“A cure? Well, unfortunately Ed, your new condition is, well, a bit more chronic in nature. Yeah, that’s right–you’re gonna be an old, fat fuck from here on out, no matter what you do…well, I mean, there are ways to manage your symptoms, I suppose, though I doubt you’d be very interested.

"Oh, it isn’t complicated, one pill a day will be enough to keep you as your old self, but if you miss a dose–well, you know what will happen. Still, I’m not a charity Ed, if you want me to help you out, you need to do something for me.

"Oh yeah, that’s it, suck on that pouch, you fucking fat faggot. Who’s the fat one now, huh? You have at least a hundred pounds on me, and you’re gonna feel all of it shaking and jiggling when I fuck your ass.

"Oh, the pills? Sure, I have them, but we have the frat house to ourselves this week–everyone else went home for vacation. I think I’ll–enjoy your fat ass for a few more days, before I let you go back to that hot shot body you were so fucking proud of. Now bend over–watching you sob has got me horny as fucking hell."

Eugenics

Commissioned by Anonymous

“You ready yet?”

“Not yet, hold on…now…what’s this doing here–that shouldn’t, I don’t think…”

James sighed–this was taking forever. Harry might be a nice guy, but he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the room. He was better with the more routine maintenance, but Rick was out sick this week, and when you ended up working late, you took what you could get. At this point, the rest of the staff had pretty much cleared out of the building–James figured that the two of them were the last people left on the floor, if not entirely. He sighed, and looked around the laboratory. He was a genetics researcher investigating the causes and symptoms of aging, and in his thirties, he was just starting to feel some of the effects he’d spent his time studying. Harry, on the other hand, was quite a bit older than him, and had worked for the company longer than James had been alive. James kept wondering why the old guy didn’t just retire–hell, he probably had enough in his pension and 401(k) by now, but maybe the old guy just liked working.

“Al…alright, that should do it,” Harry said, closing the side of the centrifuge, “Let’s see if this thing works now,” and he hit the power button.

Hey, wait, shouldn’t we unload it first–” James said, but it was too late, the device was already spinning–and spinning, and dang, he’d never seen it go that fast before. Harry, equally worried, tried to power it down, but the device wouldn’t stop, or even slow, and before he could pull the plug, the vials in the device started flinging away from the machine, bursting against the walls but also against the two men, who did their best to cover their faces as vial after vial of experimental serums slammed into them and the walls around them. James wasn’t quite quick enough though, one of the vials slamming into his face, sending him reeling backward and crashing to the floor of the lab, stunned, a gash on his cheek, and the serum burning into his face, making him cry out in pain.

Harry, his glasses broken by a stray vial, managed to grope around and find the plug to the centrifuge, finally cutting off the power, and then he sat back, stunned, while James struggled up and over to the emergency shower station, pulling the handle down, the cold water drenching him in seconds, and he could feel the burning serum run down under his clothes, spreading the burning sensation all over before it finally subsided. “Harry,” James said, “Harry get over here and shower off, who knows what just got all over you–you need to shower off.”

“Oh don’t worry about me,” Harry said, “I feel fine.”

“Come on, just do it.”

In truth, Harry didn’t feel fine at all, but he honestly couldn’t see anything without his glasses and was afraid to move, less he mess something else up, but still, he pushed himself up and followed the sound of James’ voice over to the shower, who helped him under the water, and James stepped out away from the water, the burning gone, but he still felt…strange. Tired, and a little worn out, like he’d just gone for a run after being out of shape, but he just chalked it up to the aftereffects of his adrenaline rush. Harry rinsed himself off for a few minutes, and then stepped out from the shower, blinking a bit and trying to focus on his surroundings, but mostly wishing he had his glasses. However, looking over at James, he blinked a couple of times. He couldn’t be sure, given how blurry the image was, but he just didn’t look…well, right.

“James…are you…are you feeling alright? You don’t…I mean, I don’t know. I need to find my spare glasses…” he said, but James wasn’t feeling right at all. The feeling of strangeness had begun culminating in a sudden bout of nausea, and he sprinted from the room, dizzy and reeling, forcing his way into the bathroom where he vomited into the toilet. After a minute or two, his stomach seemed to settle back down, and he got up, walked over to the sink, and splashed some water on his face, before looking at himself to see if he had any bad cuts from where the vial had hit him, and gasped.

His face–it was his, and yet…his hair, and his goatee. His hairline had receded a bit back up his scalp, and he could see a smattering of grey hairs in and amongst the young brown, and almost as he watched, he could see it turning greyer. Wrinkles were deepening on his forehead and around his eyes, and he looked more like he was in his late fifties than in his thirties. He was feeling sick again, his body weak, and looking down, he realized why. His still sopping wet clothes were clinging to his body, but from the way they were hanging, it looked like he was losing muscle mass, his arms and legs thinning up, leaving him with a substantial gut around his middle, and leaving him feeling even weaker than before. He vomited again into the sink, the room spinning around and he fell to the floor, exhausted.

Meanwhile, Harry had grown worried and didn’t like waiting by himself in the laboratory, worrying that something might be seriously wrong with James, from what he’d thought he’d seen, and from the way James had rushed off. Slowly, he made his way out of the lab and down the hall, guiding himself more by memory than by sight, and towards the bathrooms, opened the door and called out, “James? James, are you alright?”

“Help, I’m…I’m…” he heard a voice call out from the floor, and he could see a figure crumpled over on the blurry tile.

“James? James, are you alright?” Harry said, stumbling over and getting down next to the blurry figure.

“Harry, call the hospital, I don’t…something’s wrong with me…I don’t…I’m older…”

Harry didn’t really know what James was talking about, but even worse, if he couldn’t see, he wasn’t even sure he could use a phone. He found James’ hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping to give the man some comfort, and wished he didn’t have this horrible eyesight–and then…well, he could…feel it. Feel something, racing through James and him, and he could almost see a code ripping through him, between them, and then, his sight–it slowly came into focus, and Harry blinked a couple of times, wondering if it was a miracle, and then when he looked down and actually saw what had happened to James, he gasped.

He was still aging on the floor, his hair now even whiter, though it hadn’t receded very far, and he was exhausted and weak from the rapid change. “Harry…Harry, is that you? I can’t…I can’t see, why is everything so…so blurry?” James asked, squinting his eyes and bringing out more wrinkles.

It couldn’t be…but, then how else could he explain it? Harry had somehow managed to switch their genetic code–giving James his horrible eyesight, and Harry taking his 20/20 vision as his own. Shaking a bit, Harry reached out and laid his hand down on James’ once more…and just concentrated. Sure enough, it was all laid out before him, he could sense everything. All of his own genetic deficiencies, and they were just calling out to him, telling Harry to cast them aside, and replace them with James’ far superior genetic material. Telling Harry to make himself perfect, to make James the inferior one, but he yanked his hand back. It was tempting–oh so tempting, but he had to call for help, he had to get them both help…right?

Then again, Harry didn’t really need help–he was fine. Hell, he was better than fine, he felt great. Besides, if he went to the hospital, if he reported the accident, they’d probably just lock him away–hell, lock them both away–and do all sorts of experiments on them. He didn’t want to be a lab rat–no way…and he couldn’t just leave James here, right? No, of course not, he had to make sure he was safe too…or at least, that’s what Harry was telling himself. He could still feel the power calling out to him, tempting him, and when he helped James up, he was careful not to touch his skin. Still, he’d make sure they were both safe. He helped the researcher down the stairs, out of the building and into his truck, and drove them both to his small apartment, where they could figure out what they were going to do about this.

***

James woke slowly, and feeling like he had been run down by a truck, refrained from moving for as long as he could, even though he was certain that moving was probably the right thing to be doing. He prayed it had been a dream, and yet, from the way he was feeling, he could tell that it hadn’t been. He felt old. He felt how he’d always imagined waking up old must feel–sore joints, aching back, just a tired body more prone to inertia than anything else. Bed, though. Who’s bed? A hospital bed? He opened his eyes, and to his surprise he, quite simply, couldn’t see. Having had perfect vision all of his life, being confronted by something as simple as blurry vision was, well, terrifying, and a good enough excuse to not move, in his opinion, but he didn’t…it didn’t look like he was in a hospital…and that concerned him enough to sit up and try and look around.

“H–Hello?’ he called out, “Is anyone there?” he said, feeling a bit silly for doing so, but, well, someone had to have brought him here. Could it have been…Harry? Why would he have taken him anywhere other than a hospital, though? He rubbed his eyes and blinked a bit, but he still couldn’t see anything, and he was afraid to stand up without knowing what he might find or run into. He heard someone coming, though–so at least he wasn’t alone.

“James? Are you awake?” Harry said, “how are you feeling?”

“Harry? Why in the hell didn’t you take me to a hospital?”

Harry was quiet. He’d already rehearsed this conversation in his head, but he hadn’t expected that to be the opening remark. “Well…it’s…complicated.”

“No it’s not. There was an accident–I’m fucking old. I need to go to a hospital so they can figure out what happened, and who knows what might have happened to you!”

“But I feel fine.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Who knows what sort of delayed effects there might be. Come on, we have to go to the hospital…do you, I mean, I can’t, well, see very well now. Do you have anything that might help? Some glasses? You wear, glasses, right?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment, before answering, “Yeah…yeah, I have glasses…hold on.”

He picked up his spare set from the top of the dresser and handed them to James, who put them on, and the entire world came into relieving focus. “Dang, what are the chances,” James said, “that I’d need to same prescription as you.”

