Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 4)

Ken remained at the sex shop into the early hours of the morning, until he’d essentially run out of dick to suck. Mostly satisfied, he let off a little belch and left out the back door–though it took him a second to realize why. He no longer lived at the apartment he could vaguely recall living at, but instead rented out the basement in a rundown house back behind the sex shop, where the owner of the shop also lived. It was convenient to say the least, and given how popular Ken’s mouth and cock were, the owner gave him a steep discount on the rent provided he put in at least a few hours in the hall every night. He was a bit worried about having to show his face at the office the next day, but that, he realized, was fading quickly as well. Phil, after all, thought a filthy daddy like him ought to be working in a dirty job himself, so he’d never gone to college. He worked menial construction jobs, the dirtier the better, and then after gorging himself on fast food, would spend his free time at the shop, or at home, if he decided to get to know someone better.

He descended the stairs and unlocked the door to his new place, and was momentarily disgusted by the state of things, before the acceptance settled in over it. He went in and remembered that he had finally managed to level up on the arctos dating app. He pulled it up, expecting to be as disappointed as he had been when he’d gotten the bronze designation–but found that, at last, the app had given him a much larger range of permissions than before. For one thing, he could see some profiles, finally. Scrolling through a few of them, he realized that they all seemed to be bronze or trial members. He still didn’t have access to everyone on the app, then, including the guys he’d already dated before this. It was better than nothing, though, and when he clicked into a profile or two, he saw that he could request a date with them, if he so desired.

He explored a bit more of the app though, and saw something else–a tab that said, “Edit Profile”. He hadn’t even seen his own profile at all, so he clicked it, and sure enough, there it was–everything about him. His cigar smoking, his porn addiction, his gaining and incest fetishes, his craving for humiliation, his gloryhole hobby. It was…kind of hot, reading all of it, but he didn’t really want everyone to know that, did he? He clicked something to edit, but instead of opening up a text box, he got a little pop-up. Apparently, he could modify some of the changes that had been inflicted upon him, but for each one he reduced–another one would have to increase. As a silver member, he could modify his profile three times before it would lockdown again.

He knew what he’d change first, for sure. He opted to minimize the ugliness that Phil had given him, along with the humiliation fetish, and opted instead for some additional body growth, bulk, and body hair that had been gifted to him by Jack. He accepted the change, and watched in the mirror as his ugly face straightened out into a more rugged look, and his body grew even larger–with his sizable build, he eventually hit six feet eight inches tall, and weighed in at 450 pounds, a good amount of that packed onto his massive gut hanging off him.

Satisfied with that, he looked through the rest of his options. He decided that, as much as he enjoyed sucking cock, he didn’t really want to be known all over town as a gloryhole pig. He reduced that option, and decided that he could afford to lean into the redneck, blue collar persona that Phil had given him a bit more. It didn’t seem that bad, after all. His reality shifted around, and while he still was a regular at the sex shop, usually it was to get his massive, ten inch, uncut cock serviced by a couple of cockwhores in the hall while he watched some porn in a booth. Then, he smelled it–apparently, when he’d opted for increasing his redneck persona a bit, he hadn’t accounted for the loss in hygiene that came with it. He showered–on occasion. Maybe once a week, sometimes with soap even! He had a constant farmer’s tan from years working outside in just a tanktop, and his hair grew out into a ponytail down his back, even as his beard grew thicker and longer.

He had one final change to use, and decided he might as well address the masturbation and porn addictions as well. Looking over the remaining options, he decided he could stand being a bit older–he found that he actually didn’t miss his younger looks from before, and had quite enjoyed the thought of being the “daddy” to another cub or two…or more. His history shifted again, no longer spending much time at all in the shop at all, other than to go down the hall and get himself serviced, if there was a cute young fellow who liked being called “son”. Hell, he didn’t even mind playing with a guy closer to his own age, so long as they played along as his younger brother. Too late, he realized he had also intensified his incest fetish, so that it was one of the only ways to get him hard–and he could remember fondly how, in his youth, he’d played around with his own redneck brothers, uncles, and even his father and grandfather on one occasion. He wished he could have had a boy of his own…though he supposed, with this little app, maybe he could, one day.

He stroked a load out, thinking about setting up a date with an unsuspecting cub, and then warping them into a total pig for daddies, longing for a proper father to set them right, dominate them, train them, abuse them–anything for family really. After he came, he was surprised by how domineering he’d become after those three revisions, but again, it wasn’t unwelcome. He looked around at the cameras in the corner of the room–since the owner of the shop wasn’t making money off his mouth anymore, instead he had rights to the videos he recorded down in the basement, when Ken brought home his young boys to play with. He was quite popular on the internet, and anything he brought in over rent went right into Ken’s pocket. It was late though, and he had work on the construction site in the morning. He collapsed onto his bed for a few hours of rest, got up with his alarm, rolled through the fast food joint for a few bags of breakfast to feed his gut, and got to the site mostly on time. All day long, he kept checking the app, browsing the various bronze and trial members, narrowing down his selection until he decided on one young man in particular that he quite liked the looks of.

He was twenty three, looked like a bit of a hipster with a nice beard for just a young guy, and quite a few tattoos and piercings. He was wearing a nice shirt and khakis in his profile picture, and it looked like he had a job at some tech startup in the city as a programmer. He’d been on one date already, with a rather grungy leather daddy, who had given him a bit of a stink fetish and a definite kink for leather and BDSM. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out some of Ken’s now more domineering nature. He sent the dating request, and told the boy that he wanted to meet him for a drink a rather run down pub near the worksite–some place that would make him feel plenty out of place. Before it sent the request, however, he got a pop up from the app, alerting him that placing a date with this profile would also result in some changes to his own profile, in order to enhance compatibility. He hesitated for a moment, but then figured, why not? It’s not like he hadn’t changed plenty already. He accepted the note, sent the request, and then headed for his truck–except he didn’t own a truck. There, instead, was his motorcycle–an absolutely massive hog custom built for his massive frame. It had cost a pretty penny, but he fucking loved riding it. Looking down, he saw that his clothes had changed as well–adding a pair of leather chaps, motorcycle boots, and a heavy leather jacket. Nothing to object to so far. He climbed on, and rode off to the bar, and parked out front a few minutes early.

He got a beer, and a table where he could see the entrance, and sure enough, there the young man was–named Ryan. Ken gave a wave, and he could see Ryan’s face turn into one of trepidation. The app wouldn’t let him walk away though, and so Ken threw his arms behind his head, leaned back in the chair as Ryan came over and sat down beside him. “Evening boy, how ya doin’ this evenin’?” Ken said in his now heavily accented voice.

“Oh, uh…I think…there’s been a mistake. I tried to delete the app off my phone, and then I still got this notification, but I…I think I should go.”

“But if you go, ya ain’t gonna be able tah git a whiff a these, boy,” Ken said, wrapped one arm around Ryan’s neck, and pulled him into his chest and pit. Ryan moaned in surprise and pleasure, Ken reaching down to grope the boy’s now rock hard cock, and knew that he had him right where he wanted him. He played with him while he finished his beer, softening him up a bit, making sure Ryan knew to call him Daddy, and that every time Ken called him boy, or better, son, he would get more and more turned on each time. When Ken was finished, he suggested they head back to his place. He threw Ryan in front of him on his motorcycle, pulling him close into his sweaty chest, Ken’s massive cock pressed against the small of Ryan’s back, and they drove off to his house, and Ken led his new son down into the basement.

His apartment down there had changed a bit. Half was still a bedroom and kitchenette, but most of the living area was now a well equipped dungeon, with quite a few cameras all around to record the action. Ken undressed Ryan, and while the boy worshipped his grungy body and dirty leathers, he started warping him, twisting him–and especially his hipster tattoos until he was covered with redneck sayings and references–especially trucks, musk and bikers. Then, he got him bent over the fuck bench, and after warming up his son’s ass with a couple of paddles, he hauled out his massive, stinking cock and worked it into his son’s hole, giving him a good rough fuck until they were both sweaty and smelly. Ryan’s own scent was intoxicating, and only served to make Ken even harder and hornier. He came once, unloading a massive wad of cum into his ass, but his cock didn’t soften–he just kept fucking his hole until it was gaping, and dumped in a second load. Ryan could barely stand afterwards, but Ken just led his boy over to the bed, telling him how proud he was of him, that Daddy loved him so much, laid him down and licked his boy clean for aftercare, sucking a huge load from his own uncut cock at the end of it.

Ryan took his leave after that, no longer a programmer, but now a truck driver with a fetish for big dicked bikers–though none of them could compete with Ken. In the basement, Ken felt incredibly satisfied and more than a little drunk with power. He pulled up the app and began poking around in the other profiles, wondering who his next target would be. What Ken didn’t know though, was that there were levels to the app above silver–and someone else had already set their eye on him.


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Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 3)

As with the prior chapters, folks who subscribe to my Patreon get access to the surveys that I use to plan out subsequent chapters. If you want to know more, you can check it out here!


Ken woke up the next morning and surveyed the destruction of his long night out with Eddie. His gut had diminished as he’d slept, but not my that much. He dug out an old scale he hadn’t used in a while from under the bathroom sink, weighed himself, and was shocked to see that he was 280 pounds–and from the looks of it, he had gained another inch or two, putting him at nearly six feet four inches tall. His beard was caked with cum, he stank of musk and cigar smoke, and as much as he wanted to be disgusted by himself, he was just horny–he hauled out his big cock from the stained briefs he’d crawled into bed, sat down in front of the computer, pulled up some porn and got to work on his first load of the morning.

His usual stash of porn wasn’t quite doing it for him, so he poked around for something new, and thought back to what Eddie had put on in the booth the night before–a whole lot of dad/son incest porn. While Ken had always liked the look of older guys, the thought of calling someone else Daddy had always made him a little queasy, but he pulled up some videos, started watching, and his reaction now was completely different. He found himself drawn especially to those videos which were a little heavier on the humiliation–whether it was the son manipulating the horny dad into sex, or whether it was the father catching his son in the act of sniffing his underwear, and humiliating him with the fact his own dad turned him on. One load became two and then three, with Ken licking up whatever didn’t soak into his briefs off his hand, feeling himself getting hungrier and hungrier–not only for food, but also for cum. Finally, he took a break, lit up a cigar and made himself some breakfast–but with those two cravings taken care of, the need to suck some cock was only getting stronger.

He’d woken up pretty late in the day, and thankfully he didn’t need to go to work for another few days, but he made his way back to the sex shop, the guy behind the counter giving him a nod and a welcome by name, like he was a regular. A shameless regular, no less. Ken went around behind the booths, half expecting Eddie to be there waiting for him, but there was just a couple of other pigs waiting for cocks to pop through the gloryholes in need of service. It was slow for a while, and Ken was getting anxious. So much so, that he went out and gave the guy behind the counter a blowjob as well, just to keep his hunger sated. There was a fast food joint down the street, and he went down there and stuffed himself for an hour or so, and when he got back to the shop, business had picked up. He sucked a good number of cocks, and when he was feeling mostly satisfied, he packed up what little dignity he still had and went home, where he stayed up for a few more hours, smoking cigars, watching porn, and jacking off, eventually collapsing into bed, considering a shower, but no longer sure why he would even bother.

The rest of his weekend proceeded the same. He’d hoped that some of the desires would wane slightly, but he found himself only growing fatter, even as his height stopped creeping up. By Monday morning, he was six foot four and 325 pounds, and thankfully, his work clothes had adjusted themselves to his new reality, like much of the rest of it had, and grown along with him, though finding the tent like shirts a bit snug on his massive, hairy frame only made him more self-conscious. Work, at least, would be more normal, he told himself–but when he arrived, and tried to focus on the tasks at hand, it was nearly impossible. He pulled up porn on his work computer, and right there in his cubicle, he rubbed out load after load right into the crotch of his suit pants, even as he found himself wondering what each of his male coworker’s cum would taste like.

He took a long lunch break to stuff his gut with fast food, and took several bags back with him to his cubicle, only to be greeted by his boss waiting for him. He was an older fellow, and gave Ken a bit of a flurry in his gut–though any guy could get that reaction out of him at this point. He berated him in his office about his performance and missed work days, only for things to take a rather…unsettling turn, and the humiliation turned rather sexual. Ken found himself bent over his boss’s desk and getting fucked by his sizable cock, and then fed his big load, before being sent back to his cubicle for the rest of the day, where he ate, and jacked off–and then saw the notification on his phone. Someone else wanted to go on a date with him, from the Arctos app.

It didn’t seem like that big of a deal though–the guy just wanted to grab a beer with him after work. If nothing else, it would be another load of cum, right? Ken was a bit disgusted that he was using his cravings as justification for behavior at this point, but if he’d learned anything about dates on the Arctos app, it was that he couldn’t seem to say no to them. So he agreed, the guy sent him the name of the bar, and Ken left work, wondering what sort of hot bear he’d be meeting.

