Look, I did my best to be a good kid, but even good kids can get up to some mischief now and then. My uncle, I’d always thought, was a really cool guy. Hell, I picked up playing rugby after going with him to see a few club games, although to be honest, he always seemed more interested in the players than the game–though that particular observation wasn’t clear as a kid–I just knew I really loved my uncle. He was warm, unlike my father, and his gluttony, heavy drinking and cigar smoking always seemed to me like he was mocking my healthy, straight laced father. He could never understand why I always wanted to stay over with my uncle, but he allowed me to do so regardless. Sometimes I wished he’d have kept me at home.

One thing my uncle was strict about was that I was to never drink or smoke his cigars. It always made me a bit angry, because I felt like he was depriving me of something he enjoyed, and had a lot of fun doing. Still, I respected my uncle enough until I was seventeen. It was the summer before my senior year, and I was feeling adventurous, so while my uncle was out on an errand that would take him several hours, I popped open a bottle of beer, and lit up one of his cigars–just to try it out.

I didn’t notice the changes until I was onto the second cigar, and maybe the sixth or seventh beer. I just couldn’t stop, once I started, and when I got up, I noticed that my clothes had disappeared, aside from my briefs, and that I’d put on close to a hundred pounds of fat, and looked to be about ten years older. Even worse, I just couldn’t stop drinking and smoking, and when my uncle finally returned, instead of me there, he found a fat, naked pig in the living room, drunk and high, but it was almost like he’d expected it, and he grinned, walked over and started making out with me.

He fucked me hard, and I couldn’t resist oinking and grunting like a pig, and when he’d finished, he got me all dressed up in some leather gear, with a collar and leash, and strutted me around a gay bar, letting all of his friends fuck his fat, horny pig. The next morning I was back to normal, but my uncle started tempting me with the cigars and beer again, and by the end of the day, I’d given in. Back as his pig, I begged him to fuck and fist me again, and he happily complied, telling me he’d waited years for me to finally give in and try a few of his vices. Well, I managed to get through my senior year, but never went off to college. I’m my uncle’s permanent pig now, chain smoking cigars and drinking beer from dawn to dusk–a lifestyle of addiction I know I’ll never manage to break.

The Loser Part Three

Wilton froze, trying to remain hidden and quiet in the stall, hoping the janitor would leave for a moment so he could slip away unobserved. However, in a moment, his phone chimed loudly–another email.

“Hello? Is someone in here?” the janitor asked, and Wilton hurried to check the phone, and found a new task.

Lightning round! It’s your final task!

Beg the janitor to let you suck his cock. If he refuses, you lose. If you can’t get him to cum in five minutes, you lose. If you don’t cum in your new diaper before he cums down your throat, you lose.

“Fuck!” Wilton said, and then covered his mouth.

“Sorry, are you busy? I can come back in a few minutes…” the janitor said.

“No! No, hold on,” Wilton said, bumbling out of the door, realizing a moment too late that all he was wearing was a sopping wet diaper. The janitor was a young guy, probably in his early twenties, and Wilton gulped as the guy looked at him in shock. “Hey…uh…hey, can I suck your cock?”

“What the fuck kind of faggot shit is this!” the janitor said, and backed away.

“No! Please, you don’t understand, I need to suck your cock!” he said, and tried to grab the janitor before he could leave, but the kid turned and punched him in the face, and then booked it out of the bathroom, and he heard another chime on his phone, and dreading what it could be this time, he looked at the new email.

God, you’re such a loser. This game is over–but here’s your final change.

Congrats–you’re now 78 years old. In addition, since you failed so badly, you’re also going to become a complete faggot pervert, one who particularly likes paying young men to humiliate and abuse you over webcam or at your house while you worship their young, muscular bodies.

Enjoy your new life, loser!

It was too late. When he looked up from his phone, Wilton was back in his home, now retired, the diaper he was wearing soiled beyond belief, but at the thought, he found his cock starting to harden in the front of it. He sat down at the computer, grinding the shit up his crack as he did, and turned on his cam. Maybe he could find a hot stud to ridicule him tonight–he was such a loser, he definitely deserved it.

The End

As the self-proclaimed cool guy of the group, Marcus was always trying to stand out. He did his best to impress the ladies with his tattoos and long goatee, and always made a point of mentioning how amazing it was to work as a skydiving instructor, usually inviting girls up in the plane for a free lesson–he’d be holding onto them tight the whole way down of course. Well, while his friends liked the fact that Marcus wanted to be the cool guy, his endless preening did have a way of getting on their nerves, especially when he did it every night they went out for drinks.

It was just supposed to be an April Fool’s joke. They’d bought the six pack from some curio stand on the street corner, promising the perfect pranks for anyone, and really, how could they resist something called “Boring Beer” which promised to make even the biggest partier into the lamest wallflower? It was perfect. They surprised him with the six pack before they went to hit the bars, and insisted he drink one so they could get a photo of it, and then went out. However, Marcus just wasn’t that into it for some reason, and ditched them at ten, claiming he was tired and wanted to get to bed early.

From that day on, the group didn’t see much of Marcus. They discovered that he’d put his two weeks notice in at the sky diving tours, and it was a month later when one of them finally caught him leaving his apartment, looking very different from the Marcus they’d known and loved. He’d cut his beard off and was growing his hair back in, but he was balding severely, looking more like he was in his mid 40’s than his late 20’s, and had packed on quite the gut. Even stranger, all of his tattoos and piercings had simply vanished, and when pressed, Marcus denied ever having tattoos, saying he’d always been too chicken to even consider it. He had become a total bore, and flummoxed, his friends left and didn’t see him again.

In fact, there was only one aspect in his life where Marcus wasn’t a total bore–he’d turned into quite the pervy faggot. He spent all of his free time jacking off it seemed like, and the only thing that could get him off was humiliating himself in front of some cool young guy, who’d chat with him, taunting him, tell him he was too much of a bore to ever go to bed with someone cool like them.

***This caption uses a picture and some ideas submitted by Changemechainme***

“What do you think–is he ready?”

The two men stand towering over you, but you can’t even muster the energy to look up at them anymore. The chain around your neck has been draining the life out of your for days now–maybe even weeks. You’ve lost track of time in this room. The men have been checking up on you more frequently now, checking your shrinking cock, now less than an inch long, guessing at your age, talking to you on occasion, but you can’t even speak any more. You aren’t sure if that’s because your voice is literally gone, or because you simply don’t have the energy to fight back. In your heart, though, you sense that no words will cross your lips ever again. They have your current age pinned down somewhere between seventy and eighty. You were twenty-nine when they locked you up–how did they do this to you?

“I think this is the best we’re gonna get. His sack is finally big enough for what the guy wanted at least–that took longer than I’d expected. I think the guy will be satisfied. Still a lot of work to do, we’d better get going.”

They unlock the chain from around your neck–the burden is gone, finally. You’d hoped that you would feel better, that energy would come back to you, but it doesn’t. You feel the same, and when the first man puts a collar on your neck with a lead attached, all you can do is crawl after him, into the fluorescent white corridor beyond the door of your cell, and down the hall to a white, sterile room.

The modifications all take place there. They begin with the difficult changes first–prying your teeth from your head one by one while a surgeon severs your Achilles’ tendons, ensuring you will never walk upright again. Then, after spreading your legs apart, they examine your massive ball sack–the surgeon cuts into it, removing your balls, and fills it back up with four, two inch diameter metal spheres before sewing it back up. Then they permanently remove all of the hair from your body, your face and your head, and begin the process of tattooing and piercing your body to the specifications of the man who purchased you. The entire time, in your mind, you’re trying to scream at them to stop, begging them to let you go, but your voice–you have no voice anymore. You remain perfectly silent and unresisting as they modify you beyond any sort of recognition.

You heal, and then are given to your new master, and you discover why he wanted your mind to remain as it was–it was because he wanted to watch it wither as he trained you himself. He wanted to see you struggle and fight as the hypnosis whittled away at the will that remained, and you did fight. You fought hard, but it was no real contest. You accepted your fate, eventually, and now you enjoy being his slave. His old, voiceless, castrated cumdump, and there’s nothing in the world you’d rather be.

***

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It’s a pilot program for prisoners who we’ve deemed to be unredeemable. With the massive overcrowding of our prison system, it simply is becoming too cost-prohibitive to keep the long term prisoners behind bars, and so, we’ve begun offering this as an alternative punishment–volunteer only. Of course, they don’t know precisely what they’re volunteering for, but if they did, well, we wouldn’t have any volunteers now would we?

We suppose they figure out that something strange is going on when we strap them into the chair. We keep them immobile, because the process requires several oral and subcutaneous injections over a series of days, and the early test subjects always had to be restrained once they discovered what was happening to them. I suppose if we could find some way to work the mental changes in first it would all work better, but alas, the order is too difficult to flip.

The first injection is perhaps the most insidious. The patient generally doesn’t think anything is happening at all, but they all notice that slight tingle in their groin as their cock and balls begin to shrivel up. They don’t disappear entirely–the lack of testosterone is necessary for the remaining steps–but it does come with some side effects, usually a loss of musculature and body hair over the course of the treatment, as well as an increase in appetite. The second stage comes in a series of three doses, administered over a series of days. It relies on the lower testosterone levels to remove any inclination toward violent or unruly behavior from the subject–but again, these shots have their own side effects.

The most obvious is the rapid aging–usually around an additional fifty years or so. The second is severe memory loss–it’s become necessary to fabricate lives for all of our volunteers so that they can live some kind of normal life in the nursing homes they end up in, but none of them come out of it very smart. Still, they remain rather healthy, living ten or fifteen more years before their hearts give out or severe dementia sets in. Still, it’s a far more peaceful life than prison–and far cheaper for the state–even if it’s not the life they would have wanted.

***

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Curse Cards

by Beardsman and Wesley Bracken

***WARNING*** This has heavy slob TF, incontinence and dumbing down.

***

Three buddies that had just graduated from high school had little to do with their time. College didn’t start until the end of Summer for them, and they had occupied their time with video games, movies, and random events around their small town.

