true every time, does it?”

Carter spun them around and shoved Wyatt to the wall now, dove in, licking him from his pecs, up his neck, to the side of his face. His sweat was as spicy as his spit, numbing his face, numbing his feelings, everything other than his raging daddy dick. He dropped his shorts, and it jutted out, surrounded by a thicket of grey hair, a hefty foreskin hanging off the head. It wasn’t his cock–not the one Carter was used to seeing, but fuck it felt good and right, rubbing it against Wyatt’s ridged torso, listening to the cub groan in excitement. Yeah–he was a fucking hot shot alright, and Carter was more than happy to help him out. He reached down, and gently brushed his fingers across Wyatt’s cock, watching him shudder and nearly collapse in an indescribable mush of pleasure and intense feeling. “What’s wrong cub? You don’t like daddy’s hand on your hot cock?”

“Fuck, it hurts!”

Carter gripped it a bit harder now, giving it one slow stroke and then another, wrapping a hand around the small of Wyatt’s back as the cub arched into him, pulling them together, the heat of him infectious, Carter finding a delight in this sexy cub being entirely at the mercy of his hand, shuddering and gasping, begging him to stop, but craving it all the same, his mind lost in the heat of sensation until he was just drooling and moaning–right where Carter wanted him. He grabbed Wyatt by the hand and pulled him over to the bed, pushed him onto it onto his back, hauled up his legs, and then got down and started eating out his cubhole, Wyatt’s bright red cock jutting straight up from his crotch. “Oh god daddy, please! Please just fuck me already, I can’t take it anymore.”

Carter took his time–after all, a daddy needed to treat his cubs right, and make sure they were nice and open, especially with a cock of his size. He had big hands now, and even then he couldn’t quite touch finger and thumb around the girth of his much larger cock. Besides, he kind of liked feeling him squirm, wanted to make sure that even if Wyatt forgot everything else about their time together, he’d at the very least remember this night, and this fuck. Yeah–Carter was going to make sure this cub wouldn’t forget a moment. His tongue slipped into his hole, tasting him, precum drooling from his foreskin as he drove in deeper, and after a few minutes, slipped a spit wet finger into Wyatt’s hole–and then another. The cub was pleading at this point, hands inches from his cock, unable to even try and touch it. It was a deeper red now, his balls throbbing and swelling, signalling the cub was close.

“Tell me boy, you know why they call it a hot shot?” Carter said, as he ran the head of his cock up and down Wyatt’s crack. The cub didn’t reply–he might not even be listening, “Well, if you don’t, I have a feeling you’re about to find out.” He pushed the thick head into Wyatt’s hole, the cub groaning in fevered excitement, cock throbbing a bit faster, and when Carter drove all the way in, it was more than Wyatt could take. His cock erupted in a massive fountain of cum, shooting a couple of feet into the air before splattering back down all over his body and the bed sheets around him, the cum so hot it was steaming. “Yeah–that. That’s why they call it a hot shot. Feel good?”

Carter took the moans and groans for yes, since Wyatt could barely put a word together in his mouth–he just rode the aftershocks of the massive orgasm as Carter fucked him, his ass loose and eager. He ran his hands all over Wyatt’s body, smearing around the cub’s cum as it cooled and turned tacky on his skin, and he realized how close he was as well. He picked up the pace a bit, and with a few more deep drives of his cock he exploded inside Wyatt’s guts, and then collapsed on top of him, Wyatt wrapping his arms and legs around Carter’s massive frame, feeling the thick grey hair covering his back now as well, and kissed him for as long as Carter’s cock remained inside of him, which turned out to be quite a while, before it finally softened and slipped out, a small stream of cum following it.

By now, Wyatt was coming down off his drink, shaking and a bit confused, and so Carter crawled into bed with him and just held the cub for a while, keeping him close, soothing him and telling him that everything was going to be alright. At some point, the cub drifted off to sleep, snoring gently in his arms, and Carter could barely believe that just a week ago, he’d been…well, who he’d been before wasn’t really that important, he supposed. He was going to have a great time, being a cub for a while, and in the future? Who knew what was in store for either of them? The change you curse is the opportunity you need, as they say, and not too long after that, Carter had slipped off too, snoring a bit deeper than the cub, and they stayed that way until the morning.

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 6)

“Wyatt, we can’t do this,” Carter said, pushing him back. “You have a daddy already, this is just supposed to be a fun night. I don’t want it to get complicated–any more complicated than it already is going to be.”

“Yeah, but you’re fuckin’ hot though,” Wyatt said, cub soda sparkling in his eyes–along with something else, a certain fire. “Or fuck, you could be, damn. I feel fucked up.”

“You kind of are fucked up–did one of those guys give you another drink?”

Wyatt nooded, smirked, and went in for another kiss, grinding up against Carter’s leg. “Think he called it a hot shot or something, tasted like sucking on a dick sized pepper.”