He got to the bar, which was more working class than the sort of place he usually frequented, and scanned around for who he was meeting. The crowd was all guys, but clearly more straight than gay. He looked around at the various grizzled fellows, all done with work at the docks, or factories, or construction yards, but the one who waved him down was none of those–but a burly young fellow sitting in a booth in a corner, who was probably Ken’s age, or a bit younger even. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, as he went over and slid in across from him, the young man waving down a waitress and getting him a beer.

“Ken, right? Howdy! I’m Phil. Glad you could make it.”

“Sure thing, I was just getting done with work myself,” Ken said, loosening his tie, feeling a bit out of place in this more rundown place, noticing how many guys were slipping them glances, or him, more specifically.”

“Yeah, I just got finished with work myself, I work in construction,” he said. “You look like you’ve been stuck in an office all day.”

Ken nodded, and shuffled in his seat a bit. Phil was congenial, looked a bit grimy and dusty in his hi vis gear, but just wasn’t quite his type–or at least, not the type he’d found himself developing over the last few dates. Ken wasn’t going to turn down a load of cum, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

“You alright? You seem a little distracted. Long day?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ken said, “I…you just aren’t quite what I was expecting, is all.”

“I get it,” Phil said, “You like your guys a little older. I do too.”

Ken looked at him a little confused. “They why ask for a date with me, if I’m not your type?”

Phil threw him a mischievous little grin, “You’re not my type yet, daddy.”

The word sent a shiver down Ken’s spine. “I, uh, gotta go, I just realized I forgot something at the office–”

“Daddy, sit down. See, you’re a great package already. Big, chubby, hairy, big beard, and a total pig for cock. We just need to adjust your…outlook, is all. Come on, sit down, have another beer with your boy for the afternoon, and let’s chat.”

Ken sat back down, and when the waitress came back by, she dropped off a whole bottle of cheap whiskey, which Phil insisted Ken swig from while he told him what he was going to expect from his latest daddy. For one thing, he wasn’t going to be working in an office–or if he did work in an office, he wouldn’t be wearing a suit, or anything like that. No, he liked his daddies with a bit more country in them. Ken listened, his tie disappearing, his button down swapping out for a grungy undershirt, khakis becoming grubby looking jeans. His daddies weren’t very smart either–no college education, for sure, and preferably a high school dropout. After all, Ken didn’t have much of a brain for smart stuff like that–for all of his life, he mostly just let his big cock do the thinking for him.

Ken was now quite drunk, and couldn’t seem to keep his hands away from his cock, which was not only hard, but quite a bit larger than it had been before. “Yeah, that’s right, just a big fuckin’ donkey cock shoved in those pants of yours, isn’t it? Just a stupid, sex obsessed daddy, can’t keep your hands off yourself, even when your out in public. You like it though, don’t you? Showing off that big fucking bulge of yours to anyone around? The humiliation just makes your hornier–and I think a lot of guys get one look at it, and probably want you inside them. You can’t turn anyone down though. You might be a top, but you’re too stupid to be much of a dom. You like other guys telling you what to do, who to fuck, how long, how hard, how many times. You’re just a stupid, dirty, ugly stud daddy. An ugly fuckin’ pig. No one would even look twice at you, if it wasn’t for that monstrous cock of yours, those huge balls, constantly leaking into your grungy underwear–”

“Fuck boy, ya can keep talkin’ if ya want, but if ya do, this load isn’t goin’ in yer hole, I can tell ya that.”

“What, you wanna fuck my hole daddy? I thought you liked older guys? I guess you don’t. I guess you like young cubs, don’t you? I mean, you’ll fuck anyone of course, if they ask for it, but that’s who you like best, muscular, handsome boys like me. You’ll do anything for someone like me, won’t you?”

Ken nodded, drooling a bit from two ends, and finally, Phil stood up, and led the way into the bathroom, where he bent over the toilet in the larger stall, and pushed his butt out in Ken’s direction. He didn’t need another invitation–he dropped his grubby pants, ran his precum-slicked head up and down Phil’s crack, and then pushed his massive head into his hole. 

“Oh fuck Daddy, you’re so fuckin’ big!”

“Eleven fuckin’ inches boy, and you’ll get all of it if ya want it.”

“Of course I fuckin’ want it, you stupid fuck! Get it in me!”

Phil was tight, but then, Ken hadn’t met much in the way of holes that were loose when it came to his cock. He drove it in, focusing on what Phil told him to do, and it wasn’t long before both of them were sweaty, and Ken was getting real close to cumming. He drove his massive cock in up to the root, and filled his boy up real good with a massive load, holding it in there as long as he could until Phil told him to pull out, and then the young man turned around and sat down on the toilet, his own cock rock hard. “Fuck daddy, that was a good one–now come get your reward. You love boycum, don’t you daddy?”

“Fuck boy, I love any cum, but boys like you always taste the fuckin’ best,” Ken said, got down on his knees, and started sucking. Phil didn’t last long, fed Ken his load, and then he was standing up, and out of the stall faster than Ken could do much. It wasn’t surprising–not many guys wanted to be seen with him, after all. He got himself put back together, stepped out of the stall, and got a good look at his new face for the first time, and was a bit shocked. His big ears and nose, heavy brow with sunken eyes, beard climbing up onto his cheeks paired with substantial balding, most of his beard greying now and colored a bit yellow from all of his cigar smoking over the years. He was an ugly fucker–but what a fucker he was, he supposed. He left the bathroom, paid for his drinks, and left–climbing into an beat up old pickup he couldn’t recall owning, and headed for the sex shop. One load couldn’t satisfy him after all, and at least through a hole, no one cared what he looked like. Guys loved his massive cock, and he could usually get two guys to service him at the same time–provided they didn’t have to look up at his ugly mug while they were doing it. On the other side, he could get as much cum as he wanted, and no one needed to know what he looked like either. 

He took a little break to check his phone that night, while grabbing dinner at the fast food joint nearby, and saw a notification from the arctos app–he’d received another upgrade! He was now, officially a silver tier member, with new benefits. Most importantly, he discovered that for the first time, he could see other profiles on men on the site–those who were bronze or trial members–and request to go on dates with them. And he assumed, that also meant he’d be able to warp them in the same way he had been warped before this. His mind was rather excited by this–but it would have to wait. He finished his meal and went back to the shop. There were still more cocks to suck after all. In a day or two, he’d find someone for a date, and take the app’s new privileges for a test drive.

Caption: Truer Words #1: Hick

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


“Fuck, I hate it here, I don’t know why we always have to come visit my uncle’s stupid fucking farm. Whole towns just full of a fat, stupid hicks, probably a bunch of incestuous fuckers too, judging by how ugly they all are,” Nick muttered to himself in the guest room of his uncle’s house, just wanting to be back home with his friends.

“Truer words were never spoken…”

Wait, what was that?” Nick said, and felt an odd shiver run down his spine. He could have sworn that something had spoken, but he was alone, wasn’t he? Whatever, he might as well take a selfie and post it to Instagram, do something to show everyone how lame it was out here. He went into the bathroom and gave a bored pose in the mirror, and only when he looked at the pictures after, did he realize he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. He was wearing a set of overalls!

“What the fuck? I didn’t put this shit on,” he said, trying to get the clasps to unhook, but they wouldn’t budge. He didn’t even notice that he was beginning to grow cubbier, a beard filling in across his face, hairline receding as it turned from brown to grey. The room started to spin around him. He dropped his phone and tried to steady himself, and when the room finally stopped spinning, he looked around and he…wasn’t in the same bathroom as before. 

This one was…grungier, and smaller. He hauled himself up with the lip of the counter, and found himself staring at a new face–a bulbous ugly nose, scrunched eyes, balding hair nearly white and pulled back into a ponytail. He got his feet underneath him and stood up, now six inches shorter than before.

“Where in fuckin’ hell, this ain’t Unc’s place!” he said, his voice deeper and raspier, with an obvious rural twang, “What the hell happened tah me? I ain’t…some old redneck fuck!”

“Nick, where the fuck are ya?” Came a voice from outside the room, one he didn’t recognize. A moment later, another chubby fellow poked his head into the bathroom, “Come on Nick, we’re gonna be late bro,” he said.

“Nick’s head started spinning again, but this time, it was also growing thicker, and slower. This…this was Billy, his little brother, right? He tried to tell himself that he didn’t have a little brother, but…but that wasn’t right, of course he did. “Sorry Billy, just got distracted I guess.”

“No worries bro, I know ya ain’t the smartest fucker, but yer one of the cutest pigs in town,” he said with a wink, and pulled Nick into a kiss–a full kiss, with tongue, that left him panting a bit, his stubby cock hard in the front of his overalls. Unable to stop himself, he dropped to his knees, hauled out Billy’s cock and blew him. It didn’t take long, Billy could cum ten times a day, but never lasted longer than a minute. Nick guzzled down his brother’s cum, licked his mustache clean, and got up.

By afternoon, all memories of his prior life were forgotten for good–aside from a little corner of his dim mind, where the old Nick was trapped, well aware that he was caught in his own worst nightmare, but no one would hear him ever again.

Commission – Piggy Pizza

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


Part 1 – Staffing Solutions

It was the sudden rumble that woke Max up. It sounded like a stomach grumbling, but something about it was off. He realized that he hadn’t just heard the rumble, but he’d felt it through his hand, but his hand wasn’t…on his own stomach. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at the back of someone’s neck, and not a womanly neck, either. He recoiled away, nearly fell off the bed in the process, and stood up, looking down at Jeremy, his roommate–or at least, someone who looked mostly like Jeremy, there on his bed, naked.

The main difference was that this Jeremy looked to be fifty pounds heavier than the Jeremy from the night before, not that he could really remember what had happened the night before. They’d gotten home from football practice, completely starving. Jeremy had seen a new pizza place had opened up near campus, and suggested it for dinner. They’d ordered delivery, the food had arrived, and after that…well, he couldn’t recall much of anything. It was then that Max realized he’d been staring right at Jeremy’s uncovered, fat ass, and his cock was…hard. Real hard. Hard enough to climb back into bed, slide his cock right in there and–

He retreated from his room and into the bathroom, turned on the light, and it was the scream that woke up Jeremy. He rolled up out of bed, waddled his way to the bathroom, where he found Max gripping his own larger, hairier gut, horrified. “What the fuck happened to us? What the fuck did we do last night?”

“Did…did you get fatter?” Jeremy asked, then looked down, “Fuck, we’re…both fatter?”

“Do you remember anything from last night that was strange?”

“Just…that pizza bro, it was fucking good, but…I felt real weird afterward, and you were acting strange too, I…I don’t remember anything, though…” Jeremy said, blushing a bit, “Do…do you?”

“No, nothing.”

“Oh, ok, good.”

“It had to be the pizza. What was the name of that place again?”

“Piggy Pizza, it’s just a few blocks away from campus.”

“Come on, we need to go there, and figure out what the fuck was in that stuff, so we can go the hospital and fix it.”

Jeremy’s gut grumbled again, and he grabbed it with both hands. “Can…we have breakfast first?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you fucking think of eating at a time like this?”

Jeremy shrugged, and followed Max’s lead as they got dressed in whatever clothes they could find that mostly fit their changed bodies, got into Max’s car with a bit of a struggle, and drove the few blocks over to Piggy Pizza. They got out, the door said the place didn’t open until eleven, but there was clearly someone inside working away. They pounded on the door until the fellow came out from behind the counter and opened the door for them both. He was an older fellow, wearing a flour and sauce stained apron, easily six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds of beef, with a thick beard braided and tied off against his chest.  “Can I help you boys? I don’t open for lunch for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Yeah you can fucking help us, you can tell us what the fuck your pizza did to us last night!” Max said to him.

“Oh fuck, what smells so fucking good?” Jeremy said, his gut growling again, and he pushed past both of them and into the restaurant. The place was sizable with plenty of seating, and a lunch buffet off to one side, where a couple of pies were already resting, ready to be eaten. Jeremy stumbled over there, drooling, grabbed a slice and shoved it in his mouth with a moan of delight, while Max just stared at him, horrified.

“What the fuck are you doing man, don’t eat that shit!” Max said.

“Oh fuck it’s so fucking good though…”

Max went over and tried to pull Jeremy away, who just slapped at him until he backed off. He turned around, only to find the owner of the shop had locked the door behind them, and was grinning wide. “When I delivered those two pies to you two last night, I had a feeling you were just the couple of pigs I was looking for to help out in the shop.”

“What are you talking about?” Max said.