Jae, the oldest of the group (by only two months) was usually the instigator in whatever took place. He had the ideas, the funds, and the knowledge among the three. He looked like your typical jock; blonde spiked hair, hazel eyes, and a decent-enough frame with more of a swimmer’s build. He was rarely seen in anything fancy; just a tank and comfortable shorts.

The second of the group had been Eric. Brown hair that was just curly enough to dub him as the “jew-fro’d-dork” around the town. It didn’t help that his eyesight was impaired and he needed glasses. The only reason he wasn’t pummeled while in school was thanks to his childhood friendship with Jae and Allister.

Allister, the youngest, the most naive. Certainly the prettiest of the group without a doubt. After a long frightful rumor around his senior years that he was gay, he managed to come out strong with a delicate beauty at his arm. The rumors were founded through his impeccable hygiene and sense of fashion. Truly the hipster of the town. He even went through a phase where he grew out a moustache and curled it.

All three were friends since kindergarten, unable to avoid each other even when arguing with how close-knit the town had been. They each had plans to to stay together no matter how old they would become- but those plans went no further than college it seemed. Different career-paths in mind, they would find themselves elsewhere sooner-or-later. Jae was the first to realize this, and decided to make this Summer their greatest before ultimately being tied down with work and social-problems. On this current day, however, he was at a loss for things to do. Netflix didn’t give way for many options as their tastes all varied, and they had gone through the entire collection of B-Horror Films. With rain on the way, it made hiking or even riding their bikes more of a chore than a fun time out.

With all three settling in at Jae’s empty house–his parents being away on a cruise–Jae dug through a collection of older board games located in their family coat-closet. He ran across childhood favorites that gave a surreal effect with the boxes covered in dust and grime, forgotten in the back along with simpler times. He found a smaller stack of decks of cards. Poker decks, Uno, a matching game… but one in particular seemed to catch his fancy. He hadn’t remember a black box with silver trim containing any game before. And while pushed behind the pile, it was devoid of dust like the others.

Upon checking back to see the other two flipping through the satellite channels, he removed the contents of the box. Cards, as expected, with the same black and silver patterns adorning the backs. The fronts–mysteriously enough–were blank. His confusion held, until he saw a folded paper sticking from a slot in the side. It was the instructions.

“Guys, check this out,” Jae called. Their heads turned and looked over the couch to see him raising from his crouched stance, cards in hand, and reading the first part of the instructions.

“What’s that? Collectible poker cards or something?” Eric asked.

“It’s not Yu-Gi-Oh! is it? Kind of got tired of that when they changed all the rules up,” Allister remarked, last to join in.

“No, it’s some weird kind of Tarot thing. I mean, I dunno. It doesn’t say what they are. The instructions are kind of weird and cryptic.”

“‘Cryptic’? How so?” Eric asked, raising from the couch and grabbing the blank cards from the eldest.

“Look at the lines here:

For those who dare to play the devil’s hand

Let caution dwell before demand.

Your life, your choices, your body and soul

Your Mind, you world, no longer your own.”

They each read the top line together, slightly intrigued by the campy warning. Jumanji came to mind, but did nothing to deter them. Before long, they had vacated the living room and made their way to Jae’s room in the basement, setting up his game table for the cards. After the cryptic warning, the instructions stated that the deck must be placed in the middle after being thoroughly shuffled. Each person would take a turn pulling a card from the top, and the rest of the instructions would reveal themselves.

Jae had searched the box for some kind of manufacturer, or date, but came up with nothing. If this was some sort of “magical” deck of cards, it would be interesting at least to see things play out.

“Who should start? Jae?” Eric asked, watching Jae suddenly show some reluctance.

“Maybe Allister. I set the game up, and you look a little scared, Eric.”

“Do not!” Eric shouted back, just before Allister took a turn without questioning.

“Both of you are pansies… First card!” Allister placed the blank card onto the table, face-up, and watched the ink start to appear. Each boy was pleasantly surprised by how realistic it seemed, and wondered if the low-light of the room had anything to do with it.

~~Sexualities Askew~~

Main Effect: All players’ sexualities are inverted. The player who drew the card must then assign one of the following options to himself and every other player.

This player becomes more attracted to men the fatter they become.
This player becomes more attracted to men the older they become.
This person falls desperately in love with the person to their left.

“That’s insane,” Eric said, reading the card again, “I’m not gay!”

“Yeah, well I’m not either,” Allister said, and yet, as he said it, he knew he was lying. In fact, he remembered that the only reason he’d dated that girl in high school at all was as a beard, so people would stop calling him a faggot. She’d been ok with it–she found other guys to fuck, and he’d paid her off with with fashion advice. Looking at his two friends, he saw that similar revelations were working their way through their minds, and they all looked at each other, and then at the cards…

“No way, fuck this.,” Jae said, and tried to stand up from the table, but one of the cards flipped over on it’s own, the ink displaying a new message in a matter of seconds.

No player may leave the game early–quitting will result in a random number of curses from the deck.

“It knows what we’re saying?” Eric whispered.

“Just sit down, Jae. It’s just a trick. Of course people would stand up after reading shit like that,” Al bargained, watching Jae take his seat reluctantly, grumbling defiantly while doing so.

“Fuck- this is some fucked up shit!” Eric said, slightly terrified. He felt as if they had toyed with a sentient Ouja Board. Allister was ignoring him and rereading the curses, hurring, trying to make up his mind. Jae was to his left–he could handle being in love with him, couldn’t he?

“Alright!” Allister declared through the silence, causing them to jump. He continued, “I’ll take the last one,” he said, and then after a moment, added, “And Jae can have the first one. Eric, you’ll get the second.”

“Dude!” Jae said, “I hate fat people, you fucking know that!”

“And people twice my age? That’s like my dad! I mean…my dad…” Eric said, his eyes glazing over for a second. He had always kind of liked how his dad looked. He was about to turn 50, but looked a little bit older actually, because of how much he’d balded, and his tendency to wear a mustache. He’d always liked kissing him, and he’d snuck a few on his dad’s lips on occasion…

Eric shivered and shook his head, clearing it. No, he wasn’t going to be like that, he wasn’t. He concentrated hard, thinking about his girlfriends, but none of them were doing it for him. Well, aside from Jenny, that time Mr Washburn had caught them making out in the chem lab, what if he’d kicked her out, and then his teacher could have…

Jae, on the other hand, was sweating bullets. He hated fat people, he’d always hated them. He’d been big as a kid, and lost a bunch of weight after he’d been bullied for it, but he didn’t find it attractive at all! Even if…even if the sight of a big guy lumbering towards him down the hall was the only thing that seemed to get his cock hard anymore. Oh, he loved big boys, the bigger the better. He always felt bad, watching them get bullied, and more than once he’d stood up for them at school, befriending them, and usually, they’d let him please them too, after a while. Yeah, he’d massage their hot, flab, rub his face in it, suck them off, fuck them…anything to be closer to them.

Allister, however, only had eyes for Jae. He loved him–really, honestly, loved him. They’d both only had girlfriends to cover up the fact that they were gay, but Jae wasn’t the least bit interested in him. It didn’t matter what he did, how many times he professed his love, Jae would end up with some massive tub of lard, and it would make him so god damn jealous. He loved Jae–why couldn’t he see that, he loved him so much, he’d do anything to be with him–anything.

Shivering, they looked back at the table and saw the second card had changed it’s lettering, Next Turn–please draw a card.

His hand shaking, Jae reached out and flipped the top card over–the blank surface swirling to life, and the three of them read it nervously.

~~Unhealthy Obsessions~~

Each of you will pick up a rather unhealthy addiction. The person who drew this card will choose one of the options below for each player.

This player becomes a binge eater, immediately gaining 100 pounds.
This player becomes a heavy smoker, but only smokes cigars. They will age 10 years.
This player becomes a sex addict, and masturbates or has sex at least 10 times a day.

Jae sighed unhappily, looking between his nervous friends. He lingered for a moment on Allister, looking at the faggy twink hipster he always kept close. He always felt that burning desire Al held for him, and felt perpetually sorry that he couldn’t return it. This card, however…maybe..

“Alright.. I’m definitely not into smoking… You okay with it, Eric?” Jae asked, watching Eric shake his head, unsure, but that seemed like the easiest option for him. He was awkward with sex, and his parents were always over his shoulder. He’d hate them catching him in the middle of a wank. The binge-eating didn’t seem any better. What about his clothes? His lithe frame?

“Whatever, Jae. Just do it,” Eric replied, cringing as Jae selected him. Within moments, his brain flooded with information he hadn’t known existed. Cigar sizes, brands, tobacco blends. He let out a hearty cough, feeling his throat burn momentarily. He brought his hand to his mouth, originally to cover it and protect the others from saliva, but found a thick stogie planting itself between his lips. Upon his surprise, he took in a strong inhale. The burning returned, but felt natural; pleasant, even. The smoke he exhaled through his clenched teeth and flared nostrils engulfed his face. When dissipating, it left light stubble on his cheeks, and gone were his curls. His fro had either fallen away or shrunk, leaving patchy growth around the sides of his head and framing a shiny scalp. Smoking the way he did took years off his life, but it tasted so fucking good. “Yeah, made the right choice,” he stated, his voice rough and aged like his appearance, and took another draw on his cigar.

Jae, unsettled by the change, looked to Allister. So hipster and metro, as he remembered, but now just a needy twink. He’d be able to fix that. He selected him for the first option, watching Allister’s frightened eyes while his frame inflated, like a gelatin-filled balloon. His clothing wasn’t part of the change, as Al was afraid of as well, and made tearing noises in several spots. Being a hipster certainly didn’t help this conundrum, the too-tight clothing simply falling away after violently splitting. His jeans were the worst, holding up more than anything else. Al could only groan and pant heavily before the growing thighs burst through.