“Ha, yeah…the chances…”

James started to sense that there was something else going on here, and some other reason Harry hadn’t taken him to the hospital. He also remembered that his vision had been fine after he’d changed in the lab…but had only gone blurry later, when Harry had come into the bathroom to find him. Looking over, he saw that Harry wasn’t wearing his glasses at all–did…what was going on? “Funny,” James said, “That you aren’t wearing glasses, now.”

Harry said nothing.

“And funny that your old glasses seem perfect for my eyes now.”

Still, silence.

“What happened, Harry. Something obviously happened to you, something you don’t want a doctor to see, or you wouldn’t have brought me here. What is it–just tell me, maybe I can help.”

“I don’t need help–I said, I’m fine.”

“Why do I have your eyes, Harry? What the fuck is going on?” James said, a bit agitated, and a little scared.

Harry paced a bit, not saying anything for a moment, before saying, “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t even know what I was doing, and I couldn’t stop myself when it happened. I don’t even know if I can do it again, but in the bathroom…in the bathroom when you collapsed, I touched your hand, and when I thought about my eyes, and how I wanted to see better, because my glasses had broken, I…I somehow…switched them, or switched our genetics, or something…I don’t know really, that’s the best I can describe it.”

James didn’t say anything immediately, just thought about what Harry had said. His first reaction, that what he’d said was impossible, was pretty much refuted soundly by the evidence at hand. He could remember his sight being fine, up until Harry had touched him. Now, Harry’s glasses worked perfectly for him…and Harry didn’t need them. But swapping genetic code? How did that even make sense? What sort of serum could have done something like that? “Look…Harry, I know you’re probably scared, but if we don’t go to a hospital–”

“If I go to a hospital, they’ll never let me go.”

“You don’t know that, look, we need to know what happened to us, alright? I need to know what happened to me. At least take me, I need help, Harry, I mean, look at me.”

Harry looked, and he saw James, older, and yet, the power in him, the genetic knowledge he’d glimpsed when he’d touched James before…he saw something else. Yes, James was old, his hair was greying, he had a bit of a sagging gut, and yet, even with all of that, he was still…genetically superior. It was difficult to parse it any other way in his head–James was simply better than him, better equipped it most every genetic way, and this voice, a voice growing louder, was telling Harry to take it as his own. Even at what, his now late fifties, and James still had a nearly full head of hair–how fair was that? Harry had started balding in his mid-twenties, and he’d never stopped resenting it. Still, James was right. He needed help, but could he trust him not to say anything about his new power? Harry had no interest in being locked up in some government facility, in being some test subject, and he firmly believed that’s what would happen to him.

“Please, Harry–please.”

It was the right thing to do. It really was, and Harry couldn’t keep telling himself it wasn’t. “Al–Alright. I’ll take you, but you don’t say a word about me to them–nothing–understand?”

“Sure…of course. Thank you,” James said, and swung his legs off the side of the bed, tried to stand, and immediately wobbled and started to fall over. Instinctively, Harry reached out and caught him, and the moment their skin touched, he felt it again. He’d been careful not to let their skin touch since the accident, but the rush of it, the knowledge pouring into him overwhelmed his better judgement, the voice, the selfish voice latching onto his bald resentment, twisting and adjusting their genetics in the moment it took James to wrench away from Harry’s grasp. James felt it too, though not as clearly as Harry did, and where the maintenance man felt a rush of power and authority, James simply felt violated, and it didn’t help when he noticed a cascade of hairs fall down his face, as his hair rapidly thinned out. He ran his hand over his head, knocking off even more hair, feeling his scalp with only a bare horseshoe left, and he looked over at Harry, who had run over to a mirror on the wall, watching his own hair grow back in, thick and full.

“Fuck, I haven’t–damn, that looks good,” Harry said, grinning at his reflection.

“Can’t you control that or something?” James said, “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

Harry didn’t know what was wrong with him…or even if it was wrong. It felt so good, how could it be wrong? And he could feel everything else of James’ code that he wanted, and all he had to do was reach out and touch him. He shook his head, resisting. That wasn’t right, it wasn’t right, no matter how it felt, no matter what the voice said. “I’m–I’m sorry. I just, it’s hard to resist, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

“Well can you at least give me my hair back?” James asked, “You know, and my eyes? I’d like to not need glasses again.”

“No,” Harry said, without thinking about it.

“No?” James said, “No? What the hell? Those are my eyes, fucker–and my hair!”

“Well they’re mine now, so fuck that!” Harry snapped back, “I’ve had fucking glasses all my goddamn life, and I went bald at thirty, and fuck no, I’m not going to go back to what I was, fuck that,” Harry grinned at his reflection, and then stared at James by the bed. The voice was telling him to take more, to make himself perfect, to take and take and take, and then…and then sow. Yeah, he needed to fuck, he needed to fuck women, he needed to make children, and spread his own superior genetics into the world, or at least, what would be his superior genetics, once he was done with James…”No, no, I’m sorry–you’re right,” Harry said, “I’m being…selfish, here, I can put this right, just let me, here.” Harry came over to where James was wobbling, and reluctantly James allowed him to lay his hands on him, and that same rush, that same violation swept through him…but it was different–he could tell that Harry wasn’t fixing this–he was taking more, changing more. He tried to wrench away, but Harry gripped him tighter, leering now, eyes wide and mad with the rush of power, and he pushed James back onto the bed, holding him down. “Fuck that, and fuck you–I’m not going to be a piece of genetic waste anymore–you are! I’m going to be perfect!”

It took all of his strength, all of his will to put his feet against Harry’s chest and kick him, off, finally breaking their physical contact, and James started panting, his throat closing up on him. Asthma? He’d never been an asthmatic before, but gasping for breath, he figured that was just one of many new things he might have to live with. Looking down, he saw chest hair start filling in across his chest and gut, climbing up onto his shoulders and back down his back. His metabolism slowed to a crawl, his body converting more and more energy to fat, his gut bulging out, even as his chest expanded into a set of moobs, his face developing a second chin. He looked up at where Harry had been pushed back against the wall, and watched as the older man’s frame started melting away his fat and building muscle right before his eyes, his body buff but not overly muscular–mostly just–healthy. Then, Harry grinned and unzipped the fly of his pants, pushed down his underwear, and hauled out a thick, seven inch cock already drooling precum–a dick James readily recognized as his own. Gulping, and still not able to breathe very well, he reached down to his crotch, already humiliated, and felt his now shriveled tool, barely two inches long, and he could tell, instinctively, that at best it could reach half mast. “You–you took my cock?” James asked.

“Of course–the women are gonna love this thing when I ram it up their cunts,” Harry said, flexing his new muscular frame, “See, because this is where we’re different James, see, I saw in you, I saw your biggest flaw–you’re a fucking faggot.”

“But–”

“Don’t try to deny it, I can see all of your fucking flaws, you fucking worthless piece of shit,” Harry spat, “See, I’m genetically superior–no, soon, I’ll be perfect, and women will be begging me to fuck them, and seed them and oh the fucking children I’ll have–they’ll be amazing. But you, you’re fucking worthless, so why in the hell shouldn’t you just be a storehouse for all the failed genetic mishaps of the human race?”

“Harry, listen to yourself, this is fucking crazy, and you know it.”

“No, what’s crazy–what’s crazy, is that someone like you should have been given these genetics, when you don’t even give a flying fuck about passing them on–that’s fucked up. That’s against nature, right there. Well, I’m putting it right. I’ll breed all the children you should have had, because you were too weak to do it.”

He was mad–Harry had gone completely mad, and James looked around for something, anything he could use to, knock him out or fight him off–something so he could call the police and tell them what had happened–what Harry was capable of, but Harry saw what he was doing, and laughed.

“You can’t fucking beat me,” Harry said, “I’m better than you in every way–well, almost every way. You see, you do still have that nice mind of yours, but I don’t think genetic trash like you even needs much in the way of brains, right? How about I take those for my kids, too?”

Harry charged towards him, and James crawled back across the bed, trying to keep out of the reach of Harry’s hands, but lost his balance and fell off the other side, smacking his head on the nightstand as he fell, his glasses askew, and he tried to recover from the fall and get away, but he was having such a hard time putting his thoughts together in any way that made the least bit of sense. He must have hit his head a bit harder than he’d thought, or that’s what he thought at first, until he recognized the blurry form of Harry lying across the bed, his hand wrapped around his ankle, feeling the natural folds and creases of his brain start to soften as he lost his natural curiosity and cleverness–but other traits as well. His assertive personality, his independent thinking, all gone, absorbed by Harry and replaced with a natural desire to please and agree with others–after all, he wasn’t smart enough to form thoughts on his own anymore, and he certainly didn’t dare trust his own judgement.

“You alright Jim?” Harry said, letting go of the older man’s ankle, watching him adjust his glasses and blink dully up at him, “That was a bit of a fall you had there.”

“It–it was?” he said, “And…and isn’t my name…James?”

“No, you don’t go by James, you go by Jim. James doesn’t sound like the name a dimwitted old impotent faggot would use, now does it? Especially not one who can barely land a job as a janitor.”