“Go on, I know you must be hungry. Those pizzas last night would have only scratched that appetite of yours, pig,” the man said, walked over, reached past Jeremy, and picked up a slice of pizza. It was so fresh, Max could still see the grease pooling on the surface, and he realized he was drooling. “Come on pig, let Boss help you out,” he said, pushed the pizza to his lips, and Max opened up and took a bite, moaning as his cock leaked a bit of precum into the front of the sweats he had squeezed into.

He felt his gut growl, and it heaved out as he swallowed, adding a few more pounds. He tried to pull away when he realized it, but Boss just pushed the slice into his mouth, more forceful this time, and Max couldn’t stop himself from taking bite after bite, begging through a full mouth for him to stop.

“I’ll stop pig, but only if you stop. All you have to do is not take another bite. Maybe I’ll even give you that body of yours back, would you like that? Wanna be muscular again? Smooth? All you have to do is stop.” Max tried, turned his head to the side, but he could feel his jaw struggling against him, twisting back, opening up, taking another massive bite, and the owner just laughed at him. “Guess that means you’re mine, pig.”

Slice after slice disappeared down his throat, and with each one, he only got worse. Fatter at first, and then he started getting even hairier. Boss started telling him about his life now, about who he was. Sure, he’d started college on a football scholarship, but that was a few years ago now. He was too lazy to keep up, and after a year, he’d added fifty pounds. He lost his scholarship, had to get a job delivering pizza, and only grew bigger. Now here he was, his late twenties, balding already, too hairy to work the kitchen for sanitary reasons, delivering pizzas for his boss. For his owner. The man shoved Max down onto his knees, hauled out his cock, and fed it to him. He took one taste of his owner’s precum, and knew, somehow, this was what was in the pizza, this is what had been changing him. He tried to resist, but he sucked his new Boss dry, and when he came, and Max swallowed it all down, everything Boss had told him, that whole story, it became…real. He stumbled up, now close to 400 pounds himself, hair all over his body, head balding, beard down to his chest, sweaty and greasy and stinking. He knew he should hate it, but he didn’t–he groped his fat, reached under and found his cock and started milking it, grunting while he kissed his Boss, and they turned their attention to Jeremy, who was still stuffing himself silly at the buffet.

He was even fatter than Max now, close to 500 pounds. His eyes were terrified at what he was doing, but there was no stopping, not any more. “What do you think of your boyfriend, Jeremy?” Boss asked him, dragging his face around and showing him the hairy, sweaty pig that Max had become. “Wait…Max? What…what the fuck happened to you?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Max said, groping his fat frame, running his hands through his greasy fur, “Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ horny…”

“I bet you are, watching this fat pig stuff himself always gets that cock of yours hard, but not as hard as this fat ass, right?” Boss said, gave Jeremy’s ass a slap, and they watched it inflate, growing wider than the rest of him, Max drooling again, but for a different reason. 

“Fuck, he’s got such a hot fuckin’ ass.”

“Come on pig, I know you’re still hungry for dessert,” Boss said, tore open the already weakened sweats on Jeremy’s body. With a grunt, Max got down on his knees, crawled forward and shoved his bearded face into Jeremy’s crack, eating at the sweaty, rank crack, Jeremy moaning in confusion, not understanding anything of what was happening to him. 

“I…what did you do to him?” Jeremy moaned, “What’s going on?”

“Don’t think too hard now, we all know you’re the dumbest fuck here, Jeremy. Too stupid to be a driver, and too fat at this point. Lucky for me you can operate an oven, with supervision. Still, you have a few good qualities, right? Well, a few things that disgust everyone else, but Max there sure loves them, like your fucking musk, and those rank ass farts of yours.” The mere suggestion was enough for Jeremy’s new ass to rip off a ripe one right into Max’s face, who moaned, his own cock drooling even more pre onto the floor below him.

“No, no that’s not, I was…big! I was a big, like, football guy…”

“No you weren’t, you stupid fuck. You dropped out of high school, and have been working here for years now. You met Max when he started working here, and you pigs moved in together, with my permission of course. I own your fat asses after all, neither of you thinks a fucking thing without my damn permission. But that asshole of yours is as hungry as dick as this mouth is for my pizza, and Max is a horny hairy freak, so it works out, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy tried to think, tried to remember, but all that came out was a loud fart from his hole, right into Max’s face, who just grunted in pleasure and dug in even deeper. Boss grabbed his head, shoved him down, and Jeremy sucked on his cock, already hard again after feeding a load to Max–but then, Boss could always produce a load for his dough, and his sauce, and his toppings. That was how he had the best pizza in town, after all, and when he saw someone he liked, well, he usually got them to work for him, one way or another. “Max, get up, I wanna see you fuck this fat pig while he swallows my load.”

“Yes Boss!” Max said, hefted himself up, dropped his gut on the small of Jeremy’s back, and worked his cock into Jeremy’s loosened hole. He drove in rough, panting and heaving, the air thick with the combined musk rolling off the three of them in the lobby of the restaurant, until Max came with a squeal, and Boss came too, Jeremy swallowing down a load and feeling everything solidify around him, just as it had around Max. 

The restaurant opened an hour late that day, since the two new employees had demolished the lunch buffet. Boss got them into their new uniforms–shorts that were a bit too tight on them both, a polo shirt with Piggy Pizza across the front, neither long enough to disguise their guts hanging out below, and a ball cap with a smiling pig on the front. Then, Boss secured a leather collar around both of his new pigs, reminding him that they were his personal property. Max also got a cage around his cock, and for Jeremy, a vibrating plug in his hole to keep him excited and motivated. If Max got good tips, Boss would unlock him and let him fuck his boyfriend at home that night, but if he didn’t, well, he’d just suffer, hard in his cage from Jeremy’s gas and unable to do anything about it. Neither of them complained, though. Why would they? They loved working at Piggy Pizza–it was the perfect place for a couple pigs like them, after all.


Part 2 – Franchise Opportunities

A year had flown by since Piggy Pizza had opened, and for Max, it had been a bit of a blur. Boss didn’t let his worker slaves have much in the way of time off, after all, and so he delivered pizzas from the time the shop opened for lunch until the evening, snacking on pizza along the way, of course, until they closed at one in the morning. Then, he would drive Jeremy home in his truck, they’d usually have a fuck session if he’d earned one and fall asleep, before getting up, throwing on their still dirty uniforms, and doing it all again. 

Boss took a particular interest in Jeremy over that year, feeding him almost constantly in the shop. Six months after they’d been conscripted, Jeremy had packed on another hundred pounds, and was pushing the scales at nearly 600. One evening, after a long stuffing, he couldn’t manage to get into the truck for the ride home–but Boss had a solution all ready for him. He’d made him a little sleeping area in the storeroom of the restaurant–Jeremy would be living there from now on. It would be more convenient. 

Of course, Max was still horny as hell, and so he’d rush over when he woke up, get his fuck in before his shift started, and Jeremy only grew larger and larger, and muskier and muskier, since he didn’t have a shower in the restaurant. Jeremy eventually couldn’t even keep up with the baking, but Boss had a new role for him already planned–he hooked Jeremy’s cock up to a milker, and started pumping cum out of him, a new blend that Boss had been encouraging inside him, one that he had a feeling would help them grow their customer base even more. It worked–Boss’s own cum was more potent, but Jeremy’s kept folks coming back for more, and more, and more pizza every day. Business was booming, and they had to pull in a few other guys from campus as delivery slaves for the business, with Max as their general supervisor. One night, while they were tag-teaming Jeremy, the rest of the staff home for the night, Boss told Max how proud of him he was. He was thinking about opening up another franchise soon, and he thought Max might be an idea manager for a new location–under Boss’s strict control of course.

Max was thrilled by the idea. He rode that high for the next few days, until it all came crashing down with a sudden drop, when he delivered a load of pizzas, laced with a bit of Jeremy’s special sauce, to a house he…almost recalled, but one he couldn’t place. He rang the doorbell, the door opened, and he quickly realized he was delivering pizzas to a frat house. A frat house he knew. It had been his frat, a lifetime ago now, before he’d met Boss and started working at PIggy Pizza. He prayed that no one would say anything, but after staring at him for a moment, the jock who had opened the door said, “Holy fuckin’ shit, you’re…Max Grainger! Oh my fucking god, what the fuck happened to you?”

Max’s face reddened. Boss’s magic sauce could twist reality, but there were always these little pockets left behind. “Look man, I don’t wanna talk about it. Have a good night.”

The jock called the rest of the guys to the door, and they laughed, watching the player who had been recruited as a possible star waddled back to his truck, ass crack exposed, now just a loser dropout pig. Max’s face was burning, and he grumbled all the way back to the shop, angry that he was even angry about it. He liked working for Boss! He was going to have his own franchise soon! And a new franchise, he supposed, would need some more labor, wouldn’t it? He grinned then, and when he went back into the shop, he told Boss what had happened, and his idea.

Boss was skeptical of Max’s plan, but decided to give him a chance. He fed Max a big load of his cum, and Max felt something happen to him, his balls swelling and tingling. Boss told him that he had the power to change men like he did now–not nearly as potent, but more than enough for what he had in mind, this evening. First though, he had a few more deliveries to make. It was mostly to regulars around town, those who had been especially susceptible to their special ingredients. As the men opened their doors and smelled Max, they all seemed especially interested in him somehow. Max had fucked around with most of them–after all, now that Jeremy was living at the shop, he had to get his fucks in somewhere, but tonight, he was saving his loads for something special. That didn’t make it any less difficult to turn down the men who would invite him in, try and sneak a sniff of his pits, tell him that he seemed real sexy tonight. In the end, they were all mostly satisfied to take their pizzas, leave him a substantial tip, and Max went on his way back to his truck, sniffing his own pits. Sure, they were rank, but no more than usual. Is this what it felt like being Boss all the time? If it was, he could get used to it.

It was close to one in the morning, the shop was closing up, and Max loaded up a hefty stack of eight pizzas Boss had waiting for him, for one final delivery. He pulled up back in front of the frat house, already leaking into his uniform shorts, and the more excited he got, the more musk he seemed to be putting out–and maybe it was a bit stronger than before. He hefted the stack of pizzas to the door, rang the doorbell, but no one answered. It took a few rings, and a hard pounding, before any of the frat boys inside actually took notice, and one of them came to answer the door. Max grinned. He was showing good progress, a solid gut, a good amount of hair on his chest, and he was half naked, with grease and cum smeared across his face. 

“Who the fuck are…oh fuck, you…smell real fucking good man,” the frat boy said, stumbled out onto the step, and shoved his face into Max’s pit, snorting in his stink.

“I got your second order of pizzas, why don’t you help me bring them inside, boy?” Max suggested.

He had to suggest it twice, and haul the young man’s chubby face out of his pit, but he finally got the hint, picked up half the boxes of pizza, and brought them inside, Max following him in and shutting the door behind him, looking at the party already in progress.

The pizzas were demolished, the room was demolished as well, and all of the frat brothers were scattered about the living room, on the furniture or the floor, in various states of fucking, sucking, licking and sniffing. None of them had gained less than thirty pounds, and some, like the one who’d opened the door, had gained more. But the one that Max was looking for wasn’t among them–the one who had laughed at him earlier, that was the one he had some special plans for. He took the pizzas one by one, opened up the boxes and laid them on the floor, calling for the little frat pigs. The smell of him, and the pizza, caught them and pulled them over, all of them grabbing for slices like greedy hogs and shoving them in their mouths, moaning and grunting in delight. That would keep them all busy, and growing, for a while longer. He saved one pie, and started looking through the house for the missing boy.

He found him after a few minutes, holed up in his room. Max could hear him on the phone with someone, trying to explain the situation–probably 911, but they kept dismissing it as a hoax. Why wouldn’t they, after all? He knocked on the door, the voice inside went quiet, and said, “Who’s there?”

“Oh, just me,” Max said, “Got your second delivery of pizzas here, but everyone downstairs was too busy to pay me. Why don’t you open up, boy, and we can settle your bill?”

“Fuck you! You fucking freak, what the fuck did you do to everyone?”

Max just chuckled, hauled off his shirt, took a piece of pizza out of the box, and rubbed it in his pits, soaking it in his stink. For good measure, he wiped some of his precum off on it too from the inside of his shorts, then shoved it under the door. 

“What the, fuck why the fuck does it fucking stink!” the voice said, “Oh fuck, it smells so fucking good, and I’m so fucking hungry…”

He didn’t say anything else for a minute, just the sound of someone scarfing on the other side, and then quiet, and a belch. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and open the door, boy?” Max said.

The lock clicked after a moment, and when it opened, he saw a rather zonked looking young man on the other side, grease smeared across his face, drooling slightly. Max pushed his way in, and fed him the rest of the pizza. His name, he found out, was Doug, but Max decided Dough would be a much better name for him. Dough pleaded with him through the first few slices, begged him to stop, but by the time half the extra large pie was gone, he was ravenous. It was only natural, then, for Max to haul out his cock, and give him something to wash all that pizza down with.

