Interactive: Dale’s Story (Part 2)

Thanks all who voted! Here’s the second chunk of the interactive. For those curious about the vote breakdown, here are the results:

Dale becomes dominant – 30 votes
Dale becomes submissive – 12 votes
Dale gets muscle – 15 votes
Dale becomes a slob – 15 votes
Dale becomes older – 20 votes

So the 1′s have it with second place going to 5! There are still plenty of changes to come, so don’t be too disappointed if your first choice lost.

The patio was rather small, placed on the back of the bar, facing out onto pasture, like most of the small town where Dale lived. He’d finished high school a few years ago, hoping to go to college, but even though he’d gotten accepted, he hadn’t gone. The money, the distance, all of his other insecurities–he was still here, working a retail job at the Walmart in town that had drained the rest of the economy dry as a bone. Living with his older brother and his dad, sick of them both, sick of everything about his whole life. God, he’d get rid of the entire thing if he could.

“You should be careful what you think you want, you know,” the stranger said. Dale had been staring out into the dark pasture, but he’d replied like he could hear what Dale was thinking.

“This…this is stupid,” Dale muttered to himself, and set the pitcher down on the table, “I’m gonna go–have the beer yourself.”

“Sit down Dale, and pour yourself a drink while I get my pipe going,” he said…and Dale did what he said. A couple of glasses had just appeared on the table, from nothing–he poured one full of beer and then took a sip, grimacing, and set it down.

“How in the hell did you do that?”

The stranger didn’t answer right away–he was focused on tamping his pipe and lighting it up, smoke billowing from his mouth and out into the night air. “Do you want to know out of curiosity,” he said, then looked Dale in the eye, “Or because you want to know how to do it yourself?”

“Because I want to know how,” Dale answered without a second thought, then slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise. He hadn’t meant to say that! Or at least not say it so bluntly.

The man laughed. “Most people find it pretty hard to lie to me, Dale, don’t let it worry you.”

“This is crazy.”

“More like magic, really.” Dale just stared at him. The patio was empty, and he could barely hear the crowd inside the bar. The man let off another plume of smoke, and smiled. “I like you Dale. I like you, but you’re…well, you don’t quite belong here, I don’t think. That’s why this is so hard for you. You don’t belong here, but you also can’t escape, stuck here like you’re invisible. I don’t like people who don’t fit, Dale–so here’s the deal. You can have that power you want…but in exchange, well, let’s just say you’ll be finding yourself a bit more at home here, in my town.”

Dale just stared at him, “I don’t understand…”

“Yes, but you want it, don’t you? Nobody telling you what to do anymore–a master of your own destiny. I can help you Dale–just say yes.”

He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the stranger’s. He hadn’t noticed how…black they were, before. He was trying to say no–he was trying very hard…but he couldn’t lie. He couldn’t lie, and his voice squeaked out a small, impossibly quiet “yes” that still rang loud in his ears.

“Excellent–to celebrate, why don’t we get started?” the man took a deep breath from his pipe, and then blew it into Dale’s face. He coughed, his eyes and lungs burning, trying to wave the smoke away, but it seemed to cling to him. It did eventually dissipate, but not into the air–he absorbed it into him–he looked down at himself, and found much of his view was obstructed by a large, grey beard reaching his chest, his hands lined with wrinkles.

“What the–” he said, his voice deeper, raspy, with a now inescapable drawl he’d spent his life trying to minimize, “How the hell’d ya do that? What the hell’d ya even do tah me?”

“Need a better look?” the man pulled a mirror into being in front of Dale, and he stared at himself–he looked to be about fifty, balding heavily, eyes slightly sunken, brow wrinkled. His fat had lost some of its firmness, and settled about him more comfortably. “I just made you a bit more mature. Settled in. After all, we can’t give you a proper history here if we don’t have time to fill, right, old timer?”

Dale couldn’t quite remember how to breathe–he was interrupted by the door to the patio opening, the mirror disappearing, and both he and the stranger looked over at who’d just joined them outside.

Choice time! Here are some options for who might have just shown up on the patio. None of them are Bishop, but don’t worry! We’ll see what happens to him later. The following choices are a bit vague, but you all have read my stuff enough to guess what might happen in each of these cases:

George, the bartender, checking to see if Dale’s alright.
A group of bikers, who have become rough and violent.
A slobby pig farmer, very drunk and reeking of manure.
A couple of younger greasy mechanics, coming out for a smoke.

Also, to clarify voting “rules” I should have made a bit more explicit last time, the way I tally these up, is everyone gets two votes that can either be split between two choices (i.e. “I pick 3 & 4″) or both can be given to one choice (i.e. “I pick 2″). So you can give a nudge to two choices you like, or a bigger nudge to one choice in particular! It’s confusing and kind of arbitrary! So, now, the big question, who should come out onto the patio and interrupt their little chat?

