Wake Up!

Lucas was just finishing up in the locker room after practice, and he was the last one out today–he’d been caught chatting with coach on the field for a few minutes, and most everyone was on their way back to the dorms by the time he’d gotten in and started getting out of his uniform. He’d just gotten into his shorts and shoes for the walk back to his room, and was getting his shirt, when he realized someone had been watching him this entire time.

It wasn’t someone he recognized–certainly not anyone from the team. He looked even too young to be in college, actually, but maybe he was a freshman who’d gotten lost. He was peeking around the corner of the locker room, and just…staring at Lucas there, in a way which was making him immediately uncomfortable. “Uh…can I help you?” he asked.

The young man didn’t seem upset that he’d been caught peeping, but his face did flush with excitement. “You…It could be you…” he said, and stepped out. Much to Lucas’ surprise, the young man was completely naked. His face seemed young, but the rest of him was very well developed–lean and muscled, with a massive cock hanging between his legs. Why in the hell was he naked? Sure, it was a locker room, but he didn’t belong in here.

“What the fuck man, are you some fucking faggot?” Lucas asked, and stood up, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

The young man didn’t approach, just stood there, cock swaying. “I would never–not yet. You need to Wake Up first.”

The young man was speaking at a normal volume, but the phrase “Wake Up” seemed to multitudes louder than anything else the young man had said, loud enough that Lucas swore he could see the room shake around them.

“Yes, it could be you! You have to Wake Up daddy! Wake Up! Wake Up!…”

Lucas tried to cover his ears, but the force swept over him all the same, and to his terror, the room was coming apart like an earthquake. The boy was still screaming those two words over and over again, and the ceiling was crumbling, it was going to crush him–

Luke jolted awake with a start, panting, in his recliner, and looked around the room. Where was he? It looked like a fairly normal den, he supposed, but…but he’d just been in the locker room! How had he ended up here? Then he looked down at himself, and the questions only compounded.

This wasn’t his body. Sure, in another 20 years or so, he might have looked something like this, with the soft gut and thick thighs, the low hanging balls and fuzzy belly, but…but this wasn’t right. He stood up and went to turn around, and there, in the doorway, was the boy.

His boy.

His…his son.

His naked son, with that…that big fucking cock of his swinging to and fro, and he could fucking taste it, yeah, that…fucking boy cock felt so good rammed down his fucking throat, and his son loved making his daddy moan like a fucking whore…

Luke shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Where–what did you do? Take me back there! I…This isn’t right!”

“Oh daddy–you know how dreams work! Once you wake up, you can never go back. I thought you might be one, and I was right. I’ve been searching so long daddy, and I finally found you.”

His son advanced towards him, and Luke backed away, but he…wanted to touch him so badly, to please him, to…to satisfy him. Teach him. He was just a boy after all, he had so much to learn.

His boy stopped a few feet away, his cock hardening. It was so fucking big, just staring at it was making Luke’s stomach growl. “Come on daddy–come make your son happy.”

He should. He shouldn’t. His knees shook, but refused to buckle. “I’m…I’m you’re fucking father boy, and…and you’re going to make this right. I don’t know what you did, but fix this right now.”

His son frowned. “Don’t be silly daddy–you can’t go back. You’re Awake now.”

“No! No, this has to be the dream–you did…something to me boy, now fix it!”

The boy smiled, “I want to be reasonable daddy–but if you think this is a dream…then maybe you need to Wake Up again.”

The room sloshed, and Luke lost his balance, one foot…falling through the floor like it was mush. “No boy, not–”

“Wake Up daddy! Wake up if you want, but I’ll always be here.”

Like before, the words had tremendous force, and the walls of the room began to sag around them, Luke’s feet sinking into the carpet. He tried to crawl out, but like quicksand, it was sucking him down, and the last thing he saw before it swallowed him up, was his boy leering down at him, and his massive cock leaking cum like a faucet.

Lou lurched over, fighting off the dream, his body sweating and shivering in terror. Still, he tried to cling to it, but it was fading quickly, and within a minute, it was lost, aside from a vague sensation of drowning. Good–he didn’t want to feel like that again, he never wanted to feel like that. He heaved himself up from the bed where he’d been napping, feeling his fat body settle around him, scratched his ass through his briefs, and waddled over to the bathroom to relieve himself.

It sucked getting old–everything hurt. It felt like just yesterday that he was young, a promising athlete, running and jumping and–

He started to shake again, and felt like he might throw up. No–no, he didn’t want that. He wanted to be old, and feeble, and…and hungry–but hungry for what?

“There you are, Grandpa,” his grandson said in the doorway, naked, his massive cock hard as a rock. Just staring at it filled Lou with such fucking lust, but his old cock didn’t get hard anymore–but he didn’t need to get hard to make his grandson happy. “I need you real bad, I’ve waited so long.”

“Well, you can wait a bit more–Grandpa has to pee,” Lou said with a chuckle.

“No!” His boy shouted, “No! Now! Now, or I’ll do it again, I swear I will!”

He didn’t quite know what his boy meant, but the threat filled Lou with terror all the same, and he got down and started sucking his grandson’s cock, the boy roughly fucking his face, slamming his huge cock down his old throat, but it felt so good. He tried to hold his piss, but couldn’t–and emptied his bladder into the front of his briefs, feeling it run down his hairy thighs and pool around his knees…but it didn’t matter. Keeping his grandson happy was most important. It was his dream, after all, and he never wanted to wake up ever again.

Slave Swap (Part 3)

It was the first time Cameron could remember, where he actively resisted one if his Master’s commands. Certainly some of what Master had ordered him to do before had given him…doubts and reservations, particularly early on, as he’d been growing used to being used for gay sex, but this body, his lack of control, the sheer horror of this violation and betrayal–there was no way he was going to fucking diaper himself. No, this was ludicrous. He fought hard, as his body rose to a standing position, and then lurched out of Master’s office. As he did, he heard a notification on Master’s phone, and he checked it. “Significant resistance. Finally. You’d been far too accommodating thus far slave. I’m glad to see that the consequences of your…submission have dawned on you. Still, fight all you want–it only makes me harder.”