Max was so horny, that he came after just a few sucks, and the orgasm was long. He could feel it, all of the corruptive potential he was feeding down Dough’s throat, and when he’d finished, a very different sort of fellow was sitting on the floor. He hauled Dough up by the collar of the shirt that no longer fit on around his nearly 400 pound frame, shoved him in front of the mirror in the room, and he gaped at his new body.

Sure, the fat was a big change for him, but Max helped him notice everything else too. The male pattern baldness that had settled in when he was twenty-five, a few years after he’d dropped out of college, too fat and stupid to keep up. Of course, he was pushing forty now, and had lost most of the hair on his head, replaced by a thick, bushy beard starting to grey, and a forest of hair all over his body–not quite as much as Max, but still plenty.

“Fuck, look at you, you fucking loser,” Max whispered in his ear, “And you thought I was bad when I answered the door, now look at you, long past your prime, don’t even have a job, just spend your days and nights stuffing yourself silly with your friends downstairs, jacking off all the time, like a proper fucking pig.

Dough tried to deny it, but Max tore off his clothes and led him downstairs, where the rest of the boys of the house had finished the second round of pizzas, and were all in similar a similar shape–older, all of them out of college now, fatter, their lives as jocks quickly being forgotten in the haze of lust that followed. He shoved Dough into the middle of them, and they all fell on him, humiliating and insulting him, and Dough found himself more and more turned on by the humiliating, begging them for their loads. Max spent the rest of the night finding the ones with a bit more resistance, and feeding them from his tap, until they too were just happy pigs, eagerly settling into their new lives.

A couple months later, a new franchise of Piggy Pizza opened on the other side of town, with Max as the head manager. Dough took up residence in the back, this location’s sauce supply, just as Jeremy was at the home location. The rest of the boys in the house, after being interviewed by Boss, were all hired on as well–as drivers, and cooks, and cleaners, depending on their personal skill sets and kinks. Business was booming, and both Boss and Max couldn’t wait to see how big this town could get.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #2 – A Helping Hand

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


CW: Raunch and scat, read at your own risk.

“Hey bud, think ya could help a fellow out?”

“The door? Who the hell knows, these rest areas are all beat to shit.”

“See, the problem is, I really gotta piss, real fuckin’ bad, but I’m also hard as a damn rock–so hard I can’t get this big fuckin’ cock in the bowl. Come here, think ya could help me out?”

“That’s it, just give it some good strokes, just like that–but I really gotta go quick, maybe ya could, ya know, suck on it?”

“Come on, it won’t make ya gay or nothin, yer just helpin’ a bud out! Real quick, ya don’t even gotta swallow.”

“Yeah, see? Fer a guy who says he doesn’t like it, ya sure can take this big dick of mine real easy down that throat of yours.”

“Sorry ‘bout the smell–already dropped a few logs. That’s what got me so damn hard tah begin with, somethin’ ‘bout the smell of mah shit always drives me a bit wild. Judgin’ from the bulge down in those jeans of yers, looks like I ain’t the only one. Go one, haul it out, jack it off–I won’t tell no one.”

“Yeah, fuck, gettin’ real close, here it fuckin’ comes!”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck, sorry bud, hosed you down with my piss too, didn’t mean to. But that’s what you get for pullin’ off. Don’t look like ya mind too much, look at how hard that cock a yers is. Anyway, thanks man, that’s real helpful, but maybe…ya could help me out with one more thing? Mind given my ass a wipe for me?”

“I know the toilet paper’s right there, but that single ply shit is so scratchy–I was thinkin’ somethin’ a little more wet, ‘n soft…”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, really dig on up in there, ya fuckin’ pig. Fuck yeah, I can hear ya snortin’ back there, ya like my rank fuckin’ ass man? Sure sounds like it, bet yer gonna blow yer load all across the fuckin’ toilet, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck bud, my crack’s ain’t been that clean in months! Much appreciated–yer a real helper. Say, how about riding with me for a while? I could use a good toilet pig like you in my cab, wouldn’t have tah stop in run down places like this if I could just use that dirty mouth of yours.”

“On vacation? Family? Ya don’t look like the sort of fucker who’d deal with that shit–have a look in the mirror. Yeah–look at you, grungy, ugly, old pig like that, ya’d love tah help a guy like me out, now what do ya say?”

“I thought so–now come on, I got some cold bottles of piss for ya in the cab.” 

“Oh, I forgot to flush? Alright, but scarf that shit down quick, I don’t got all evenin’. We got a load tah deliver.”

Flash Commission – Greene Aged Tobacco

Garowan the tanuki brought the package inside from the porch, his striped tail swishing happily to and fro, excited that his tobacco sampler had finally arrived. It was a new variety of aged tobacco he’d seen advertised online, from a company called Greene’s. Curious, and happy with the low price, he’d ordered one just to give it a try. He opened up the box, and let out a little disappointed growl. What a ripoff! Sure, the sampler had been discounted, but inside the wood box with the Greene label on the front, there had been nothing more than a single cigarette rattling around.

A fucking cigarette! He didn’t even smoke cigarettes. He’d had a couple when he was a teenager, sure, but he preferred cigars. He picked it up, wondering who he was going to have to contact to complain about this, and brought it to his snout to take a sniff. It didn’t smell like the cigarettes he’d had before, actually, which had a sharper, cheaper scent. It was pleasant, actually. A little woodsy, a little rum, a little vanilla. He looked at it, and decided why not? He’d ordered it, he might as well try it. He could still complain about it to the company and get his money back, even if he used it. The box was decently sized, after all–it was probably supposed to have more stuff in it than this, and someone had packaged it wrong. He went into his living room, got his lighter, and lit the cigarette, taking a small draw on it, holding the smoke in, and then exhaling it into the air around him.

It was nice. Really nice. All of those flavors he’d picked up with his rather sensitive nose were still there, blended nicely together, without being too cloying or artificial. He gave his sizable nuts a scratch as he took a deeper drag, inhaling some of it this time, and felt a surprising little zing that went right to his head, making him feel a little light headed and dizzy. Apparently, whatever aging process they used made sure the tobacco packed a punch as well. He enjoyed the rest of the cigarette for a few minutes, that rush suffusing the rest of his body, and smoked the cigarette down to a small butt, before dropping it in the ashtray. It hadn’t been a total waste then–the tobacco was great. Now he really did wish he’d gotten a complete sampler, instead of just that little taste. He started back towards the kitchen, where he’d left the box, but before he could get there, be passed by a large mirror hanging on the wall in the living room, and then paused, staring at his reflection, a little confused.

He looked different. Not…all that different, he supposed. The fur on his cheeks and around his muzzle was thicker and a bit darker brown, looking like a proper beard that older tanukis usually grew. His body looked a little heftier. His arms were thicker with a bit more muscle, and his belly had grown fatter. Not my much, really. Just enough to really be noticeable, and to make his underwear look a little strained, especially since his nuts had grown as well. For tanukis, that was one of their main signs of age–their substantial sacks grew their entire life, and elders in particular often had sacks so large it made it a bit difficult to move around at times, though they usually managed. The fur on his belly had darkened and thickened as well, becoming a substantial treasure trail running up his larger gut. If he had to guess, he looked like he’d aged about ten years or so, into his mid-thirties, but he looked…good, somehow.

He went to the box, wondering if it might have some explanation, but there wasn’t anything like a note or warning. There was something new in the box though, something that hadn’t been there earlier. It was impossible that he could have missed something, it must have somehow just appeared there after he’d smoked that cigarette. It was a sizable smoking pipe, dark brown with a bent stem, and a little pouch of what he assumed must be tobacco along with it. He picked up the pouch, paw shaking a bit, opened up the top, and gave it a little sniff. Sure enough, it was the same aroma, though a little stronger, the flavors a little deeper, melded differently. Aged more. He could just tell from the darker, deeper scent. But if this tobacco was aged more, did that mean that, if he smoked it, he would age more too?

He went back to the mirror and looked at himself again, at his older body. He tried to imagine what he might look like even older and…and why was he even considering this? He couldn’t smoke this shit, who knew what it might do to him, he needed to get help. He went back, intending to throw the pouch of tobacco in the trash, but smelled it again, found himself getting a bit lost in it, and realized when he pulled it away from his snout that his cock was leaking in the front of his tight underwear. Without taking time to second guess himself, he picked up the pipe, dumped the tobacco in it, and tamped it down. The whole pouch fit in the bowl perfectly, and he went back into the living room, got his lighter, and lit the pipe, drawing the sweet smoke through the stem, relishing the flavor again, enjoying the subtler notes he’d missed before.

He sat back, took an inhale off the pipe, and again, felt that same surge of energy off the tobacco as before, but while he still felt alert and energized, it was coupled with a rather profound sense of relaxation. He sank back into his armchair, and this time, he felt it as it was happening, his gut grumbling slightly, and then began to expand. Pipe in his mouth, he rubbed it with his paws, groaning a bit from the pressure. The gut was rather soft and pillowy, flowing around him, spreading out across the chair, thighs growing closer together. He could see the fur on his belly that had grown in before thicken further, and when he was about halfway through the bowl, it changed color again, the brown lightening to a steely grey, contrasting with his the prown pelt across the rest of his belly. It was joined by his beard, he realized after a moment, which was long enough to reach his chest now, and the same greyish color–almost the same color as the smoke coming from the pipe itself. His chest was growing as well, packing on fat until he had two sizable moobs resting on top of his gut. His nipples in particular grew as well, and the two piercings he had in them grew as well, from a pair of studs into two sizable gold rings. 

He smoked the pipe down to ash, and then sat for a moment, looking down at himself, surprised he wasn’t more horrified. He set the pipe aside, and hefted himself up from the chair, his legs and back aching in ways that he didn’t expect, but which he supposed came with his new age. If he had to guess now, he was probably in his late forties. As he walked into the kitchen, he could feel his nuts swinging against his knees as he walked, the constant stimulation provoking a constant leakage from the head of his cock. Along the way, his underwear finally gave up and shredded away, leaving him entirely naked. 

Something had appeared in the box again, where the pipe had been. It was a cigar, and not a small one, either. At least an 80 ring, if not larger, and close to nine inches long. He’d only seen cigars that large in pictures on the internet, never in person. He picked it up, paws shaking a bit, and brought it to his nose. The smell of it made him salivate–he could almost taste it, just from smelling the wrapper…but he shouldn’t, right? If he did, how old was he going to get, anyway?

He resisted the urge for a little while, moving around in his new body, getting used to hefting around his new weight, his sizable balls. He couldn’t stop thinking about the cigar though, and come evening, after a sizable dinner to feed his new bulk, he sat down with the cigar in the living room, punched it, and after a moment, brought it to his lips and lit it.

It took some work, getting it started, because it was so large. The thing was so big it stretched his snout uncomfortably wide. At last, he was satisfied with the light, sat back, and took a sizable draw off the end, a bit greedy for the smoke even, and sighed out a thick plume, delighted with the flavor. The cigarette had been just a tease of this depth of flavor. It was the most delightful, savory smoke he’d ever had, in fact. Again, he felt the smoke spread through him, permeate him, and he grew again. Soon, his fat was spilling over the sides of the armchair, which was creaking under the weight of him, his balls sagging lower until he realized they were large enough to rest on the floor in front of the chair, his meaty thighs pushed wide apart by the massive sack. His jaw was aching from holding the cigar, but when he pulled it free for a moment to give it a rest, he realized that wasn’t the only reason. His tusks were coming in, his lower jaw jutting out, growing thicker, and two stubby incisors pushing their way out of his lower jaw. He put the cigar back in, happy to discover that it was much stronger, and could support the cigar easily while his paws explored his growing body.

His fur thicker, and all over his belly, the brownish grey lightened further to a stark white, as did his beard, which now reached down to the massive belly button in his massive gut. His moobs were even larger now, and when he squeezed them, he let out a little grunt of surprise and pleasure when he felt something leak from the nipples. Looking down, he realized he’d matured enough to start lactating, something that didn’t happen to every tanuki, but if it did, it didn’t usually happen until they were in their sixties. It felt…good, and the rings in his nipples grew even thicker, almost as thick as the massive cigar he was smoking. The smell was beginning to permeate him now, and the smell of the tobacco was joined by a scent of his own musk, growing stronger and more pungent, with a definite pang of smoke–but that wasn’t surprising. After all, he’d been a near constant smoker for years now, why wouldn’t he smell of smoke?