Something…odd’s been going on with my roommate, Titus, lately. We were getting along pretty well–he was an athlete but not too much of an asshole about it, and I was a pretty run-of-the-mill college student. Both of us were looking for girls, and he decided to rush a frat…but I wasn’t really that interested to be honest. The frat challenged him and a few other pledges to a panty raid on a sorority. I don’t know what happened, but the next morning I woke up and found him passed out, face down on his bed, in just a pair of the strangest looking underwear–a bit like a jock, made out of mesh. I saw the pouch when he rolled over–or I suppose, the lack of one. I could make out every vein on his cock–I blushed and covered him up, but ever since…

I think he might be gay, for one thing. I don’t have anything against fags, but it’s just…a surprise. He seemed so obsessed with women before, but I’ve caught him jacking off in our room to gay porn a few times now. His body is changing too–away from his stocky build to something a bit trimmer, his ass fuller, his body hair going away as well. He shaved off his goatee and trimmed his hair down, picked up a lisp–you see what I mean, right? It all started with that sorority, so…so I think I’m going to go over there, and find out what happened to my roommate.

Fuck, I have to stop this, I have to. I don’t remember what happened at that place–I just woke up in my room the next morning, wearing the nastiest pair of boxer briefs I’d ever seen. The crotch was stained and crusty with cum, they reeked of piss and musk…and I haven’t been able to take them off for days now–I can barely manage to get them down to piss and shit, and I have to cum in them…and I’ve been cumming a lot, thinking about…about Titus’s ass…

It’s right there–he’s not really asleep, he’s just…pretending. Needs…daddy to breed him good.

No! No no no, I’m not some fucking daddy! I might look like I’m in my 40′s, and I have so much damn body hair now it’s not even funny, but I’m not a daddy, fuck those bitches…but I…I am so damn horny, and the boy’s ass is right there…

The boxers slip down, and my seven inch, uncut cock springs out, dribbling cum already. Maybe…just one fuck. Feel the boy’s hole one time, and we can both stop this damn charade. He don’t need no damn school, not when he can strip for a livin’, payin’ his daddy’s bills…fuck! He’s so damn tight! Yeah boy, moan for daddy–think I’ll be renting this hole out to a few of my friends tonight!

Derelicted (Part 3)

Caden recovered slowly. He missed the last half of his senior year–he had developed a crushing phobia of walking the streets of the city he’d called home for his entire life, or rather, a crushing fear that in some dark alley, he might encounter that thing, and whatever might be left of Wyatt. It was a year before he was able to walk the sidewalks again, but the color always made him think of those eyes, and the mouths of alleys seemed so much blacker than they had before. He tried to only go out during the day at least, and while he kept telling himself he’d finish his degree or get his GED, somehow he never managed it. Before, he’d been a good student–not at the top of his class or anything, but he’d been accepted to several colleges. Now though, the basic act of reading or writing was excruciatingly difficult. Nothing came out right, and nothing stuck. His mind was a sieve, leeching out knowledge and memories–but never the memories he wanted to forget. After a few years living at home with his mom, doing nothing with himself beyond eating and packing on two hundred more pounds, a sympathetic uncle in the construction industry managed to get him a job on a crew as a favor.

It was hard–harder than it should have been for him. He knew that, and at the same time, he felt himself slowing down even further. People spoke to him differently–slower with as few large words as possible, and even though he knew what they were saying, he’d still manage to fuck shit up on a regular basis. People called him a fuck up long enough that even he started to believe it. He turned thirty, and could barely believe what he’d become–450 pounds, hairy, a thick briown beard flecked with white like dirty snow beard balding, stinking, alone, masturbating every night, lying to himself that he wasn’t thinking about that night, that he wasn’t thinking about that thing each and every time.

He managed for a time. He turned forty. He buried his mom, and then his uncle. Cracks had begun to form, but he didn’t notice them. His hygiene slipped, until he rarely even thought of showering, or brushing his teeth. A pack a day habit became two, and then he switched to cigars. Masturbation wasn’t enough, reliving it wasn’t enough, so he sought out the filthiest men he could find, and begged them to abuse him however they saw fit. It was in those moments that happiness found him–digging toejam from between a derelict’s feet, his first taste of shit, the powerful memory jogged whenever his mouth was flooded with piss. Winter’s were the best. He never felt cold, somehow, in the snowy streets. He stayed out one night, amazed that no one would even see him, like he blurred together with the grey and brown and filth around him. Feeling himself slipping, he drank to forget, but it only made things worse. His uncle’s replacement wasn’t as forgiving as he had been, and Caden wore out his goodwill in a matter of months, until he was fired, after getting caught masturbating to the stench of the porta-potty for the hundredth time.

That night, he saw them again. Depressed, he’d gone to his usual bar and drank himself under the table, the bartender chucking him out at two in the morning. He’d meant to head home, but a whiff of something on the air caught his attention, and he turned in the other direction instead, heading downtown. The city had changed over the decades, neighborhoods falling in and out of style, in and out of wealth. The smell grew stronger, but he didn’t recognize it until he saw them, deep in an alley, the glint of two pins in the dark, two flat steel disks, and a third hanging from twine. He screamed–the police arrested him, when he’d accosted a woman looking for help, but a few days in jail did nothing to help him. He got out, and knew the only thing he could do was try and turn himself around.

