I’ll Change for You (Part 6)

Was it an invitation? It didn’t quite sound like one, somehow, as he said it. Herman got his coat, and the two of them went down and decided to go to a quiet restaurant a few blocks away from town, one where the students weren’t usually found crowding up the place. Burt found himself ordering several appetizers, and when they arrived, he happily tucked it, chatting with Herman, but noticing that his fellow professor seemed rather…preoccupied. “Come on now, Herman–feel free to tuck in,” he said, and started foisting food on him. Herman was…reluctant, but Burt almost enjoyed that aspect, bringing him around slowly, encouraging him to eat more than he was planning on. When it came time to order entrees, and Herman ordered something small for himself, Burt overrode him, ordered him steak and potatoes, and Herman went along with it.

More than once, Burt asked himself what he was doing. This seemed…so unlike him. Wouldn’t this be…irritating to Herman, having some man bossing him around, ordering food for him, and the like? But Herman didn’t seem annoyed–if anything, he appeared a bit embarrassed–or was he aroused? They were sitting at a table, and before their food came, Burt moved over to a seat beside him, allegedly because the restaurant was a loud–even though they’d had no trouble hearing one another up to that point. He slid a hand over onto Herman’s thigh, and then slid it down the inside of his thigh. Herman opened his legs slightly, enough to let Burt grope him gently through his slacks, while the two of them carried on discussing their classes and latest research, the only sign anything odd was happening at all was the flush of red in Herman’s cheeks.

He did like it. He liked all of it. Burt was certainly enjoying himself as well, his own cock bulging in his slacks, thinking again about that fantasy, about…ordering this older man around, forcing him to submit and bending him to his own will. The waitress returned with their food, and Herman tried to pull himself away from Burt’s groping hand, but he refused to remove it, the young woman not even noticing where Burt’s hand happened to be, as she set their plates down. Only once she’d left, did Burt remove his hand, pick up his silverware, and start eating, encouraging Herman to do the same. He would, on occasion, check to see how Herman was responding, and as far as he could tell the man’s cock didn’t lower once–and neither did Burt’s, in fact. Still, he kept it respectable. If any students had walked in, all they would have seen were two professors out to lunch.

Herman finished his plate, and Burt ordered dessert for them both. He looked a bit…full, but didn’t object. When the single dessert to share appeared, Burt insisted Herman eat most of it, and more than once fed him bites off his own fork. When they were finished, Burt picked up the check, and then they left, and went back to campus. Burt offered him a ride, since they’d driven over together, but Herman insisted that he’d rather walk. Burt tried to insist, but Herman said he had another errand to run on the way, and then he was gone down the sidewalk, leaving Burt horny and frustrated. He walked to his car, and sensed that the horniness he was feeling was a sign of the amulet building up in power again, and so he slipped his cock free of his slacks, found a few spare napkins to catch the mess, and started masturbating, thinking about how he should have been more insisting, and gotten Herman into his car with him.

How, once he was there in the passenger seat, how he could have rubbed his belly gently, feeling how…tight it was, after their meal, taking out his own cock, and then Herman’s, suggesting one last meal to top off his dinner, Herman licking his lips and leaning over, sucking on his cock under the steering wheel, gently and sweetly, until Burt filled his mouth with his cum. He shot as he reached orgasm in the fantasy, huffing and puffing slightly, his gut pushing out a bit further, but it was the hands on the steering wheel that he noticed first.

They looked…old. Weathered and wrinkled, with a few age spots on them. They ached slightly as well, more than they should have. He squinted at them, wondering why he was having such a difficult time picking out the details of them, until he felt the glasses in his breast pocket, pulled them free and put them on, and the world grew perfectly clear. He…he hadn’t needed glasses before, had he? No–perhaps his vision had been slightly blurred, but when he took them off again, he couldn’t even read the sign of the restaurant across the parking lot. He put them back on, feeling them rest in their usual, well worn spot on the bridge of his nose, and he reached over and turned the rearview mirror towards him.