Jae watched his previously-skinny friend, sweating, grabbing the table for support. The only clothing left on him was his briefs, still somehow holding on, and looked more like a red thong disappearing clean into Al’s ass-cheeks. Well, not for long, as the elastic gave way and the remains of his underpants fell away. Al looked up momentarily to see Jae’s suddenly needy expression, licking his lips and examining the light rolls that were taking shape. Only 100 pounds for now, but maybe Jae could feed him later.

The last option on the card disappeared, the curse adhering to Jae. As if sitting next to the sexiest hipster chub he’d ever seen weren’t enough, his increased desires made things even worse. His hand was already pushed under the waist of his shorts, and he felt his growing bulge. It felt so hot, so hard in his palm. He was trying to remain in control, but he hadn’t cum yet today. It must have been a new record for him, and his balls churned and became enlarged with extra potent seed. They had to get bigger, being used to producing so much and draining so quickly. Jae fumbled with his shorts, his cock begging to be free of its cloth confines while Al drooled with anticipation. His love for Jae and growing hunger aligned, and he wanted to see the cock he lusted after for so long. Jae, however, wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings anymore, losing his battle with his urge to play with himself.

“Fffuck! Guys, just one right now, I have to!” Jae bargained, pulling his dick free of his shorts. The pulsing mass curved upwards and seemed a tad bigger than he remembered, but nowhere near proportionate to the growth in his nuts. He wasted no time in fisting the heavy rod, watching it leak profusely. “Oh shit, so good- so fucking good…” Eric felt only a little weirded out behind his cloud of tobacco, watching one of his best friends tug one out before him, but couldn’t help admire the well-toned frame of the young athlete. He was gay, after all.

Losing himself, thrusting into his hand before them without abandon, it didn’t take him long before he (noisily) sprayed all over himself, moaning like a total bitch. The sheer volume shotgunning from his dick was unreal, painting his abs white and even some on his chin. With heavy panting, he let his arms flop to his sides, and tried to regain composure. It didn’t go down, though. While a little winded from his efforts, his horny nature hadn’t bent in any way. It didn’t help that Al was fulfilling his own needs, either.

Jae cried out in ecstasy as Al engulfed the entire engorged cock into his hungry gullet, suckling it and milking it dry, swallowing leftover globs before pulling himself off and running his tongue over the toned pecs of the sex-crazed jock. The saliva left was sticky, warm, and exactly what got Jae’s motor running. He loved fat fucks drooling all over him, and welcomed Al’s advances this time by placing a firm grip over his head, pushing him down to eat more of his cum.

Eric rolled his eyes, a tad jealous and a little disgusted by what Jae considered sexy, and grabbed the top card of the deck. His turn…maybe they could change back, or maybe he’d get some action this time. He placed the card down:

~~Hygiene Roulette~~

Staying clean isn’t going to be as important to any of you. The player that drew this will choose a non-hygienic trait for each person.

The player will forget about shaving, waxing, or even combing. Let that wild body fuzz spread!
The player will forget about showering, and will quite enjoy his natural ‘cologne’. As will the others.
The player will forget about changing his clothes daily, possibly weekly!

“Aww, that’s gross. Is this game serious?” Jae said, looking over the options. Eric however, was kind of enjoying the idea of Jae not liking it. He was always the third wheel when Jae and Al were together–the two were almost always fucking, and he just didn’t understand what Jae saw in fat guys like Al. Still, maybe he could throw some roadblocks in their way…

“Well, I don’t know about you two yet, but I’m taking the hair for myself,” Eric said, and felt his body start itching almost immediately. However, he’d underestimated just how extreme the card was, and a thick pelt sprouted all over his body–but his face too. A beard he’d never seen the likes of covered his face and descended down to his chest–it looked like he hadn’t shaved once since the day he’d gotten his first fuzz–which he realized was actually the truth. His curly hair, however, was another story altogether. He felt it grow out even bigger, and then it started yanking itself and twisting into enormous, fat dreadlocks–it was disgusting…wasn’t it? But he’d had dreads for as long as he could remember, hadn’t he? Sure, it was kind of gross, but he was so hairy, and he did like how it made him look a bit older…still, he had to work out the other two options for his friends. “Alright Al, you’re going to stop showering, and Jae–forget about changing clothes.”

“Wait, seriously?” Al said, “that’s fucking disgusting!”

“Blame the cards man, do you think I’m happy smoking these cigars?” Eric said. Well, he was, actually. He’d picked up the habit to be more like his dad–his dad was so fucking hot…

Al, however, soon realized that his fate was sealed–he was turning rank. He suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d last bathed, and he didn’t care. He lifted his arm and took a whiff of his rank armpit and gave a sigh, feeling a tingle in his cock as he did. He…liked it. He really did. Other changes swept across him as well–his face breaking out from being unwashed, and grease from his rather large meals could be seen shining down his chest.

Jae was repulsed, but he wasn’t faring much better. His tank top was growing filthy from all of the cum he’d shot over the past week on it, and his shorts were crispy and dry. He smelled like a cum rag, and hell if it wasn’t turning him on as he sat there, smelling his stench and…and Al’s. He didn’t smell so bad now, actually, he smelled kind of…rank, but a good kind of rank. He was jacking off again, and then leaned in, shoving his nose into Al’s pit, licking the sweat and musk from it, and Eric tried to keep himself from retching as the two went at it again, Al jerking Jae’s cock with one hand and his own with the other until they both came. He’d wanted to drive them apart, but it looked like he’d only pushed them closer together.

“Fuck guys, that’s disgusting–can’t you wait until I’m gone to do shit like that? You’re making me gag!”

Al scowled at him, “Hey! You’re the one who did it to us, fucker! Do you think I like being a stinking blob of fat?”

“I like you as a stinking blob of fat,” Jae said, grinding his sticky, but still hard cock in between some of the folds of Al’s body, “I wanna fuck you, fatty, I wanna fuck that ripe ass off–”

Al shoved him away, and Jae snapped out of it, realizing what he’d said, but his cock was so needy, he didn’t know how he’d be able to live like this. Well, alone. If he lived with Al, well–no, he couldn’t think about that.

Al, angry at them both, grabbed the top card and flipped it over, waiting for the lettering.

~~Youth or Experience?~~

Each player must choose between youth or experience! They can either lose points off their IQ, or gain an equal amount in years of age. The person who drew the card will assign values to each player, but they have to divide the amount however they wish.

25 points
50 points
75 points

Al grinned mischievously, but so did Eric. While Al could get his revenge, Eric couldn’t wait to see these fuckers gain some years.

“Alright, Jae? I going to go easy on you- for now. Let’s give you the 50 points,” Al stated, grinning at his love. He didn’t care if he was a little bit older, but certainly didn’t care if he was a bit dumber either. He always felt so uneducated around ‘the thinker’ as they used to call him.

Jae seemed a bit upset that he wasn’t given the lowest one, but was trying to decide how to divide the points while he tweaked one of his nipples through his grimy shirt.

“Um, well, let’s see…I don’t want to be too dumb.. College is soon…” the thought of having a dorm-mate flashed through his head, and how fed up he’d probably be finding crusted jocks and jerseys everywhere. At the same time of feeling worried, he felt a shiver of excitement run through him that he’d be marking his territory with old clothes. Shaking himself of the thought, he returned to his current predicament, “Oh! Uh…yeah..I’ll split it like this…” He took one last look at his younger body, and proclaimed his point usage: “35 points from my IQ, and 15 from my age!”

Jae’s wince was obvious as he felt the 15 years surge through his form. His body hair seemed a tad denser, but still kept short, and his skin was a bit less smooth. Probably the years he’d spent hanging around that smoking asshole Eric… A couple of wrinkled donned his forehead, and some silver hairs sprouted from his chest. In the same sweep, his head began to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. Memories were fuzzy, and the reality of the game was losing hold. He looked at his greasy blob of a boyfriend and felt the complexity of their relationship unravel. Reasons for their being together felt just a tad easier to accept. He was fat, fat is good.

Al was a bit stricken with guilt, watching the intelligence drain from Jae’s face. He didn’t think it would be so obvious, so literal, but the grin Jae was sporting said it all.

“Are you…are you alright, Jae?” He asked tentatively, and caught the horndog’s attention.

“Feeling fine, bro!” Jae exclaimed, quickening his efforts on his dick, close to spurting again in front of them. ‘Bro’ wasn’t a word Jae normally liked using. Even as a jock, it seemed too cliche. Now, he held no qualms about it. He was approaching middle-age, and kept the same vernacular he held in his younger days. Al rubbed Jae’s fuzzy pecs, helping him along with his next orgasm as he declared the next option.

“I’ll take the 75 points…”

“What? Why??” Eric asked, a bit surprised that he wasn’t stricken with such a terrible curse.

“I should have given him the smaller choice, but I acted too fast. It’s only fair. I’ll take 10 years to my age, and the rest in IQ.” Al felt the next warm spray of cum on the back of his hand, and smiled at his ill-clothed lover. Leaning down, taking a nice whiff of the grimy shirt and licking the fresh drips of seed. He felt the curse washing over him.

The aging happened so quick, the soft rolls of fat sagging just a bit further, his hair becoming a little thinner. Eric stroked his brown pelt of fur through his shirt, and lit another of his cigars, enjoying this bit a little too much. While he was particular to much older men, it was a thrill to see youth fading so quickly.

IQ was next, and Al sported the same dopey grin Jae had, only bigger. His eyes held the innocence of a child after that wave, and without his intelligence his inhibitions were drastically lowered. The obese imbecile lowered himself to suckle the drying drops of cum from the crusted cloth. Jae held him down, giggling at the hungry mass that worshipped him and his nasty attire.

Eric laughed triumphantly, gaining the last value, and chose to take off 5 from his IQ, and place 20 years to his age. The filthy dreads had swirls and streaks of silver rushing through them, already previously aged thanks to his intense smoking. He had to feel about 50 at this point, and he sucked happily at his stogie. The IQ loss wasn’t truly enough to destroy him, or impair his judgment in this game. The years taken away from him and gave his smoking quite the effect, darkening his teeth, his nails turning yellow, and his skin becoming a bit cragged.