He did have a few friends, sexual and otherwise. A master found him work as a janitor, which lasted a few months until he pissed himself in the middle of an office building without even noticing. A few other gigs came and went, until he managed to land a job out of town. He was so hopeful–maybe getting away from the city would break this curse of a life, but as he left town in his truck, his hands began to shake, his gut churning. He vomited, and had to pull over. He couldn’t drive, so he staggered back several miles until he was back across the city limits, shirt crusted with vomit, the seat of his pants filled with shit. He wandered the city for a few days, unable to remember where his apartment was, derelicts whispering to each other as he passed, and fleeing away from him, terrified of being caught in the thing’s path. They knew it well–it would swallow them all eventually, but not that day, if they could help it.

They found him, shivering behind a dumpster. He’d smelled them coming for hours, but had decided not to run–it had been easier to jack off, the smell giving him the first taste of sexual energy he’d felt in ages. The thing loomed. In a voice better described as a sigh, it turned to the thing that had been Wyatt, and asked, “Ripe?” the word drawn out into a muggy breeze.

Wyatt dropped to his knees beside the shivering Caden, and with a black tongue, cold as ice, licked the side of his face from second chin to forehead. “Overripe,” it rasped.

“Then…sweeter,” it said. It bent at the waist at an excruciating angle, pressed its face to Caden’s, and he felt it’s tongue push its way into his mouth, stretching his jaw wide, stopping his breath, wriggling deep into him. It found his soul and gave it a lick, and then everything turned brown, like filthy snow.

Derelicted (Part 2)

That was all he was able to notice before Wyatt got up from the couch, cock still leaking piss, and he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. “What the fuck!” was all Caden heard–and not knowing what else to do, he got up, went into the kitchen and opened another beer for himself–that piss had been rancid.

He heard the first pounding on the door, but ignored it, and went to the bathroom, but Wyatt refused to open the door.

“Come on man, just let me see!”

“Fuck no! Fuck this fucking shit!”

His voice sounded different–deeper and raspier than before.

There was another pound on the door.

“Dude, you need to call the hospital or something,” Wyatt said.

“The hospital? Why? Because you pissed yourself?”

“No, you don’t get it man, you don’t fucking get it! Just call 911!”

The pound came again, but this time it kept coming, a relentless beat.

“Dude, what the fuck would I even tell them?”

“Just fucking call them! Get a fucking ambulance!”

Caden backed up from the bathroom door, trying to focus. Call 911? What the hell for? What was going on in there? He tried to calm down and think a moment, but the pounding on the door was growing more urgent and he…he needed to get the door. Yeah, he could at least tell them to leave, and then he might be able to focus on what the hell had happened. He went to the apartment door, and flung it open, more than ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but the words froze in his throat when he saw, and smelled, the man from the alley, well awake and grinning a mouth of rotten teeth at him, eyes black aside from a glimmer so deep Caden could barely see it without falling into them.

He couldn’t breathe. The smell had locked up his lungs, and he stumbled back and collapsed to his hands and knees, fighting, trying to get his lungs to function again, and managed a weak, rasping breath. The man gave him a short look, sniffed the air noisily, and then pushed open the door, stepping into the apartment and walking right to the bathroom door, where he pounded once again on that door.

“Caden, did you fucking call them? Why are you pounding on the damn door?”

He tried to speak, but all he could do was cough and wheeze for air. His phone, where the hell had his phone gone? He saw it–it was on the table, he reached for it, but before he could grab it his entire body froze, midbreath, his eyes snapping toward the bathroom where the dark-eyed derelict was staring at him, and pounded once more on the door, louder.

“Fuck off Caden, and leave me the fuck alone until the ambulance fucking gets here!”

This must be what turning blue felt like. The derelict pounded again, and then again, and then a third time, louder and louder. Someone else would hear, someone else would have to come see, right? He managed to twist his eyes to the apartment door, but it flung closed in a snap. Did it read his mind? Was he going to die here?

“Fucking what?” Wyatt opened the door, and Caden came to life again, heaving for breath, the thing’s attention away from him and focused entirely on Wyatt, or at least the man Wyatt had become. He was shorter now, with a sagging gut heaving out, arms and legs withered sticks. He was old now, at least in his fifties–his eyes lined with wrinkles, beard and hair the grey sidewalks. His eyes were wide, lungs frozen, the thing leaning in and locking lips with him, filthy fingers running through Wyatt’s tangled locks, down his body to his cock. It looked like he was trying to scream, but something was caught in his throat, and eventually he collapsed to his knees. Caden’s first thought was that he was dead–but he could hear the slick smack of mouth on cock, and Wyatt was swallowing the thing’s cock to the hilt. Satisfied, it’s neck twisted a few degrees too far to look back at Caden behind him, those black holes freezing him in place. The medallion was once again back around it’s neck, a black tongue hanging down past it’s chin. Caden didn’t want to look, but couldn’t peel his eyes away.