“You–you don’t have to be so–so mean about it…” Jim said, sitting up and rubbing his head where he’d hit it on the night stand. He’d been trying to get away from Harry…hadn’t he? But why? His head felt so thick, like swimming through foam, threatening to solidify forever if he stopped struggling through it. Harry climbed after him and stood in front of Jim on the ground, and he felt understandably intimidated. While only a bit younger than he was–his firm, muscular body, his confidence and intellect, not to mention his thick cock, all served to intimidate Jim even further…and even turn him on a bit. His eyes were locked on Harry’s cock now, and he licked his lips. He could…smell him. Harry’s musk, so forceful and commanding–a real man, and…a little familiar. He was smelling himself, in a way, augmented by Harry, yes, but the familiarity of it was strange, like coming home after a long time.

“Aww, I’m sorry faggot–I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. How about I let you suck me off–would that make you feel better?” Harry said, pushing the tip of his cock against Jim’s lips, and he couldn’t resist, parting his lips and letting Harry take control, ramming the cock down his throat as far as it could go, hanging onto his head with his big hands, and Jim held his own up, looking at his short, clumsy fingers. They weren’t his, or they hadn’t been his—had they? He seemed to remember…something else, but his head, it was hardening, clinging to the simplest story and just accepting it as truth–it was easier than trying to understand how he could have been a young genetics researcher, and in the course of twenty-four hours, have been reduced to this old, weak, genetically inferior faggot. It was easier to focus on the cock being rammed down his throat. He ran his hands over his body, the sensation of body hair under his fingers strange and unnerving, the taut belly down to his measly cock, barely erect even though he’d never felt so turned on before. However, before he could suck Harry over the edge, the big man pulled his cock out and stepped back.

“Come on Harry–can’t I have your load?”

“Hell no–I can’t waste my seed on a faggot’s throat–I have babies to make. Still, thanks for the warm up. Now, I need to go out for a bit–I won’t be back tonight, I don’t think–too much fucking to do. Still, we need something to keep you occupied in the meanwhile–can’t have a faggot like you getting into any trouble, right? Get up.” Jim did as Harry ordered, and followed him out into the living room where an old computer sat whirrling away. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Go ahead and order yourself some pizza or something for dinner, and then you’re going to sit here and find pictures of men who are genetic superiors–it shouldn’t be hard, since you’re such a failure–and I want you to jack off, fantasizing about how you want to serve them, and worship them, and think about serving me, and worshiping me the most, got it?”

Jim nodded, and he didn’t notice Harry get dressed and head out for a bar–he was already absorbed in his porn search, one smattering of old cum already shot across his thigh as he fantasized about a thick body builder ramming his massive cock up his loose asshole. His head had fully hardened now, accepting this reality as truth. He was just an old faggot now, a genetic failure whose sole purpose was to serve those better than he was–but especially Harry. He owed Harry everything, and he would serve him for the rest of his life.

“Alright, I have more cookies for you!” your friend said from the kitchen.

“What? More? But I can’t…” you say, but he’s already out in the living room and setting the tray piled high with snickerdoodles down next to you, and they smell so divine. You have one in your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“I’ll get you some more milk too, just a second,” he says, and disappears back into the kitchen. Ten cookies are gone before he comes back with a tall pitcher–you just can’t stop yourself. This has been going on for a few hours now–him baking these amazing cookies, you eating them with an apparently bottomless supply of milk. He leaves, and alone again, you notice something in the TV playing some Christmas movie–a strange reflection in the screen. You reach for the remote and turn it off–and get a better look in the black screen.

“Ho Ho Holy shit!” You exclaim. That isn’t you there on the couch, that’s some fat old man with a giant white beard.

Your friend runs back in from the kitchen, “You weren’t supposed to notice yet!”

“What in the hell did you do to me?” you shout, looking down at your clothing stretched tight across your fat frame, but your friend has already grabbed something from a side table–a pipe, ready packed with tobacco, and he shoves it in your mouth and lights it. You inhale, the cinnamon and clove laced tobacco making your face numb…and you feel…really good, all of a sudden.

“Here, let’s get you out of those clothes–they’re too tight.”

You let your friend undress you, and you stare down in disbelief at your new body. The tobacco is going right to your head, and it feels so good to smoke your pipe and rub your hairy belly with your hands…

“Now go sit down, finish your cookies and milk, and smoke your pipe, Santa.”

“Ho Ho Hokay…” you say, and plop back down on the couch.

Your friend works in the kitchen for a bit and comes out to find the pile gone, the pitcher empty, and your pipe finished. He cleans, refills and lights it for you, then gives you a deep kiss, and you wrap your flabby arms around him and pull him into your lap.

“So tell me, have you been a good boy this year?” you say with a lecherous grin.

“Oh yes Santa, I’ve been very good all year, just for you.”

“Well in that case, Santa has a special sack for you. Why don’t you suck on it for a bit?”

Your friend gets down between your legs, and sucks on your big balls, your dick pressed against his face, smearing precum across his forehead. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good fucking tonight, you think, and ram your candy cane down his throat.

This had to have been the craziest morph program Jeremy had ever seen. Not only had it automatically scanned him into the program somehow, it seemed like there was no limit to what the program could change. He was looking at an image very different from what he was used to–the older, chubby daddy bear he’d always dreamed of being, and decided that he was finished, and hit the render button.

The program locked down down for a moment, and then nothing. No change, no new image. He grumbled a bit, surprising himself with the deepness of his voice, and rushed over to the mirror, and gasped in shock. It was definitely a morph program, just not what he’d expected. In a panic, he rushed over to his computer, hitting some keys by accident, and saw a new message as the computer locked down again.

“‘Clone brush activated’, what the hell?” he said.

“Well how about that,” an identical voice said behind him, and he turned around to see two duplicates of himself had materialized out of nowhere. He’d always been a bit curious what it would be like to fuck himself–and now he was about to find out.

Bait and Switch (Part 2)

He was back in the ether again, facing Bruce bare across the strange space, and this time, he had no hesitations about approaching him. He wanted him–badly. However, this time, their cocks didn’t connect. In fact, their cocks passed right through one another, as though they were ghosts. The contact they did make was at the belly–or their belly button to be exact, the two holes coming together in perfect alignment, despite the fact that Bruce was several inches taller than Charles was. The shock passed through him as before, but didn’t throw him back immediately. If anything, he felt even more drawn towards Bruce…and as he watched, his roommate was starting to change. His chubby frame started pulling in, deflating and shrinking a bit, though the muscle grew more defined as it did. His face uncreased, skin looking younger as his hair turned from grey to light brown. But if Bruce was getting younger, than that meant–

Sure enough, Charles looked down and saw that he was changing as well, though in reverse, packing on fat in a generous belly as his muscular frame sagged with age. He did grow taller, feeling his bones lengthen and stretch while Bruce’s contracted, but when the two of them finally were flung back and away, Charles was no longer the young, muscular cub he’d been the day before–he was now a full fledged daddy bear. In the back of his mind, he knew he should be terrified and angry. In this space, he had a clearer memory of the earlier dream as well. Someone–something was doing this to him and Bruce and he had no idea why, and yet, looking down at his new body, he found himself loving it. He loved bears after all, why shouldn’t he want to look like one too? It was already starting to feel more natural, like this is who he was supposed to be, and the grey ether slowly dissolved away around him. Before disappearing however, he caught sight of someone else in the middle distance watching him. It wasn’t Bruce–at least, not the new Bruce, but he knew that there was no way he could reach the man before the dream faded, and even if he’d had time, the ether’s physics would have thwarted him anyway. Instead, he focused hard, trying to commit the image to memory as he fell back into his own sleep, dreams of sex with bears, all bearing the same half-formed shadow visage.

The next morning, while Charles couldn’t find anything immediately wrong with his new, older body, the rest of reality didn’t seem so accommodating. He started the day with a cigar out on the balcony, watching the staff of the bear convention set up for a pool party scheduled for later that afternoon. He found himself wishing he’d known about the other event so he could have signed himself up for that convention too–still, maybe he’d have a chance to sneak in if he was careful. The first troubles of the morning came when he tried to put on his suits–none of them–absolutely none of them fit. They seemed to have been made for someone the size of Bruce–a twink–not for a big bear like himself. Still, he had to wear something nice to the convention, so he squeezed his way into something and headed downstairs, eating a very large breakfast before heading to the convention.

He didn’t stick around for long. Between his discomfort in the suit, his raging cock, and his constant need to break for a cigar back up in his room, he wasn’t all that present anyway. He cut out early to give himself at least an hour for a hearty, greasy lunch. He knew he should eat healthier–in fact, it seemed like just yesterday that he’d been on a strict diet, but he did need to keep this belly fed. He couldn’t have it shriveling up and disappearing on him after all, he liked having one far too much..didn’t he? He spent most of the hour eyeing the various bears eating there as well, and was pleased to see he got as many appreciative glances as he was giving–and again he regretted the fact that he was here for work and not play. Still…what harm was there in taking a break? That pool party was today, why not enjoy himself a bit?

He headed back to his room, wondering what to do. He didn’t even have a swimsuit with him…or did he? He looked at the two sets of luggage on the ground, suddenly unsure of which was his. He’d surely come with a bunch of suits…but then why didn’t any of them fit? Suddenly, the bag of denim, flannel and leather was looking much more comfortable, and digging through Bruce’s (or was it his?) things, he found a pair of XXXL swim trunks, and he was thrilled, stripping out of his itchy, ill-fitting suit and pulling on the trunks, along with a tank showing off his fur, and a pair of sunglasses. He saw on the table a convention badge for the bear convention with Bruce’s name on it…and he grabbed it. He could pretend to be someone else for a bit–what was the harm? From the balcony he saw that the party was already well underway, and with his borrowed badge in hand, no one questioned whether he was supposed to be there, and he lit up another cigar in celebration.