He found the stack of diapers–disposable ones–in the bathroom on the counter, took one from the package and grimaced as his hands pulled it on. He couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t fight this. Wasn’t there some escape clause in the contract? He knew that even a contract of total submission had some limitations, mostly regarding extreme self-harm and murder. But in those cases, the chip itself would shut down as a safeguard. It was obviously still functioning, which meant the contract was still in effect. He looked at himself in the mirror, some fat old man wearing a thick diaper, hands shaking slightly. How long was he going to be staying like this? If this was within the bounds of the contract, then he supposed it could be…for a very long time. If he died in this body, what would happen to him? More disturbing, if something happened to his real body, would he be stuck in this one?

He was feeling sick, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the terror, or because of something else. There was a sense that…he was craving something, but he didn’t quite know what. Still, he was dressed, the front of his diaper warm from the piss seeping out of him non-stop, and he went back to the office where Master was waiting. “How long am I going to be in this body?” Cameron asked, as soon as he was back in the room.

“I’m not certain, to be honest. The other master and I didn’t agree on an exact timeline.”

“Like…a week? A month?” He didn’t dare mention anything longer, out of his own terror.

Master didn’t reply, he only smiled. “I’m sure that time will fly by, if you just try and enjoy yourself. Now, you should know that this body comes with quite a few quirks you won’t be accustomed to from before. In particular, you are programmed with quite a few…addictions. Physical needs that you’ll need to satisfy on a regular basis, or you’ll begin suffering quite severe symptoms. Some of them are more normal. The body’s owner notes that it’s used to smoking ten to fifteen cigars a day, and generally takes in around eight liters of beer. It also has…a substantial appetite. From the way you’re sweating, you must be feeling the first waves of withdrawal.” Master pushed a cigar, lighter, and a large beer across his desk towards Cameron. “I won’t…tell you to, slave. But if you need them, there they are.”

Cameron felt the body somehow…scream, when it saw the stuff there, and his hands were reaching for it before he even realized it, and he pulled them back, the pain growing a bit worse. The diapers were one thing, but he wasn’t going to let this body control him–he could at least manage that.

Master watched him fight, and groped his cock. Cameron saw he was hard again already. “Of course, the most severe of the body’s programmed addictions are to cum and piss. It requires so much that one person can’t provide enough to satisfy the body’s needs, so we’ll have to find a solution to that, I suppose. It’s a good thing I don’t mind sharing. Better perhaps, because I find you quite…repulsive, actually.”

“Then why…did you agree to this? If you didn’t want this, sir?”

“Oh, I do want this, slave,” Master said, “I don’t have to have sex with you to get sexual enjoyment from you, remember. See, if you’d read that psychological profile of me with an eye for detail, you would have seen that physical sex has never really…been enough for me. No, I love humiliating men, and have fantasies of ruining them. You’re repulsive, but that only…makes me hornier. Besides, I chose this body for you with good reason–your vanity is so…boring. Watching you stare at yourself in the mirror, day in and day out, those god awful clothes you’d buy for yourself? You claimed you were doing that to please me, but you were only pleasing yourself, and your ego. But look at you now! Now we can bring your focus back to where it belongs, because the only way you’re going to be getting that body of yours back, Slave, is by making me happy.”

Cameron didn’t know what to say to that. He felt, and then tasted a tear, and hated the fact that he was crying in front of this horrible man. His body was crying out even louder for the cigar and beer a foot away from him, and his guts were twisting, demanding food, cum and piss. He could smell his diaper already, wafting up, and it was making his mouth water. “This…slave wants you to be happy sir. How can I serve you best?” he said, gritting his teeth.

“I’ll show you.” Master said, “Sleep mode, Slave.”

Slave Swap (Part 2)

“Count backwards from 100 slowly, slave, and then you may force your way out. Take a look at yourself, and then come find me at the computer.”

Cameron started counting, and heard Master’s footsteps recede out of the room. While he laid there, counting quietly to himself, he tried to piece together what, exactly, his body was feeling. There was some pain–quite a bit of it really–but nothing too prominent, just some aches in his joints which he might expect after a trip somewhere, confined like this. But why put him to sleep? Where had this even come from? Master had never shown much interest in fetish play before this. He hit fifty, and realized that his voice sounded a bit odd as well, but passed it off as distortion from the mask he was wearing–though it seemed different from the one Master had put on him before. Was it? The shape was slightly off. From ten to one, he could barely stand waiting, but he made it, and started wriggling in the suit, trying to get the zipper to creep down. It was hard work, and he felt tired and sore and weak, but he managed to get it down past his head, and then pushed it open with his shoulders, letting him free one arm, and then the other. He pulled off the mask and looked around–they hadn’t gone anywhere! They were still in the bedroom, though the light was different, certainly. He got the zipper down further, and that’s when he noticed something was off–his usually flat stomach was not flat at all, but as he unzipped the rubber, he revealed a massive, flabby gut covered with grey and white hair.

Cameron didn’t know how to react at the sight. He stopped unzipping felt it–it was certainly…him. Had Master taen him to get his body reshaped? But then why the sack? He kept going, eager to get free now, and at last he managed to get out entirely, pulled the IV from his arm, and the catheter from his cock–but as he did, his cock kept leaking, dribbling piss onto the floor as he stood, and moved in front of the mirror, and found himself looking at…someone else entirely.

How much could this have cost? This was no minor set of modifications. Cameron looked to be at least sixty now–and an unmodified sixty–with a thick white beard, a shaven head, a septum ring through his nose. His gut hung down, blocking view of his cock and balls, but they seemed smaller than before, and the hair was everywhere. If he’d thought Master was fat and hairy before this…well, Cameron now had a much thicker pelt, and was heavier than him by at least fifty pounds. The weight was all concentrated in his gut, however–his arms and legs seemed thin and weak, and shook slightly as he stood. Piss was still dribbling, running from the head of his short cock and under his balls, where it hit the floor. He tried to clench, but his body didn’t even respond. Still, as horrified as he was, he had orders; he walked out on shaking legs and followed Master into his office the next room over, where he was sitting, naked, masturbating slowly to something that sounded like porn playing on the screen.