Eventually, it was satisfied, and broke the gaze itself, leaving Caden a whimpering, sobbing heap on the floor. Wyatt stood up, lickiing cum from his lips, his eyes now a solid steel grey, and followed it out of the apartment. Caden was found that morning by Wyatt’s father, still curled up naked in a puddle of his own piss, cum and sweat. He claimed to remember nothing, when the police questioned him–he knew no one would believe him. They suspected him in Wyatt’s disappearance, but without any evidence of anything beyond Caden’s severe trauma, the case went cold.

Arctos: Briar (Part 5)

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, leaving Jase gasping and shaking on the floor, trying to understand what had just happened to him. Where even was he anyway? He looked around, found he was in the hallway outside his son’s door, which was open a crack. He must have been…been peeping. Yeah, he always liked to watch his son get plowed by the guys he brought home, and he’d been bringing that sexy fucker Cole home a whole lot lately. Damn, that pig was nasty, and a huge damn cock…

No–No, he wasn’t thinking straight. Jase stumbled up, but couldn’t catch his balance, felt like he was going to throw up. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror…but the reflection was wrong! He looked so…so young, not even a hint of grey anywhere, and certainly more muscular…right? He looked more like his son, if anything–what it the world was going on? Some other part of him was trying to tell him he was wrong, that something had happened to his mind, that he wasn’t thinking straight somehow, but everything was so hazy…maybe if he had a smoke…He patted his pockets, but his pipe wasn’t there. He checked the floor where he’d fallen, but it wasn’t there either.

Downstairs, he heard the doorbell. The pipe could wait a moment–it was more important that he go down and get his package. He opened the door and found a burly delivery man there–a sexy fucker, huge cock outlined in those tight shorts, and he handed Jase a small package, told him to have a good day, and then left. Jase closed the door and opened up the box, where he found a short note:

“Valued Arctos Customer,

We’ve been alerted to a reality incongruence event, and wish to apologize for any distress this may have caused you with a complimentary gift to help ease your transition.

Enjoy!”

It was his pipe.

His favorite pipe was in this box for some reason, along with a pouch of his usual tobacco, but how in the hell had it gotten there? Then again, maybe…maybe that wasn’t worth worrying about, better to just get it lit as soon as possible. He’d feel better with some smoke in his lungs. He found his son’s lighter and packed the pipe, fumbling with it awkwardly, like his hands kept trying to fight him somehow, some voice screaming deep in him, best to shut it up quick before he got any ideas. He pulled in the first lungful of smoke, and calm suffused his body, muffling the objections he’d been feeling. Everything was alright, now that he had his pipe–now he could get back to what really mattered–watching that hot daddy Cole give his son a proper pounding. His standards seemed pretty low–maybe he’d even give Jase a fuck too.

He climbed the stairs, and halfway up his joints and muscles started to ache familiarly. He passed the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Funny, he thought he’d looked odd a few minutes earlier, but things were looking more normal now–his frizzy mane of hair had lost nearly all of it’s red at this point, the same with his beard. He was short, with a thick gut, arms and legs withered a bit with age, that puny cock of his…couldn’t even get hard anymore, not that he’d ever had much use for it. No, he was an old pig through and through–taught his boy everything he knew, and he couldn’t be more proud of the filthy slut Miles had become.

He got back down on his knees, slowly this time, one hand on the wall to steady himself. It fucking sucked getting old–twenty years ago, there wasn’t a single pig around here who could match him. Still, maybe it was time to pass the baton to his boy, because fucking look at him. The way he’s taking Cole’s cock, god damn. Jase reached down under his sweaty, greasy gut for his short cock and found it at half mast–even that was an increasing rarity these days, but a relief to know that the old pecker wasn’t quite dead yet.

Miles and Cole shifted positions, and the cub looked over and saw the door was open, and someone was crouched down in the crack. He had no idea who it could be, but he recognized his pervy, nasty dad after a few moments. Odd how he’d looked like a total stranger for a moment, but rare was the time when his dad wasn’t watching his son get fucked by the men he brought home with him. He put on a bit of a show, watching his old man’s gut heave a bit, drool in his thick beard, old tongue on his thin lips, huffing on that ancient pipe of his. Past his prime, but damn, Miles wished his old cock could still work. His dad wasn’t much of a fucker of course, but Miles had always liked how…close he felt, getting fucked by his dad, back when he was still learning what a damn pig he was. Cole noticed him a moment later, and his reaction was a bit more extreme. He hauled his cock out and stepped back, shouting, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Just my pig dad Cole, don’t worry about it. I always let him watch,” Miles said, “Get back in me daddy, I want your damn cock, sir…”

Cole ignored him and strode to the door, opening it, and looking down at the short, flabby old man in the doorway. Jase–he could still see him in there, even as the smoke rewrote his memories. He’d always pictured him as a cub…but damn, he made a sexy old pig in the end too. “Nonsense, I think your dad should play too, don’t you Miles?”