White–his hair was…white, or at least mostly grey. There were a few streaks of color throughout, but he looked to be closer to fifty at this point, and maybe even slightly older than that. He had crows feet at the corners if his eyes, a wrinkled brow, and jowls hidden slightly by his trimmed beard. He was still dressed in a suit, but this one felt…more luxurious, somehow. Still, that wasn’t too surprising, he prefered expensive clothes, after all, custom tailored to his…particular physique. A man of his girth simply couldn’t find clothes off the rack that would fit correctly, not at five foot four and over 350 pounds.

I’ll Change for You (Part 5)

He slipped away and went to the bathroom, among the throngs of students passing from class to class, but it was clear that this hard-on wasn’t going away–if anything, it was intensifying. The sensation was the same one he’d had in his dorm room the day before, when the necklace had changed him. Did that mean it was happening again? But why now? He hadn’t seen, or even really thought about Herman all day long! However, as he did that, his arousal intensified, and he found Herman centered in his thoughts, thought about them together, pressing their hairy guts together, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and forcing Herman to bend down to kiss him…

No–this wasn’t right. This fantasy felt strange, just like the last one had. He was himself, but he was also someone else–and he reached down his shirt to get the necklace off of him, but stopped. No–no, he needed to just let this happen. He had to trust that this was the right thing to do, that whoever that strange old man had been, he was doing this to help him. Besides…it did feel good, didn’t it? He pushed Herman up against a wall, in his fantasy, pinning him there, feeling his shudder with excitement, one hand up on Herman’s shoulder, pressing him down, feeling him collapse, slowly, under his guidance. He was on his knees now, worshiping Burt’s hefty gut, licking it, running his tongue through the hairy surface, and Burt gave a few huffing pants and shot his load inside one of the stalls, the cum splattering against one of the partitions and sliding down as he collected himself.

Did he…change again? Burt didn’t feel different, necessarily, but he also felt a bit out of sorts, all the same. He pulled up his khaki dress pants, tucked in his shirt and adjusted his tie–and then took a moment to wipe up his cumshot with some toilet paper and flush it. It was, perhaps, kind of sexy somehow, but best not to leave any evidence where, heaven forbid, a student might find it. Satisfied, he stepped out of the stall and went to the sinks to wash his hands, but when he saw himself in the mirror he stopped short, jaw agape at the sight of himself.

He most certainly had changed–and rather substantially at that. He was even larger than he’d been before–probably another fifty pounds heavier, and a few inches shorter which didn’t help his girth much. Still, that wasn’t the most apparent shift–it was his hair, that he noticed first. It was receding several inches now, and had quite a bit of grey streaked through it. The beard he had was fuller as well, a touch longer but well manicured, but had just as much early grey as his hair did. He looked like a man in his late thirties, or perhaps even his early forties. Still…it suited him, as did the clothes he was wearing. He’d dressed in his usual casual dress for class as a TA this morning, but what he was wearing now was closer to a suit–dress pants, a button down shirt, tie, and jacket. He looked…authoritative and distinguished, and even if the rest of the changes had him a bit uneasy, he found himself enjoying it, in some twisted fashion. The necklace was still resting outside his shirt, and he considered taking it off–but didn’t. He tucked it back in, next to his hairy chest. Whatever this magic was, it was clear that it was by no means finished. He was going to see this through, whatever it was, and if he needed to change for Herman to love him…then so be it. He would be whoever Herman needed him to be–whoever he wanted him to be, if it meant he would love him.

Memories were slowly falling into place, as he became more comfortable with his appearance. He was older now–forty-three, to be precise–and an newish professor within Herman’s department, not yet with tenure, but certainly heading in that direction. It was, he realized, about time for lunch–and with that light breakfast earlier, he was famished! He left the bathroom and headed for his office, planning on picking up a bit of work to pass the lunch hour with, when he saw that Herman’s door was open, and he was sitting at his desk. The amulet–it wanted him to do something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Not…not what he’d seen in that fantasy, no, he realized now that as much as he might want that, it was too…forward for someone of Herman’s sensibilities, especially here at the school. He needed to take it a bit slower, lure him in–and then he’d get what he wanted, soon enough.