He mingled for a little while, happy to chat, fondle and be fondled for the moment, though he was mostly interested in finding someone to fuck around with in earnest. It was then that the bear caught his eye. He knew him from somewhere, but he didn’t quite know where. He had a sense that he’d been seeing him…everywhere. Was he the guy he’d seen watching him when he stepped on the elevator? Who’d watched him on the balcony last night? The shadow from his dream? His gut told him that it was, but he had no way of knowing for sure. Still, the man certainly seemed interested in him–as soon as Charles had caught his eye, he’d grinned and started over.

“Hey there…Bruce,” the man said, reading the name off the badge with a grin. “Funny, you don’t seem much like a ‘Bruce’ to me.”

“Hell daddy, you can call me anything you want, and I’ll be happy?”

“Oh? Can I call you Carl? I’d like that.”

Confused, Charles just stared at him, not sure what to make of that response.

“Oh never mind,” the bear said, flashing a smile nice enough to make him not worry about it too much. “Still, it’s nice to see you again. You were looking pretty hot last night, though you’re looking hotter right now. Having you down here saves me the trip up to your room.”

“So that was you watching me. You liked what you saw then? You wanna…get a closer look? We…uh, could head up to my room anyway, if you want.”

“Sorry Carl, but we have to wait until after dark–those are the rules.”

Again, Charles was confused. “Why do you keep calling me Carl? And I don’t see why we need to wait, we could just head–”

Charles was stopped by the bear shoving him up against the fence around the pool and giving him a deep, sensual kiss which he happily returned, though the bear broke it off far too soon for Charles’ liking. “There’s a bar close by–most of the bears are heading to an afterparty at a bigger place, but I think we might need something a bit more intimate. Come after sundown–I’ll be waiting.” the bear said, slipping a card into Charles’ hand, “Oh, and one more thing–don’t play with anyone else before then–I want you all to myself, and virgin.”

Charles had many more questions, but the man had left before he could even get his name. He looked around at the bears surrounding him, still horny, but something about what the man had said–or how he’d said it–made the mere thought of sexing any of them up a bit…repulsive. He had to save himself for later after all, just like the bear had told him to…though he wasn’t sure why he was doing what the strange man said. Still, hanging here wasn’t going to be any fun now if he couldn’t play around, so he skulked back to his room, but found that Bruce had returned at some point while he was at the party–and was trying on one of the suits, staring down at it as though it were the strangest thing for him to be wearing in the world, and looking at the young twink, Charles felt a strange possessiveness take over. “Hey! Get out of that, those…those are mine…” The words didn’t feel right. They felt like a lie, but the confusion on both their faces did more to demonstrate the possessive grey area than anything else. In fact, Charles felt like it wasn’t the suits he was being possessive over, but his roommate’s body…but that made even less sense.

“Look…I was…I was just trying one on. Nothing else in here fits me, so I mean–if they fit me this good, why wouldn’t…why wouldn’t they be mine?” Bruce said, hesitantly, and Charles couldn’t deny the fact that he was probably right.

“You’re…you’re right, I think. I’m just…I haven’t been sleeping well, and everything has just been so weird these last couple days.”

“No kidding,” Bruce said, I’ve been having these crazy dreams, and you’re in them of all people.”

Charles just stared at him for a second. “Dreams…do they…are you in this weird grey place, and we’re both naked?”

“Yeah, and then we always come closer, and touch somehow, and things…change…don’t tell me–”

“I’ve been having them too.”

“That’s nuts.”

They were silent for a few moments, trying to figure out what was going on. It had to mean something, but what?

“Hey…have you–have you noticed a guy following you at all?” Charles finally asked, “There’s this guy, this bear, he’s been watching me, or I think, us. I just ran into him at the pool, and it was so weird. He’s tall, older, full beard with a shaved head?”

“You mean like half of you bears here? Sorry, I don’t swing that way, so I don’t notice you when I don’t have to.”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

“I’m sorry, It’s just some men have no business strutting around half naked in the light of day.” Charles rolled his eyes, and yet…something about the sentiment seemed familiar. Like it was something he’d have said, or had said before. Regardless, Bruce could sense that he’d crossed a line, and he stepped closer. “Look, it’s not really any of my business, who you like. I’m sorry. And…now that I think about it, I might have had a run in with someone like you describe. It was pretty weird too.”

“When was it?”

“Two nights ago, the night the first dream happened. I went out for a drink with some…some friends, and this guy came up and started chatting with me at the bar. He wanted to know where I was staying, and he seemed really curious about…well, about you. It was strange.”

The two of them pondered that for a moment, feeling more unnerved by the minute. “Look,” Charles finally said, “I think something really strange is going on. The guy wants to meet me at this bar near here after dark…and maybe we should both go, and try to get some answers from him. I think he knows something about whatever’s been happening here, and we should try to see what he knows.”

Bruce was obviously nervous, but he agreed. Tonight they would have a date with the mysterious bear, and get to the bottom of whatever was going on here once and for all.