“Come slave, come take a look at this,” Master said, and Cameron obeyed, walking around behind his Master, one hand cupped under his cock to try and catch the piss, and found himself looking at a livecam. He didn’t know the man who was on top…but he did most certainly recognize the man getting fucked. It…was him. His face, his body, his…voice. He didn’t know what to say. Master turned in his chair, looking at Cameron’s surprised face, and started stroking faster. “Fuck…you’re fucking face, you stupid fuck…” He grabbed Cameron by the thick beard and tugged him down, “suck me off and drink my fucking cum, slave!”

Master didn’t last long–thirty seconds–and when he finished, he wiped his cock on Cameron’s new beard, smirking down at him, and Cameron…he just looked back at the show, at the stranger fucking his ass somewhere, and started to mutter, but didn’t know what question to try and ask first.

“It’s been five days, slave, since you were last awake. You’ve been delivered to a slave processing facility, which–thanks to your upgraded chip–is working on proprietary mind swapping. This isn’t the body you had a few days ago, slave, but it is your mind. You’re prior body is in the hands of that Master there. He felt his slave deserved a reward for excellent service, and I offered your body as that reward. You will be living in his, instead, for the time being. What do you think? Are you enjoying it so far? Be honest.”

Cameron looked down at himself, at his old, obese body, his hand overflowing with piss still dribbling out, and looked back up at Master, tears in his eyes. “I…I hate it. Did I upset you? Did I do something wrong? Is this punishment?”

No slave–this is service. Your body, and your mind, are mine. My property. That means I get to decide what to do with them. Still, that body…while pretty, was rather boring. I find variety to be much more interesting, among other things. As for your…leak down there. Do get that taken care of? The master who owns that body removed its ability to control any aspect of its bladder–they enjoy…diapers. I bought some–they’re in the bathroom. Please go secure yourself, and then we can chat a bit more regarding some…changes we’ll be making to your lifestyle, while serving in this body.

Method Roleplay (Part 2)

“Did it work?”

Brett didn’t want to say that it had, but he certainly had fallen asleep, hadn’t he? And he felt…kind of strange, almost like he wasn’t all here at the moment, or like some little hole had opened up in his head, and something was…coming in, or going out. “I don’t know…do you feel…kind of strange?”

“I feel pretty good, actually,” Evan said, standing up, “Even if there was nothing to it, at least I got a good nap. So, come on–you ready to give it another shot, daddy?”

“You know, I don’t…actually feel that horny right now–how about later tonight?”

“That doesn’t sound like my daddy–my daddy is always fucking horny,” Evan said, got close and started groping Brett’s crotch through the shorts he had on, and to Brett’s surprise, his cock had gone from flaccid to hard in less than a second…or had…hadn’t be been hard the entire time? It was hard to remember, exactly. “Please don’t…call me that Evan. I’m serious, I feel really weird–don’t you?”

“I always feel weird when I’ve been too long without my daddy’s cock in my holes. And why don’t you want me to call you daddy? Whenever your boy calls you daddy, it turns you on, doesn’t it? I can feel your cock throbbing daddy, don’t lie to me.”

“B-Boy, you’re…fuck…” Brett leaned back, just enjoying the sensation of Evan’s hand kneading his cock and balls.

“Yeah daddy, let your boy take good care of you–you just lay back and play with that big furry gut of yours, and those meaty tits while you’re boy gets a taste of thick daddy cock.”

Yeah, fuck, that did sound hot all of a sudden. He leaned back in the computer chair while Evan started hauling open the fly of his shorts, and as he did, he felt his shirt ride up–he pulled it up the rest of the way, rubbing his big gut, coated with hair…but…it felt bigger than usual. He just had a bit of a paunch, but this gut…it was big and round, like a beach ball, and it obscured his vision of his boy sucking him off more than it should. There was more hair than before too, and when he pulled his shirt up, and off, he saw that his nipples were both the size of pencils, jutting out from his fat chest, and he started to breathe a bit quick. “Evan…Evan, this isn’t right, I’m not…I don’t actually look like this!”

Evan pulled away and stood up, blinking at Brett’s bigger gut and tits–and realized the nine inch cock he’s been sucking on was only supposed to be five and a half. He reached out, and rubbed Brett’s furry gut, unable to believe it was really there, but more turned on than he could really imagine. “I…I mean, I guess it worked then, didn’t it?”

“This…I don’t think I can do this, Evan. Change me back!”

“Calm down, it’s just an illusion caused by the hypnosis. It’ll go away. Just calm down.”

“Then how in the hell are we both seeing the same fucking thing! I’m 26, I can’t look like this.”

Evan didn’t have an easy answer for that one, but he didn’t really want to answer it–he was too fucking turned on looking at his boyfriend there, becoming more of the man he’d always wanted him to be–could it go even further? “Daddy…you’re just confused is all. You’re just remembering things wrong. You aren’t 26, you’re turning 50 next month.”

“Shut up boy, I’m fucking serious.”

“You had a bad dream–this is who you are. A big bellied, extremely hairy, big dicked daddy bear. You get confused sometimes–after all, you aren’t that smart. Pretty much all you think about is all the dirty, kinky sex you want to do to your boy, day in, and day out, isn’t that right?”

“Boy, you need tah listen to your fuckin’ daddy.”

“No daddy, listen to me. Go on, look at that big flabby gut covered with silver hair, give this huge cock of yours a nice stroke, feel that thick beard of yours and how much you’re balding. You aren’t 26. You aren’t that young kid you think you remember–you’re my big, dirty, perverted daddy, aren’t you?”

“Boy, ya need tah fuckin’s shut yer fuckin’ mouth!” Brett growled as he hauled his ass out of his chair, shoved past Evan and made his way to the bathroom in his apartment. It couldn’t be true. He was so…so fucking sure, but when he got in there and turned on the light, and say himself in the mirror…there he was. His huge gut hanging out, covered with a thick layer of hair, his half erect and leaking daddy cock hanging out the front of his grungy boxers, thick beard across his face, a month or two overgrown, crawling up his cheeks. Hair a mess and balding badly, more silver than the brown of his youth. What…what in the hell had he been thinking? His boy was right–he wasn’t some young kid! God, he can be fucking thick sometimes…and yet, something was still nagging at him all the same–still, it probably wasn’t important, right?