“Hey, Jock-boy!” Eric called to Jae, “It’s your turn.”

Jae nodded like a cocky idiot, and drew from the deck, careful not to let the fat sack of shit raise himself off his dick.

~~One Big Happy Family~~

All the players are now related, and the youngest in the family has to obey his elders. In addition, as chosen by the drawer:

One player ages 50 years.
One player ages 20 years.
One player regresses 20 years.

“Aww…what?” Jae said, reading the card again, “Dang, that’s…kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t want to be old do you?” Eric said, “I’ll take the big one, I don’t mind.” He really didn’t mind being that old, in fact, especially if that meant the other two would have to obey him. He was already a bit older, but if Jae did something different…

“No, hold on…” Jae said, “I don’t want to be that old, sure, but I don’t want to get younger. I kind of like where I am…I’ll give it to Al!”

“Wha?” Al said around Jae’s cock, but it was too late, as the fat dude, the youngest at 27, started to age rapidly. Eric could only watch, enthralled, as the binge eating took an even greater toll on his friend’s body, ballooning him up to over 500 pounds, where he plateaued, his fat sagging as his hair balded back, and a light, silver beard filled in over his face. He was…beautiful, and the fact that Eric couldn’t see him any other way now disturbed him, but fuck, if he didn’t want to fuck him now, so badly. Now he was just jealous of Jae more than anything. “Oh fuck, that’s so hot…” he groaned, moaning around his cigar and rubbing his crotch. Jae watched Eric, sizing him up. He didn’t want competition–what had he done? Maybe if he could make Eric like him too…

“Alright,” Jae said, “I’m going to age 20 years then.”

“Eric turned to him, “What? No!” but it was too late. Jae, at 32, quickly aged to 52, just past the threshold of Eric’s compulsive attraction, and suddenly here he was with two beautiful old men, and he was getting younger. Looking down, he lost ten of the twenty years he’d just gained, falling back to 27–a young adult, but half the age of his father and grandfather.

No! No, that was wrong, he wasn’t related to these fat dirty fucks, he wasn’t! But he had been lusting after his dad forever, hadn’t he? Especially now that he was greying and balding more heavily, the two of them would spend afternoons just watching porn together, and Eric always ended up riding his dad’s cock. His dad wanted him bigger though, Jae liked his men big. His stomach gave a grumble, and started to expand, his hairy body blimping out until he was over three hundred as well. Fuck he was hungry, and his dad was massaging his cock like he wanted him.

“Boy, get over here,” Jae said, “Your grandpa’s leaking again–take care of it, would you?”

“Sure Pa,” Eric said, happy to help. He got down in front of his dumb, fat grandpa, dug around for his cock and started sucking, and then his dad got down behind him and shoved his fingers in his fat hole, making Eric squeal a bit.

“Yeah boy, that’s so hot, I love watching you two fat pigs go down on each other,” Jae said, “You want my cock son? You want me to fuck this dirty shit chute of yours?”

Jae didn’t wait for a response–he knew what his boy wanted, and he fucked him rough and quick–he was too horny to make it long, and he managed to cum twice before Al gave a dull moan and shot his load across his grandson’s bearded face. Eric got up, feeling a shadow of humiliation, though he didn’t know why exactly, and then returned to his seat.

“Well son? It’s your turn, draw a card.”

Eric gulped, and drew a card, placing it on the table, and then read it.

~~Key Holder~~

The person who drew the card is the key holder. Of the following options, the key holder gets none, one other player will receive two options, and the last player will receive one.

Chastity device – The player may only cum with the key holder’s permission.
Fist mitts and muzzle – player can be compelled to behave like a dog at the will of the keyholder.
Butt plug – Player can get hard if and only if they are being fucked. The buttplug can only be inserted or removed by the keyholder.

Eric looked at his daddy, a look of confusion at his luck to draw such a card. As soon as control was taken away from him, he had the option of getting it back. Daddy Jae looked his boy in the eyes, still filled with hungry abandon, but was ready for anything that might happen.

“Pa, I have to do what the card says, right?”

“Seems so. You better not fuck this up, boy.” Jae scowled at his good-for-nothing son, drawing such a terrible turn-around card. Allister had no regrets, taking in deep whiffs of his old daddy-pits and rubbing the leftover cum from his last orgasm into his rolls, awaiting the next terrible fate to befall him. “You got your ol’ grandpa worked up for more, so just choose already.”

“Uh, alright, I-…Pa, you like being a top dog, right? A real alpha…”

“You son of a bitch! Give me the Butt-Plug!”

“Son of a bitch, eh? Not helping your case here, Dad… Let’s give you the Mitts and Muzzle,” Eric stifled a grin, watching the black mitts encase his Daddy’s hands. Jae’s fingers pulled in tight and curled into fists inside, unable to move freely from the hand. The wrists wrapped securely with a thick leather strap, fastened with a shiny buckle. Around his balding head, Jae felt the muzzle materialize and cover his nose and mouth- even his ears. He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, seeing the muzzle as somewhat of a hood, with floppy rubber ears atop his scalp. He shook, trying to break free of his muzzle, but only jostled his brain around a bit. He felt fuzzy, anger lingering and unable to stand. He was at least able to breathe, the muzzle broken in the middle with a fake dog-tongue and a nice opening for inserting a juicy cock.

“Aww, who’s a sexy fuck-puppy??” Eric teased, watching Jae’s anger slip away from his face. A rush of euphoria came in waves through his old body at being called a puppy. The humiliation, the shame, it all translated to pure sex. His mitted hands started toying with his never-ending-erection, trying to grip it as best as possible. In his state, he couldn’t form words. Only whimpers and the frustrated fussing of a horny puppy.

“Cute puppy!” Al stated dumbly, watching his son degrade himself and hump his mitts. He couldn’t resist reaching out to scratch the puppy’s head. Eric almost couldn’t stop himself from laughing out. He was still a sexy old fucker, but he made such a wonderful pet. He’d have to take care of his bad habit, though.

“Now now, Pa. We can’t have a horn-dog like you messing the house. I’m going to give you the Chastity Device, too.”

Jae would have struggled, or protested, but he had to obey the key holder. For the first time since his obsession with sex and masturbation had started, his cock softened, and shrunk into a too-tight chastity device. He whimpered louder, pawing at his dick, and watched the drips of pre leak from the opening in the clear shell. Al was intrigued, reaching down to jostle the sealed crotch, and watched the puppy squirm.

“That leaves you, Grandpa. You get the Butt Plug.” Eric pointed at Al, and watched the slob gain an expression of discomfort. A searing pain pierced his backside, a phantom length driving into his rectum. His greasy fat jiggled and he struggled to reach under himself, finding a hard material poking from between his cavernous cheeks. Eric looked over the table to see clear pink object peeking out, very thick and nearly splitting the old fart in two. “Yeah, old fucks like you need SOMETHING to keep them hard, right Gramps? Why not a rubber man hose to keep you satisfied?”

Al felt the pain starting to turn as he jiggled the foreign object in his ass. Each little vibration made his pudgy dick throb and squirt more fluids under his draping stomach. He never felt so hard in his 72 years of age. He pushed grimy hands under his sagging belly and gripped what he could find of himself, spreading his musky pre into his thighs and slightly bouncing on the artificial cock. Jae was frisky, and annoyed with the attention pulled away from him. He brought his “paws” to his chest, and made begging noises towards his son.

“Puppy feeling lonely? Come on boy, here’s a bone for ya!” Eric pulled his hairy cock from his pants, flaunting it under the table. Jae was quick to retreat underneath the game and crawl on his mitts and knees to his new Owner. Just as the muzzle was supposed to, it allowed Eric’s manhood to slip easily inside. The fake rubber tongue massaged the length, but it certainly didn’t feel as good as his Puppy-Pa’s actual tongue and mouth pleasuring him. Grasping the floppy ears, he skull-fucked the puppy and until he shot thick ropes down Jae’s throat.

The puppy cringed, tasting the tang of tobacco and nicotine on his Master. He couldn’t love it any less, wagging his bare ass and showing obvious joy in obeying. Eric ruffled his receding hair, feeling a sense of pride at owning such an obedient pup. “I think it’s your turn, Big Pa. Flip that card!” Eric had to control the urge to order him around too much, still lusting after the aging slob.

Al was only able to pull his hand away from his cock, still pulling the dildo in and out of his ass, and flipped the card:

~~Auction~~

Each player must put in a bid. This number represents the number of years they are willing to regress, and IQ points they are willing to lose. No one’s age may drop below 17.

The winner of the auction becomes the new key holder after paying their bid. If they were already the key holder, nothing happens. If a new key holder is chosen, they may reassign the gear according to their desires.
The second highest bid gains a number of pounds equal to their bid times five.
The lowest bid receives a previous change of which affected the winner. The winner is no longer affected by that change.

The card started counting down from a minute, the letters swirling as the seconds passed, and each player, to the best of their abilities, came up with a bid that they thought they could manage to pay, and when the card reached zero, it went blank for a moment. They weren’t sure if they were just supposed to say their bids out loud, but the card revealed the first result for them: The second highest bidder was Al, with 47 points. He will gain 235 pounds.

Al watched in horror as his already massive frame started to bloat even further. He had already crested 500 pounds after aging into his seventies, but as he watched, his bulbous gut pushed forward ever further, angry red stretch marks covering his body as it did. The gut pushed his thighs apart, so he was forced to splay them wide, but he didn’t even know if he had the energy to stand, much the less fuck himself. Still, he found that he was able to rock back and forth well enough on the dildo, and his mass of fat actually pressed in on his cock. It felt–surprisingly good, and he soon zoned out, focusing more on his ass than on the cards.

Of course, Eric and Jae knew their bids, and knew their fates before the card even revealed them next. Jae is the winner with a bid of 50. Pay your bid.