Halloween at Pigtown #1

Harvey parked a few blocks away from the club, looked around to make sure there was no one around who might recognize him, and then climbed out of the car. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had gotten the invitation from the club for their Halloween party, especially since it was a gay club, but he had been known to swing both ways, always as a top, of course. He couldn’t risk tarnishing his BMOC credentials if it got out that he had pleasured someone other than himself. He was wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie pulled up over his head to give him some anonymity, and had the invite tucked in the pocket. After locking his car, he walked the two or three blocks over to the party.
Of course, there were at least five other parties Harvey had promised to attend, about one for each of the girls he was seeing publicly at the time, but when it came time to get ready, none of them had interested him. So instead, he was walking up to the door of a gay club, and the bouncer checking invitations at the door. He flashed the paper, and was let into an elaborately decorated entry hall, almost as though he was being let into an old mansion. The illusion was really quite good, with realistic cobwebs, and flickering candlelight. The oddest part was that the entire room had no windows, despite the fact that Harvey was sure he had seen windows on the outside. It was a bit disorienting, as he waited in line to be greeted by the bulky man dressed all in black, accompanied by a cloak and a cane. Next to him were two more overly muscled bouncers handing out costumes to the revelers, and directing them to a wall of changing rooms.
After a minute or two, Harvey was at the front of the line, and the man shook his hand. “Ah, Harvey Mansfield, the star quarterback! So glad you could fit us into your busy Halloween schedule,” he said, and then handed him a pile of clothes, “Jerome will direct you to your changing room. Enjoy the night!”
The large black bouncer directed Harvey quickly to a room, and nearly shoved him in, even before Harvey could realize what had happened. How had that man recognized him so quickly, and in his disguise? Harvey didn’t really care all that much, and took a look at the clothes the man had handed him. The pile was surprisingly bulky, and after a bit of investigation, Harvey saw that he had been given a very large and elaborate fat suit, along with a set of conservative business attire fit for someone fifty years older than him. It certainly wasn’t anything he was going to wear. He tried to exit the small room to complain, but it had been locked. On the opposite wall was another door, but that one was closed too. When he touched the door, a strange voice spoke from nowhere in particular, “Only those in their costumes can enter the party,” and said nothing more, though the room seemed to close in a bit on Harvey, as he continued jiggling the knobs. Before long, he was certain that the walls were going to collapse on him, and in a panic, he began stripping out of his clothes, and the walls began to recede.
It would be humiliating, but he could put it on for a moment, and then find his way out of this nut house without losing too much face. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would recognize him in this getup. What did he have to lose? He unfurled the suit and climbed into it, finding it one piece, like a rubber body suit. The outside felt unnervingly real, and was covered all over with a pelt of white body hair. The front opened up, allowing him to step in to the feet of the suit, and pull it up around him. The fat suit was sagging, like it was unfilled, though Harvey wasn’t sure what he was supposed to fill it up with. Figuring it would all come clear eventually, he kept zipping it up, the gut swinging over and disguising the closure beneath it, though it too was saggy, as were the arms.
He expected that to be the entire suit, but he felt behind him a hood, which he pulled over his head, revealing itself to be a form fitting, rubber mask. The top was bald, aside from a horseshoe of curly hair around it, and a thin piece of rubber crossed above his mouth, giving him a bristly white moustache. The rest of the mask was covered with wrinkles, and in the mirror, even Harvey had to admit that he looked like he had the face of an old man. A low hissing filled the room, and the entire suit began to slowly expand, however, Harvey wasn’t sure what it was filling with. It sounded like air, but he could actually feel the weight piling on him. It also didn’t slosh like water. When it stopped, the illusion was complete, and the rest of him looked old and fat too. Of course, it still felt like a suit, which was some consolation, that at least it was an illusion. Just to check, he lifted up the heavy apron and saw his own cock pointing out, though the suit had absorbed much of its length, making it appear much smaller than it actually was. He certainly wasn’t going to be scoring any tail in this getup, but then again, he was only going to be wearing it long enough to get out of this freaky bar.
He quickly pulled on the business attire, starting with the very large briefs and undershirt, then pulling the navy pants up over his gut, and putting on and tucking the business shirt in, which felt more like a sheet of bedding than an item of clothing. Finally, he tied the tie around the neck and slipped on the loafers, and heard the door unlock behind him. He took a final look in the mirror, quite astounded by the realism of the illusion, if not the illusion itself. He looked around the grab his real clothes, but they weren’t where he had left them on the floor. In fact, they weren’t anywhere. The walls were beginning to close in again, and before he felt like he was going to suffocate, he opened the second door, and made his way out into the club, leaving his clothes behind.
The room he found himself in was a bar, but like everything else, had been entirely redecorated to look like a seedy biker bar. There was a jukebox in a corner playing country music, and a few guys dressed up as truckers and bikers drinking and chatting all around the room. Harvey immediately felt uncomfortable, and as fast as he could, walked out the nearest door, which he assumed would lead outside, but instead he found himself in a long, dark corridor with the occasional wall and doorway leading elsewhere into the complex. However, now Harvey was completely disoriented. The club couldn’t be that big, the thought, as he started off, dodging the occasional reveler stumbling down the hall. However, Harvey wasn’t used to his new weight, and by the time he had walked fifty feet, he was huffing and panting like the out of shape old man he looked like.
After another fifty feet, all he could focus on was finding somewhere to sit and rest, so he picked the nearest door and found himself in something resembling a strip club, well, an empty strip club. However, there were seats, so he sat down, and wiped his face with his sleeve, desperate to get rid of some of the sweat leaking through his mask. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a grandfather clock begin to chime, and the entire air stilled around him. By the second chime, Harvey had stopped moving too, listening as it rang again and again, and as it continued, a feeling of dread filled his now oversized stomach. It was the witching hour, anything could happen, he though, though he didn’t know why, as the clock struck a twelfth time and fell silent, Harvey exhaled, the only sound in the room, and a moment later, the room was filled with lights and a pulsing club beat.
Harvey was caught off guard for several moments, as he tried to adjust to the sound around him, when he could focus again, he saw that a young, muscular man dressed in nothing more than a thong had strutted out onto the stage and begun dancing around the pole in the middle of the room. “Hey big boy,” he called out, “Why don’t you come a bit closer?” and began grinding his groin against the pole.
Harvey was hot again, but for an entirely different reason. Pure lust and desire gripped him, as he heaved himself up and waddled down to where the muscleman was gyrating. He sat down again, never taking his eyes away, tweaking one of his nipples and rubbing his crotch suggestively. “Yeah man,” he said with a much deeper voice than he remembered having, “Shake that fuckin’ tight ass.”
“I can only shake it if it has the money to keep it goin’ mister,” the muscle man said innocently, and quickly, Harvey dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a fat wallet stuffed full of cash. He pulled out a five, and wheezing a bit, managed to tuck it into the band of the man’s thong. As the man began gyrating again, Harvey fell back into his seat and began tweaking his nipples again, amazed at how sensitive they were. That thought was followed by the realization that he shouldn’t be able to feel his nipples at all. Surprised, Harvey rubbed his massive body, and found that he could feel everything—from his sagging man tits to hefty gut and even his second and third chins. In a panic, he tried to pull his mask off, but found that it had disappeared. His face simply was wrinkled, his moustache was real, and his head was missing most of its hair.
“What’s wrong man?” the stripper asked, seeing Harvey distressed. He hoped down of the stage and began rubbing his hands all over Harvey’s fat body, “do you need a big strong muscleman to make you feel better?”
The lust roared back with a vengeance, and Harvey reached out to rub his hand along the man’s hard muscles, but he evaded his touch.
“You know the rules old man, if you want more, you got to pay more,” the stripper said, now rubbing Harvey’s nipples through his shirt.
Moaning and panting, Harvey pulled out his wallet and shoved two twenties at the man, then grabbed him and started rubbing his face into the muscular chest in front of him. “Fuck yeah, I love the way you young hunks smell,” he heard himself say, but it was true. Harvey did love the sweaty, masculine musk rolling off the body in front of him. The stripper began gyrating around, grinding his rock hard abs against Harvey’s face.
With one hand, he reached under his fat gut and started massaging his cock, but try as he might, he couldn’t get it hard, as horny as he was. The stripper reached down to help, and chuckled, “Having some trouble down there, Grandpa?”