He shook his head, but that memory was real, as real as his other ones. He could find himself remembering other things, a whole life that he’d lived now, leading to this new body. He was happily retired, well supported, and didn’t have to worry about anything. He could even sense, somehow, that he hadn’t really lost any years off his life, through these changes. He would stay like this for years now, for as long as the years he had lost, probably close to forty or so, before aging any further. He finished the cigar, set the butt down in the ashtray, and heaved a final, contented, smoky sigh. It was a lot to consider, really, but he didn’t regret any of it, though he was horny as hell after all of that, and his massive balls were aching for release. He pulled himself up, and saw he’d already accumulated quite a puddle of cum around his balls on the floor. No matter, he knew a few cubs around who would be more than happy to clean it up for him–maybe while he had another cigar, or two.

TPC – Chapter 2.10

Chapter 10 – Emptied Out

Richard found himself dragged down some concrete steps into the basement of the house where Barry had driven them. It was not his house–where in the hell was he? He tried to focus on what was going on around him, but it was difficult. He never drank that much, but Barry had just kept filling his glass from all those pitchers, and he was such a good guy, he hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. Now he was here, in some strange basement, with two guys cutting his clothes off before strapping him down to a table.

“Good evening Richard, my name’s Ian, how are you tonight?” one of the other men said, looming over him. 

“I don’t, what are you doing to me? I didn’t want to come here.”

“It’s going to be ok Richard, trust me, alright?” Barry said, coming around to the other side of the table. “You know I would never steer you wrong.”

“I…but what am I doing here?”

“You’re helping me out, Richard. You like being a helpful guy, and you’re helping my friend here out too. It’s just a little test is all, everything will be just fine. All you have to do is trust me.”

Richard nodded, but that didn’t do much to alleviate his fear.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve brought me then,” Ian said, and placed his hands on the side of Richard’s head. 

What happened after that was difficult to explain. He felt something push into him, into his mind, and start pulling on strings, poking around into various nooks and crannies. It wasn’t a physical sensation, but it was pleasurable. Richard let out a moan, and when the man pulled his hands away, he was embarrassed to realize that his cock had gotten fully erect right in front of them both.

“Well damn, this is some good stock you’ve brought along. I didn’t think it would be quite this good.”

“So it’s worth something?” Barry asked.

“Oh, I can find a buyer for a lot of this, for sure. You’ll get your cut too, of course. Finder’s fee. Your promotion, and I’ll throw in a little extra too, since it looks like you got a taste of a little bit of what else I can do tonight.”

“Fuck, you can make this…permanent?”

“It won’t be quite as intense, but it’ll be there. What ends up as waste material is the more…intense stuff. I’d explain it if I could, but this is all new, cutting edge shit.”

“No kidding, how…how is any of this possible?”

“Ask Pigtown,” Ian said. “It’s been a wild couple of years.”

“I don’t–did I do ok? On the test?” Richard asked, “Why did that feel so good?”

“You did great,” Ian said, “But this next part is more important, alright? So just relax. It’ll all be over before you know it. If you thought it felt good before, just you wait, bud.”

Richard lifted his head up, and watched as Ian took a strange tube from the cart beside him, and attached it to his cock. It was a flexible silicone sleeve with a tube coming out the top, but the bottom sealed around the base like a vacuum. “Alright, let’s start off with the finder’s fee,” Ian said, flipped a switch, and Richard gasped as the milker on his cock started sucking at it, making him shudder and buck.

Ian came around behind his head, put his hands on Richard’s temples again, and the same sensation happened as before, but more focused. Ian wasn’t looking through everything all at once this time, instead, he focused on Richard’s work at the office. Not just his work, exactly. His promotion. He saw himself in Evan’s office, getting his softball interview, already knowing he was a shoe in for the position. The team congratulating him. It was more than just that though–it was his charisma. His confidence. His trust. All of it was being bundled up and pushed lower. Down into his neck and then his chest, deeper and deeper until he felt all of those memories and emotions and sensations down in his balls, which were churning more and more as the milker tugged on his cock. The pleasure grew more intense then, and Richard couldn’t stop it as he came–and when he did, he felt all of the memories and thoughts he’d had pushed down there forced out as well, and by the time he realized he was losing them, he no longer could remember what he’d even lost.

“And there it is,” Ian said, holding up a vial that he disconnected from the end of the milker. It looked like a load of cum, but it was shimmering in a way that Richard had never seen before. He knew that what he’d lost was in there, but couldn’t articulate what, exactly, it was. “Usually I’d dehydrate it, but it’s just as potent now. Go home, drink it up, and go to sleep. You’ll feel everything in the morning. If you have an issue, contact me.”

“What…what’s gonna happen to him?”

“I already have a buyer lined up, don’t worry.”

“Like…” Barry was thinking slavery, but he didn’t really want to know. “Look, thanks, really.”

“No, thank you–you enjoy that,” Ian said, “You earned it.”

Richard watched as Barry took the vial from Ian, and left up the stairs without so much as saying goodbye to him. “Wait, he’s…he’s my ride,” he gasped out, still riding the wave of that massive orgasm.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound,” Ian said, “But we still have more to get out of you first.”

“What?” Richard asked, but before he could get another word out, Ian turned the milker back on, and he shuddered. “Wait, it hurts, I…”

“Hush now, it’s going to feel so good, just trust me. Now, what next?” Ian said. He placed his hands on his head again. “I know a few closet cases that would love a good beard.”

This time, Richard felt a different set of memories being pulled to the front of his mind. His wife. His two kids. His family. The house where they all lived together, everything he could remember about all of them, their likes and dislikes, family vacations together. This he clawed at, trying to keep it in his head, trying to keep it from sliding down, but the pressure was immense, and the milker on his cock was relentless. He begged and pleaded with him to stop, but Ian just cooed back at him, talking to him like he was a child, telling him everything would be just fine soon enough. Again he came, and he tried as hard as he could to hold onto some of it, any of it, but it was gone, and he was left shuddering on the table, tears in his eyes, trying to remember what he felt so sad about. Ian watched as the wedding ring disappeared from Ian’s finger, all of his marriage now held in a second vial. He detached that one, and put on another.

“No, please, not again.”

“Don’t worry Richard, don’t you want to feel good? This feels so good.”

Ian continued the process for the next hour or so, filling vial after vial with everything in Richard’s head he could turn a profit on. He pulled out his education, and bottled it. He pulled out his upper class background, and bottled that. He started working on his body next. He bottled two decades of youth from him, watching Richard go from 25 to 45 in a matter of minutes. He stole his quick metabolism, and his body expanded, packing on close to fifty pounds of fat in a matter of moments. He stole his brow, jawline, a few inches of his height, and whatever charm he’d had left after giving most of it to Barry, and lastly, he milked away half his six inch cock and balls, leaving him with a modest package buried in a new fat pad. Richard had long since passed out at this point, and barely stirred as Ian pulled the milker off his now thick, short cock, and gave his new chubbier body a feel. Hugh had watched all of this in silence, always amazed at what Ian could do, and feeling a little jealous of the skill that had developed in his friend over the last few year and change. He’d get a commission from this one too, at least, and the job wasn’t quite finished yet anyway.

“Alright Richard, time to wake up, you did great,” Ian said, cracking open some smelling salts and waving them under his nose, making him sputter awake. 

“I…what happened, where…where am I, I–” Richard said, his voice deeper and slower now, more ponderous.

“Everything is fine, Richard. You’re dehydrated. Go ahead and drink this up,” Ian said, and handed him a little glass of water. It shimmered a bit–he’d put in a little bit of a mix–some muscle, some construction knowledge, a good dose of submission and homosexuality of course. Pigtown would take care of filling in the rest soon enough, but that would get him ready for his new role come morning. After all, plenty of folks in Pigtown needed bodies for work, and Richard would be doing plenty of that from now on. 

He took the glass and drank it down in a few gulps, his eyes sparkled, and then dimmed again as he collapsed back on the table, shaking a bit, and then settling down. Ian pulled out his phone and made a call, “I got your goods, ready for pickup,” he said. Twenty minutes later, they were helping the now much heavier Richard out of the basement, and into the back of a pickup truck, which drove off with him into the early morning.

“Looks like a good haul,” Hugh said.

“Fuck, I haven’t had a guy like that in ages. We don’t get fellows like that around here anymore.”

“Well you sucked most of them dry.”

“Shut up. I have a feeling that Barry could be a very good contact for us in the future. Remind me, next week, to touch base and see if he’d be interested in helping us out with acquisitions.”

“Hunting, you mean.”

Ian glowered at him, “What’s with you, Hugh? You’ll get your cut, and more waste to sell once I process everything.”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Hugh said, “I’m just tired is all. Gonna head home and get some sleep.”

Ian waved goodbye, and went back down into the basement. This was the harder part, really–refining the product. He’d given Richard the raw stuff, and it worked just fine, but it could cause some messy situations if you weren’t careful. For a little shift like that though, it wouldn’t be a problem, he was sure.


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The Family Portrait

This is…technically an older story that I never got around to finishing at the time, and at the urging of a patron, I returned to it, revised it a bit, and gave it a conclusion. Hope you all enjoy it! Also, the new series I mentioned, “Pigtown Chronicles”, is in early access over on Patreon, and I’ll be posting it publicly next week! If you missed the first three chapters, you can go check them out there, or wait and read them here. If you’re still over on tumblr, I created a new blog for this series–that way it won’t be stuck behind the nightmare that is NSFW tumblr, and have a searchable, accessible archive. If you want to follow it there, you can go ahead and follow it here. I’ll also be reposting all of them to my old tumblr as well.


It was…quiet. It was never quiet, not around here. Keith breathed a sigh in his empty house–as happy as he was at the family he’d made for himself, between Tara and his three sons, that also didn’t leave him very much time at all for himself. The place had been getting quitter, however. With his two oldest sons in their second and third years of college–at the state school a few hours away at least, and his youngest son, a senior in high school, out with Tara running errands on a fall Saturday for a few hours, he had the house to himself. He had it to himself, and he had absolutely no idea what he should be doing with his chance. It was funny, really. He so often wished for more private time, and now when the chance came, he had no clue how to spend it. He sighed–not really a bad problem to have, he supposed. 

He was interrupted by a loud, heavy knocking on the front door. Curious who it might be, he walked to the door and opened it, finding a strange man on the porch he had never seen before in his life. He was none too clean, dressed in a pair of stained camo cargo shorts and a wifebeater, with a thick overgrown beard. He was carrying a large…something under his arm, wrapped in paper. Something rectangular and flat–but he had no idea what. “Hey! What’s up? I’m your new neighbor down the road there, just moved in a few days ago. Name’s Marty.”

“Oh, uh…hi. I’m Keith…Keith Ireland. Nice…to meet you,” he replied, not taking the man’s hand when he extended it out to shake. How someone who looked like this could possibly afford a house in a neighborhood where Keith lived…something seemed a bit odd about this, and he wasn’t about to let him inside his house. “Where…which house did you move into? I wasn’t aware anyone was moving.”

“Oh, just a few houses down.”

“I didn’t see any moving trucks or anything though.”

“Really?”

Keith just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well look, I just wanted to say…hi. My wife, she’s an artist, and we always have too many things of hers, so we like to give our new neighbors some of her artwork. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to keep it or anything–her stuff isn’t for everyone, but it’s nice, right?” He held out the paper wrapped picture to him, and as strange as this was, Keith didn’t want to seem mean, especially if the guy really was his neighbor. He could always take a look, and then give it right back. He tore open the paper and flipped the picture so it was facing him. It was a sizable canvas, probably at least three feet wide, landscape, but there wasn’t much at all in the picture itself. In fact, it wasn’t even a painting–it was a photo. It looked like one of those cheap portraits you might get a Sears or something, but the only person in the picture was Marty, centered but small. Like it was supposed to be a family portrait but he was the only one who showed up. He looked closer, trying to figure out who could possibly see this as valuable, and discovered that the background of the photo…it was moving. The backdrop pattern…it was alive, twisting and ebbing back and forth–he couldn’t look away even if he’d wanted to. It felt like the pattern was growing in his field of vision, almost giving the illusion of falling into the photo, his mind emptying. 

Marty watched his “neighbor’s” eyes grow dull and his jaw go slack, and he walked around him, stepping inside the threshold of the home, looking at the family portrait. The photo was indeed shifting and twisting, in one particular place–a figure coming clear standing beside Marty–quite blurry, and yet if you squinted you could see that it was Keith appearing in the image. The focus became a bit sharper, but never came fully clear, Marty taking a moment to inspect Keith, see how he’d changed all these years.