“Care to grab some lunch, Herman?” Burt asked, surprised, and at the same time, pleased by his deeper voice.

The professor looked up when Burt spoke, and he saw in Herman’s eyes something he’d been desperate to see for weeks on end–Herman wanted him. Herman wanted him, and Burt knew it, and Herman knew that Burt knew it, but neither of them had yet made a move beyond a cordial friendship. “Oh, uh sure! I can come along, I suppose. I’m not that hungry though.”

“Nonsense,” Burt said, “every man needs three big meals a day!” he laughed, slapping his gut, noticing how Herman’s eyes were locked on it, forcing him to tear them away after a moment. “Or you can always just watch me eat, I suppose.”

I’ll Change for You (Part 4)

It wasn’t very bright at all, like a candle seen at some distance. He turned off the lights in the room, and in the evening winter gloom, he could see it better–but what could it possibly mean? Could it glow brighter? Was there…more? He thought about putting it on, just to see what might happen…but tucked it back into his pocket. Answers first, he told himself. He needed to find that old man, and figure out what he did to him.

He trekked back to downtown and retraced his steps as best he could, but had no luck. The streets were too narrow, and the shops to clustered in the night for him to find the shopfront from before–if it had even existed. He remembered how massive the store had felt, on the inside. Maybe it hadn’t really existed at all, not like he existed, at least. Frustrated, cold, and lonely, he made the trek back to campus, his hand gripping the necklace tight, the light giving a bit of warmth on his way home, to his dorm–but the small single just felt even colder and more lonely than the world outside. He took out the necklace again, and looked at it, at the little flicker of fire in the stone, and wondered what might happen if he put it on again.

It…seemed like that’s what it wanted, but is it what he wanted? Looking around the room, and down at himself…he wasn’t so sure anymore. After all, if the necklace had done this to him after just a couple of minutes of wearing it, who knew what it might do if he kept it on any longer than that. Still, it had changed how Herman saw him–how he felt about him. Not enough, but it had been a little taste of what Burt was craving. It wasn’t enough to satisfy him. If anything, this just felt worse, knowing he would be working with the man he loved, but knowing it would never be able to go further than this…awkward moment. There had to be more, and if he had to change to make it happen, all he could hope was that it would be worth it, in the end.

He slipped the necklace over his head again, and let the pendant rest against his chest, down between his two chubby moobs, and took a deep breath, waiting for something to happen. After all, when he’d put it on the first time, he’d been almost overwhelmed with desire–but this time he didn’t feel anything at all. Well, nothing more than he was feeling usually, he supposed. Wondering if he just needed to focus, he thought about Herman, about that kiss earlier, and while that was more than enough to get him aroused, it didn’t feel the same. The intensity wasn’t there. It didn’t have direction. He jacked off anyway, going through the motions, hoping it would just work, but he was left with cum in his hand on the edge of his bed, the same chubby young man he’d been, the necklace still against his chest, the gem giving off the same dim light as before.

Was it broken? Did he have to do something else? Is this…all that he was going to get? Maybe he hadn’t loved him enough. Maybe Herman was right, maybe he was just young and foolish, and all of this was going to go away, in time. Maybe it had all been for nothing. But he could still see the wonder in the eyes of that old man, how he’d spoken about his love as this beautiful thing–who would he give him something that would take him one step closer, and then no further? Then again, maybe it was up to him. Maybe this is all he needed–maybe Herman could love him like this, but it was up to Burt to…show him. Or maybe…maybe he’d ruined it. Maybe it would have kept working, if he hadn’t taken it off like that. Maybe he’d doubted himself, and his love, and he’d never get another chance.

There was no immediate answer, and he was tired, and hungry. He got dressed and went to a nearby restaurant to eat, came back and graded some papers before retiring for the night. He never took the necklace off, even if it felt a bit silly to keep wearing it when it wasn’t doing anything for him. Still…it felt comfortable, against his skin, and by the time he got undressed for bed, he wasn’t even noticing it, and he slept with it on.