“His cock don’t work anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jase added, “Was never much a top anyway.”

Cole smirked, “Get in here dad. Shove that fist up your boy’s cunt, and I’m gonna feed his throat. How’s that sound?”

Jase’s cloudy eyes lit up with a sparkle. Cole helped the old man up and together they flanked his son and got to work. By morning, all three of them couldn’t even fathom a time when they hadn’t been living together, their own fucked up family unit, and with how often Arctos showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?

Arctos: Briar

Cole gave off another belch, then patted his gut and laughed, looking over at Jase, the younger man just rolling his eyes and walking off to get back to work on the site. “Come on, you have to admit that was a good one!” Cole shouted after him.

“You’re gross, Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “ Would you get some work done for a fucking change?”

Cole laughed, but did go back to working on the houses they were building, but he let off another belch, groped his thick cock through his cutoff jeans, amazed that he was horny again already. He’d fucking jacked off in the damn porta-potty twice today, and it looked like he was going to have to take another smoke break. Still, he kept up for a few more minutes, until his cock was aching, and then he pulled out his pipe, made a show of patting his pants, and said, “Out of fucking tobacco,” loud enough for a few guys to hear. Jase noticed, and sighed–it was just Cole being Cole, he thought, as frustrating as the fat fuck was, watching him head for his truck. He’d be missing for half an hour, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. Still, he’d been a part of the crew for so long, none of them could imagine it without him. As annoying as he was, he was just…there. Most of which was true, except for the fact that Cole had only been working with them for about a week.

Cole hadn’t forgotten his tobacco, of course–it was in his pocket, but he needed some time alone to blow off some steam. After a week, he’d gotten used to this body for the most part, and he’d thought he’d quit getting turned on by it so much, but damn, every time he let off a belch, or noticed the heft of his gut, or caught a whiff of his musk…He lifted an arm and took a whiff, hauling out his cock before fumbling with his pipe. It wasn’t a perfect pack or light, but it did the job well enough, and the cab flooded with smoke as he stroked himself slow, smelling himself.

He’d been playing a game, the last few days, trying to remember things about himself, before he’d opened that pipe club kit he’d received from Arctos in the mail, but the image was fading, and the memories too. He’d been younger than he was now, in his thirties. Clean shaven. Working at a desk all day, but he had no clue what he’d done. Pushing papers, spreadsheets, something like that. So much fucking better, getting sweaty all day under the sun, working your body out with a bunch of other burly fuckers. Of course, this job of his was new–he’d been so happy with his pipe, that of course he’d taken advantage of the discount to order a few things from Arctos, the construction kit and a few other accessories, and here he was–a nasty pig working on the site all damn day, and he loved it. He knew, in the back of his mind, that his old self would be disgusted by what he’d become, but why in the hell should he care about that fucker? He didn’t even smoke! Fuck, if Cole had to go without his pipe for a day, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

He hiked his dusty wifebeater up over his hairy gut, giving it a rub with his free hand, pinching one of his fat nipples, thinking about Jase. He’d been saving his referral to the pipe club for someone special, and on the first day, he’d decided that special someone was going to be Jase. The guy was young, but built–at least six four, three hundred pounds, a bunch of it muscle. Beard down to his chest, a bright red. He’d requested a kinkcub cut tobacco with a heavy musk flavor added, and expedited shipping of course. Earlier that day, he’d gotten a message from his phone that the package had arrived while they were here at work. He’d give Jase a few hours to…get acclimated, and then come knocking tonight, and the two of them were going to have some real fun. He storked a bit faster, gave a long fart, and then shot his load up onto his gut, rubbing it in until it turned sticky, and then climbed out of his truck, puffing smoke, and headed back to the worksite. Quitting time couldn’t come soon enough, in his opinion, and all day, jase noticed that Cole kept glancing over at him, rubbing his crotch, head shrouded in that pipe smoke of his–and he too, couldn’t wait to get away when the day was over.

Something Cole hadn’t bothered to learn about Jase, however, was whether or not he lived alone. In fact, Jase still lived with his father, Miles–he’d been trying to scrape money together to move out for a while now, but honestly it was just easier to stay with him. They were both pretty laid back, he helped out with expenses, he had privacy, and his dad, he thought, was mostly happy to not have to live all by himself. He was in his early 50’s, and worked a warehouse job early in the morning, and was usually home early in the afternoon–early enough to have answered the door when the burly delivery man from some company named Arctos showed up with a small package for his son. As soon as he touched the box, he felt an odd rush through his body, and along with that, an intense curiosity for what might be inside. To his knowledge, his son had never been one to order things online or anything–what in the hell could it be?

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!
Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?

His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”

Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.

Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”

They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”

Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”

Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.

“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”

“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”

“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”

Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”

“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”

Miles was blushing a bit, but also found it kind of sexy that they’d gotten caught by his…son? His mind immediately told him that couldn’t be right–he and Jase were almost the same age after all. No, so then…housemates? Yeah, housemates, of course. He kind of wished they were more than that, after all, Jase was one sexy fucker, but he’d settled for Jase’s equally hot coworker Cole in the meantime. He figured that if Jase…stumbled in on them a few times, he might eventually get up the courage to maybe join in. “Sorry Jase,” he said, “we got a little carried away, right Daddy?”

Cole didn’t say anything–if this wasn’t Jase, then who the hell…his mind started filling in blanks for him. How he’d met Miles when he’d stopped by the worksite one day to give Jase something from home, and the two of them had known at a glance that they were going to fuck, and soon. That very night, in fact, Cole followed Jase home and fucked around with Miles, much to Jase’s frustration. He could still recall, of course, that Jase had been his original target, but Miles was certainly a nice consolation prize if nothing else. “Yeah, sorry man…you know how I get around Miles, right?”

Jase didn’t know. Even as the other two had new memories forming, Jase was at a loss, the smoke filled room making his eyes water a bit, unable to understand where his dad had gone, and how these two strangers had gotten here instead.

“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”

“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”

Miles got off the couch, grabbed Cole’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, passing Jase along the way, who was still unable to process what was going on. He shared a look with Cole as he passed, the older man regarding him with a smile, but was there also a bit of disappointment there? They both went upstairs, and all that remained was their plumes of smoke, which Jase couldn’t help breathe in, and he started looking around wondering where his dad was, but the more second hand smoke he breathed, the less certain he became that his father was there at all. Still, he could remember him, right? Certainly he could remember someone else who should be here besides Miles, his housemate. No–what?

He paused. Where in the hell had that thought come from? And wasn’t Miles his father’s name? That was an odd coincidence he supposed, but not really that strange in the end. His memories felt more and more confused, and he heard a loud thump from upstairs in the master bedroom, where Miles slept, a groan, and then the squeak of his bed’s springs. Ugh, he couldn’t believe Miles liked Cole of all people. He didn’t really care that they were fags, but did he have to pick the coworker he liked the least the fuck around with? He shook his head, figuring there were just some things he wouldn’t understand, and he too, went upstairs, back to his room and inside, but where the air was clearer, the worries returned.

He saw pictures of him and his father, pinned to the wall, the memories of them here in this house so damn clear to him, but at the same time, some other part of him kept saying he had to be mistaken. He pushed that other part of himself away, and focused on his memories–coming home and talking to his dad. That strange box he’d received in the mail. It was crazy, but…but what if Miles…was his dad? Had something happened to him? Or more precisely, had Cole done something to him? He thought of the surprise he’d seen on Cole’s face downstairs, of the sense of disappointment as he’d walked past. The box…it had been for him. Was…did something happen to his dad that should have happened to him instead?

He could still smell smoke. He threw open his window, leaned against the screen, and his head cleared further still. His dad had been acting so strange about that package, and Cole was such a raging pervert…there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing though–what had been in the box? He went downstairs and searched a bit further, until he found where his father had opened it in the kitchen, but there was nothing there–just an empty box with Arctos printed on the side, a blank piece of paper beside it. This was no use–he’d have to…maybe if he spied a bit, he’d figure something out, something that would help him figure out what had happened to his dad.

He crept up the stairs, towards the door to the Master bedroom. The smoke was thicker here, the smell as strong as it had been downstairs, and he could hear them moaning behind it–he cracked open the door, smoke billowing through, and it was so thick, he could only see the outlines of them fucking on the bed. His housemate was there, Cole’s cock buried in his hole–no! No, it was his dad. Fuck, looking at him, how hadn’t he seen it before? He looked like he had in old family portraits, just hairier, and…sluttier. But he was so young, he couldn’t be his dad, and be that young. The smoke was thick in his lungs, making him feel lightheaded. Those doubts were back, and he fought harder, knowing that they were false…but the more smoke he breathed, the stronger they got. He could sense them, trying to rewire his mind somehow, frustrated that he was being as resistant as he was, and then they noticed his awareness, and they pushed harder. He focused as hard as he could, focusing on his dad, on helping him, on fighting, but it was too much. He felt a sharp pain rip through his brain as something in him broke apart, and then fell back clutching his head, trying not not to scream.

“Valued Arctos Customer,
We’ve been alerted to a reality incongruence event, and wish to apologize for any distress this may have caused you with a complimentary gift to help ease your transition.
Enjoy!”

It was his pipe.

“Just my pig dad Cole, don’t worry about it. I always let him watch,” Miles said, “Get back in me daddy, I want your damn cock, sir…”

“His cock don’t work anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jase added, “Was never much a top anyway.”

Cole smirked, “Get in here dad. Shove that fist up your boy’s cunt, and I’m gonna feed his throat. How’s that sound?”