Keith obviously hadn’t recognized him, but they’d both been very different back in high school together. They even, at one time, were friends–with a few benefits. Keith was bi–and he’d let Marty suck his cock on a few occasions, but when they’d gotten caught, he pinned the whole thing on Marty–claiming he’d been “corrupting” him. Or rather, his dad Gary, a conservative city councilman who couldn’t afford to have a gay son in the news, made his say it, and Keith went along with it. Marty had had no one after that–he’d gotten expelled from school, and kicked out by his family. But now, well, Marty had a little revenge planned for his old friend. He’d gotten by as best he could, but Marty had made a few new, strange friends along the way…including a warlock who specialized in revenge spells. He’d made the portrait Keith was currently staring at–and which was absorbing his image. It was Keith’s fault that he’d lost his entire family after all. As far as Marty was concerned, that meant Keith could provide him with a new one—a better one. One Marty was going to design just for himself. 

It had been long enough now–the rest was up to him. He landed a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder, making him start and jump, his mind snapping back to awareness, eyes blinking, trying to understand what had just happened to him. “What do you think bro?” Marty asked, “Ain’t that a good picture of us?”

Keith’s eyes moved from the portrait in his hands, and looked beside him, at his…his brother. His brother Marty. Something was still wrong with his mind–it felt like part of him was…missing. His eyes slowly traced back to the picture, at the blurry image of himself in there. It looked like…like he was screaming in there. Marty pulled him back by the arm and shut the door, plucking the picture from Keith’s hands and pressing it to a nearby wall, where it adhered immediately. “Come on bro, the game’s almost on–I know you hate missing a game, right?”

Keith found himself nodding, even though he’d never in his life enjoyed watching football, and stumbled sleepily after his brother into the den, finding the portrait looming over him on a new wall in the den–it had moved somehow, haunting him–as Marty pushed him down onto the couch in front of the TV, grinning wide. 


Another touchdown! Both Keith and Marty threw their arms up, shouting with excitement. Their team was doing great, and Keith couldn’t be happier if he’d tried, sitting here with his favorite person, his brother, watching the game with him. He grinned over at him, grabbed another handful of potato chips and shoved the whole wad into his mouth, chewing loudly with his mouth open, washing it all down with his seventh can of beer, a huge belch rumbling out of his fat belly. He gave it a pat, feeling it jiggle and wiggle around him. It felt…damn good, actually. Like Marty had told him, he’d always been a fat ass–he couldn’t stop eating if he fucking tried, he loved it so much–drinking too–and it showed, nearly six hundred pounds of flab, but he didn’t care. Like Marty said, he found it…kind of hot, actually.

He still wasn’t feeling quite like himself though. Ever since he’d sat down and started watching the game, he’d felt…almost like he was in a dream. Marty was there for him though, reminding him to get the snacks and beer, talking with him while they waited through replays, about all sorts of things. Like…like his lucky jersey. He’d worn in for years, ever since their team had won the superbowl, and he wore it for every game, religiously. He never washed it, so it stank to high hell, and was easily three sizes too small at this point, but it just didn’t feel right not wearing it, right? In fact, Marty had been doing most–or rather, all of the talking. Keith had focused on cheering during the game–with how hard it was to think, he didn’t feel capable of keeping up a conversation at the moment. Besides, it was more important for him to listen to Marty. Marty was the smart one, the clever one…but his eyes kept going to the clock next to their family portrait, and Marty noticed.

“Worried about the time, bro?” Marty asked him.

“Just…wondering when…Tara and the boys…” he said, but couldn’t complete the thought through the haze in his head.

Marty smacked his head and scowled at himself. Fuck, he’d forgotten–that would have made a mess of things for sure. “Why in the hell would that bitch be coming here? She hates your guts. The two of you haven’t laid eyes on each other since that last time she dragged you to court over missing your alimony payments. You’re lucky you didn’t lose partial custody over that shit.”

Keith looked at his brother, confused…but he…he was right. Tara hated him, and she kind of had good reason to. “Yeah…don’t know…why I’d thought…”

“Don’t worry about it bro, you hate women anyway. They fucking disgust you. The only people you want to spend time around is family. Especially me, your best friend. Your best big brother in the whole world. You love me more than anyone, right?”

Keith nodded and grinned at him, letting off another belch.

“Yeah, you’re just a fuckin’ deadbeat dad, really. Can’t hold down a job–doesn’t help that you dropped out of school, still, considering how stupid you are, that ain’t surprising. Luckily we could move in together–I support you, but that’s ok. There’s nothing you’d rather do, aside from lounging around the house, naked all the time, stuffing your face, drinking beer, watching TV, and loving me.”

This time, even Marty could feel it, the changes sweeping through them. The house around them began rotting–there was no way either of them could live in a neighborhood like that, after all. Still, served the fucker right, Marty thought. They ended up in a double wide trailer in some rundown park–still nicer than pretty much anywhere Marty had lived before, and it felt like home, his brother splayed out on the couch next to him, completely naked aside from his lucky jersey, eyes glued to the TV.

“Oh, and smoking cigars, of course. You couldn’t live without those.”

The air grew dank and smoky all of a sudden, and Keith sucked deep off his cheap cigar. Smiling, amazed at how well the portrait was working, Marty leaned forward and lit a cigar for himself, sighing smoke out, groping his cock through his filthy shorts, wondering how much further he could push this before getting down to business. Hell, why not now? He could remember how big Keith’s cock had been when they were teenagers, and it had only gotten bigger–but no fucking way did he deserve a tool like that, not after what he did.

“The smoking, the food, the beer–it makes you fucking horny too, right bro? So fucking horny all the time. Too bad you can’t find your inch long cock in all that flab of yours. Just makes you sex crazed all the time, leaking cum everywhere, desperate for release.” He watched Keith start panting, heaving smoke, sweating, crotch damp with precum, “Luckily you have a big brother to take care you, right? Help you out?” He reached over and dug around in keith’s new gunt, finding his miniscule cock, stroking it, watching his obese brother spasm with pleasure. “And luckily you’ll do anything your perverse big brother wants you to do, right? You love satisfying all of my sick, disgusting fantasies. At heart, you’re all bottom. A sex crazed pig, aching to have all of your holes stuffed at all hours. That’s the only way you can cum, with a big cock in your ass or buried in your throat, while you grunt and snort like a pig.”

Keith didn’t make it to halftime, before he tore into his brother’s shorts and started sucking on his cock. He ended up bent over the couch, his brother balls deep in his sloppy hole, dull mind desperate for sex, cock leaking like a faucet onto the already well stained couch. His eyes–he felt them pulled up, to the portrait on the wall. The background, it was swirling again, but his image–it was becoming clearer now–no longer blurry. His massive frame barely contained by his favorite jersey, wearing a pair of massive sweats. His shaven head and face looking even larger, three chins drooping under his thick handlebar mustache, a stupid grin on his face, leaning on his brother, his big brother, the best big brother in the world. With a snap, the portrait froze in place, and it was like all of him came alive again. With a holler, his tiny cock spurted a load into his fatty folds, and Marty shot deep in his filthy brother’s hole, and looked up at the photo. A good start, for sure–but there was still so much room in the portrait. Luckily, he had a few ideas for other people he could add to their family–starting with his new nephews. He knew that they would be so much happier away from their bitch mother for good and living with their dad and uncle, where they really belonged.


When reality snapped back to order, the effects were seen far beyond the run-down house where Keith now lived with his older brother–his now ex-wife and sons were forced into new realities as well. The two older sons, David and Terrance, were living out on their own, working and renting an apartment together while they attended the local community college, trying to make the leap to a four year college when they could afford it, and both of them avoided their father like the plague. His youngest son, Bobby, split his time between his mother’s house and his father’s house, but only because he was still seventeen for a few more months. In all honesty, he hated every second he had to spend with his filthy uncle and father–he was ashamed to even be related to them. His mother understood, but there was nothing she could do, until he reached eighteen and could legally decide for himself. And so, Marty decided that the next easiest target would be Bobby, when he arrived to stay with his dad and uncle the next week.

That gave him plenty of time to get adjusted to life with his new stupid, lazy younger brother, and he loved every second of it. While he couldn’t make any massive changes to him, now that the picture had become static again, just like his wizard friend had said, he could continue making small changes and suggestions for another few days, all of which Keith was more than happy to obey, and by the end of the week, he reeked of cum and sweat, he hadn’t had a shower in months, and he spent all day and night drunk, passing out on the couch with the TV on every night, when he wasn’t busy in his brother’s bed, servicing his every sexual desire. Still, they both knew that as soon as Bobby arrived for his week of custody they would have to control themselves…for a little while. Marty didn’t think Bobby would be returning to his mother’s house anytime soon, that was for sure. All he’d have to do is get the young man relaxed and focused on the portrait, and everything would be perfect.

However, from the day Bobby arrived, it became clear it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as Marty had thought. The boy had some…problems with authority, especially parental authority. He spent almost all of his time in his room, giving his uncle no real chances to exert much influence on him in any way. Marty thought he had him the second night, when he managed to successfully enchant Booby with the portrait, causing a third blurry figure to appear beside the images of his father and uncle, but when he tried to influence the boy, and turn him into a chubby, submissive cub for them both to use, nothing seemed to work–Bobby fought his suggestions, and after an hour, the image of him had faded from the picture entirely.

Angry and frustrated, Marty called his wizard friend, demanding to know what was wrong–the wizard was a bit flummoxed, but said that the reason for Bobby’s resistance probably had to do with his perceived relationship to his family–that is, he didn’t want to perceive himself as Keith’s son, but he didn’t have an easy solution for him. Marty’s mood stayed sour for a few days, until he overheard a fight between Bobby and his father one night. Bobby told him that Keith had never been his father, that Bobby was the only person in the room who could act like an adult–and that gave Marty an idea: if Marty thought he was the adult in the room…well, why not make him one?

The fight ended, Bobby stormed off to his room. Marty waited for half an hour, and then knocked on the door, letting himself in–the portrait had appeared on the wall of Bobby’s room, looming over him. “Bobby, I know you aren’t a fan of us, but you need to accept the fact that we’re your family, and there isn’t anything that can change that,” he said, and pointed at the picture, “Look at us up there, wasn’t that a good day?” Bobby looked at the swirling paint, his eyes drawn in immediately, a fleshy blob appearing in the picture, but Marty could see him fight, see him resist his placement between them, where a son belonged. So Marty tried something different, “But you’re a man now, you know? And you know, we don’t treat you like that enough. You aren’t a boy anymore, Bobby–no, not Bobby–Bob. You’ve grown into a fine young man, haven’t you?”

Bobby resisted for a moment more, but then visibly relaxed where he was sitting on the side of the bed. Marty could see his body changing, hair growing up his forearms, thick like theirs, his body bulking, as he grew older, into his mid 20’s. Finally, finally he had him, and Marty knew exactly what this young prick needed–if he wanted to be an adult, then fine, let him. 

“You know Bob, I’ve always admired you. I’ve never seen you as a nephew, not really. I’ve always thought of you as a real brother to me. And I know Keith gets on your nerves, but he’s, well, he’s younger than us, right? He’s always going to be a bit immature.”

Bob kept growing older, his face growing a bit more lined, hair receding back past the crown of his head, becoming flecked with gray, and he chuckled, “He acts like a fucking child,” Bob said, “I wish…I wish…grandpa had been sterner or…or something, he…why does my head hurt all of a sudden?” Bobby said, rubbing his temples, “I…I feel like I’m forgetting something…”

“You mean dad, don’t you?” Marty said. “You wish dad had been stricter.”

“I…I guess.”

“Look, you’re not one to run away from Keith when he gets on your nerves. You know what he needs–you’ve always known what we both need, as the oldest.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right Marty–you always have a way of…of making so much sense, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, now come on. I think you should go have another word with Keith, don’t you?”

Bob nodded, and turned to leave the room. Marty checked the portrait, and sure enough, there was Bob level with them both–but Marty wasn’t really interested in having another brother. Since Bob wanted to be an adult so badly, why not go a little further? He smiled, and joined the rest of the family in the den.

The now middle aged Bob went and stood in front of Keith on the couch. He looked up at him, confused for a moment, before the magic helped him along. Bobby his son didn’t exist for him now–he was looking up at his big brother Bob. 

“Yer blocking the game Bob, get out of the way,” Keith said, craning around him as best he could.

“Yeah? That so? What’s a fat fucking piece of shit like you gonna do about it?” Bob asked.

Keith glowered at him, and hefted himself to one side, but Bob just shifted along with him.

Marty stepped up, and saw that the family portrait had followed them, and was now hanging above the fireplace. “Come on now Bob, you know what Keith needs, don’t you? Ever since he was a kid, you knew exactly what kind of worthless piece of shit he was going to be, and you never hesitated to put him in his place.”

Bob’s gaze grew a bit harder, and he undid the belt around his waist, pulling it free of the loops with one pull. Keith’s eyes went wide, but he couldn’t move before Bob’s hand was around his neck, gripping tight enough to make him gasp for breath. “Apparently someone has forgotten who the boss is around here,” he said, “get up, knees on the sofa boy, I think you need a good reminder.”