“I’ll pay 35 years of my age, and 15 points off my IQ,” Jae said in reply. He had a moment to regret the fact that he’d won–with his already low IQ he was going to be nearly as stupid as Al–who was, he realized, now his father as well as Eric’s. Still, he didn’t have much time to think about it, as his brain drained away. The only thing left, it seemed, was an endless repository of porn stars, sex acts, and the endless compulsion to fuck and masturbate. He drooled a little bit out of the muzzle, but it disappeared a moment later along with the chastity device, and he took the opportunity to jack his cock, cumming in a matter of seconds, relieved to be free again. His asshole older brother–he hated him for that, for making him his fucking pet. Well he’d show him.

“As the new, uh… key guy, I want Eric to have the puppy stuff, Pa to have the chastity device, and Eric can have the butt plug, too!”

Eric tried to object, but he didn’t get a word out before the muzzle wrapped his mouth, and his hands became encased in the mitts that he’d forced on his brother in the last round. He let out something that resembled more of a yip than a shout, when he felt the plug force it’s way into his ass. Looking over his shoulder, from where he was on his hands and knees now, he saw his tail there, and he gave it a wag, panting as he felt the thick, nine inch dildo it was attached to wiggle in his ass, his puppy cock leaking on the floor.

“‘N lastly, I want Eric to take that…that youth or experience point thing from me.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and the card swirled with ink. The game cannot regress you any younger. However, the game can still restore your IQ, and have both the age and IQ drop affect Eric. Is this fine with you?

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever,” Jae said, “Just make him stupid would you? Whoa, hey, I can…kinda think again…” Jae felt the mental cloud hanging over him lift a bit. His head wasn’t working as well as it had at first, but it was certainly better than before, but his puppy, well, he was simply staring up at him dumbly, panting, wagging it’s dildo tail and whining at him. He had put on quite a few years as well, looking to be in his fifties now. He realized that he was now the son, and Eric his father, but he didn’t mind the change.

“What is it dad, do you need a fucking?”

From the look on Eric’s face, he did, but it was something else, too. He put a mitt up on the table and nudged his cigars, and kept whining.

“Oh, right. Well, how about I fuck you while you smoke, dad?”

Eric jumped up and down, barking, and presented his tail to Jae, who lit a cigar, shoved it in Eric’s muzzle, and then pulled out his tail and went to town. His dad’s hole was so loose, after being plugged up all the time, he loved it, and he creamed it three times in quick succession, before sliding the tail back in and returning to the table. Al, through it all, had just sat there dumbly, his cock now caged. He was starving, and the game had conjured a pile of junk food which he was slowly demolishing, his cock leaking the entire time into his gunt.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn again, eh?” Jae said, flipping over the second to last card.

~~“What Are You Wearing?”~~

The drawer must choose one of the three options for each player.

The player now wears diapers 24/7. They generally act like a baby, even in public.
The player can only wear clothes made out of rubber or leather.
The player can only wear dirty laundry which has been worn by someone else.

Jae looked down at his puppy-father, still delightfully dumb and messing his legs and the floor with his doggy cum. He was already wearing some nice leather gear, so why let him have all the fun? “I’ll take the rubber and leather one. A pup has to match his owner, right?” The crusty tank he had been sporting nearly the entire game started to smooth out, the yellowing spots dissipating as it became a solid rubber tank. The white sheen glistened in the low light of the basement, and his erect nipples stuck straight through the material. He tweaked them, moaning as his shorts fell away, leaving a leather jock in its place. A solid silver zipper ran down the seam of the pouch, holding in his leaking cock. From there, his forearms became encased in leather bands with thick straps tying the ends closed. Atop his head, he felt a muir cap settle. The feeling was oh-so familiar, as if he’d worn it his entire life. His previous curse of never washing his clothes was still in-effect, and constant fuck sessions and perspiration from activity in his gear filled the room with stank.

Finally, his toes wiggled happily in a flawless pair of pitch-black boots with enormous rubber soles. He looked at his blob of a Grandpa, snickering, remembering the first time he’d dug through the sick old man’s closet and found the gear. Must have been from his younger days when he could play with the big boys.

Yeah, the big boys… “Hey, Big Pa, I think you should sport a fancy diaper, right? Relive some of that lost youth.” Al heard the tell-tale crinkle of the giant diaper forming around his fat form. It was uncanny that such a size of diaper existed, but he felt no different about it than his chastity device. Of course he wore a diaper! It went so well with his binky. He pulled from the remains of junk-food trash a pink rubber pacifier, plopping it in his drooling maw and suckled happily, settling his fat back against the creaking chair. So relaxing, so endearing to just give in to the old days. The younger bears loved cradling him in a reinforced sling, feeding him, and even changing his diaper after he messed himself.

“Nnngg…” Al started to struggled, shifting in his seat, and suddenly remember how much cola he had chugged down. Without another thought (if any remained), he felt the flood-gates open and the delightful warmth spread through him. His thighs were dripping, his crack quickly filling with musky liquid gold. He had been a good boy, relieving himself like that in front of the others. He wasn’t ashamed, not even as he poked his diaper and sloshed the contents around.

Jae wanted to be disgusted, he wanted to retch, but seeing his Grandpa regress so much only made his cock explode inside the jock. He reached under the strap to spread the cum around, only pulling it out to feed to his obedient pup.

“I guess that leaves the recycled clothing for you, boy.”

Eric slurped his Master’s hand clean before tilting his head in confusion, suddenly weighed down by a new sensation. His naked body was covered in the filthy clothes Jae was wearing before turning into the perfect Gear-stud. On top of that, a grimy jean-jacket from an unknown place. All Eric knew was how rank it smelled. He raised an arm to sniff the denim through his muzzle, gagging, but still leaking and needy from the very thought of soaking in someone else’s leftover attire. His feet (or back paws as he began to think of them) nestled into a pair of stiff dress socks.

Jae caught the pup’s attention, shoving his heavy boot into his dad’s balls. The force was subtle at first, slowly increasing, and making the obedient bitch whimper louder and more high-pitched. After spurting once more, dirtying the spotless boots, Jae compelled the pup to clean them right away. The muzzle could open enough for his tongue to reach the delicious leather, cleaning away the dirty globs while he savored the tang of cow-hide. In the same motion, Jae reached over to his Big Pa and squeezed the disgusting adult baby’s chastity cage through the diaper, forcing more piss to leak from between his legs as the pressure was reallocated.

Al could only suck harder on his binky, moaning, writhing, and relishing in the feeling of being so wet and turned on. If only his pudgy dick wasn’t encased as it was, he’d fill his diaper with another surprise.

Jae looked down at his hungry, eager slut-pup, and smirked. “It’s your turn, isn’t it? You able to draw, fuck-puppy? Eric whined and pawed at Jae’s cock with his mitts, barking in excitement. “Yeah, I guess I can draw for you. Be a good boy and hump Big Pa’s leg while I take of your turn.

~~Life Goes On~~

All three players will vote on their new lives. The one with the most votes will be carried out, and the game will end.

Daddy’s Den – Jae is the daddy of a bear bar, his father, Eric acting as his guard-dog and lover. Grandpa Al is a paid attraction for patrons of the bar to visit, babysit, and fuck as they please in a giant playroom in the back.
Hog Wild – The family become the heads of a travelling bike gang, with Jae as the leader. Eric will act as the gang’s fuck-toy, and Grandpa Al is the “trainer” for new recruits.

Like the auction prior, the three of them only had to think about their vote for the card to start writing again, giving each of their votes in turn. and the card started with Eric. Eric: Daddy’s Den. As much as Eric disliked Jae, he thought life would be a bit easier as a guard dog in a bar, than riding around all over the place. The card then added below that, Al: Hog Wild. As much as Al…enjoyed being a baby, he didn’t really find the idea of being a permanent attraction all that thrilling. That made it a tie, and the two of them turned to Jae, who smiled as the card added Jae: Daddy’s Den. He was happy to be 17 again–but to be honest, he’d liked how it had felt to be a bit older. He wasn’t sure how the cards would make him into a “Daddy” of course, but he was surprisingly eager to find out.

His question was answered soon enough–he felt his body start itching a bit as he furred up by an impressive margin–not as furry as his puppy Pa, of course–though Jae noticed that Eric’s hair was actually coming in thicker. In fact, by the time this was all finished, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his body ended up with as much hair as dog’s usually had. However, while Al and Eric remained massive fat–just how Jae liked them both–he was bulking up in a different way–muscles pushing out against his well worn leather gear. He realized he wasn’t actually aging a day over seventeen though, and he realized that ten years down the road, he was going to be an absolute beast, probably like his dad.

The room was vibrating now, at first just slow enough to make him seasick if he tried to keep an eye on it, but soon it was going by so fast it was just a blur, and then he was seated at a table in a moderately sized bar, and Al and Eric were nowhere to be found. Well, Eric was easy–his old dog was right where he’d left him, in the metal dog-house he’d built for his dad to live in. The bar was actually his, but Jae was taking over for him. He’d progressed far enough in his obedience classes that he was ready and eager to live as Jae’s dog full time now, and he couldn’t be more excited. Collared and wearing his master’s filthy cast off clothing, Eric padded out in his mitts, muzzle and collar, picked up a massive dildo in his mouth and crawled over to Jae, setting it down in front of him, whimpering.

“I know you want to play Eric, but I gotta get the bar ready for tonight.”

Eric barked, but Jae just stared him down, and a bit downtrodden and disappointed, he picked up his dildo and padded back over to his doghouse where he laid down in a bit of a huff.

Jae could still remember a bit of what had happened to all of them, but it was fading rather quick, becoming more like a dream than his actual life. He stood up from the table when he heard someone start crying, and he stepped into a back room which had been completely redecorated into a nursery, where in a massive playpen, Al was sitting on his fat ass, bawling his eyes out.

“I know you need your diaper changed Al, but you have to wait. I have you rented out to a biker gang tonight, and they want you dirty tonight–it’s in the agreement,” Jae said, and then he pulled a massive baby bottle over and handed it to his grandpa, “here, drink your gainer shake, it’ll make you feel better.”