The next morning, everything felt…normal. That old life of his, when he was a skinny undergraduate, felt even further away than it had before, and this new one, the life of an overworked graduate student, was feeling more real than he would have liked. He got up a bit late, collected his things, got himself breakfast at the dining hall (more than he would have ever usually ate, but his head was telling him this was, in fact, a light breakfast) and then off to teach his first class of the day. He was nervous, feeling like this was the first time he’d ever been up in front of students–who he still couldn’t help but feel were his peers–but it turned out to be easier than he was expecting. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. There was a certain authority that he had, and seeing all of those younger men and women looking up at him for guidance and teaching…well, he had one of the more uncomfortable boners of his life, after class.

I’ll Change for You (Part 3)

He looked at the papers, confused. He…He knew what they were, but why would he be grading papers for one of the professor’s intro courses? That…that was the sort of thing a TA in the graduate program would do, right? He looked around the room again, and was surprised by a few other little details out of place–books from seminars he’d taken during his senior year, even though he also knew he was just a junior. A picture of him in cap and gown, his parents smiling with him…it couldn’t be, could it? And was that even him in the photo?

He grabbed it and stared at it, in denial. The person there, the person he recognized as himself…he didn’t look right at all. Chubby, with a full beard on his face, hair trimmed short, and even receding slightly already–it wasn’t possible. He went to the mirror in the room, and sure enough–there he was. The same man from the photo, although now even a couple years older than that, with his Masters under his belt, his hairline receding even a bit further, and with another twenty-five pounds or so on his frame. It wasn’t just his body from the picture, though–it was the body from that fantasy, the one he’d felt. Had…had that kiss happened? His fantasy felt so real, and yet he couldn’t be sure–he didn’t quite know what to believe, but he knew, for certain, that he needed to see Herman–there had to be some answers there, right?

He grabbed the pile of papers to be graded, figuring he could use them as an excuse, threw them in his bag and took off for Herman’s office. He usually worked on lesson planning at this time of day, so he should still be there. As he went, everything felt both…completely alien, and yet, also utterly familiar, almost like he’d walked these exact steps already before. He picked up the pace slightly and got to the professor’s office a bit out of breath–he collected himself a moment, before knocking gently.

“Come in!”

Burt stepped into the room, and when he saw Herman there, the love swept over him–perhaps even stronger than it had been before. When Burt had first studied with him as an undergrad…he’d known he had to stay close to him, somehow. A Master’s degree had just made sense, at the time…and even though he’d kept his feelings a secret, all this time, he knew, perhaps, that Herman had a few lingering feelings about his star student as well.

“What’s up, Burt?”

“Oh! Uh, I just had a couple of questions about, uh, the rubric for the papers I’m grading is all…” It was a terrible excuse, and the look of puzzlement on Herman’s face told him that.

“You’ve TA’d that class before–you know what I expect.”

“Yeah, I know, I just, well, there’s a few that kind of fall in the cracks, you know?” he pulled a paper out, and took it over to Herman, around the desk, and when he did–he felt it. He’d been here, right here, in that fantasy, and before he could stop himself, he pushed his face to Herman’s and kissed him.

It was nothing like that first kiss–that kiss that no longer even needed to exist in his mind. Herman was surprised, for a moment, and then responded, sliding his tongue between Burt’s lips, and he felt his thick frame shudder with delight, but before he got too carried away, Herman pulled back. “That…was unexpected,” Herman said, a bit red in his cheeks.

“I…I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Burt said, “I…I love you,” he said, leaned in again, but Herman pushed him back and shook his head.

“I…Burt, you’re sweet, and…cute, and I admit that I find you attractive, but…but we can’t. This isn’t ok. I’m still your teacher, and your mentor.”

“I don’t care!” Burt said, “I…I’ll do anything, please…you don’t know what it’s like, what I feel.”