Keith tried to mumble something, maybe an apology, but Bob’s grip tightened enough that he only managed a squeak. He released him, and Keith did as he was told, hauling his fat body up and onto the couch, letting Bob tug the back of his grimy underwear down, and pushing his body over the back of the couch, so his ass was high. The first smack made Keith holler, and that was enough to shake Bob as well, and he looked at the belt–almost like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

“Don’t worry about the screams, Bob–we all know that just makes that big dick of yours even harder. All those years working construction put a whole lot of muscle on you, and you love using it on the pig–even more than the pig likes the abuse. Go on, see how much that fat pig’s puny cock is leaking.”

Bob ran a hand between Keith’s legs, and sure enough, it came back coated with precum that he wiped across both cheeks. Leering now, he brought the belt down again and again on Keith’s ass, stopping only to pop open the buttons on his jeans, letting his own sizable cock free. Unable to resist anymore, He tossed the belt down and drove the cock into Keith’s loose hole, making them both cry out in delight.

“That’s it Daddy,” Marty said, coming close and stroking Bob’s body as he fucked the pig’s hole. “You’re such a good daddy to us boys, aren’t you?”

Bob was too eager to fuck to even muster much of a resistance, as the portrait began to shimmer again, Bob’s image migrating behind Keith and Marty, where the patriarch would be. 

“Retired now, sure. Past your prime, maybe. But you trained the pig well, didn’t you? You knew before he could walk that he wasn’t going to amount to shit, and no amount of discipline would stick, because the pig just wanted more. More punishment, more humiliation, more, more, more. But that’s ok, isn’t it? You do love him, you want to give him what he wants. It just so happens its exactly what you want to, right Daddy?”

Bob swelled larger, body filling out with more fat and muscle as his hair all turned a stark white, beard down to the top of his gut, snorting and grunting in time with his son as he thrust harder and harder, until he came finally with something like a roar. He pulled free, and his cum drooled out Keith’s hole, who was coming down from his own orgasm, having soaked the couch cushion below him. 

“Fuck Daddy–you’re so fucking hot. Take care of me now, come on. I’ve always been the favorite. Your oldest, I could never do anything wrong. You want to make me happy all the time, don’t you Daddy? You can’t resist anything that I say,” Marty said, grabbed his burly father by the shoulder and shoved him down to his knees, Marty’s own cock out. “Come on Daddy, suck your boy off, you love the taste of my fuckin’ cum, you fuckin’ need it.”

Bob swallowed Marty to the hilt in one practiced motion, and he didn’t last more than a couple of thrusts, before exploding in his Dad’s mouth. He could feel the magic tightening around them all as the portrait turned solid again. It wasn’t quite what he’d planned, Marty thought as he pulled free, watching his new father lick his lips and thank his favorite boy for his load, before getting up, grabbing a beer and a cigar, and sitting down next to the still panting and huffing Keith to finish the game. Marty could make this work, though. He’d pay a visit to Keith’s sons soon, once he was sure these two were well under his thumb, and his new family would be nearly complete.


It had been a bigger change than Marty had planned on for Bobby, and he was a bit concerned that he might try and push back against the magic, but for the rest of the weekend, everything progressed smoothly. If anything, Bobby was revelling in his new found authority and power over his new son, humiliating and abusing him all day long, cementing Keith’s new role as the family loser more and more. But much to Marty’s surprise, the change to Bobby was having an impact on him as well.

Apparently, by making him his dad’s favorite son, that changed some of his own past in the process. Over the rest of the weekend, as his dad showed him his new found affection, pleasing his favorite boy as much as he could, while he did everything he could to punish Keith, Marty found he was losing weight, and putting on muscle. New memories came to him of playing football in high school at his father’s urging–it clashed uncomfortably with his other, older memories of being kicked out of school at Keith’s father’s behest. Needless to say, Marty was thrilled that he could be affected as well, and once he realized the effect it was having, he pushed his dad, and himself, to be more manly, more masculine, both of them sprouting thick beards and bigger cocks, ending Sunday night with a family spit roast in their leather gear–father and his favorite son skewering the family pig at both ends, while they both smoked their favorite cigars, before dragging him down into the basement dungeon, where they took turns flogging him until the pig’s puny cock exploded in delight against the wall.

Marty had spent a bit of time trying to work out how to get the rest of the family under the portraits influence as well. Talking to his friend, the portrait was bound to the house–it would only affect people while they were here. That meant he had to figure out some way to get Keith’s other two sons, Jack and Eric, over here–but neither of his older sons wanted anything to do with him. In the end, the situation with Bobby, now Bob, created a solution to the problem. When Bobby didn’t return to his mother’s house on Sunday night, and with no word from Keith, and after a call to the police turned up no record of her son at all, she asked Jack and Eric to check up on Bobby and make sure he was alright, and to bring him home.

And so, Monday evening there was a pounding on the door. Bob and Keith were downstairs taking care of some discipline, and so it was Marty who opened the door, and found both of his nephews standing on the doorstep, looking rather angry. “Marty,” Jack said, “Is Bobby here?”

“Bobby?” Marty asked, a bit confused. He’d almost forgotten that his father downstairs had been a teenager a couple days before this. 

“Stupid fucking freaks, where the hell is he?” Eric said, shoving his way inside and looking for Bobby in the living room and kitchen. Jack followed after him, and Marty shut the door, smiling that his next two targets had entered the web so willingly.

“Boys, I think you’re confused. Who’s Bobby?”

“Our brother, you know who.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I had any boys other than you two,” Marty said, looking up at the portrait up above the fireplace, watching the image of both young men materialize in front of Keith for a moment, but Marty had a better idea. Keith was a loser pig, and these boys didn’t deserve that. No–he had a better idea for both of them, that he’d been mulling over for the past couple of days, and with some focus, he watched the images of them scooch over, and take their place in front of him instead. These were going to be his son’s now, and he would raise them just right.

He saw that slight daze come over both of them as the portrait took hold of them, and smiled. “Come on boys, I know you’ve had a long day at work on the site. Crack open a beer and let’s have some family time, while Grandpa’s taking care of your uncle downstairs.”

“What…no, we….we came here for…for Bobby,” Jack said, trying to push through.

“No, you’ve been working on the construction site all day, like usual. Now you’re home, where you belong, with your family. You’re thinking of Bob, your grandpa. You two aren’t too bright, I know you can get confused easily.”

Marty was a bit worried that they’d put up as big a fight as Bobby had, but he watched as Eric’s clothes shifted to some grungy workwear and boots covered in dust and dirt, and seeing it happen to his brother, Jack changed quickly after that. Apparently, the two of them had a good affinity for each other–Marty could work with that too. The two of them followed Marty over to the sofa and sat down together, while he got the remote, fiddled with it, and found an old boxing match to put on. “There we go, that’s what you boys like, isn’t it? A good bout, right?”

Jack and Eric watched the fight go on, while Marty kept talking.

“Yeah, the two of you have always been fighting each other, ever since you were kids. I was always hollering at you two to cut it out, but that just seemed to encourage you. But you’re both sadists, just like me and your grandpa–it shouldn’t have surprised me, I suppose, all the roughhousing. You two were always so easily matched though–identical twins, and damn, did both of you grow big and strong, just like the real men of the family.”

Jack gave a groan, and was the first to pull his cock free of his pants, with Eric following along soon after. The two of them were swelling larger now, packing on a substantial layer of beef across their chest, arms and legs as they grew larger, topping six and a half feet. Their features were melding together–Jack’s hair lightened to the color Eric’s shaggy brown mop, while Eric’s eyes grew more sucken and his brow grew in to match Jack’s own forehead. 

“Fucking inseparable, the two of you. Always have been. Only way I can tell you apart at this point is that Jack, you lost both of your front teeth to a game of backyard football when you were fourteen, and Eric, you pissed Jack off so much a year later he pummelled your face and flattened that nose of yours to your face. But you love each other, deeply. Been catching the two of your fucking around with one another for years now, and I swear you know what the other is thinking half the time. Of course, both of you are such dimwits that it makes sense the two of you would only have one brain between the two of you.”

At the same time, their hands moved and took hold of each other’s cocks, and the two boys moaned simultaneously. One eye each still on the screen, taking in the blows of the bout, obviously excited at the bloodsport, they leaned in and started kissing each other, pressing closer, Eric wheezing through his busted nose, his tongue sliding through the familiar gap in the middle of Jack’s teeth.

“That’s it you two. Fuck, I couldn’t be more pround of my two handsome, dirty, sadistic boys. Hardly ever showering you, pretty much always have a thick cloud of musk and cigar smoke clinging to you, covered in dirt, but not so much that we can’t all see the riot of matching tattoos the two of you have gotten over the years together, all over your arms, your chest, even your cocks have twin snakes down the length of them,” Marty said, came around the front of the couch, and climbed up, one foot between each boy’s legs, his cock thrust between their faces, his twins slobbering all over their new father’s cock as the portrait swirled, coming more and more into focus, the old Jack and Eric fading away, and replaced by the two massive twin bruisers parked on either side of their massive father. “But most of all, you two boys love your Daddy, don’t you? You’ll both do anything for me, without a moment’s hesitation–and your Grandpa too. We’re the only guys who ever fuck you–aside from each other. But that’s what guys in a family do for each other, right? Besides, I know how the two of you love to fight over my cock.”

Jack won the day not long after that, taking his dad’s cock in his mouth while he shoved his brother’s face lower, Eric relenting and lapping at Marty’s balls until he exploded in Jack’s mouth. He pulled free and fed the load to Eric, the two of them sharing it, watching it drool into their tangled brown beards. “Fuck dad, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” Eric said when they pulled free, “Can I suck it next time?”

“You know the rules boys, Daddy likes watching you fight for it,” Marty said, getting down from the couch. “Now come on, let’s go see how grandpa’s work on your pig uncle is going.”

They all went down into the basement dungeon, where they found grandpa with his flogger, coated with a sheen of sweat, laying into Keith’s back with a whip. The smell of blood and sweat mingled in the air, and from his sons’ panting, Marty could tell the scent was getting them excited. “Hey dad, Eric and Jack are home from work, why don’t you let the youngin’s take over for a bit?”

Bob looked over his shoulder, confused for a moment, but the magic took hold after a moment, and he remembered his two grandson’s properly. “Sounds good to me–I think the pig’s just getting warmed up, isn’t that right?”

He walked around, and there was a puddle of cum under Keith from where he’d lost any number of loads already, but from the look of bliss across his face and his still rock hard little cock, it was clear he was ready and eager for more punishment. “Fuck yeah boys, come teach your naughty pig uncle a lesson already,” he said, leering at the two of them. Jack and Eric stripped down repositioned Keith so his hands were together and suspended from the ceiling, pulled tight enough he couldn’t quite touch his entire feet to the ground, and then started using him as a punching bag, one twin punching his uncle’s fat gut while the other held him fucking or fingering his ass while he did, and then trading positions. Meanwhile, Marty took a seat where he could watch his boys work, and Bob came over, got down, and started sucking on his son’s cock.

This was shaping up to be a better family that Marty could have ever dreamed of–but it was still missing one last person, he thought. Gary, the old patriarch of the family, was going to have to be given a new position, since Bobby had already taken his. Now with his two sons in place, Marty knew just where to put him, and then, the portrait would be complete.


Over the next day or so, as Marty made sure his twin boys were well cemented in their new lives, he could feel the magic of the portrait beginning to ebb and pull back. If he was going to bring Gary into the fold, he had to do it soon, or he would miss his opportunity. Thankfully, Gary still lived in town, though his years as a councilman were behind him at this point. He’d used his local connections well though, ending up on the board of a sizable corporation, doing very well for himself. It was time, in Marty’s opinion, to take the old man down a few notches. The disjoint between the two realities–between the portrait and how things used to be–made it difficult to see how to get him close enough for the magic to work on him. After making a call or two, he didn’t even recognize Keith as his son, whether that was because of the magic, or because he wanted nothing to do with a pig like Keith, well, it didn’t matter that much.

In the end, the simplest solution proved to be best. Marty told his two sons to go get the old man and bring him back here, no matter what it took. It took a little breaking and entering, and a little bit of a beating, but not long after midnight, Jack and Eric returned with a well bound, and slightly bloody Gary between them, that they dragged into the house. 

“What the fuck is this? Do you fucking know who I am?” Gary shouted when Marty pulled the gag from his mouth. “Is this about money? Well, you’re not getting any, you’ll all fucking rot in jail!”

“No Gary, this isn’t about money,” Marty said, “This is a family matter. You remember your son Keith, don’t you?”