Jase’s cloudy eyes lit up with a sparkle. Cole helped the old man up and together they flanked his son and got to work. By morning, all three of them couldn’t even fathom a time when they hadn’t been living together, their own fucked up family unit, getting more and more perverse every time a new Arctos sample showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?

martikhoras:

Oh this so needs a caption story

@wesleybracken @ursinityunchained ANYONE get one this!

Arctos Industry has begun rolling out our newest product, Daddy Drops! For when you want to feel like the Daddy inside you!

WARNING – May cause: hair loss, hair bleaching, hair growth, memory loss, memory changes, personality changes, shortened lifespan, aggression, dominance and other unanticipated side effects. Use only as directed on packaging.

We’ve already released this exciting new experience is several test markets, and we’d like to share one testimonial from a very happy could of brand new daddies!

I gotta say, when I went over there, after mah friend Jerry called me up, tellin’ me he’d gotten this amazin’ new product in the mail, I was purty skeptical. Hell, it didn’t even sound much like Jerry on the other end a the line. The voice seemed…deeper, and had a bit of a southern twang tah it. Both Jerry ‘n I were students at the local college, and came from the Northeast–there was nothin’ southern ‘bout either a us!

I got there, and fuck, I was right–It wasn’t really Jerry sittin’ there, ‘r not the Jerry I ‘membered. This hot fuckin’ daddy, damn! Big gut, thick tits, sittin’ there naked, strokin’ a big ol’ cock! I mean, at the time, I wasn’t tah keen on it. Hell, I was freakin’ out, when he told me he’d found these drops in the mail, made ‘em intah a proper daddy. He took another one, and damn, I watched as his hair on his head shrank back and disappeared, that goatee growin’ longer, a pure white, though a bit yellowed at the mouth, on account a all his cigar smokin’. Cock grew a nother two inches, damn, and he…I mean…

He was my…daddy, ya know? Ya just know, sometimes. I couldn’t fight ‘em off, when he pinned me tah the wall, forced open mah mouth, gave me a couple drops of the stuff as well. I’m not quite the daddy he is, but fuck, I don’ care. I just wanna serve that fucker all day ‘n night, can’t git enough a that cock in any a mah holes. We both used tah hate rednecks, but now we’re too stupid (and old) tah go tah school, so we’re truck drivin’ cross country. Good money, and we make a daddy here ‘n there tah fuck around with. So thanks Arctos! From Daddy Jer and Daddy Mick, ya got two customers fer life!

Source: matureandruggedmenredux

Inspired by anonymous

The five college friends had been camping at this spot for the last few years, and usually it had been perfectly peaceful. This year, though, this group of older men had rolled in a day after them, set up camp nearby, and it was clear they were all…well…none of the guys really wanted to talk about it, but all of them had seen a few things they didn’t want to talk about with each other. They didn’t care what the guys wanted to do with their spare time–it just seemed like they were always where the group of friends were headed, always having sex…and always wanting the younger men to watch.

After a day they’d had enough, and were planning on leaving early the next day and heading home. Still, they had one more evening at least to enjoy around the fire. One of them went off to the bathrooms, and they noticed he’d been gone for a fairly long time, when someone else crashed through the bushes. It was one of the older men from the other camp…except he was wearing their friend’s clothes. The crotch of his jeans had been ripped open, and he settled into the waiting chair, legs splayed wide, nuts hanging low, his thick dick out for everyone to see.

“Sorry I took so long guys,” the old man said, “Had a run in with a couple a bears in there, ya know what I mean?” he added a wink and started groping his cock.

The four young men shouted at him, and the older man seemed genuinely confused, as the four shoved him away, off towards where the older men had been camping. He kept trying to protest, genuinely confused–he only stopped trying to approach when one of the more athletic friends punched him in the nose, and sent him packing. All of them were concerned for their friend, and decided to split up into pairs to search for him–one pair heading for the bathrooms, the other pair would look around the campground.

Neither pair found them, but the two that headed for the bathroom came back to discover two older men sixty-nining by their campfire–they ran them off, both of them confused like the other one had been. They waited for the other pair to return, but they never came. Terrified, they started throwing shit into their car, ready to drive off and leave them behind, but in the morning, the campground staff only found a half packed car, and everything else abandoned. A few other campers complained about a group of older men who had been acting lewdly all night long, but their was no sign of any of them that morning, and no record of such a group ever checking into the campground.

Source: paylu

Jerry knew he was getting close to figuring out the secret to Pigtown. The guys at the precinct all told him he was crazy to try and stop it, to try and figure out what the bar was doing to the men in the neighborhood. They even pointed out Scrimm, told him that story, but Jerry was never one to listen to threats–that is, until he came home one evening and discovered his sons were missing.