“Fuck, I can’t…believe it,” Evan said beside him. He’d gotten to the doorway behind Brett, and he still could barely believe his words had really done that to his boyfriend. It didn’t seem real–in fact, the changes he’d just seen were seeming less real by the moment. Words…they couldn’t do this. No, this was just his daddy, of course–the same he’d always been.

“Fuck boy, sorry, daddy was outta his fuckin’ mind, but I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now,” Brett said, leering at Evan–at his boy–stroking his fat cock nice and slow while he did, “Yer horny daddy’s ready tah play–now git the fuck down here ‘n help daddy out.”

Where Boys Become Men (Part 9)

He did, eventually, get led into an office with a warden he recognized, who in simple words explained to him that, as a one, his cognitive skills had been severely curtailed. “We do this to make your chances of recidivism lower.”

“Recida-what?”

“We don’t want you to get in any more trouble, Tanner. You don’t want to be in trouble, do you?”

Tanner shook his head, no, but something made him suspicious, made him feel like he’d been tricked somehow, but he couldn’t piece enough thoughts together to really form anything coherent.

“Now, why don’t we go meet your two. We’re very excited that you’re going to be helping us with a new release program, Tanner. We think this is going to be perfect for you–you’ll love it. I promise.”

“I just want to go home,” Tanner said, as he was escorted back to block C.

“You will soon. But first you have to be able to remember where your home is.”

“I know where…home is…” Tanner said, but the memory was foggy, “I think I does.”

“It’ll clear up in time,” the warden said, and opened the door to a cell. It was identical to the room he’d been in with Marcus, but someone else was in there, waiting for him. “Good morning Harry. This is Tanner–he’s going to be your one.”

“No, I don’t want a two!” Tanner said, trying to back up, “Twos are mean guys. Twos make me feel bad.”

The guards pushed him inside, and the other man approached him–and pulled Tanner into a hug. “Hey–it’s alright,” Harry said, “I’m gonna be here for you. I promise.”

“Harry will take good care of you, I know he will. He’s going to make an excellent two, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded, “Yes sir!”

“That’s good. Now, your bands will be linked from now on–Harry, I’ll let you and Tanner here get to know each other a bit, so you can have the day off from work, and an extra daily allowance.”

“Really? Thanks!” Harry said, his face sincere only because he didn’t seem capable of subterfuge. “Come on Tanner–we have the whole day for us!”

The warden left, and Tanner pulled himself away from Harry’s thick arms. He was big. But not nearly as large as Tanner was, but the idea of being under someone’s thumb again was filling him with anxiety. “Please don’t hurt me. I don’t wanna get hurt anymore.”

“Hey, it’s alright! I don’t like hurting people. I used to do that, but I don’t want to anymore,” Harry said, and stepped closer, “You smell real good, you know–you wanna have sex? We can fuck if you want. I like fucking.”

“You…you want me to choose?” Tanner asked, feeling a bit daunted by the possibility of having to decide something. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. “I…like sex. But I…kind of need a cigar.”

“You like cigars? I like pipes. Let’s smoke, and then fuck.”

Tanner thought that sounded like a good idea. He smiled, as Harry ordered him a pack of cigars–nicer ones than Marcus ever let him have–and after they’d both lit up and shared lungfuls of smoke for a few minutes, Harry guided Tanner’s mouth to his cock, and he got his first taste of his new two’s cum–the first taste of many more to come.

By the end of their first week together, Tanner had discovered that Harry was a very different kind of guy than Marcus had ever been. He didn’t order Tanner around as much, didn’t demand his complete submission. He was more than willing to listen, and would even take suggestions–though Tanner soon discovered that his new brain found the idea of deciding anything more difficult and terrifying than anything else. It was easier to just follow along and do what Harry told him to do–not because he had to, but…because Harry seemed to know what he was doing.

Other than that, his life was similar. The two of them would do their work in virtual reality once or twice a day, and then have the rest of their time to themselves. He noticed after a few days that the work sessions they were doing didn’t seem to be as varied as they had been with Marcus. In particular, they always took pace in the same location–a rather rundown looking farm in the middle of nowhere. The tasks were a bit more complex as well. They were taking care of virtual livestock and shoveling out manure, repairing broken down parts of the various buildings on the farms, or even fixing the trucks and tractors on occasion. Harry was the one who had to do the complex stuff like that, with Tanner fetching tools and helping him lift the heavy stuff on occasion. Taking one look at the complex mechanics of an engine made his head spin–he didn’t know how Harry could do it.

Outside of work, they fucked a lot, ate a lot, and smoked all the time. Tanner liked Harry’s pipe–the tobacco always smelled so sweet, the way it mixed with his cigar. He wanted to switch, but Harry wouldn’t let him–he said he always got so turned on, seeing tanner with a thick cigar in his mouth. The sex was more equal too. Harry did like to top–and Tanner liked to bottom–but on several occasions, usually after some pleading and begging, Harry would let Tanner fuck him as well. Beyond that, they watched a lot of porn, and a movie or two on occasion, but it was hard for Tanner to focus on a narrative. Porn was easier. There were some guys, and then they fucked–he didn’t have to try and understand a story to get what was happening. He just had to get turned on, and suck Harry’s cock.

Each week, the two of them would be escorted back to the lab for more cognitive work. Tanner was terrified the first time–he didn’t want them to make him even stupider, but when they assured him that these sessions were just to help Tanner and Harry get to know one another better, he went along willingly. As long as Harry was there too…he felt a bit safer, at least. These sessions, unlike the first one filled with painful shocks, were more like…dreams, but very vivid ones. He was always there with Harry in them, but they felt more like memories, than anything. After a couple of sessions, while chatting with the warden afterward, they finally realized why they got along so well–they were brothers! How both of them had managed to forget this fact eluded them, but knowing they were with family made them both very excited–and made their sex much hotter too.

