Unsuited

Commissioned by Humilisub2

***

“Just consider it an early retirement.”

“Early retirement? What retirement? Everything–all of my savings in wrapped up in this company–in my pension!” the older man shouted in Andrew’s face, who just sat there calmly in his posh desk chair.

“Oh–you were grandfathered into that? I didn’t think anyone here had those anymore. I’m sure you’ll be able to convert some of it into a 401k–”

“Fuck you and your 401ks! I’m sixty two, and you’re just going to fire me? After all these years cleaning your fucking toilets and emptying your trash?”

“It wasn’t my decision, sir. You’ll find some way, I’m sure. Now–I need you to wait outside–security will be by shortly to escort you out.”

The older man stormed to the door, face red, shouting, “You fucking suits–you don’t fucking get it. Ruining people’s lives for the fun of it–as if you’ve ever worked a day in your life. It probably gets you fucking off!” and then slammed the door shut behind him.

Andrew smirked and gave his cock a squeeze. It was a bit hard–fancy that. Maybe he did enjoy this. The company had been thick with layoffs this quarter, in an effort to cut costs and make their lackluster earnings look a bit nicer, and while some people in his position might hate this part–Andrew relished it.

Of course he’d known Bill, the old janitor, had had a pension with the company–that was one of the primary reasons Andrew had been told to fire him. Besides, the guy was sixty-two, and barely got much cleaning done anymore. He could hire two Mexicans for half the payroll to do four times the work the old bastard was putting out. He heard a ruckus outside his door–security arriving–and the din disappeared down the hall. Andrew shuffled Bill’s discharge papers around on his desk, and checked the clock–4:30, almost the end of the day–and figured it could wait until the morning, giving him a chance to sneak out early for an afternoon round of golf. He spent fifteen minutes or so getting his things together and answering one last round of emails, and then realized that he had to take a piss.

He set off down the hall, into the restroom, and headed for the urinal, but as he was getting ready to unbutton and unzip his pants, he caught a strange aroma on the air–smoke. It was almost sweet, but also a little dank–definitely was some sort of tobacco, probably a cigar. He’d certainly been to plenty of smoky poker games with executives, but had never partaken himself. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice his cock release his piss into the front of his pants, down both of his legs where it pooled in his almost new leather shoes. “Sh–Shit!” he cried, trying to stop his flow, but there was nothing he could do, as the puddle of urine around him spread wider, the smoke growing thicker in the room, giving him a headache, and making his stomach knot. He’d never felt like that around cigars before–but he could barely walk straight. He tried to get to the door, to get out, but all he could manage was to slump up against the sinks in pain and nausea.

It was difficult to see himself in the mirror, between his double vision and the growing cloud of haze in the room, but he looked–odd. There was something wrong with his face…no, there was something growing on his face. He reached up with a hand and felt a beard filling in all across his chin, as his hair started pulling back, making him look ten years older than he was, but other things were wrong too. His clothes felt so tight and constrictive all of a sudden, and he started clawing at his tailored suit but it was too late. The fabric began tearing apart at the seams, buttons flying away across the room. When he got the clothes off of him, all that remained were tatters. Looking down at his naked body, he saw that he was growing a large gut covered with hair. He had to stop this–it had to be the smoke, it had to. He started busting into the stalls, finding them empty until the final handicapped stall, where he found a muscular young man, pants off, grinning around a smouldering cigar.

“I was wondering when you’d find your way in here, asshole,” the man said, stroking his dick, and as he took a big inhale off his cigar, Andrew watched as the man’s cock started to grow, increasing in length and girth with every pull, soon passing nine, then ten inches in length. Andrew’s gaze was locked on it, his now bare feet stumbling forward until he fell to his knees and began licking up and down the massive shaft.

“Yeah, you like that big dick, don’t ya?” the man said, grabbing the hair remaining on Andrew’s head and slamming the massive cock down his throat making him gag, “If you like it so much, why don’t you choke on it?” Andrew did his best to oblige him, and after a few minutes was rewarded with a blast of cum shot acros his now heavily bearded face. Andrew gasped for a second, trying to catch his breath, as the man got up, shoved his face down into the toilet with his booted foot, and started pissing all over the back of his head, the stream running down his face and over his eyes and mouth, and the man left, without another word, leaving Andrew soaked and still trying to digest the suddenness of the assault.

The smoke was clearing as the fans worked the room, and Andrew felt some clarity return to him, enough to cough and sputter on the ground, staring down at his changed body and wondering what in the world had happened to him. He heard the door to the bathroom open, as some of his co-workers came in, and he quickly locked the stall door shut, realizing it wouldn’t be good to be found naked in the bathroom. Checking under the partitions, he didn’t see any of his clothes–the smoking man must have taken them as he’d left. Andrew was essentially trapped–he couldn’t go out like this. Perhaps luckily, he’d just fired the janitor, so he’d be safe as the floor emptied for the night. Maybe then he’d be able to sneak out.