“Fuck, we gotta get you home.”

“Why, so you can fuckin’ ravage my cub hole daddy?” Wyatt groaned in his ear.

“No, so we can put you to fuckin’ bed boy,” Carter growled back at him, not noticing his voice slipping a bit lower than usual. “Because when you come down off one of those, you’re going to feel like your head is in a vice, and right now you’re too stupid and cocky to not do something you’ll regret.”

“Yeah? Got any ideas, daddy? I’m happy to hear them.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Carter said, frustrated that his night treating his changing daddy to his first night as a proper cub was quickly turning into a night he’d spent plenty of times with other cub friends of him, dragging them home after getting a little too wasted, and a little too beyond themselves, depositing them on their couch to sleep it off before heading back out to get back to the night’s fun. Wyatt was more than happy to hang off his arm, and it was clear the hot shot was shooting through his system, his muscles throbbing a bit larger, growing slightly taller, his goatee thickening slightly as his hair shrank down into a buzzcut, his auburn hair brightening to a strawberry blonde. His cock and balls were larger and throbbing red, looking like the pepper Wyatt had mentioned before. He wouldn’t go soft for a few hours at least, and trying to jack off while on a hot shot could be excruciating, but if you didn’t cum, well, that was excruciating all on its own. That was part of the fun, really–an ever escalating spiral of horniness, losing yourself to this red veil of lust for the evening, inhibitions dropping to nothing, used by anyone around you until you finally explode–Carter knew from personal experience, but it wasn’t a drink for a newbie by any means.

Wyatt grew more and more restless as they got closer to Carter’s place, lunging for another kiss, whispering horrifically naughty shit in Carter’s ear, groping his cock and sliding his hand down the front of his denim shorts. Carter resisted it all, and Wyatt was getting more and more frustrated, until he shoved Carter up against a business shuttered for the night, and in the doorway ground his rock hard cock against him, begging Carter, begging daddy, for a little taste, a little pleasure, he was just so hot! He was hot to the touch, sweat pouring off him in buckets, and he reeked of musk–the scent was intoxicating all on its own, and Carter found himself…wondering what it might be like to just shove him down and make the cub suck his daddy cock for a bit–

He got hold of himself again, slipped out of the doorway where Wyatt had pinned him down, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off. The apartment was just another block, and he managed to get them both there without any further incident. Inside, Wyatt immediately tried to tear Carter’s clothes off of him, begging for his cock, begging to get fucked, but Carter just shoved him into the bedroom, told him to hang tight for just a second while he mixed him something to help him come down a bit, and he could sleep it off, shut the bedroom door between them, and heaved a sigh, proud of himself for holding it together as well as he did with that cub pawing all over him, even if it had made him feel pretty good to be the focus of the hot fucker’s attentions.

Carter went to the kitchen to fix a hangover fix he’d perfected for himself, and passed a mirror on the way there, pausing to take in the shift he’d suffered. He looked to be in his forties at this point, and while not quite a daddy, he was certainly no longer a cub by any stretch of the imagination. He heaved a sigh, thinking that if he was himself, he’d probably find this body hot as hell, but all he could think about right now was how Wyatt had looked on that dance floor, sweat dripping off him, running down his body, the way he’d looked over at him, the way he’d looked at him on that sidewalk, the way his breath had smelled, the way his pits had smelled, how hard that cock had felt against his gut. He was groping his own cock thoughtlessly, his other hand tweaking a nipple, hair turning a bit greyer as he stood there, remembering it–wanting it…but he stopped, and cursed the whole shitty situation. He…did want to fuck him, but on their own terms, not like this. Not with Wyatt strung out on a hot shot.

He mixed the drink he used to come down after a wild night, trying to keep his mind off of Wyatt as best he could, and went back to the bedroom, but when he got to the door–he swore he heard someone crying. He opened the door, and sure enough, there Wyatt was, sitting on the ground with his back against the bed, red hot cock jutting up from his lap, tears streaming down his face. He looked over at Carter, thought about hiding them, but how could he? Everything felt so close to the surface. “I’m such an idiot, fuck,” he muttered, “I should have known.”

Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Carter said, setting the drink on the dresser, “You should have seen me when I shot two of those one night, fuck. It was a…great night, but it took me days to feel like myself again.”

Do…I not remember that because I forgot?”

No, that was before we were together, and I never told you about it, I don’t think. If you thought I was wild when we were together, you should have seen me before. I was a hot mess–literally at times.”

Wyatt shuddered, went to touch his cock, and cringed, “Fuck, it feels like its on fuckin’ fire, but it feels so fuckin’ good!”

Carter got the drink from the dresser and handed it to him. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better in a bit.”

Wyatt took the glass and looked at it, and then up at Carter–and before Carter could stop him, he dumped it on the floor next to him.

“What the fuck? Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to drink it–I just want you to fuck me already, daddy.”