Harvey blushed, but it was true. He hadn’t had an erection in at least fifty years. He’d tried everything—Viagra, Cialis, but nothing had helped, and with his high blood pressure, his doctor had told him it would be better to just live with impotence. Of course, being impotent doesn’t mean one stops wanting sex. Sure, Harvey might get a load out once a month, but that didn’t mean he stopped living his life in a haze of lust. “I just…have a bit of a problem, that’s all,” he grumbled defensively, “It doesn’t concern you.”
“Aw…I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Here, pay me a bit more, and I might be able to solve that little problem of yours,” the stripper said, and winked.
Harvey was disbelieving, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough money. He dug out a hundred, and handed it to the man, who tucked it into the string of his thong, and extended his hand to Harvey. The man helped him up, and then pushed him up against the stage, and began massaging Harvey’s fat body.
“Damn Grandpa, you’re huge!” the man said, laughing, and Harvey felt his face turn redder. He thought about saying something, but the man’s hands on his fatty rolls felt so good, he just moaned, and wished his cock was hard so he could jack it. Reaching around him, grinding his own hard bulge against him the whole time, the stripper reached around and undid Harvey’s pants, then pulled them down and let them fall around his ankles, revealing Harvey’s now fat, saggy and very hairy, ass cheeks. “Damn man, that’s quite a crevice. Good thing I got enough tool to get down there and more,” he said, as Harvey felt the man’s cock rub up and down his crack.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Harvey said, and tried to pull away, “That’s not what I thought you had in mind!”
“What, you can’t seriously be a virgin, can you?” The man said, pulling Harvey close again, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” With a gradual push, he began to enter Harvey’s hole. Harvey expected it to hurt, and it did, but much more interesting, he felt a stirring in his crotch. Inch my massive inch, the man worked his cock deeper into Harvey, and true to his promise, he was gentle, loving even, coddling Harvey the whole way, until he had the old man begging for more. The stirring in his crotch had grown to a full on throb, and with an experimental grope, he reached down and found that his perpetually soft cock had actually expanded to half mast. At the same time, he felt the stripper pull out his cock, and thrust it back in slowly, making Harvey quiver.
“Oh…fuck…that feels so good,” Harvey moaned.
“Yeah, you old white men are all the same. ‘Oh I couldn’t possibly be a bottom’ they say, but as soon as you get a big, black cock up your ass, your tune changes real quick, don’t it? So, do you want me to fuck your ass? Do you want to be this big black man’s bitch for the evening?”
“Oh god, don’t stop. Take all the money you want, just please, fuck me!”
“Oh I don’t want money,” the black man said, “I want you to dance for me,” he said, and pulled his cock out of Harvey’s ass, making the old man whimper. His cock immediately returned to its flaccid state, and the relief he had longed for was now taken from him. The stripper had a seat in the front row, and eyed Harvey, stroking his thick cock, “Well, go on.” Hesitantly, Harvey began to sway and gyrate as best he could but the stripper shook his head. “Not down here, up there, on stage. Strip for me. Make me want that fat hairy body of yours.”
With a gulp, Harvey pulled his pants up, and slowly walked up the stairs onto the brightly lit stage. Part of him flashed back to his previous reality, and he refused to believe that he was about to strip for a man and beg him for his cock. No BMOC would ever do that! But he wasn’t a BMOC, was he? He was an obese, sexually frustrated business man who would do anything for release, even strip in front of a beautiful muscle man and humiliate himself so he might fuck him. The music was surrounding him, egging him on, and pulsating faster. Harvey loosened his tie, and began to gyrate, while the big black man hooted and catcalled, urging Harvey on to more and more perverse moves. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a tanktop stretched to the limit by his big gut. It shimmered for a moment, and suddenly Harvey was wearing a harness with thick leather straps running over his shoulders and under his man tits, emphasizing their size. He took one in his hand, and with some difficulty got it close enough to his mouth to lick his nipple, which made the stripper go wild, “There ya go Grandpa, now we’re getting somewhere!”
As Harvey undid his belt and slid down his pants, revealing the black cotton jockstrap he was wearing, he said to the stripper in front of him, “You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“Well, Grandpa,” he said, still stroking his massive, black meat, “Why don’t you just call me Big Daddy.”
Big Daddy—for some reason, that sounded just right to Harvey. He turned around, gyrated his massive ass and said, “So what do you think of my ass Big Daddy?”
“Why I think it’s just marvelous Grandpa,” the man replied, “Why don’t you shove something up there to get ready for my cock?” He tossed something onto the stage, and as Harvey bent over seductively to grab it, he saw that it was a thick black dildo, though not as large as Big Daddy’s cock. Unable to help himself, he started licking the shaft up and down, getting it good and wet. He bent over, using the stripper pole for support, and after a bit of work, got it lined up with his hole and started working it in, moaning all the while. After a moment, he realized that he was speaking, though he couldn’t control the words falling from his mouth, “Oh Big Daddy, I want your cock shoved up my old loose asspussy so bad, I’d do anything. Oh, it feels so good to have your hard cock buried up there, it’s the only thing that can get my cock hard.”
“Well, see if you can get some satisfaction with that fuck stick there. Big Daddy loves watching his Grandpa shove a dildo up his ass.”
Happy to be pleasing his daddy, Harvey bent over and started ramming the dildo up his ass as hard and as fast as he could, moaning and grunting as he did. He was sweating all over, and his hair was matted to the side of his head, but he couldn’t stop. With one hand working the dildo, he rubbed his soft cock through the pouch of his jockstrap, now even more sexually frustrated. He needed his daddy’s cock, and he needed it soon, or he would never have relief. “Please daddy,” he begged, “Please shove your massive cock up my ass? I need it, I can’t live without it!”
“Oh you fuckin’ slut, “Big Daddy said, “You know just how to get me all hot and bothered,” he said, and hopped up on stage, taking over the task of working the dildo in and out of Harvey’s ass. “You want my cock? Then moan for me bitch, tell me what a sorry piece of ass you are.”
“Please daddy, I’m nothing without your cock. You complete me, even though I’m not worthy. Please, fuck me. Fuck me hard!”
“Are you a slave to my cock?”
“Yes daddy!”
“And I bet you’re a slave to every black cock you see, aren’t you?”
“God yes, I beg any young black man I see you fuck me silly.”
“Well, then it wouldn’t be very nice to keep that pussy of yours waiting, would it?” Big Daddy said, pulled the dildo out quickly, and replaced it with his own cock. While he might have been gentle before, he was vicious and rough now, slamming his massive cock deep into Harvey’s ass with each thrust. Every time sent a huge shiver through Harvey, who was uncontrollably jacking his own hardening cock and panting like a dog. His old body wouldn’t be able to take much more of this, but he couldn’t stop. He needed this young man to fill his white ass with his black spunk. Only then would he be able to cum.
“Yeah, jack that puny cock of yours, Grandpa, how does it feel to be a black man’s bitch? You tried keeping us down, but the truth is, you can’t beat us. All you old farts want our giant cocks up your asses. You beg, you plead, and if you ask nice enough, we’re always willing to be accommodating. Only we can give you that satisfaction you desire. Only we can give that old, saggy cock of yours release.” Big Daddy said as he began to piston in and out as fast as he could. Old, sour cum was now leaking out of Harvey’s rock hard cock, and he was meeting every one of Big Daddy’s thrusts, desperate to get his cock as deep as possible. Suddenly, Big Daddy shoved his cock in and held it there, grabbed Harvey around the belly, and turned them both around. Previously, Harvey had been staring at the back of the stage, but now that he was looking out, he saw that when he wasn’t looking the entire club had been packed with beautiful, young black men. The sight made Harvey’s mouth water, and Big Daddy resumed his fucking, much to the enjoyment of the crowd.
“Yeah Big Daddy, fuck me in front of all of your black brothers. Show them what a bitch I am for black cock!” Harvey said, and the room cheered and laughed. Harvey was embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop. The thrusts were coming faster now, and Harvey was jacking his cock wildly now, aching and shivering with lust.
“Yeah you fucking white pig! Take my big black load!” Big Daddy shouted, and began spraying his wad deep into Harvey’s bowels. At the same time, Harvey groaned and shot his own, much smaller load, dribbling his cum all over the stage. Out in the audience, men were calling him a pig bitch and a whore, making him blush, but the fires of lust continued to rage within him. He still needed so much release, but Big Daddy was already pulling out, leaving him empty.
“Please Big Daddy! Fuck me more, I need your cock!” he begged, making the men laugh some more.
Up front, a hulking black man stroking a cock even bigger than Big Daddy’s said, “I’ll fuck that disgusting, fat ass of yours pig if you clean my boots.” He climbed up on stage, and Harvey immediately got down on his knees and began licking the leather until it shown with his spit. “Yeah pig bitch, oink for me. Oink like the slut you are.”
Harvey did his best pig impression causing all of the men in the room to holler and cheer. They loved him, he thought as the black men got down behind him and shoved his cock into Harvey’s dribbling hole, and he loved their cocks. “Yeah sir, fuck my fat white cunt!” Harvey yelled, “Everyone fuck my nasty sluthole!” The men cheered, and began to line up for a chance at the old bitch’s newly popped cherry.