“Oh yes I do, trust me. I was in love plenty of times when I was young too. It hurts, I know, but this has to be professional first. This could put your doctorate in jeopardy.”

Burt could tell there wouldn’t be any reasoning with him, and so he mumbled an agreement, packed up the papers and left again, back to his room. He was confused, and hurt, and still didn’t quite know what to make of any of this–especially that necklace. It…it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t been enough. Back in the room, he stripped down naked, and looked at himself in the mirror–at his current self. It felt totally normal now…but that didn’t make the change any less strange. Why had the necklace changed him at all? Why not just…make Herman love him? Instead, all he got was a bit shorter, a bit fatter, a bit older, and a bit better of kiss from him than he’d gotten when he was himself–his real self.

He should take it back, fine that old man, and try and get him to change him back. Whatever this was…it wasn’t what he wanted, right? Well, maybe not in isolation, but if it had worked, if it had made Herman love him, he would have been ecstatic, and more than willing to live this life in exchange for that love to be returned. He got dressed again, and then found the necklace on the desk, where he’d tossed it–but something made him pause, before shoving it back in his pocket. The stone in the middle of the knot–it was glowing.

I’ll Change for You (Part 2)

Burt wasn’t sure what to say, “I mean…I don’t know what I could do…but yeah, I guess…”

The old man gazed at him as he stammered, and then, before Burt had really given an answer, he let go and rushed off. “Good! Then I have just the thing!” he cried and rounded a corner, abandoning Burt in the aisle. He spun around for a moment, trying to get his bearings, but he didn’t know where the entrance was, or how he might possibly try and untangle himself from the maze the man had dragged him into. Again, he was struck by the impossibility–the shop couldn’t have been wider than an alleyway, and yet he couldn’t see the walls, even through the shelves. The stuff around him was unorganized, seemed rather cheap, and yet he was afraid to touch any of it. He was about to move, when the old man returned, holding something in his hand, which turned out to be a small stone charm, hanging from a leather cord. “This! This is what you need.”

He pushed it into Burt’s hand, and before he could ask what the man meant, he was dragging him off again, this time back to the entrance and onto the sidewalk. “Wait, how much is it? I can’t afford much…”

“No no, all is free,” the old man said, “You get what you need here–what you need is this. Wear it, and the love between you–it will be worth it. Such a love, so selfless–do not waste it!”

Before Burt could ask anything else, the man had slipped back into the shop, and when he tried to step back inside, he found himself not among the curiosities, but rather in an abandoned building, shelves bare and cobweb ridden. “Had it been his imagination? But the necklace was still clenched in his fist. He looked closer at it–it was simple, a metal knot with a bright red stone set in the middle of it. He didn’t know if it was just because he’d had it in his hand, but it felt…warm, somehow. Should he put it on? He wasn’t really one to wear jewelry, usually…but he also didn’t want to just abandon it. In the end, he slipped it into his pocket, and headed back to campus, relieved that the encounter was feeling more and more like a dream with each passing minute. It wasn’t until he got back to his room that he pulled it back out, still somewhat surprised it was there, since it was becoming more and more difficult to recall the details of his encounter with the shop owner, and studied it a bit more intently.

What was he supposed to do with it, anyway? Wear it, and then what, Herman would just…fall in love with him like magic? It was a ridiculous thought, but what other hope did he have, really? Just to see what it looked like on him, he put the necklace on, and as soon as he did, he felt a strange flush of emotion weave through him–centering on his cock. Looking down he could see it tenting out the front of his jeans, and all he could think about was Herman–but the scene that kept playing over and over in his mind, right then, was his outright rejection of him in his office. It had felt horrible–but why in the world was thinking about it making him horny? But the more he thought about it, things about the rejection seemed to…shift, slightly.