He hefted up the bottle and shoved it in Al’s mouth, and the massive man started suckling on it, his eyes dulling and glazing over as he drank down the fattening shake from his grandson. Figuring that would probably keep him occupied, and that the laxatives he’d added would make sure the bikers would be having plenty of fun later, he went out and started setting up for happy hour, but Eric wouldn’t stop whining and looking at him in despair. He checked the clock and gave a sigh–he did need to play with his dog, he hadn’t fucked him all day, and he knew how Eric got when he hadn’t had a load of his master’s cum up his ass in a while. “Alright, alright boy, I’m coming!” Jae said, and Eric started jumping and woofing, before turning around and presenting his ass for his son. Sure, it wasn’t exactly easy owning two slaves and running a bar at 17, but Jae realized as he fucked his dad’s sloppy hole, listening to him yip and yowl, that there wasn’t anything else in the world he’d rather be doing.

Identity Crises Part 2

Commissioned by Scot158f

***WARNING*** This has been pretty cleanish up until now, but it’s only going to get worse from here. In this section: inanimate TF (smoke related), farting, and scat.

Terry watched the eight foot tall man tromp down the stairs, his hair mostly grey, a massive, tangled beard stretching all the way down to his belly button, the rest of his body covered in grey hairs as well. He had a massive, taut get, but the rest of his body was packed full of muscle…and as he came downstairs, Terry caught a whiff of his daddy’s musk and felt a shiver and moan rip through him. He loved how his daddy smelled after one of daily workouts, it was the best.

“Hey son,” Caleb asked, “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Just cartoons,” Terry said, and he looked at the TV, a bit surprised. Sure, he was a teenager, but he still liked watching them, right? Then why had he expected it to be some show about food? It was strange, that was for sure. “Are you done with your workout?”

“Sure am–nice and musky, just how you like me, boy. You want my jock?”

“Aww hell yeah dad,” Terry said, “You know I’ll never turn down your stinking jockstrap.”

“Heh, well, I’ll trade you my sweaty jock for a smoke, boy. Get ready, would ya?”

“Sure thing!” Terry said, and got out of the recliner, but his body just felt odd. He was chubby, like always, but shouldn’t he be…well, fatter? And something about his cock and balls, they were…heavy for some reason, and…hard? He reached down out of curiosity, and peered over his small, soft gut and just gaped at his cock and balls–his cigar and pipes, he meant, of course. He didn’t have a cock and balls like his dad…which was…weird, right? Instead he just had a cigar jutting out from his crotch–a long one, almost nine inches, and below that, swinging heavily and clacking into each other, two massive pipes…but that was how things had always been right?

No…No this was too much. This was all too much, and he pushed back against the wave in his mind, but it was too hard, too all encompassing. He knew this was wrong, that this wasn’t how things should be. He didn’t live with his daddy…he…he was the daddy. And he had a normal cock, and it was small, or was it big? And he’d been–fatter? Thinner? More muscular? But older, definitely older.

“Boy, get smokin’–I ain’t got all night,” Caleb said from where he was sitting in his chair, and Terry blushed, rushing over to his smoking stuff, his worries forgotten in the sudden fear that he might disappoint his dad somehow. He walked over and started packing his pipes full of tobacco, the sensation of the wood and briar both familiar and…so strange. Would it hurt…when he lit his pipes and his cigar? Of course not, it had never hurt before, right? But how would he know–he’d never done this before, but if he’d never done this before, how was he packing his pipes so well, and so evenly, tamping the tobacco down carefully, making sure he could pull an even draw from his lungs once he’d lit them? Still trying to understand what was happening, he walked over to where his dad was lounging back, his jockstrap off, his ten inch cock erect in the air, and before Terry even realized what was happening, his dad had picked him up–all of him, and was dropping him down on his cock. He opened his ass like he’d been trained to, letting all ten inches slide up his ass, making him shiver, and as it did, he saw his cigar grow a bit, like it always did when he was horny.

“Oh fuck dad, that feels so good…” Terry moaned.

“Oh yeah? Well go ahead and smell this jock of mine, and tell me what you think,” he said, and pressed the wet mesh into his son’s face, watching him take it in his mouth and suck some of the sweaty grime off of it, the boy’s cigar cock growing a bit longer still, now about a foot in length, jutting up between them. “Yeah, that’s it–now how about we get you lit?”

Caleb picked up a big zippo off the table next to him, and started with his son’s cigar cock, lighting the end until it had a bright red tip, and then worked on his bowls, the smoke already pouring out of his son’s mouth by the time he had them both lit–and then he locked lips with Terry, the jock caught between them, and he inhaled, drawing the smoke up through his son’s body and into his own through the mesh, cigar burning bright orange as he sucked it down, and the same with his boy’s pipes.

“Mmmm…” Caleb said, when he finally pulled away, “Now that’s a nice smoke.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Terry said, “Your jock isn’t so bad either.”

Caleb laughed, and pulled his son close, taking one of his son’s meaty nipples between his teeth and sucking more smoke out through that, feeling his son gasp and clench his big cock with his ass, and he took a moment to admire his boy’s body. He was growing up to be a beautiful cub–not a furry or muscular as his dad, but with a nice chubby gut and moobs, and a hot set of junk, which Caleb used at every opportunity. He leaned in and took another drag off his son’s other nipple, chewing on his nipple a bit and making Terry groan, before exhaling the smoke into Terry’s mouth, filling him to the brim with it.

They stayed like that for a long while, Terry impaled on his dad’s cock the entire time. Caleb would take a long drag off his son’s cock, and relax back, letting his son spend a few minutes cleaning off his sweaty body, the heat of the pipes and cigar resting between them. As Terry’s cock burned down further and further, Caleb started spitting into his hand, lubing it up with the cooling ash and spreading it up and down his body and his cub’s, streaking them both black, and then Terry would lick it off, hungry for the smoke and anything it made. As horny as Terry was though, his cigar cock couldn’t grow as fast as his dad smoked it, but he did his best to keep it as big as he could.

As his daddy smoked him down, the worries and concerns which Terry had been wrestling with seemed to diminish slowly. This–this here–was important, not those imagined things. Being smoked by his dad, fucked on his massive cock, cleaning off his sweaty body like a good boy–those are what mattered more than anything else in the whole world. His dad was getting more and more excited, and started working his cock around in his ass, and then he wrapped his massive hands under his armpits and started fucking Terry up and down on his massive cock. The sensation of being powerless in the hands of his daddy–it was turning him on so much, his cigar was growing almost as fast as it was burning, and smoke was pouring out of his mouth and tits now. “Oh fuck dad, oh fuck! Fill me up, pump your boy full of your daddy seed!” Terry moaned.

“Oh yeah boy, burn that fuckin’ cigar down–I don’t want anything left but a fucking nub!”

With a shudder, Terry came, smoke gouting out of his mouth, and Caleb locked lips with him, inhaling as much of it as he could, his son’s sweet smoke pushing his own cock over the edge, and he pumped his load into Terry’s hole, his ass milking him as dry as he could, the cigar, now less than an inch long, burning out between their bodies, the pipes below empty as well. Still, Caleb took a few moments to suck his son dry, getting as much smoke out of him as he could, and then he let Terry pull himself up off his softening cock, and get down.

“Thanks son, that was a real nice smoke,” Caleb said, and then hefted himself up off the chair, and stretched. “Damn, I think I’m too old for this,” he said with a chuckle.

“Ha, you’ll never be too old for me,” Terry said, and gave him a hug. He only came up to his massive dad’s chest, but when the big man wrapped his arms around him too, he’d never felt so safe and secure in his whole life, especially since his wife had left him.

Wife? Wait…no, his…mom?

When Terry pulled away, he realized he didn’t know if he had a mom, and he looked up at his dad, and asked, “Dad, who…who was my Mom? I don’t…” The look of surprise that crossed his dad’s face seemed strange to Terry, almost like he hadn’t even been expecting the question. And why would he, really? It was a stupid question, wasn’t it? He just…didn’t have a mom. That was normal, wasn’t it? “I–I’m sorry, just forget I asked.”

“No! No, uh…don’t worry about it. Look, I have to go do something upstairs for a bit, but then I’ll come back down, and we can talk about it, alright? Why don’t you just get your pipes cleaned out?”

“Sure, dad,” Terry said, and blushed as his dad’s big hand tousled his hair.

The big man tromped off and squeezed his way up the stairs, and Terry thought he heard him say something as he left, “Man, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a dad–that was way harder than I thought. Being old kind of sucks–I don’t know how he does it. Still, it’s better than being a teenager.”

Terry just watched him go, wondering what in the world he was talking about. But those creeping doubts came back, and when he reached down and knocked the last bit of ash from his cigar, and worried for a minute that he’d destroyed his cock–but that was silly. All he had to do was get horny, and it would grow back, like always. Always–had it always been like this? Had he always been a teenager, with his big manly dad? With pipes and cigars where his cock and balls ought to be?

It took Terry a second to realize that he was having a panic attack–nearly hyperventilating–and all he wanted to do was run upstairs and find his daddy and make sure everything was ok, but he got a grip on himself, and walked over to his smoke gear, and focused on cleaning himself out, knocking the ash out of the bowls of his pipes, before running big pipe cleaners through them, shivering a bit. He wished he wasn’t so ticklish, but it just felt so strange, running the fuzzy wires up his pipes. It took quite a while for him to get it all clean, and he was just about done with his second pipe, when he heard his dad coming back downstairs. Good, maybe they could talk–Terry had…some questions for him, and he really wanted some answers.

The reality wave hit him again as his son turned the corner, but he barely even noticed it. One second he was cleaning out one of the big pipes stuck to his crotch, and then the next he had the pipe up in his hand. The sudden shift caught him off guard, and he just stared at it for a second, then at himself. Hell, he was normal sized–he wasn’t a short cub anymore–in fact, he seemed to be about seven feet tall now, and the sudden vertigo caught him off guard, as he wobbled a bit, rebalancing to counterbalance his massive gut with his fat ass. Wait, he was fat again? Wait, fat…again? And a cub?