In fact, both of them found themselves becoming obsessed with the other’s musk. All it would take was one whiff of the other’s smelly pits or ass crack to drive them make them horny–and neither of them could really stand to be apart for very long. Soon, the brothers were inseparable–never straying more than a couple of feet away from one another, knowing that as long as they were with their brother, they would never have to be alone again.

One significant change from before, however, was that neither of them was in control over their hormones any longer. Their bodies were certainly changing, but in more…subtle ways than before. Perhaps the most obvious shift was that they both were growing older–their hairlines receding, wrinkles appearing around their eyes, a few flecks of grey tinging their beards. Harry stopped around his early fifties, while Tanner looked quite a bit older, with quite a bit more grey in his beard and hair. He might be the older brother, he figured out, but Harry was the one who was always going to be in charge–just like things ought to be.

The Risks of Subletting

Since I missed a post yesterday, today’s content is double length to make up for it!

Me, Marvin and Alex were all good buddies at school, so when Marvin told us that he’d found a house a few blocks off campus that the three of us couple probably afford to rent together, I was certainly excited by the idea. I’d been living in a double on campus with a guy named Harry, this fat fucking nerd–he was nice enough, I suppose, but that’s just not what you want to wake up in the same room with everyday, you know? Now the three of us, we were all jocks–different sports, but we all worked out together and trained together anyway. Alex was a football guy, Marvin swam, and I ran cross country and track. Marvin might have been the slimmest, but I like to think I was still the hottest of the group–certainly I got the most tail of everyone.

The only problem was that we had to start leasing the place in June. Well, it wasn’t a problem for Marvin and Alex; they both had jobs here for the summer, and were planning on staying around and taking a couple of summer courses. I on the other hand, was heading home for the summer, and so I’d have to find someone to sublet my room to for a few months. Then, my fat roommate mentioned he’d received a research grant, and needed a place to live for the summer around here, and so I offered the room to him, sort of as a joke, but he took me up on it. I knew Alex and Marvin weren’t going to be very happy about living with Harry, but they could suffer through it for a few months, right?

I’d met the landlord, Mr. Adams, by this point too, but it was just a short meeting so I could introduce him to Harry, since Marvin was kind of handling all the details of the renting and lease. He was an older guy, and fuck, he was even fatter than Harry was, as hard as that was to believe. Still, he seemed…disappointed but understanding that I wasn’t going to be using the room for the summer, but he and Harry got on really well, so that was something, at least–in the end, it seemed like everything was shaping up, by the time I packed my things, said goodbye to Marvin and Alex, and got on the train home.

My summer was pretty ordinary. Picked up my usual job helping out in a local warehouse. Hooked up with some old ex-girlfriends who might hate my guts, but they all loved the shit I could do with my cock. I stayed in contact with Alex and Marvin, and they seemed to be having a really good time in the house together, and they couldn’t wait for me to get back to school. They’d even seemed to take a liking to Harry, which surprised me, since I couldn’t stand the nerdy guy, but whatever. It was time to head back to school soon enough. I had to go back a week early for training with the team, so I got there to the house…only to discover that something very strange had been going on.

Marvin and Alex greeted me at the door, and fuck–they’d both fucking ballooned up into a couple of fledgling pigs. I didn’t know what to make of it, and even worse…the two of them couldn’t quite seem to keep their hands off one another, like a couple of faggots. Then, it came out, they actually were a couple of faggots, and had moved into one room together at the landlord’s suggestion, which meant that Harry could have the extra room and keep living with all of us for the year.

Needless to say, I was not amused or interested, and I told them that there was no way I was going to be sharing a house with the three of them. I tried to get them to see that this was all wrong, but they were just staring at me like I was crazy. We were still fighting when the front door opened and in came Harry–though I could only recognize him from his face, since he too had packed on more weight that I thought was even possible. “Well, well, look who finally came home,” he sneered at me. The…anger in his voice was palpable, but not something I’d ever heard before. “You guys tell Mr. Adams he was here?”

“Hell yeah man, Master Adams already had a nice long talk with him. We’ve just been waiting for you to get home.”

I had no idea what they were talking about. ‘Master’ Adams? Mr. Adams was the landlord, but I hadn’t seen him today, had I?

“Let’s find out–boy, get the fuck over here and suck my cock. It’s been a long day in the lab, and daddy’s fucking horny.”

I wanted to tell Harry to shut the fuck up, or I’d shut his mouth for him, but instead…instead my body did something else. I got down on my knees in front of him, hefted up his sagging apron while he dropped his shorts, and I…I started sucking his cock, while Alex and Marvin made out and started fucking behind us, and I finally realized that my living situation had gotten more complex than I’d realized.

I didn’t want to be doing this. I was utterly disgusted with myself. I was straight! I hated fat fucks like this! I needed to get the fuck out of here! But no matter what I told myself, no matter how I tried to fight, my body was completely focused on one thing, and one thing only–sucking daddy’s big, juicy cock until he filled my hungry gut with a big load of delicious cum. My own cock was suddenly hard at the thought, and I started rubbing it, moaning, Daddy chuckling at me as I did, at what a fucking whore I am for big men like him. He was getting close now, leaking profusely in my mouth, and out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw Mr. Adams next to us, naked, swore I could…hear him speaking. I managed to pull away from the cock to look over, just as Harry blew his load all over the side of my face–and no one was there next to us at all.

“Come on boy, let’s get you situated,” Harry said, reached down, and hauled me up by the collar of my shirt, “Master already told me what he wants me to do to you, and I’m so fucking excited boy, you don’t even fucking know. If I do real good, then he promised me that I’ll get to be a real daddy even, and you’re gonna fucking love that, I can already tell.”

He dragged me over to the couch, sat me down, and turned on some cartoon channel or whatever. I tried to get up, but when Daddy told me to stay–I stayed. My ass couldn’t leave the fucking couch, no matter how much I wanted it to, and then, daddy started feeding me. I don’t know where all the food was even coming from, but it just kept appearing. Mountains of junk food and fatty deep fried shit I would have never touched in my life, but once…Daddy told me to eat it, or if he just shoved it right in my mouth for me…well, pretty soon, I couldn’t stop. I…I sat there for hours, just watching mindless shit on TV, stuffing my face, and I never even felt full. That was the scariest part. I ate more in an afternoon than I usually ate in a week, and I only seemed to be getting hungrier by the second.