He and his wife searched for days, the entire police force was mobilized, but there was no sign of them anywhere–no one claimed responsibility, no one demanded ransom. But Jerry knew, Pigtown was involved somehow, but he didn’t know why or how. He’d always found himself able to resist the advances of the men there–was that why they were targeting him? He told the precinct Chief his theory, but the older man wouldn’t–or perhaps couldn’t–say anything. His eyes thought, told Jerry all he needed to know.

His wife broke down–she left for her mother’s, and Jerry carried on by himself for another day, before he finally received the gift, and the note.

If you want to be with your boys, you know what to do.

–Rod

That’s all it said. He opened the small box, and inside he found a small cigar and a lighter, but nothing else, no clue or anything. Should he report it? Rod–he’d come across that name over and over again in his investigations, but he had no idea who he might be. But what choice did he have? It was just a cigar, and he’d been able to resist so much else, right?

Jerry was a very different man a couple hours later. The cigar–it just kept growing, and at this point it was stretching his jaw to the limit, but he’d only suck down more smoke, twisting his now massive nipples, stroking his white beard, growing thicker and longer. He didn’t know when his clothes had become leather, but fuck, it felt good on his bare skin, on his massive cock, but as much as he stroked it, he couldn’t seem to climax–and then the doorbell rang.

There, on the stoop, was a cage. And there inside the cage were his two sons. They were naked, but otherwise completely unharmed, but Jerry knew what to do. With strange, inhuman strength, he dragged the cage into his house, his two sons screaming at him to stop, but as soon as he started feeding them his smoke, they changed their tunes rapidly, and their bodies too–both of them becoming chubby, perfectly obedient cigar cubs for their daddy, happy to be home in his arms.

His wife never did see any of them again, but some of the officers at precinct 17 would on occasion, in a dark corner of a bar or alley. Jerry wore a thick metal collar, as did his two cubs–the two boys attached to their father’s collar by two short, thick chains, assuring them that they’d never be apart again, Jerry’s cigar still smoldering in the dark, as big as ever, and unlikely to go out anytime soon.

This isn’t my body. I have to remember that; this isn’t my body, this is fucking Lenny’s body, that fat fucking freak down the hall. I always saw him looking at me, that fucking envious glare of his, but I’d always assumed he was just a pervert. I’d never imagined that he’d do something like this. I don’t even know what this is–one night I go to sleep, the next I wake up in this filthy bed, in this disgusting body, but fuck, I’m so horny! So horny, I can’t keep my hands off my cock, off this…this flabby gut, these nipples. His cock’s puny, but every touch is like electricty–fuck, I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming!

[[Orgasm energy conversion complete. Mental shift towards target levels 30%. Permanence level, 15%]]

What the fucking hell was that? Some voice inside my head? At least that raging need to jack off is passed, I swear, feeling this fat of mine gets me so amped up sometimes–

No, what? I don’t…I mean…I gotta get up, but I’m fucking tired as hell. It would feel better just…to lie back down and jack off again, but I gotta get to my old apartment. Is…that a note there, on the table?

Morning Lenny,

Feeling good yet? If not, just keep jacking off. Fuck, I hated being that old, fatass, but the best thing about these nanites I stole? They can fucking rewrite anyone’s brain if you give them enough energy. So you’re going to love being me, I guarantee it. You wouldn’t want to change back even if we could–not that you’ll remember much before too long. If everything goes according to plan, you won’t even be able to read this letter soon enough! Thanks for the young muscular body–you’ll never see it again, I can promise you that. Have fun and enjoy yourself!

Garrett

That fucker, what the fuck does any of this even mean? I feel like my head’s trying to move through mud all of a sudden, and damn I’m horny again–that was fucking fast. Might…as well jack off again I guess, felt so damn good the first time.

Yeah, fuck, feels so good, this fat jiggling around me. I never imagined it could feel this fucking nice. These meaty tits, fuck, here I go again!

[[Orgasm energy conversion complete. Mental shift towards target levels 55%.]]

Cum tastes damn good. Gonna have to eat more cum. Wonder where I can get some? Suck some cocks maybe, but first think I’ll jack off again. Feel like a lazy day today, I think, yeah, just fat pig like me lolling in bed, jackin’ off, sounds fuckin’ amazing. Feels so damn good, so sensitive, this puny fuckin’ dick. Never usually this horny, you know…was…was I different before? I kind of remember but its so foggy. Maybe if I cum again I’ll remember better, yeah, just gotta bust another nut–fuck!

[[Orgasm energy conversion complete. Mental shift towards target levels 85%.]]

Nah Never fuckin different. This is me, fat fuck pig, horny motherfucker. Damn could use a cock in me, wonder who I can find? Yeah, some stud buryin’ his dick in my hole, my flab flyin’ back ‘n forth, or givin my tits a fuck, damn yeah, gonna fuckin’ blow again!

[[Orgasm energy conversion complete. Mental shift towards target levels 100%. Program complete—Entering standby mode]]

Whatever. Lenny horny fucker. Gonna find a cock and get fuckin’ bred like the old pig I is, gonna be fuckin’ awesome!