It had happened again, he was sure of it now–things were changing, but how? Why? He looked down at himself, but everything seemed right…didn’t it? The brief moment of clarity was already gone, and he couldn’t hold onto any of what had just happened–this was how he’d always looked. His massive gut ganging down past his waist, several inches falling down below the food and ash stained wife beater he wore all the time, and he reached around and gave his ass crack a good scratch where it popped up over the top of his ratty boxers, and then itched one of his hairy pits for good measure. What had he been thinking about again? He shrugged his shoulders and went back to packing his pipe, and as he did, let off a big belch.

“Hot damn Pa, that was a good one. Taste as good comin’ up as it did going down?” Caleb asked, picking a cigar out of a humidor, before biting off the end and lighting it up.

“Ha, sure as hell did,” Terry said, and then looked a bit puzzled, when he heard the deep twang of his own voice, “What in tarnation…” he muttered, trying to figure out what had happened to his voice.

“What’s up, Pa?”

His son had it too, but he hadn’t noticed…but why should he have? It was normal for a son to talk like his Pa, right? Where else would he have picked it up? “Nah, nothin’, just bein’ thick I guess. Ya know yer Pa, I ain’t too bright.”

“Ha, that’s alright, ‘cause yer damn sexy,” Caleb said, taking a deep drag off his cigar.

Terry went back to packing his pipe, and tried to remember what had been bothering him, but couldn’t find it. His head just wasn’t quite working fast enough to keep up with what was going on, but hell, it didn’t matter–he was just horny! He lit his pipe still chuckling, when he let loose a loud, wet fart that surprised both he and Caleb. “Well damn,” he said, “Guess it needs tah come outa both ends, eh son?”

“Sounds like it,” Caleb said, walking over and wrapping his big arms around his Pa and taking a deep sniff of the air. “Damn, it’s a hot, stinky one too–I fuckin’ love those.”

His son still was the same size as his dad had been–wait, his dad? No, he was…well he was big, that was all that mattered. Big, and hairy, and musky…Terry growled low and started grinding his big ass into his son’s legs–feeling the bulge of his son’s cock pressing into his flabby back, as Caleb grabbed both his flabby tits in his massive hands and started squeezing them. His boy wasn’t relly a “boy” anymore, Terry knew. Hell, he hadn’t been a boy in years now. At 27, he was one hot bear, and Terry was just happy to have him in his life. They’d been fucking for so long Terry didn’t think they would ever be apart–he could still remember their first fuck on his son’s eighteenth birthday–that had been one special fucking day. He was so happy to have a son as gay as he was. He reached around and gripped his son’s beard–he was too short to reach much else, and pulled him closer. “Ah fuck son, ya sure know how tah git yer Pa ragin’ horny.”

“Oh yeah? Well ya know what I want Pa?” Caleb asked, “I want a taste a this big, fat ass of yours.” Caleb set his cigar off in a nearby ashtray and shoved his hand down the back of his dad’s boxers.

“Fuck…aww damn boy, ya sure? It’s pretty filthy back there…”

“Just how I like it,” Caleb said, yanking down the back getting down on his knees. He kneaded his dad’s wide ass a bit and then spread the cheeks and started rubbing his greasy, tangled beard up and down his dad’s crack, listening to the fat man moan. Terry leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall and spread his legs apart, still puffing on his pipe, giving Caleb better access to his crack, and felt his son’s tongue start cleaning out his sweaty crack, probing up his shithole, and he moaned, feeling his own large cock start pressing up against his gut.

Again, Terry found himself distracted. Big cock? He hadn’t had a very big cock last time he was this big? Last time? What last time? He’d always had a cock this size…right? Or had he…had he had a tiny cock before? No, he’d always had a cock this size, this big foot long cock. Yeah, a massive foot long cigar sticking out between his legs. How else was he supposed to fuck his son, with this big gut in the way? Yeah, he might not be smart, but he more than made up for it downstairs. Caleb sometimes joked that he did a better job of thinking with his cock than with his head, and he was probably right. Thinking with his cock was a whole lot more fun too.

“Aww yeah son, that feels so good…git that tongue up there.”

“Fuck dad, yer hole’s so fuckin’ nasty–I love it,” Caleb said, and he groped for his cigar, took a deep drag off of it, anf then locked lips with his dad’s hole, pumping his ass full of smoke, the warm air making Terry shiver. He did it a few more times, pumping Terry good and full, and then, when Terry couldn’t hold any more, he bore down, a loud, long, smoky fart streaming right into his son’s face, who inhaled as much of it as he could.

“Aw fuck…fuck that’s nice…” Terry said, smelling it himself, “Yer smoke gives me the best goddamn gas, boy.”

“Sure as fuck does, I fuckin’ can’t get enough of it.”

Terry grinned. “I know somethin’ else a pig like you can’ git enough of,” he said, and stood up, stepping out of his boxers and plopping down into his recliner, putting it up so his feet were level with his son’s face, “Go on, I know how much mah filthy feet turn ya on, boy.”

With Caleb on his knees in front of him, Terry was oddly struck by just how…big his son was. He was big, like…just really damn huge. Even on his knees, his face was still level with Terry where lounged in the recliner, and he had to hunch down to press his nose between his dad’s toes and take a good whiff of the nasty funk that had built up there. Wide too–his son was so big they’d had to keep building out the doorways as he grew up. Even now, he had to fit through them sideways, or else his shoulders would get stuck. It was lucky their house had ten foot ceilings, but he had the curious thought that his son still wasn’t done growing, even though he was probably one of the biggest men on the planet. He was definitely one of the hairiest too–his entire body was covered with curly brown body hair, which was usually matted down with sweat and grime, since he worked out close to eight hours a day. Still, Terry didn’t mind–he loved his sweaty, filthy boy, and when they went to bed, he’d usually give him a nice long tongue bath, before his son took his turn, licking the sweat from between his fatty rolls…

Terry groaned as Caleb ran his big tongue up the sole of his foot and then started sucking on his toes. In his recliner, Terry tensed up for a moment, and then let loose another fart, the stink wafting out right into his son’s face, and the look of desire that shot across it and he smirked. “God, I can’t believe I raised ya tah be such a damn stinkhound.”

“Well, yer so fuckin’ nasty dad, what else would I have grown up tah be?” Caleb said, “Hey dad, ya know, why don’t ya wear those big boots ayers fer the rest of the weekend? Even when yer fucking sleepin’? Then I can clean ‘em out and yer nasty feet too on Monday, after ya git home from work.”

Work. Where did he work again? Wasn’t it…wasn’t it doing like…cooking or a chef? No that wasn’t it, where in the hell had he gotten that idea? He was a forklift operator at a warehouse–sitting on his ass all day in the hot building–his son loved how nasty and sweaty he was after a long day of work, and his booted feet would be absolutely howling by the time he took them off. Just imagining his son sucking on his grimy feet after a long day of work was enough to raise his big cock to over half mast, and Caleb reached up and wrapped one hand around it, so he could worm a finger under his thick foreskin and collect the cheese, which he then smeared on Terry’s feet before licking away.

“Alright dad, I think yer good ‘n clean. I got somethin’ I wanna try though,” Caleb said, standing up to his full height, “Now don’t move, I want tah see if this’ll work.”

Terry watched as Caleb walked around to the side of the recliner, and then in one fluid motion, kicked his foot over so he was straddling the entire recliner, his ass towards his dad’s face. “What’cha doin’ boy?” was all Terry had time to ask before Caleb reached down and yanked on the lever, the chair ratcheting back and slamming Terry’s fat face between his son’s muscular, sweaty ass.

He didn’t have time to breathe, and as soon as he was firmly planted, Caleb let loose with a fart of his own right in Terry’s face, and he gulped it down, his ten inch cock now absolutely rigid, and Terry was lapping up the gunk from his son’s crack and probing down the hole with his tongue, listening to Caleb moan, relishing the sensation of being slammed up his son’s ass.

Then Caleb bent over at his waist, and Terry felt him start sucking on his cock, and the dual assault was enough to send shivers all over his body. It felt like his head just shut down, and all he could think about was how hot it was to clean out his boy’s crack while he got his big cock sucked off. The ten inch monster would have been rough for a normal person, but Caleb’s throat was as big as the rest of him, and he took it without a single gag. Terry waited until he had his face against the base of his cock before he let off another giant fart, listening to Caleb groan in stinky pleasure, and his son followed suit, sending him another fart of his own right into Terry’s face.

Terry was close, and Caleb could tell–his father’s big cock was gushing precum like it always did when he was about to shoot. Terry started to shake, his fat belly jiggling and shuddering as he came, burst after burst of jizz shooting into his son’s mouth, and he swallowed all of it down, and then when he finally relaxed, he let out another massive fart…except it wasn’t just a fart this time.

Terry felt the shit squirt out of his ass and squish between his cheeks as he tried to hold it back, but he wasn’t able to do anything about it, because he was still trapped between the chair and his son’s ass. He groped for the lever and was able to push himself back so he was free, and Caleb unstraddled himself from the recliner, and then took a sniff and said, “Damn that one was stinkier than usual.”

Terry just blushed, and without saying anything, raised the recliner back up and hefted himself out of the chair, and when Caleb saw the brown streak on the chair, he realized what must have happened, and he just looked shocked. Terry didn’t notice, he had waddled off immediately, unable to believe he’d lost control like that, and hurried into the downstairs bathroom, where he lumbered over and sat down on the toilet, unable to believe he’d just shat all over his favorite chair. The same damn chair his dad had fucked him on, and smoked his cigar cock…right?

Terry tried to figure out where that memory had come from, but he just couldn’t. It didn’t make any sense at all. I mean…Caleb had been…his dad? And he’d had a cigar and pipe…

His head was hurting, but instead of retreating, he pushed in further, trying to separate out what had happened to him over the last few hours. He could…remember cooking dinner, but his son hadn’t been as big, and fatter. And before that, upstairs, hadn’t they…fucked? But none of those things actually seemed real–what was real was his massive, hairy and filthy redneck son, and he, his fat, sweaty equally filthy redneck dad…right?