Keith stepped forward, battered and bruised, stinking of cum and musk, covered in hair. Gary stared at the pig, horrified, but after a moment, there was recollection as well. “K-Keith? What…I…what happened to you?”

Keith, on the other hand, didn’t know who this man was. As far as his simple mind was concerned, Bob had always been his father now. An uncle, maybe? He looked over at Marty, unsure of what to do or say, and the pig knew better than to act without direction from his superiors.

“Yeah, your boy,” Marty said. “Or at least, he was your boy. How about me, Gary? Do you remember me? Marty Hackman, that ring a bell?”

Gary shook his head.

“You ruined my life, Gary. Your son gave me a blowjob in high school, and rather than deal with the fact that your kid liked dick, you decided to demonize me, and get me kicked out of school. Now do you remember Gary?”

Gary’s face went a bit pale, then. “I…What is this, what are you going to do to me?”

“Well, I suppose you could say, I’m going to give you another chance, boy, to do right by your family. Boys, pick him up, bring him into the den, so he can see our family portrait.” Jack and Eric dragged him along, following their dad into the family room, where the portrait was hanging over the fireplace. “There, Gary–doesn’t that look like a happy family?” Marty said, grabbing Gary by the hair and making him look up at the picture, “Still, it’s missing something. It’s missing you, Gary…”

Gary watched as the image began to shimmer, and after a moment, a new image appeared in it, behind Keith and next to Bob–his own image, in fact. “What? How…how did…” Gary said, but trailed off, the magic already taking hold, putting him in a light trance.

“Oh, but that’s not where you belong in the photo Gary, not after everything you’ve done,” Marty said. “No, not someone as petulant as you. As greedy. As cruel and conniving. You don’t get to be the head of this family anymore. But there’s always room for another pig, right nephew?”

Gary watched as the portrait shimmered again, and his image in it moved and shifted, moving from the back beside Bob, down to the front row, in front of Keith and next to Jack and Eric. “How…I don’t understand…”

“I know it’s hard for you, pig’s aren’t very good at thinking, right Keith? You wouldn’t expect a pig son of yours to be any good at thinking hard, would you?”

“No way bro,” Keith said, “No son a mine would be a good thinker. He’d just be a stupid, gluttonous, cocksuckin’ pig like me, if I had anything to say about it.”

“Fuck Gary, you hear what your Daddy is sayin’ about you?” Marty said.

“No, I’m not…I’m not…” Gary said, but watched as the image in the portrait began to change–and to his horror, he could feel his own body begin shifting to match it. Gary, as he had gotten older, had spent his time maintaining his physique as well as he could, and he had quite a reputation as a silver fox. But now, the silver was beginning to fade, and his body began to expand with fat. He pushed back with his hands, trying to stop it, trying to cling to his old self, but he was finding it harder and harder to think, as his mind slowed to a crawl.

“Don’t fight it, pig, you know it’s what you deserve. It’s what you want,” Marty said. “Just a short, obese, hairy, stinking piggy. Not many good genes on that side of the family. You got your daddy’s tiny dick for one thing–hell, we tried to measure it once, but couldn’t really get a good read because of how fat you both are. Hair all over. Your fucking musk could peel paint off the wall, and it doesn’t matter if you shower or not, it comes back in just a few minutes. We don’t mind of course, as family, it doesn’t bother us. All that hair though, and you’re still balding at…how old are you? Twenty two? Ugly fuckin’ mug too, but that can’t be helped. Not many women were willing to have sex with that pigdad of yours. We found one willing, but he couldn’t even get inside her–we had to inseminate. We paid her plenty, of course, but even she thought you were the ugliest baby she’d ever seen. Never wanted to see you again, if she could help it.”

Gary could only watch in horror as everything Marty said came true. He lost a few more inches in height, even as his weight exploded–ending up at five foot six and nearly four hundred pounds of mostly fat. His skin was coated with hair, aside from his hair, which was balding, the rest of it buzzed short. The thick beard on his face did some to conceal his ugly looks, but you couldn’t hide the big nose and ears, the thick brow, the crooked teeth. His clothes had disappeared, but that wasn’t shocking. Pigs didn’t get to wear clothes in the house, and it wasn’t like Gary got to leave that often. Between the stink rolling off him, and his ugly looks, the family decided it was best if the pig just stayed home and took care of the family. 

“But every generation has to have their pig, right? Yer Daddy was my pig, and that means you get to be my boys’ pig. That excites you, of course. Getting to service two big, burly sadists like them, day and night, doing whatever sick, twisted things they want to you. They’ve been training you real well for the last couple of years. Just last month, they finally managed to fit both of their fists inside you at the same damn time. You make my boys so damn happy, and you’re happy doing what you do best, being a stupid, ugly pig cocksucker for your whole damn family.”

Unable to help himself, Gary gave a snort, remembering how happy he’d been, feeling histwin cousin’s fists deep inside him, pummelling his prostate until his little cock jizzed all over his gunt. Across the room, uncle Marty had been busy working over his Daddy with a paddle, working out some sadistic aggression on his ass, turning it bright red. Every once in a while, Keith would shudder and grunt, adding to the pool of cum drooling off the fuck bench he was strapped to. 

“You like being a pig, don’t you Gary?”

“Yeah Uncle Marty, of course I do.”

“You like being your family’s fist hole? Their urinal? Their ashtray? You like how we treat you like a fucking garbage can and cum dump? You love being humiliated.When my boys brought home that tattoo gun, you begged them to use it on you, to mark you as theirs forever. Of course, the only place they could tattoo you where anyone would see it was your face, since the rest of you was so hairy…”

Crude writing appeared across Gary’s face, scrawled there by his cousins over the last few months. Gary didn’t mind. He loved being marked by them, owned by them. What else was there for a pig like him to do anyway? Too stupid to work, too horny all the time to do anything other than beg for sex, he thanked his lucky stars every day that he had been born into a family that understood what a pig like him needed, and treated him right.

“Open pig.”

Gary did as ordered, opened his mouth, and Marty tapped the hot ash from his cigar into his mouth, then shoved his nephew down to his knees. “Open up boy, let me help you wash that down.”

Marty started pissing all over his nephew, watching the young pig chase the stream all over, the rest of it dribbling down into his hairy body. The rest of the family gathered around–even Keith–and added their own piss, baptizing the newest, and youngest member of the family as one of their own. Marty could feel the magic thrumming around him and through him–this was the last one, he could already feel it beginning to seal, but he had gotten what he wanted. He pushed Gary down, climbed on top of him, and drove his cock into his loose hole, Gary grunting with excitement as his uncle took him for the first time, for the hundredth time, he didn’t know. All he knew anymore was that he was a horny, cockhungry pig, and he was here to service his family as they required. Gary’s hole wasn’t tight, but Marty was so horny he didn’t last long. He exploded deep in Gary’s hole, and felt the magic contract and solidify around all of them. Looking up, the portrait was still there, but perfectly stable now–but a piece of artwork, nothing more. 

“Come on boys, let’s get these pigs downstairs. I think we’re just getting warmed up, right?”

Everyone hollered in agreement, and dragged Keith and Gary down to the basement, for their nightly ritual. None of them could be happier, of course, especially Marty, whose own memories were fading away, and had disappeared by dawn. He had what he’d always wanted, a loving family. A perverted, stinking, roughneck family of pigs, sure, but a family all the same.

(Caption) Mind the Return Policy

October Caption Challenge (30/31)

You couldn’t get into the best Halloween parties on campus without a costume, which was a challenge for Jeff, since he didn’t have much in the way of cash to spend on anything extravagant. Some guys he knew could pull together a decent costume with just some trash and duct tape, but he’d never been that creative. Looking on the internet for ideas, he saw a good one–go buy some clothes from a workwear store and go as a construction worker. The next day, you can just return them, and you aren’t out a dime–so long as they stay clean of course.

It seemed like an easy solution. There was a little workwear shop near campus, owned by a gruff looking older fellow, who, when Jeff checked out with the gear, just gave him a scowl, like he knew exactly what he was up to. “You need a copy of the return policy?” he asked. Jeff just shook his head, bundled everything up and left the store.

The party was great. Even more amazing, the clothes were good as new the next day, aside from their missing tags, of course. But that wouldn’t be an issue he was sure. He went back to the store with the clothes in hand, and told the older fellow he wanted to return them. He even had the receipt and everything. 

The older fellow scoffed, and his sneer turned into a bit of a smile. “Sorry fella, I can’t take back gear that you’ve worked in,” he said. 

Jeff started to object, but felt the world shift around him a bit, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What are you talking about?” he managed to say, “They’re good as new.”

“Buddy, look in the mirror, that shit is filthy.”

Jeff walked over and looked in the mirror hanging on the outside of the dressing room, and just stared at his reflection in confusion. For one thing, why was he wearing the clothes he’d bought? He’d…he’d had something else on, hadn’t he? From…school? Everything was fuzzy all of a sudden. It had been a costume, hadn’t it? But he hadn’t…done anything for Halloween, he was too tired from working all day at the site. 

“No, what the hell, I…what the fuck did ya do to me?”

“Look, best I can offer is an exchange. It’s no surprise ya wanna return them, I mean…I’m surprised ya even managed to squeeze into those to get here.”

The same sensation as before, but this time, it was centered on him, inside him. Looking down, Jeff watched as his body swelled larger and larger, packing on fat, the suspenders pushed to the side, his t-shirt riding up as a massive, hairy gut spilled out, the button at the top of his pants popping open.

“I…I mean…I don’t understand…” he stammered, gripping his gut in disbelief, but already the memory was fading, of being any other way.

“No worries Jeff,” the owner said, “You’re familiar with our return policy. Seems like ya come in here every month, after outgrowing the last set of clothes I sell you. It’s like you enjoy being a fat, hairy, stinking pig or something.”

Jeff grunted, as the hefty owner pushed up against him. “I…I uh…look, I’ll just…just take the clothes…”

“No, you’re gonna get in the dressing room, bend over like the horny asspig you are, and I’m gonna fuck that loose hole of yours. Then, we’ll get you dressed in something closer to your size eh? Don’t you want me to breed that hole of yours, you fat hog?”

Fuck, he did, didn’t he? That afternoon, Jeff was back at the site, in his new clothes. They were better, with a little room to grow at least, but that was just a challenge as far as he was concerned. In a few weeks, he’d be bursting out of these as well, and head on back to Wade’s shop to make a new exchange. He was so happy he’d found that shop–really, his return policy was the best in town.

(Caption) Halloween Nightmares V

October Caption Challenge (23/31)

What a treat for a dream imp! Two young men, asleep in the back seat of their father’s car during a long road trip. Pulling two men into the realm of nightmares at once was difficult, which is why the imp rarely did so, but the stronger the connection between the two, the easier it would be to bring them together.

Kyle and Steve were brothers, sure, but they were also rivals, and had been their entire life. Encouraged by their father, both of them were challenged to one-up each other in whatever athletic contest he might decide. As such, the brothers were both well built, athletically accomplished young men, who, on a certain level, despised one another.

And so, they began to dream. Kyle found himself in a dungeon, full of all manner of painful devices. Steve was in the center, chained up and unable to move. Before Kyle could move to help him, a voice told him to stop. He turned, and saw his father in the corner of the room–no, not his father, not quite his father, the face kept…sliding away from him, the eyes were red, the teeth too sharp.

“Come now, Kyle,” his not-father said, “Don’t you want to show me what a good boy you are? Don’t you want to punish your brother? Show me what you can do?”

Kyle…didn’t, not at first, but then, there was a flogger in his hand, and he started bringing it down on his brother’s back, and fuck, it felt good, thinking about all the times he hadn’t measured up. He was the oldest brother, he should be the one to be the best, but then why did he lose? As he pounded on his brother’s flesh, he didn’t notice that Steve was beginning to change, his muscle growing thicker, his body hair and beard filling in, his cries of pain now punctuated with the occasional moan of delight. 

Then, a whistle, and before Kyle even knew what was happening, he was there in the middle of the room, in chains, and his brother–his larger, hairier, brutish brother, was leering at him, cock leaking, his not-father’s red eyes gleaming in the shadows. “Now now, you boys take turns, alright?”

Steve set on him with the floggers, with the paddles, with the clamps, with slaps and fists. At first, all Kyle could feel was the pain, all of it excruciating. But then, buds of pleasure, then full blossoms, as his body grew, piling on muscle, piling on scar, piling on hair. When it was time to switch once more, he could see that Steve had grown just as hungry for it as he had–and he would be sure to give his brother as much pleasure as he possibly could.

And on the road, his sons quiet for so long, the father looked back and discovered the back seat vacant–yet he hadn’t stopped, and there was nowhere for his son’s to have gone. He was blamed, of course–there was no other explanation, but if his boys ever did make it back to the mortal plane, they never crossed paths with him, that he knew of.