The kiss, he’d thought, had been awkward, and forced, and short–but now he was beginning to remember it lingering slightly. Had Herman pulled away, slightly disgusted and shocked, or had he been a bit out of breath? The moment kept repeating in his mind, and without even noticing, Burt had his hand down the front of his pants, gently massaging his cock as he thought more and more about it. How Herman had been sneaking glances at him, how he could tell his professor had been at least somewhat interested in him–even if it wasn’t nearly as much as Burt would have liked. How that kiss had lasted a moment, Herman’s hand sliding over and rubbing Burt’s gut…

Burt pushed back on that thought–he didn’t have a gut, after all. He was tall, around six foot three, and even a bit underweight…but in what he was seeing, that wasn’t…the body he had, and the more he thought about it, the more he remembered it, the less wrong it seemed–having a gut, a bit of fur, his beard brushing against the professor’s own. His cock was throbbing now, so much that it was beginning to ache. He was lost in the fantasy before long. No longer questioning it–and he came with a few grunts, spurting a sizable load into the front of his underwear, and the emotions began to relent until they were just a simmer–and before anything else strange could happen, he pulled off the necklace and tossed it onto his desk, next to the pile of papers he’d promised Professor Boel he’d have graded by Monday–

Room for a Houseboy (Pics)

“Trust me man, you’re gonna love it here! It’s a great place,” Travis said.

“Yeah man, sounds good,” Robbie said, following his friend into the house.

Robbie had recently found out he was going to be getting kicked out of the room where he had been staying, because the guy who owned the place was going to have his girlfriend moving in with him. It had sucked, but thankfully, Travis–a guy he’d gotten to know at the gym recently–had suggested he move into the same house where he lived. The landlord had a few rooms in a sizable house, and one of them had just come free. Robbie was a little…hesitant, because something about Travis had always seemed a bit odd, but a room was a room, right?

“That you, boy?” a voice called out from a room or two away.

“Yes sir, Mr. Porter! I have someone I want you to meet!”

Travis signaled Robbie to follow him, and there in the living room was a sizable man–Mr. Porter, Robbie assumed. “This is my friend! I know that after Mr. Everett moved out last month, that we had a room free, and so I thought Robbie might be, well, a good fit.”

Mr. Porter hadn’t looked away from Robbie once since he’d stepped into the room, and the young man was feeling increasingly uncomfortable under his glare. He was right–Travis was a fag of some sort. Was this some weird fag thing? “Look–it’s all good. I have some friends I can crash with, actually,” Robbie said, and tried back away and get out of the door, but Travis grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

“See, Mr. Porter…I was thinking, it’s just…a lot of work for one boy, you know? It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, you know that, but think of how good it would be to have two!”

Mr. Porter heaved himself up and walked closer to the two of them. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Robbie since he’d entered, and…and Robbie realized he didn’t have his shirt on. When had he even taken it off? “He is a very handsome boy, I must say,” Mr. Porter said, and ran his hands over Robbie’s muscled frame. He expected to feel disgusted…but instead it felt…amazing. He moaned, his cock tenting out his gym shorts, and Mr. Porter started groping him, his mind…hazy and distant all of a sudden.

“I knew you would like him! This is so good!”

“Yes, he is…very nice, I must say. And so very…eager. BUt still, I don’t know if he’d be such a good fit for Mr. Everett’s old room. It would just be such a waste.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Mr. Porter looked at Travis, considered for a moment, and then stepped back from Robbie. “Boy,” he said to Robbie, “Why don’t you be good and wait here for a bit, until I call you? Travis and I need to…discuss something.”

Robbie was more than happy to wait, and so Mr. Porter took Travis upstairs, and into Mr. Everett’s old room. Travis had liked him–a big burly bear, a hard worker, with a magnificent cock. He’d always helped him loosen up after a day at the office, like a good boy should. “Travis, I’ve had my suspicions, but I just don’t know if you’re cut out to be the house boy.”

The words cut to Travis’ heart like a knife. “What…what are you talking about?”

“You just don’t have the drive. We’ve all noticed it, sadly. You’re a good boy, don’t get me wrong. I had such…high hopes for you when you applied, but it just isn’t quite working out. I think Robbie down there–he’s going to be a much better boy that you ever were.”