The Boys (Part 2)

***WARNING–Contains scat. Don’t like it? Not my responsibility.***

“Yeah Daddy, you look so hot with that beard, sucking my cock. You like it, don’t you? Do you like sucking your boy’s cock?”
“Oh yeah,” Jim moaned, running the shaft through his beard, “I like it a lot boy. I love your cock in my mouth,” he said, and then went back to taking the long dick as far into his throat as he could.
Damn, you two are fucking hot,” Gus said when he came back in, carrying a fifth of whisky in his hand, “Give it a rest for a moment. Our daddy has a bit of growing up to do,” he screwed off the cap, and handed it to Jim, who looked at it, puzzled.
“Go on,” Billy said, “Every daddy likes whisky. It’ll put some hair on your chest, too.”
Jim took a tentative taste—he had never had straight liquor before, and even though it burned, it didn’t taste half bad. He took a few more shots, and he felt the burning feeling begin to radiate, and make him itch. Before his eyes, a thick mat of hair began erupting all over his body, obscuring his chest in a forest of brown hair. Even his arms, all the way to his knuckles, were hairy. Then, he watched as some of the hairs began to lighten to white, as he felt some of his youthful strength and vigor ebb away. His hair receded from the front, leaving him with a long, horseshoe of mostly white hair, and a thick white beard with a few strands of dark blonde. Gus took the half empty bottle away, and Jim listed a bit, already feeling the high grade alcohol rush into his system. “That’s…that’s some good shit,” he slurred a little, and then went back to sucking on Billy’s cock.
“Dang Gus, you were right. He did shape up into a good looking daddy,” Billy said.
“Yeah, but he ain’t done yet. Not by quite a bit. He might look like a daddy, but he don’t really act like one yet. He’s too smart, for one thing.”
Jim pulled his mouth off of Billy’s cock and said, “What do you mean, ‘too smart’?”
“Well, any good daddy didn’t go to a fancy college or nothing. Hell, the best daddies dropped out before they got into high school! You do want to be a good daddy, don’t ya?”
“Of course, boy.”
Gus pushed Billy to the side, and sat down next to Jim. “Then here’s what ya have to do. First look at the fire. You remember the fire, don’t ya? How calming it is?”
“Yeah, real calming.” Jim droned, as he fell back into his deep trance, assisted by the earlier alcohol.
“Then here’s what ya have to do. I want you to pretend that you are holding a stack of photographs. All of them are from your life. The one on top shows you graduating from college, doesn’t it?”
“Ya. I see my mom and dad are there, cheering me as I walked across the stage.”
“That’s what’s on the picture sure, but that didn’t really happen, did it?”
“It didn’t?”
“How could it? You’re our daddy, and our daddy never went to college.”
“But—“
“No buts. It isn’t a real memory, is it?”
“I…I guess not.”
“Then throw it on the fire, and forget all about it.”
Jim mimed throwing a piece of paper onto the flames, and then Gus said, “So, daddy, did you graduate from college?”
“Of course not, boy.”
“I didn’t think so. The next few pictures are from college too, aren’t they? But that didn’t happen either. You might as well throw the next few on the fire as well.”
Jim pretended to throw a few more things on the fire, and then said, “Ok, they’re all gone.”
“Then the next pictures are all from high school, aren’t they? But those didn’t happen either. With each one, you can see all of those false memories from school, but they aren’t real. You should burn them and forget them.”
One by one, Jim threw the pictures onto the fire, erasing them from his past. And when he was done, part of him felt empty and gone. “What now?”
“Now, we fill in what really happened,” Gus said, “Now you have a new set of pictures. These are all ones that really happened. In the first one, you can see yourself in grade school, failing the third grade for the second time.”
“Wow, was I that dumb?”
“You were that dumb, and you still are, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
“Well, you didn’t go to high school, or to college. You must be pretty dumb then.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“The next one shows you in the fifth grade, trying to read from a book, but you can’t, because you never learned how.”
“I never learned to read? At all?”
“Nope. You can write your name, but that’s it.”
Jim looked sad, but Billy piped in, “Don’t worry daddy, you don’t have to read here. We can’t read either! Well, I can’t, but Gus can.”
“And the next picture shows you skipping class in the seventh grade so you could go suck dick at the local glory hole.”
“Now wait…I didn’t really do that.”
“Sure ya did, all the time. You thought dick was much better than school.”
“But I liked school.”
“No you didn’t. You hated to learn things. I mean, you can’t even add!”
“I can too!” Jim yelled, and Gus grinned.
“Alright, prove it. What’s two plus three?”
“Uh…” Jim said, but for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with an answer. He looked down at his fingers, and held up two on one hand, and three on the other. “It’s uh…five?”
Gus looked impressed, “Well done, but here’s a hard one. What’s five plus seven?”
Jim looked back down at his fingers, but it was impossible. He couldn’t get that many fingers on his hands, all he could get was ten. “Uh…ten?”
“Nope, twelve.”
“But ten is all the fingers I got.”
“Don’t worry about it daddy. Now do you see why you were sucking cocks? Sucking cocks is what you’re good at.”
“I am good at it.”
“See? That’s why you’re going to be a great daddy.”
Jim beamed. He may not be smart, but he had the two best boys in the whole world. “Thanks boy. Now, can I suck your cock some more?”
“Soon, but there’s a few more things you have to do to be a good daddy for us.”
“What?” Jim asked.
“Well, we like our daddies to be dirty.”
“Oh yeah,” Billy chimed it, “Dirty like us!”
“Yeah, you have to like being dirty too.”
“But…how am I supposed to like it?”
“Here,” Gus said, “I’ll show you daddy. First, ya gotta stand up.”
It took some effort, but eventually Jim managed to hoist himself off of the couch so that he was standing before Gus. He was surprised at how weak he suddenly felt, and realized that he was shorter than he had been. Where he had been several inches taller than both boys earlier, he now stood at eye level with their chins. “Ok, now what?”
“Now, smell,” Gus said, and lifted his arm up, revealing his damp, sweaty pit. Jim took a sniff, but the rank scent overwhelmed him before he got too close.
“Damn boy, you reek!” Jim said, but Gus just grabbed the back of his head, and thrust his face into the smell.
“You may not like it at first, but it’ll grow on ya,” Gus said, as Jim struggled, but the more he breathed, the more he liked it. Soon, he extended his tongue and took a lick, and then began licking it whole heartedly, moaning as he did, “Damn boy, you were right. This is nice.”
He then moved to the other side, and licked that one clean too, and then did the same for Billy’s. When he was finished, he picked a hair out of his mouth, and then Gus and Billy each took a side, and lifted up one of his arms. “Now, it’s your turn,” Gus said, and then they both began slurping up and down Jim’s pits. A moment later, they surfaced, and Gus said, “Now you have some nice daddy pits. Smell those fuckers.”
Jim leaned in close, and took a deep whiff of the sweaty fuck coming off of them, and sighed, “Damn boys, you did a nice job on those.”
“ We ain’t done yet. Now get on our knees, daddy.”
Again, it was a bit of a struggle, but Jim made it down alright. As soon as he was down. Gus and Billy both took their cocks and started pissing on him. At first, Jim was disgusted, but soon he was trying to get as much of the golden liquid down his throat as he could, but the boys kept moving their streams, soaking every inch of his body. Without realizing it, Jim even began to empty his own load of piss right into his overalls. Eventually, their streams slowed to a trickle, and amazingly, Jim realized that he was nearly dry a few moments later. However, that is not to say he was without changes. His hair and beard were now tangled and knotted, as though they hadn’t seen a comb in ages, and his mouth now tasted like he had been sucking on a jockstrap. He also ran his tongue around in his mouth, and found that half the teeth in them had just dissolved away, and the rest all hurt like they were partially rotten. The rest of him smelt to high heaven, though the worst still came from his armpits, and what had been a fairly clean set of overalls were now ragged and filthy, with many holes. One of the straps had broken entirely, and one of the knees was ripped clean through.
“Now, you’re a good looking daddy,” Gus said, and Billy beamed.
“Fuck that,” Jim said, “I don’t want to be a good looking daddy, I want to be the hottest daddy there ever was! Make me dirtier.”
Gus laughed, “Now daddy, there ain’t no need—“
“I said, make me dirtier boy!” Jim yelled, and Gus shrugged.
“Well, since you’re asking for it,” Gus said, “We can make it so.” Gus stripped out of his overalls, and then bent over the arm of the couch, pushing his ass towards Jim, “Eat it out, if you want to be a fucking pig about it,”
Jim got down on his knees, and immediately dug into his boy’s ass, eating up all of the lose specks of shit he could find. Before long, it was perfectly spotless, and Jim sat back, a good part of his beard brown. Gus turned around, and pushed Jim back, until he was lying on the floor.
“You want to be the dirtiest fucking daddy there is? Fine. Here it comes then,” Gus said, and then squatted over Jims face, and let lose a spray of shit all over him. He moved down and repeated the process, until Jim was covered from head to toe in brown muck, which dried almost immediately, leaving him with shit caked up and down his body, and an insatiable hunger for ass.
He hadn’t seen Billy return from the kitchen with a plate, nor did he see him squat over it in the corner. But when Billy handed him the plate, piled high with several fat logs, he devoured them one by one, and then licked the plate clean.
“Only one more thing, I think,” Gus said, “If you really want to be as dirty as you can be,”
Jim nodded, “Hell ya boy, lay it on me.”
“Then stand up, and bend over.”
Jim did as he was told, bending over the arm of the couch as Gus had done. Gus ripped open the seat of Jim’s overalls, and then said, “Ok? Here it comes,” and then pushed his fist up into Jim’s ass.
Jim yelled in pain as he felt his sphincters loosen, and a moment later, when Gus pulled his hand out, He found that he couldn’t retighten them, and he felt a turd just makes its way out of his hole and, instinctively, he clamped down on it with his ass, mushing it between them. “Damn boy, what the fuck did you just do?”
“I made you a pants-shitter, daddy. The dirtiest of them all.”
“Well…fuck,” Jim said, as he felt another turd escape out his ass, though it just got caught in the mess the last one made, leaving his ass covered in shit. “Well, aren’t ya gonna clean it up, or something?”
Gus laughed, “No, you asked for it. But don’t you like how it feels, daddy? The warm shit in your crack, doesn’t it feel good?”
Just as suddenly, Jim felt his dick release a spray of urine, soaking the underside of his gut, and running down the insides of his legs. “Oh Jesus Christ, what have I become? Who am I?”
“Hush now,” Billy said, “You’re our daddy, that’s all you need to know.”
“No. No, I was someone else. Who was I? What did you do to me?” Jim said, slowly backing away from the two of them. However, before he could get very far, the two of them sprang on him, and dragged him back in front of the fire, where he closed his eyes tight, to avoid looking at the burning flames. However, Billy pulled his eyes open, and as soon as he caught sight of the dancing reds and oranges, Jim’s mouth went slack, and he forgot what had been so urgent only moments ago.
“Now daddy, what are you still hiding from me?”
“I don’t want to be a dirty hick,” Jim said, and it was true, but Gus just shook his head.
“But you asked to be our daddy. You asked to be dirty. This is what you wanted.”
“It was?”
“Of course it was. I wouldn’t do anything to you that you didn’t want.”
“But, then why do I still hate this?”
“Let’s do this daddy. Why don’t you take that part of you that hates being our daddy, and put it in your hands, and now wad it up.”
Jim did as he was told, and when he looked down at his hands, he saw a collection of things that he all seemed to remember, but not very clearly. They looked important.
“Now throw them in the fire,” Gus said, but Jim didn’t move, “Throw them!” he said again, and, almost as though it was a reflex, Jim threw it into the fire, and felt part of him scream and die, and a second later, he shit himself again, this time thrilled at the fact that he couldn’t stop it if he wanted to.
“Feel better daddy?” Billy asked.
“Sure as fuck do boys, now how about you give your daddy’s shitty ass a good fuck?”

When Danny was told that he’d have the opportunity to sit in on an executive board meeting, he was elated. How often, after all, did a lowly intern get to witness the grand wheeling and dealing of a Fortune 500 company? When he arrived, a secretary ushered him into the room, but something was off. All of the men at the table were older gentlemen, and they were all staring at him, licking their lips.

Before Danny could say anything, the men swarmed around him, ripping away the layers of his cheap suit and latching themselves onto his cock and nipples, fighting like sharks for prime position. Danny was soon so overstimulated he could barely keep track of what was happening to him, his body growing chubby, hair whitening and falling out, bones and muscles atrophying as his face sagged and wrinkled.

The company has been nice enough to set Danny up with a nice pension, a mansion and a butler–not that he’s ever allowed to leave. He wakes up each morning and stares at his ninety year old reflection full of regret. He certainly became successful in business, just not in the way he imagined.

Source: beautyofthabeast

Gary was an inventor–one who was obsessed with creating a real, working time machine. He was convinced that, theoretically, it was possible, but always a solution eluded him. His last failure was certainly his greatest–he thought he’d created a device which could create a time suspension field–allowing everything within fifty feet to cease aging while everything outside sped along at normal speed.

Ready to venture to the future, Gary had triggered the device, only to find out he’d reversed the polarities. He, and everything else aged incredibly fast, and before he could stop it, he was a chubby old geezer with a massive white beard.

There was no way to reverse it. The device was fried by the field, and everything in his home caught in it had aged into older versions of themselves. His now circa 1990 computer couldn’t begin to make sense of his complex files on time theory, and his aged brain couldn’t formulate possible solutions to his dilemma. He lived the rest of his life as a recluse, a testament to the dangers of overzealous experimentation with the forces of time.

Giving Charge (Part 2)

Commissioned by rtrose

As they drove, Travis was starting to feel really sick. Maybe that wasn’t surprising, considering how much he’d drank and eaten over the past few hours, but this didn’t feel like a hangover or indigestion. He looked over at Larry in the driver’s seat–the man hadn’t spoken once to him during the last half hour they’d been driving out of the city, and out in the dark he couldn’t see much, but they were out past the suburbs and into rural country when Larry pulled off the road into a trailer park, stopped the truck and told Travis, “Get out, and get inside, boy.”

Travis expected his body to leap to and obey like it had before, but the command only made him sluggishly respond. In fact, he sensed that, if he wanted to, he might even be able to get away–had he not felt so sick. Something in his guts was churning–he thought back to the load Larry had seeded in him, and wondered about disease, but nothing could incubate this fast, could it? Distracted by his own thoughts, he followed Larry into the trailer, where the roughneck stripped the coveralls off the young man’s body and pushed him up against the wall, where Travis made a sorry attempt to cover himself up.

“Well, well–looks like the little twerp is making some progress already,” Larry said.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You got yourself a little beard there,” Larry stroked the light coat of hair on his face, “and your gut’s bloating up a bit–gonna be good and big before too long. Still, I don’t think you’re over the threshold yet–how about we kick this into high gear?” He grabbed Travis by the arm and flipped him around, pushing him up against the wall, pushing his cock up against his still loose hole and working it back in. “Yeah, one more load oughta do it, and then we’ll see if you’re still a twerp or not.”

“No–No I’m not gonna let you do this,” Travis said, struggling against the loosening hold of Larry’s control.