Alex and Marvin came down for dinner and gorged themselves. I tried to get them to help me, but I couldn’t even speak. I felt dead to the world, trapped inside my own body, shoveling filth into my mouth non-stop. It was a relief when Daddy told me it was time for bed around eight o’clock, at least, until I discovered my new bedroom. It was decorated like something a ten year old would want, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was when Daddy bent me over the side of the bed and fucked my virgin ass, and again, I…saw Master Adams there, on the bed in front of me, leering down and jacking off his own cock, talking to me, to us…

It’s been a few months now. Alex and Marvin are still going to class and college, but I haven’t left the house since I arrived here. Daddy wakes me up at seven after a good night sleep, sits me on the couch, I watch TV literally all day while he feeds me non-stop, and then, I go back to bed. It’s…fucking with my head. I was never the smartest guy before, but I feel like I’m getting even stupider by the day. These shows are so fucking juvenile, and yet I catch myself laughing at them like an idiot, spraying food everywhere from my mouth while Daddy…beams at me, and I feel warm around my groin, and realize I pissed my diapers again. But seeing my old daddy happy just makes…makes me lose control, every time.

These diapers are new though. I’ve…been losing control of myself a lot lately, especially at night, and so Daddy started diapering me up, telling me it’s what Master wanted, to keep me protected. I’m fucking humiliated, and yet, I can’t sucking stop pissing myself. I even shit in them yesterday. I tried to stop it, but it just…came out. Daddy told me I was a good boy, and changed me, and I…I do like being a good boy for Daddy, I guess. Daddy’s gotten really sexy lately too, the way his hair is balding, that thick beard turning grey. He’s…he’s my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I’m so lucky I get to be his little boy. Still, it’s bedtime for little boys now, and Daddy’s taking me to bed. I…see myself in the mirror, and I barely even recognize the fat, smooth body looking back at me…or is that just who I am now? I don’t know, thinking is hard, and Daddy’s cock is delicious. I’ll suck Daddy’s cock now, and try and think again later.

Three’s a Crowd

It was supposed to have been about you–you were the one who brought them here, after all. A cute younger couple, friends of yours, and you knew the perfect bar where the three of you could hang out after work–a bit kinky, a little strange, but all fun. See, they were a bit too…vanilla for your tastes, and despite your obvious interest, neither one of them seemed very interested on opening up and letting you play with them, either together or separate. So, why not help things out a bit, right? That’s what Pigtown was for. It had helped you out, after all–shown you what you could be, and now you could introduce the two of them to what they could be, in your eyes.

Yeah, you’d wanted a couple of cubby slaves, right? Two boys, maybe even brothers, both of them obsessed with you, focused on you and your pleasure, willing to do anything to make you happy. Because that’s what had always bothered you most, was that ever since the two of them had met–ever since you’d introduced them to each other, two years back at a party–they’d…become so much more interested in each other than they ever had been in you, and fuck, you hated that. So you plied them with beers, got them loosened up, the regulars all circling around, looking for an opening to jump in and spoil things, so when they start getting horny, you drag them back into the club, find somewhere a bit secluded, and start trying to work them over into what you want them to be.

But it was like herding cats, with the two of them. You’d get them down on their knees, your cock in their face, and after a couple of licks each, they’d just start making out with one another instead. You tried working on them one at a time, but somehow the other would slide right in and replace you before you even knew what was happening. Neither of them is shaping up how you wanted–they’re growing older, more muscular, more confident. Two…hot fucking leather daddies in love and lust with one another, and there you are, six feet away, leaning in a doorway–watching.

Watching them like you’ve been doing for years now, on the outside all over again. You should try again, but honestly? It’s too exhausting to keep trying. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. You…got replaced, and you don’t have to like it, but…maybe it’s time to give up. Settle in. They are…fucking sexy together, you have to admit. You did always like watching them together, didn’t you? Whispering in each other’s ears, laughing–you were on the outside and that burned you up, but the curiosity was always there. They never cared about you, but you have always cared about them, watched them, obsessed over them, desired them from afar. They don’t…even know you exist, but then who would want to notice you? It’s not like you’re really anything to look at–not anymore, at least.

Because you’ve been changing, leaning there, staring at them hungrily. You’re shorter and fatter. Older still, at least fifty if not sixty. Four inch cock, getting shorter with every stroke, tongue hanging out, eyes glued to the sexy daddies fucking each other’s brains out against the wall. Better than porn–and you should know, after all, since that’s all you do with your time now, you fucking voyeur. Just a fat old faggot, sitting at home all day, masturbating, and then you come here to pigtown, and watch people sexier than you fuck and masturbate to that too. No one even sees you. No one cares about you, and you hate it, but that’s just the way things are now.

The bears finish up after half an hour, and the couple heads off into the club to find a couple other guys to play with. They walk right past you, through the doorway–one of them even bumping into your big, furry gut, but he doesn’t apologize, or even recognize you. You’re a ghost now. You look down and realize what you just allowed happen, but it’s too late for you–there’s another scene brewing in the next room, and the sounds of men rutting draw you like a fly to a wound, jacking your short cock. Invisible, desperate, and always alone.

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 6)

Things get a bit filthier starting here. WARNING SCAT.

He was the first one who’d ever gotten away. I was so fucking angry when it happened–at him, at myself for being so stupid to imagine that anyone might actually enjoy the shit I do to them. I should have known better. My uncle told me to know better, when he taught me how to grow the shit, but…well, hope springs fucking eternal, I guess. No one on the crew even knew anything had happened–not really. There was an odd hole in reality that everyone had to get used to, but after a few days, it was like Spitty had never even been there–only I remembered him, and I still had his tin of tobacco, and if our paths ever crossed again…well, he was going to be getting one hell of a surprise from me.