“You…are you kicking me out?”

“I’m afraid so, Travis.”

He shook his head, “No! No, please…I’ll do better! I’ll do anything! Please let me stay, please!” he fell to his knees.

“Well, I do have this room open, as you know, but the rent isn’t free, like it is for boys. It’s 4000 dollars a month.”

Travis looked around him, and then back at Mr. Porter. “I…I don’t even have a job, though.”

“I know Travis, but I…can help, if you’d like me to. I’ve been able to help men find their footing in this house before. It won’t be easy, I promise you that–but the room could be yours, if you want it. Or else, you’ll have to leave tonight.”

Travis looked from Mr. Porter to the door, and back. “I…I’ll take it sir.”

“That’s good to hear. Now, let’s get started.”

A month later, Mr. Travis Evers pulled up and parked in the driveway, finally done with work. He was exhausted, but glad to be home, if nothing else. He got out of the car and loosened his tie, grabbed his briefcase and went up the steps to the door, and went inside. Mr. Porter and Mr. Raymond were in the kitchen–the house boy, Robbie, was in a jockstrap serving dinner, and his eyes brightened when he saw Travis enter. “Mr. Evers! He bounded over and gave him a kiss, “You must have had a late day at the office–let me help you.”

A couple hours later, after a nice dinner, he was sitting with a beer and a cigar in his room, in just his underwear, while Robbie lovingly worshiped and massaged his feet, happy to help the men of the house unwind and relax. Travis remembered doing something…similar for Mr. Everett, in another life, but he wasn’t a young boy anymore, not by a long shot. No, he was a man now, and being a man meant having…responsibilities. It was stressful–rent was high, and he needed to work long hours to make ends meet, but living here, with a lovely, hot, dedicated houseboy, made it all worth it.

Alpha and the Boys (Caption)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max Meets Junior (Part 11)

Over the next several months, he developed a small harem of four young men in various corners of the company. Each of them was in the prime of their youth, and all of them found themselves unable to resist the allure of Max’s body and power. None of them was particularly happy to discover that he had men other than them that he used to pleasure himself, and so they would compete amongst each other to try and prove that each of them deserved his attention more than the others. Max loved their fire and spark–and would purposefully stoke the conflicts to make each of them work even harder to improve their bodies, to improve their sexual abilities, to show that they could be the most important man in his life. In fact, none of them had much of a chance, because the only young man who could ever own his heart was Junior, his stepson.

Max had expected his dalliances at work might anger Junior–but in fact he seemed to enjoy them, and demanded that Max relate his adventures in great detail each night when he came home from work, usually while Junior gave him a full body massage, rode his big cock, or stuffed his stepfather’s face with food from the kitchen. Junior, in turn, began offering suggestions, for competitions he could begin between the young men, so that they might earn his love, often with amazing success, like when he began dropping hints to each of the young men that he found tattoos incredibly attractive, and each of them began coating their bodies with designs under their suits–all of them relating to Max, of course, as tokens of their love. Manipulating them was so easy, and yet so utterly satisfying, that he barely realized Junior manipulating him over the months.

The weight gain was becoming more and more obvious–by the end of the first month, he had gone from looking uncomfortable in his suits to nearly bursting the seams apart each time he bent over. Junior insisted they go to a professional tailor instead of some department store, and Junior would take charge, selecting styles which by and large went out of style decades earlier. The suits were inevitably too tight by the time he got them, and the constant squeeze forced Max to begin conducting himself differently in the office–pushing up his posture, making him move stiffly, head pushed high by the starched collars Junior insisted upon. He felt like a fool at first, but between Junior’s adoration and his harem’s compliments, he began adjusting to his new, somewhat haughty demeanor.

This was only enhanced by the cigars and bourbon Junior began forcing on him over the next few months. At first it was just the occasional smoke after dinner while he regaled Junior with his sexual tales of his day at work, but then he was smoking several cigars each night until the cravings became so intense that he was smoking several during work as well, forced to walk through the complex, often with one of his boys hanging off his arm–each of them terrified that someone might notice their relationship, and yet at the same time desperate to make everyone else jealous of their love for Max–or rather, Maxwell, as everyone, including himself, had begun calling himself.