“Oh, is that gaze wearing off already? Fine with me, I like twerps who fight back a bit. Still, this is gonna be a quick one–I don’t really feel like waiting.”

True to his word, Larry did last very long, tensing up and trusting in deep, unloading once more into Travis’ guts, and the sick feeling suddenly grew much, much worse. Larry pulled out, and Travis found that his legs had grown too weak to support him all on their own. Collapsing to the ground, the impact hurt in ways he did not expect–down in his bones, as though every pressure on his skin were a needle sinking to his marrow. “What–what’s happening to me…” he groaned, doubled over on the filthy carpet. His bones–were they growing? They didn’t seem to be getting any longer, but it felt as though they were getting thicker, and even hotter? The ache inside his bones was joined by an intense heat–looking down, he saw that his limbs were slowly growing wider, the heat pumping up his muscles, making them twitch and flex uncontrollably. It was exhausting–looking down at his arms, he saw the muscles inside them start bulging and exploding, his skin barely able to stretch fast enough to keep up without ripping apart. He rolled over, sitting with his back against the wall, where he could see that his chest was developing slab-like pecs, and his thighs and calves bulging with muscle–but also something else, something bubbling up underneath his skin. The sensation was unnerving–hot fat boiling up within him, spreading over the top of his new muscles before cooling and firming up, much of it consolidating around his midsection, forming a large, firm gut.

His eyes blurred as the ache and heat enveloped his face–with two unfamiliar hands, he felt his jaw and cheeks and brow distend and bulge as bone grew thick and fat filled in, and then it dissipated, leaving behind an exhaustion he’d never felt anything like, it was all he could do to keep himself from passing out, rolling over again onto all fours, and telling himself he had to stand up–he had to get out of here before anything else could happen to him–and while he could still control his own actions.

However, simply standing up proved to be a more difficult task than he’d imagined. He hefted himself up, but as he was no longer the waif he’d been, his thicker body forced his body to find a new center of gravity, making him feel like he was in perpetual danger of falling backward as he balanced against his gut. The muscle growth had left his muscles exhausted, his legs quivering as he took two feeble steps forward towards the door, before falling down again. Nothing felt right–his mind screaming that this couldn’t have happened, and yet every message from his body told him that these big hands, this gut, these massive trunk like legs–they were his. He pushed himself back up, stumbling back, fearing he might fall–until he felt Larry’s thick arms wrap their way around him from behind.

“I gotcha big boy,” he said, but Travis broke away and spun around, nearly toppling over before he clung to the wall for support.

“What did you do to me? Change me back!” Travis shouted, his voice deep and resonant in his chest.

“You really want to go back? Back into that twerp body? Don’t lie–I can see you’re enjoying this…” Larry came forward, one hand wrapping around Travis’ thicker cock, the other snaking around the back of his head, pulling him into a rough, sloppy kiss. Spit leaking out around their lips and down onto his chin, making Travis’ skin itch and burn where it touched. He pulled away, running one hand over his mouth, feeling the stubbly goatee Larry’s spit had grown, watching his captor grin and lick his lips. His face grew weathered as well, his skin sagging a bit into wrinkles and dry crows feet. He now looked a good fifteen years older, with a bit of grey in his hair, which he could sense pulling itself back into his head little by little.

“No–don’t…don’t change me more, please…” Travis said, trying not to moan from the sensation of Larry stroking his cock. That seemed to have grown quite a bit as well–and was far more sensitive than he remembered.

“Too late for that,” Larry said, “but I know something you’ll probably enjoy.” He grabbed one of Travis’ arms and lifted it up, shoving his face into the pit and licking away, the crack sprouting hair and a powerful musk which made Travis groan. It was just as strong as Larry’s, but different–his own scent. When Larry went to work on the other side and then worked down, licking a pelt onto Travis’ chest and stomach, he was left smelling himself, caught up in the strange eroticism of this masculine, alien body. The smell did more than arouse him, it swept the exhaustion away–it made him feel a bit more comfortable in this new skin.

Travis instigated the next kiss, catching both Larry and himself off guard with its force. He’d never felt so strong before–the sense of power running through his body was like a drug. He’d been small and weak all his life–now, for the first time, he was the one with the strength, and he wanted to use it. He put one of his big hands on top of Larry’s head and shoved him down to his knees in front of his cock, and Larry growled back, “Watch it boy.”

“Suck it–just fucking suck it!” Travis said, “I’m so fucking horny.”

“You don’t give the orders here, boy–I do, and–” Larry started to say, but Travis didn’t care. He grabbed the back of Larry’s head and crudely shoved his cock into his mouth, making him sputter a bit, but to his surprise Larry didn’t resist. It felt amazing, having a hot mouth around his cock but Travis felt like something was wrong after a couple of thrusts. Each time, his cock went in a little less, and felt a little softer. He realized too late that Larry must be doing something to him, and when he tried to pull his cock out, Larry refused to let go, coming off on his own a few moments later, leaving Travis with a cock barely an inch and a half long, a massive pubic bush, and balls which looked far too big hanging below.

“No…No!” Travis said, feeling his new nub, and Larry laughed.

“You asked for it boy–now, as long as I’m down here, turn around,” Larry said, grabbing him by the hips and forcing him around so Travis’ ass was inches from his face, “I have a few changes to make down here.” Travis shivered as Larry’s tongue ran up and down his crack before burrowing into his ass, and a new fire kindled to life in him. When Larry removed himself, Travis felt a great emptiness back there, and started pushing back, wishing for something to fill him up.

“Please…please–fuck me. God, oh God I can’t believe I just said that…”

“Happy to oblige,” Larry said, sliding his cock in once again, Travis nearly shouting in pleasure with the penetration, Larry licking up and down Travis’ back, leaving him a pelt as thick there as he had on the front, but pulled out without cumming–nor giving Travis release.

“Why did you stop? Come on, fuck me!” Travis said.

“Another order?” Larry grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the hall, “You’re getting too big for your britches boy–I think you need to remember who’s really in charge here. I may have given you a big boy body, but you’re still my twerp–now get in the truck.”

“Let me go!” Travis said, trying to yank his arm out of Larry’s grip, but when he looked up, he found himself facing Larry’s glittering eyes.

“That’s not a request–it’s an order,” Larry said, “Now go.”

Travis couldn’t resist–he didn’t even put on the clothes Larry had stripped off of him, opting instead to just climb into the cab naked., Larry close behind. Travis fought the compulsion as best he could, but Larry kept speaking to him in the truck, and while Travis couldn’t remember anything he told him, he knew it was nothing good. After a few minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of a rundown biker bar, and to his surprise, Larry simply kicked him out the door onto the gravel and drove off, leaving him there naked.

While it was late, it wasn’t so late that the bar wasn’t still crammed full of men–all of them far rougher and meaner than Travis had seen at any city club. He saw a couple bikers smoking out front run over to him to help him up, but the two big men started laughing at Travis when they caught a look at his tiny cock. Travis, however, had other needs at the front of his mind. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed the beer bottle out of one of the biker’s hands and started shoving the neck up his ass, telling the big men how badly he needed a good, long fuck.

They didn’t disappoint him–none of the men in the bar did, who all took a turn with his ass over the next few hours disappointed him. It was a very different party than the one he’d been to earlier, though he was still the center of attention, in a different way. Each man who fucked him drove Travis to hornier heights, but release was always kept from him, the men laughing at him, for the puny cock which couldn’t even get off one load as every man there took a turn with him. It was horrible–not the fucking, he loved the fucking–the humiliation of it. He wanted to cum so much, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why.

When the bar closed for the night, Travis was left abandoned. He booked it down the road as fast as he could worried that Larry might come back to find him, clad only in a pair of boxers a trucker had given him, his cock still hard, and a beer bottle still firmly planted in his ass. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to go somewhere…didn’t he? Still, where could he go? He had no ID, no life to return to–he was lost. It was almost a relief when Larry pulled up beside him in his truck.

“Get in boy,” was all he said, but Travis did nothing, but the order sent a throb of lust through him.

“No…No, I’m not going to be your slave, I’m not.”

“It’s too late for that, boy,” Larry said, “You gave me your charge–I own you whether you want it or not…and I know you do. Did you get a load off in there? I bet you didn’t. You need to submit boy, you need to be owned. Come here and get in.”

There was that throb again, his cock leaking a bit. He came over and got in, a shiver of lust from his obedience sinking in. “Why…why me?”

“Because you need this. Now jack me off,” Larry said, and again, Travis wanted to obey, and he reached over, stroking Larry’s cock. “See, it feels good to obey, doesn’t it? Now look in my eyes–let’s seal the deal boy, give me the rest–give me all of it. Give it up, and you can cum, I promise.”

Travis resisted for a moment…but could it really be that bad? He could still get out, but what was out there for him, really? Nothing, at least here he had something. So he looked. He fell into Larry’s eyes one final time, completely. He gave it all up, his free will, his personal ambition. He would be a vessel for Larry, but that no longer scared him–it thrilled him. His cock shot the load it had been building all night, soaking the front of his boxers. “Thank–Thank you, sir,” he said, the deference automatic and natural.

“Suck me boy,” Larry said, and Travis obeyed without a second thought. Travis’ future was no longer his–it was Larry’s. His master got him a construction job, with a group of men who had no objection to using the burly slave’s holes all day long. Travis had no choice but to love it now–but he didn’t regret his choice. He had hated being in charge–giving it up to his Master Larry was the greatest decision of his life.