Of course, I couldn’t exactly go search him out. I didn’t even really know what the fucker had done to himself. I’m sure that what he’d wanted to do was to try and get his old life back, but it takes some skill and plenty of brains to do that–and hell, the leaf don’t let anyone go backwards anyway! As fucked up as he was, I doubt things worked out how he’d planned. I did, at least, know what he looked like now–I’d gotten into the bathroom in time to see him fade out–the physical change always happens first, before reality folds them in somewhere else…and that fucker is definitely not some football playing college student, you can trust me on that one. No, the fucker I saw on my bathroom floor? Spitty looked to be about 350 pounds, most of it fat, covered in filth, his hair and beard even longer than before. Pale skin, meaning he probably almost never saw the sun, and he’d aged up to somewhere close to 50–or at least he looked 50, but he could have been a bit younger, in all honesty. Still, one thing I could know for sure was that my name had probably stuck nice and hard–names are hard to get rid of. So life went on, but I kept my ear to the ground, corrupting a few truckers and bikers passing through, telling them that if they saw any old pigs around going by the name of Spitty, they should let me know, and I’d reward them handsomely.

A couple of years went by, and I’d figured he managed to get out and escape my net. Either the spell had whisked him away further than I’d thought possible, or he was such a recluse now that he never actually went anywhere. I’d…become a bit meaner, in all honesty. Some of the guys on the crew who I hadn’t fucked with in years were brought over to my house, so I could take them down a few more notches, fantasizing that it was Spitty I was ruining, thinking about some of the nasty shit I could do to him if I ever got my grubby hands on the fucker. I…went a bit overboard with Gary, our foreman. Dude…fucking loves ass now–eating it out, sniffing farts, even eating shit on occasion. I feel a bit bad about it, but fuck, watching that fucker eat a turd, imagining it’s Spitty instead, nothing makes me nut quite as hard as that.

And then, sure enough, someone gave me a tip. They’d heard about some fat pig matching my description who occasionally cruised a rest area ten miles out of town, with a particular thirst for tobacco spit. I’d fucking found him–I couldn’t fucking believe it. Still, I couldn’t fucking scare him off, now that I’d gotten a clue, and so I started pressing other guys for details, had a biker follow the fat fuck home one night, and sure enough–the spell had sent him off into the weeds, a good thirty miles out of town, in the middle of fucking nowhere. Still, I knew where I was going now, and I decided it was time to pay my lost boy a visit.

Heh, the look on his fat, nasty face when I busted my way in though–it almost made my humiliation worth it. He’d honestly thought he’d gotten away with it, and there he was, watching some of his porn, sitting in a lazy boy surrounded by trash, bouncing up and down on some massive dildo, and he looked over, saw me, and he fucking shot his load right then and there. Yeah, he’d missed me–I could fucking tell, not that he wanted to fucking admit it. I pinned him down and fed him spit for a couple of hours–there was nothing he could do to fight me, he’d made himself so fucking weak. I got the rope I’d brought in with me, hauled him over to the bed and tied him down, spread eagle–and then took off. I had to go get some supplies for my revenge, after all. I called Gary and told him I’d need a few weeks off, and he was more than happy to accommodate me–I’d be staying with Spitty for little while, getting him ready. I haven’t used a whole tin on someone in a very long time, but this reunion calls for a celebration. Spitty isn’t going to see it that way, of course, but he’s fucking earned this–and he’ll enjoy it plenty, soon enough.

Daddy Whores (Part 5)

Rumor quickly spread through the house, and out to the barn, about the task set forth for the newest daddy of the boy’s harem, and every single one of them assumed it was a death sentence. It was true, a few of the oldest members of the stable had, on occasion, seen the boy allow a man to rise up from the cellar–but in every case, they were little more than a shell. No one even knew what happened down there–on occasion, the house would reverberate with screams rising up from below, chilling the daddies to the bone, freezing them all in place, until they could shake off their mutual terror and return to the task of tending to the boy. So it was with great surprise that the first daddies to rise in the morning went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, only to find Carson, filthy and covered in grime, leaning up against the cupboards, staring off into the middle distance and unresponsive–but there all the same. He’d gone down, and he’d returned.

He screamed, when someone tried to touch him, looking around, unsure of where he was, of who he was. He could barely speak, and when several daddies tried to ask him what he’d seen down there, his tongue knotted up and refused to answer. Whether it was because he simply couldn’t bear to describe it, or because the boy’s magic literally sealed the truth up in his mind, no one could know. A daddy told the boy of Carson’s return, and he seemed mildly surprised, but not incredibly. Carson had shown, as a man, incredible resilience–and even as a daddy, some of that spirit remained. But the boy knew something else, that merely witnessing the cellar would be enough to…convince Carson to cooperate with him. After all, even this was better than the cellar. Nearly anything, was better than the cellar. He ordered Carson be fed, but not cleaned–he was never to be cleaned, unless explicitly told to do so, and when the boy was finished eating, he would speak with him.

Carson was brought in, shaking and exhausted, barely able to stand or even speak. He fell to his knees in front of the boy on his sofa-throne, and kissed his toe, shuddering in thanks and gratitude at being allowed the chance to return at all. He understood now. He understood more than he’d ever wanted to believe. He wouldn’t fight any longer–he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to, if he could. Something in him had died down there, something indescribable, but the boy held power here–no one else. All he could be was a daddy, and the only way for a daddy to experience anything close to happiness, was through complete devotion and obedience.

“Bring my poor daddy Carson whiskey and a cigar–he needs to satisfy his vices,” the boy said.

“T-Thank you my boy, you’re too kind.”

“I know. Now–as for your assignment. I’ve decided that if I’m going to…expand into the city, as I’ve been trying to do, I’m going to have to find ways to…deal with the police, which don’t require me to leave home–because I hate having to leave home, as you know.”

“Yes boy, I know…”

“So you, Carson, will have two tasks. During the day and afternoon, you will be tasked as a worker whore. You will go around the city and find filthy, disgusting workers–old, young, fat, muscled–it won’t matter, so long as they’re in their gear, and you will…convince them to allow you to service them, as cumdump, fuckhole, and urinal. You have no objection to that, I am sure.”