He did his best to wipe his ass, but gave up pretty quick–he was just too big to reach around well enough, and why was he so embarrassed by what had happened? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d shat himself on accident–he and his son were trading farts so often that things had a way of slipping out on occasion, he thought with a chuckle. But then why couldn’t he ever remember doing it in the past?

“Hey Pa,” Caleb said, knocking on the bathroom door, “You alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Terry said, jus’ cleanin up.”

“Oh…” Caleb said, and after a pause said, “You…you uh, need any help?”

“No Caleb, I got it,” Terry said.

Then, the bathroom door opened anyway, and Caleb was there in the doorway, a grin on his face that Terry didn’t like the look of…and a massive hard on sticking straight towards Terry. “You sure? I think I know how to help out.”

Before Terry could do anything, Caleb had grabbed him by his fat gut, swung him around, and bent him over the bathroom counter, before slamming his cock up his dad’s ass. “Caleb! What the fuck, I’m not in the fuckin’ mood boy!”

Caleb, however, wasn’t listening, he was just fucking, and from the look on his face…he was down right enjoying the sensation of fucking his dad’s still shitty hole, and all Terry could feel was..disgust. “Caleb! Caleb, get the fuck off of me!” He screamed, and shoved himself back against his big brute of a son, who stumbled back, his shitty cock coming free of his dad’s hole.

“What the hell dad? What the fuck’s up with ya?”

“I fuckin’ said no, boy!” Terry hollered, “Now git up in yer goddamn room!”

“Why the fuck should I?” Caleb shouted back, “You’re not the fuckin’ boss a me!”

“I am yer father, boy, ‘n if I git anymore fuckin’ lip from you, yer gonna fuckin’ regret it.”

The two men glared at each other for a moment, before Caleb relented, and left the bathroom, squeezing his way up the staircases to his room, and slamming the door behind him, and then Terry let himself collapse to the floor. He honestly hadn’t expected him to stop–and Terry knew that his son was big enough that if he’d really wanted to keep going–he would have. Fuck, Caleb hadn’t always been like that, what happened to the sweet chubby loner he’d been when he was a teenager? Now, he was this hulk in his mid-twenties, still living with his dad–he needed a damn job, and a life!

Something he’d thought stuck out to Terry though–Caleb hadn’t been a chubby teenager–he hadn’t been chubby ever in his life. But still, he had a…clearish image of a son–his son, sweet hairless face, pudgy body, on the short side…but he couldn’t actually say when the image was from, because…well, it had never happened, right?

No, it had happened–it must have. But when? Again, Terry found himself looking through these impossibly tinted glass walls at the edge of his vision, like if he could turn his head fast enough and squint, he’d see something different, some other reality than his own, just as real as his…but impossible to access. But this wasn’t really right was it? He hadn’t always been this fat, filthy redneck, had he? Fuck, he needed a smoke. He got up and returned to where he’d set his pipe, finding it had gone out, and he relit it. He didn’t sit in the recliner, but just paced the room, puffing his pipe, wondering what to do about Caleb.

They needed to set boundaries–he needed to reassert himself as the father here. Sure, he loved having sex with his son–of course he did, but if he said no…well, Caleb had to respect that. There just weren’t any ifs, ands, or buts about that. And he needed to get a job–no more working out all day every day. And he needed to start picking up after himself, he figured, looking around at the cluttered den–the place was a sty. Sure, neither he nor Caleb were the cleanest guys on the planet–hell, hardly so–but they could still make an effort to improve. He smoked the rest of his pipe down, and then cleaned it out. He’d let Caleb sweat it out enough by now, he figured. Hopefully he’d had a chance to jack off, think about what he did, and realize what he’d done wrong, and they could have a conversation like real men, instead of a tantrum or argument.

He set his pipe back up on the rack, and then sighed, letting out a big belch. There wasn’t any use putting it off any longer. He hefted himself up the two staircases, pausing at the top of the second to catch his breath, before heading to his son’s room, and knocking. “Caleb, are ya in there? I’d like tah have a talk wit’ ya.”

“Sure thing dad, come on in.”

To Be Continued

“Sit down–it looks like you could use a bite to eat,” the man next to you says as you pass by on the way to the table where your friends are already sitting.

“Excuse me?” you ask, looking over at the portly gentleman in the chair at the restaurant, “Uh, but I came with friends.”

“No you didn’t–you came in alone. Now sit down and eat, I ordered too much,” he said, and added after a short pause, “On accident.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but after what feels like a blink, you’re suddenly in the chair across from him, and helping yourself to the piles of food on the table. He eats as well, and doesn’t talk to you much at all, only encouraging you to take more, and occasionally calling for the waitresses to bring the two of you, or rather just you, more food–and you eat it–all of it. And by the time you’re done, or rather, when the restaurant stops bringing you food, you are stuffed way past anything you could have ever imagined, and you sit there, groaning for a few minutes. When you do sit up and look, you see the check is paid, and the man is gone, leaving you to heft yourself up and head home, exhausted, where you fall asleep.

Things don’t feel much better when you wake up. Your gut still feels packed solid, and for some reason you just ache all over. You managed to fall asleep in your clothes, and you peel them off–they seem so much tighter than usual–and head for the bathroom, but not before you catch sight of yourself in the mirror…

No–No, that can’t be you, can it? That disgustingly fat, old…sexy, bearded man, fuck, you look so damn…hot.

“Breakfast is ready!” You hear a familiar voice call out, “Come and get it, big boy!” You don’t know what’s going on, but it looks like that wasn’t the only big meal the man from the restaurant would be shoving down your throat.

Alarmachus, a son of Zeus and a mortal whom Hera, in a fit of jealousy, ripped from the woman’s womb before she could bear him, was cast into the wilderness, misshapen and weak, but he lived, and burned with anger at the gods who had left him so hideous and deformed, however, he discovered that he did have one talent given to him by the gods.

He happened upon a young, beautiful lad one morning, who had wandered deep into his woods, and Alarmachus was so overcome with lust for the body he could never have, that he took the boy’s virginity, and as he climaxed, Alarmachus stole the young man’s youth and beauty, taking it as his own, but it was not enough—he would need more. Men began disappearing from the villages, only to reappear and decrepit and aged men, until Torious arrived to slay the monster in the woods.

He lured Alarmachus to him with his own youthful form, but before the man could pounce and rape him, he struck him with a fang from the hair of Medusa, and he was turned to stone. It is rumored that his statue is still there, deep in the woods, and that the touch of beautiful, virgin man might awaken him—but woe to the man who does, for Alarmachus will undoubtedly have his way with him when he is free.

My New Suspenders Part 3

It was all formal wear–and I settled finally on some pants and a shirt that didn’t seem too fogyish, and a tie…because it felt…right. I dressed myself, finding it more comfortable to pull the waist of my pants up over my gut, and then found some socks and shoes to wear, to complete the outfit. As I dressed myself, the voice gnawing at me to find something to smoke kept getting louder, and I was desperate. I didn’t care anymore what might happen when I was dressed, I just needed a pipe, or a cigar, or hell, even a cigarette–just something.

When I was fully dressed, the third set of suspenders I’d found hanging in the closet strapped on me, the door was unlocked, but no one outside the door. Still, I needed to smoke more than anything, so I went downstairs into the den, and there he was, the submissive I’d been chatting with online, and he was completely naked, aside from a leather collar and cuffs, and he said, “What would you like daddy? Pipe or cigar?”

“What are you doing to me? How are you doing this?” I asked, but he didn’t reply, just opened a humidor and pulled out a cigar, clipped the end, and walked over, slipping it into my mouth. I puffed it to life, and from the first breath I just felt…so relaxed. I let him pull me over and settle me in a large armchair.

“Don’t worry daddy, you still have to grow a little more, but I’m here to help,” he started rubbing my belly and I groaned, feeling him keep loosening my suspenders as my gut grew even larger, and then he had my fly open and had swallowed my cock, and I let out a deep groan, noticing that the hair I could see in my beard had turned nearly white.

***

“Fucking take daddy’s cock boy!” I heard myself say, and I realized I had blacked out again. I didn’t know where I was, but my boy was bent over in front of me, and I kept fucking him hard, feeling my fat gut ripple and bounce as I plowed him deep, smoke pouring from my nose and mouth as I did.

“Yeah daddy! Fuck your slave son, fuck me hard!”

“You’re gonna get it, how about I ram my fist up your ass after I breed your hole? Would you like that?”

“Oh yeah daddy, I want to feel you fist me so bad…”

I looked over, unable to stop myself, and saw a mirror in the wall. My eyes have adjusted to the dark now, and I see I’m in some dungeon–probably in the basement of the house, and I’m…huge. Just massively fat, white hair all over my body, a thick white beard covering my face, and nearly no hair left on my head. My suit is gone–instead, I’m decked out in a leather harness and shorts held up by leather suspenders–I’m still growing, I can feel it, and I stare at myself, locking eyes with myself, and feel the last bit of me slipping away. I tense up and cum deep in my son’s hole, yeah, my son, my real son…

***

I stretch in my bed, feeling the silk sheets against my old skin–and give my massive belly a rub down. Fuck, I’m huge…but I don’t know why that seems strange–I’ve been this fat for years now, after all. I heft myself up, feeling my gut sag down between my legs. What am I now–five hundred? Six hundred? Who cares, it felt wonderful. I can smell my son cooking in the kitchen, and I’m starving. I pull on some boxer shorts and some suspenders (after lighting my first cigar of the morning) and lumber downstairs, where I see him, naked as the day he was born, cooking my massive breakfast. I love him so much, I’m so lucky to have such an obedient sexy son as my slave. I may be old, but there’s still plenty of good fucks left in me–in fact, I think I’m going to need one right after breakfast.