With all of this new power, he began acting different. Maxwell would become frustrated at any sign of resistance from anyone beneath him, usually berating and shouting them down until they agreed with him. As much as he knew he should hate his behavior, it drove wonderful results–his bosses at the top of the company praised his direct, forceful attitude with employees–especially when it came time for another round of layoffs, and his now ruthless nature helped improve efficiency across the entire company. Junior’s database helped, of course–when you know all of your employees’ dirty laundry, it suddenly becomes much, much easier to cut the wheat from the chaff. He also successfully moved every young man in his harem into the HR department, making it much, much easier to secure a fuck in his office whenever he wanted one. While for the first few months he remained somewhat terrified that someone would discover him, the realization that no one would dare challenge him made him ever bolder and bolder in his exploits. It helped knowing that nearly every executive at the company was having an affair of some sort–he was no worse than anyone else, right?

Power, in turn, nurtured his greed. He became obsessed investments and began hoarding wealth as quickly as he could, but he spent a good amount of it liberally as well. He especially loved buying cars–especially classic sport cars–for his stepson. Junior insisted that he had no need to drive, but Maxwell insisted anyway. On the weekends, he would drive them both out into the country, often speeding wildly, Max in the driver’s seat and his stepson’s mouth around his cock, sucking him the whole way, a lit cigar burning in his mouth, simply daring a cop to try and pull him over. He’d never felt more invincible, more in control of himself and his life. Is this what he’d been denying himself for so long? Who wouldn’t want this life?

It was Junior who insisted on the makeover, and that he be allowed to do it himself. He also refused to let Maxwell observe the progress in the mirror, and his new personality bristled at giving over so much control to his stepson. What if he made him look like a fool? He couldn’t be seen at work looking at all unprofessional. Junior soothed his worries and was insistent–Maxwell finally consented and let his stepson begin cutting his hair. When he was finally finished, Junior brought him a mirror…and gasped.

What in the world had Junior just done to his hair? Where moments before had been a full head of black hair, he was now balding severely, the color now a solid, steel grey. It had been greased and combed back, making his scalp even more obvious, but that wasn’t everything. He also had a thick mustache covering his lip, neatly trimmed, and his face looked…older. Wrinkled, with heavy jowls. He put his hands up to his face to feel it, and saw the age spots on the back of his hands. What was happening to him? How could he have not noticed any of this? Yet…Yet, he liked it, the more he looked at himself. He liked it a lot, but then again, he’d always liked how he looked, and to be honest, he was only getting better with age, looking more worldly and distinguished. He had to say, Junior had done an excellent job, and he rewarded his stepson with a long fuck, though he spent a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror as he did–at his full, sagging gut and moobs, his body which seemed hairier than before–the hair the same silver as that on his head and face. He still didn’t understand how all of this could have happened in such a short time–he’d gone from looking to be in his late twenties to his late forties in a matter of months, but even stranger, no one else seemed to notice.

Everyone at work treated him the same–if anything, they seemed to respect him even more, ending every sentence with the word “Sir,” something he liked so much he made it a standing rule for every one of his assistants–though members of his harem could call him Master if they so desired (and they often did.) Junior seemed especially pleased with him, and showered him with praise and attention whenever he was home, and before a week had passed, Maxwell believed that the face he looked at in the mirror had always been his, and he adored it. He adored the authority it gave him, the power, and he imagined that Junior was, perhaps, finished with him for the moment. In fact, it turned out that their fun was just beginning, when Mr. Herman paid a visit to his office unannounced, a month later.

The end for now…

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 8)

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

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

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

“Got any coffee? My head is pounding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-END-

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 7)

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

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

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

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

“You say that to every daddy, I bet.”

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

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

“Fuck, it hurts!”

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

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

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

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

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