“No boy, this daddy loves…he loves serving as all of those…those things…” Carson said. He was crying–why was he crying? He shouldn’t be crying, he didn’t want the boy to see tears. The other daddy had brought whiskey–he grabbed the bottle and glugged half of it down, his gut burning, but it was enough to kill the emotion which had begun to overwhelm him.

“Good. As for your second task–you are going to be a drunk. As evening comes, you will settle into a bar, and drink, and drink, and drink. You will convince the bartenders to give you a bottle of whiskey each night, in exchange for a blowjob. When you have finished, you will become belligerent, and attempt to force yourself on the men of the bar, until you get arrested. Once arrested, you will spend the night in the drunk tank of the local precinct, and in there, not only will you service the other drunks–for free–but also any guard and cop who comes in ear shot. And these cops, you will ensure that if they see any daddies, other than you, arrested, they will make sure they are released promptly, and without charges–do you understand? After all, the only daddy they will want to have pleasure them, will be you, do you understand your tasks?”

“Yes boy, I do. Thank you.”

“You will return home Sunday Wednesday and Friday mornings, to make deposits, and so I may be updated on your progress. Now, you should get going, Carson. And remember that guard last night? You will be the daddy meeting him, and collecting his forty dollars for me, understand?”

Carson nodded. He was exhausted, but he didn’t dare ask his boy for permission to rest. He was lucky enough already to even be above ground. “I won’t disappoint you, my boy.”

“I certainly hope not, or you know what will happen, where you will go, and what you will be.”

Carson nodded, and struggled upright. He took the whiskey bottle and lit a cigar, before heading out to his truck and getting inside. The tears he’d held back finally gushed forth, and he sobbed, violently, for a moment or two, before composing himself so he could get at least get a mile down the road before continuing to sob, and as he wept…he couldn’t decide why, exactly he was crying. Party, it was because he loved his boy so very, very much, and was thrilled to be given the chance to serve him in this way. But there was also the terror, and there would always be the terror, of what he had seen. He finished the bottle of whiskey and an entire cigar, and then got back on the road. He had a job to do, after all, and a new family he wouldn’t dare disappoint.

Daddy Whores (Part 4)

He left then, and the two officers helped him up and out of the building–telling everyone Carson was being released from the drunk tank. Everyone still seemed to know Carson, though instead of pity, the officer’s eyes were now mostly disgust. Then he was out the front door and on the sidewalk–alone, confused, horny as all hell…but he had to get home. That’s what his boy had told him to do, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted. But was he going to get home? He…knew that he had a ride somewhere, right? He started shuffling off down the street, the memory dim, but there, until a few blocks later he found himself standing next to a rusted out, beat up pickup truck. This…this couldn’t be his car. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a ring with two keys on it–a car key and a house key–and sure enough, it fit in the door, but this…this wasn’t right.

He could see his reflection in the sodium light reflecting from the truck window, and that definitely wasn’t right. He hadn’t been able to look at himself before, after his boy had…done whatever he did to him at his desk, but his beard hadn’t reached all the way down to his gut, had it? And where…where in the hell had his uniform gone? He had on just a filthy undershirt and grubby, muddy jeans held up by a couple of old suspenders that had lost most of their elasticity. They made his jeans sag down–he reached around to scratch his crack, and with some embarrassment, discover a good amount of his fat, hairy ass was hanging out. He also had on a hi-viz vest and a grungy hard hat, like he’d just gotten off work at a day on a construction site–but he didn’t work for a construction company he…he worked for his boy, right? But hadn’t he just been in a police station? Hell, hadn’t he just been a police officer? His hands were shaking, and his head ached. What in the world was wrong with him? Why did he remember being something so…different? He got in the truck and immediately fumbled around in the glove box, finding one of his cigars and lighting up. He pulled out a hip flask next, full of cheap whiskey, and he slugged quite a bit back, feeling his mind settling back down into its comfortable haze of smoke and booze, right where it belonged. He got the truck started, listened to the engine rattle a moment, and then drove off, heading home.

Of course, he’d never been home before. Still, this body…it knew where he needed to go. He drove for quite a while smoking his cigar and taking occasional slugs of whiskey as he did, until he was well out of the city, even past the suburbs, and he turned into a driveway which led down a gravel road to what looked like a decrepit old farm. The house was still standing, and there were lights on–there was even dim light coming from the barn, and as hard he told himself to turn around and leave, he couldn’t. He was home, for better or worse. He added the truck to the mass of fifteen or twenty other cars and trucks parked in the muddy yard, got out, and went up to the building, using the house key to let himself in, where he was greeted by a couple other daddies fucking on the stairway. He even knew their names–Rob and Dirk. He avoided them, and went to go find his boy–he had a…punishment to receive, after all.

His boy was in the den, on his sofa, naked as always, three daddies tending to him–one was feeding him, one privileged one was sucking their boy’s cock, and a third was in the middle of their boy’s daily tongue bath, sucking on his foot. The boy…was even more beautiful than he remembered, and he nearly started crying at the thought that he’d disappointed him. He’d been such a bad daddy today, and he knew that this was not going to be a pleasant punishment.

“There you are, Carson. Took you long enough. As for your punishment–I haven’t had anyone down to clean up the cellar daddies for a few weeks. If you don’t wish to join them down there, I would suggest you lick them up quick. If you aren’t done by dawn, you won’t be able to climb back up the stairs. Let’s see if I found a new daddy with a nice work ethic. Now get out of my sight. If you’re done by tomorrow, then we can discuss…assignments.”

The cellar daddies? His confusion was only momentary–his mind started cobbling together memories from this new life. The cellar daddies–daddies went to the cellar when they were very, very bad. They often didn’t come out again, ever. No one even knew how many were down there, or what sort of state they were in. He didn’t want to be trapped in the cellar, no daddy wanted to be down there…but that was his punishment, and his booted feet trudged to the cellar door, opened it, and started down the stairs into the dark, listening to the quiet, desperate moans below, and praying he’d be able to finish his task and not be doomed to join them.