The next few hours didn’t pass quickly, and Andrew found his new body had some…unhealthy fascinations. He was so horny now, but he could only get hard when he was smelling or drinking piss. He couldn’t resist lapping up his own mess from the floor, followed by the spunk he shot doing so, and then he cleaned all of the urinals for good measure. The entire time, he tried to stop, telling himself this was wrong, but his body was running on autopilot. His brain kept saying that he needed to do this. He felt guilty, but for what, he didn’t know, and this was almost some sort of…penance.

He didn’t notice the door open as a pile of clothing that was dropped on the floor with a note telling him to get dressed and come down to the shipping bays. What he did notice was the smell–the same smoke from earlier permeated everything, and Andrew felt himself slip back into the fog from before, dressing himself in the dirty jeans, boots and cap (there wasn’t a shirt) and followed the scent of smoke all the way down to the back of the building, where he found the same man smoking what looked like the same cigar, though it looked no shorter.

“Who–Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” Andrew said, his voice sounding strange, so deep and slurred.

The man didn’t say anything immediately–he just dropped his pants and as soon as Andrew laid eyes on his huge dick again, he got down and started sucking it, helpless. After a chuckle, the man finally spoke:

“Me? My name’s Dustin Leaver–you might recognize the last name, since you fired my dad last week. A year before retirement even. Well, when I heard about all the layoffs you’ve been making, I got to thinking that you weren’t suited for your job, so I’m helping you find a new one.

“Now, these cigars are nice, but I think I’ve reached the limit of what I can do to you–I think you’re going to have to do the rest yourself. See, you know you’ve done wrong–I can tell. You know you deserve punishment for the suffering you’ve caused. So I’m gonna give you this cigar, and you’re gonna smoke it, and we’re just gonna see what happens. How does that sound? Because I haven’t done anything to you–this is all you, and I can’t wait to see what happens when you get a good dose of this smoke. Though thanks for the big dick, I wasn’t expecting to get anything out of this. I bet it’ll feel damn good up your ass once you’re all finished.”

Andrew didn’t understand anything that Dustin had said, but he let out a moan of dismay when the cock was pulled from his mouth. The younger man hauled him up to his feet and shoved the cigar between his teeth, forcing Andrew to take a deep drag of smoke deep into himself…and then he understood–he understood all of it. He’d done bad things–horrible things to people. Destroyed lives, ruined retirements, all for the sake of making more money. He needed to be punished–and bad. He felt a quiver in his dirty jeans and pulled out his cock, finding it rapidly shrinking to less than an inch long, as his balls swelled up. There was a sharp pain as metal appeared in his cock and both nipples, but he deserved more–so much more.

He pulled in more smoke, fueling his own latent guilt, feeling his gut balloon out even further into a ball which slowly softened and sagged down over his crotch, a thick layer of gunt absorbing his new nub of a cock. The fur on his body thickened and started losing color, becoming a dingy grey, his beard growing out until it rested on his new moobs, his hair receding back to a wispy fringe of long, greasy hairs. Tattoos blossomed on his body, images of filthy sex acts and degrading names, more piercings springing from his flesh in his ears and face, making him look like a freak. As a final tough, his big balls descended, the sack stretching until it reached his knees, the flesh in between a riot of metal rings and studs. He’d never be able to wear underwear again, and he’d have to keep his balls dangling down one of his pant legs, crushing them with every stride. The cigar in his mouth crumbled to ash, and he licked his lips, feeling around his rotten teeth badly chipped by their collisions with his tongue stud. He fell back down onto his knees in front of Dustin, wincing as his balls smacked against the concrete. “Please sir, use me like the filthy whore I am. Punish me, I deserve it.”

“I’d be happy to, bitch–but I have a few friends who’d love to play too. See, I thought we’d throw you a little party, to break you in–and I think you’ve met all of them before. Come on out, guys!” Dustin shouted, and a crowd of men filed into the room, Andrew vaguely recognizing them as a collection of men he’d fired from the company over the last few months–including the janitor he’d fired just hours ago. He serviced them all night long, drinking down their piss and cum, cleaning out their dirty holes while they tortured his balls and ridiculed his miniscule dick. As the night wore on, Andrew felt his old life drifting further and further away, his mind growing feeble and weak to match his new body. When Dustin offered him a new job in the shipping department the next morning, Andrew was overwhelmed with thanks. He didn’t deserve such kindness, not that he got much of it in his new job.

He was at the bottom of the totem pole now, just a freight worker, but he didn’t do much heavy lifting. He spent most of his days cleaning the bathrooms with his tongue, and chain smoking cigars while he begged the men to use their massive cocks on both his holes. That, it seemed, was his one gift–every dick he saw grew enormous–all the better to rip apart his holes. It was the least he could do. He was far more suited for this position, he knew–and while he wouldn’t say he was happy, he knew it was what he’d earned.

Tim was a gambling addict, but Tim had a problem–he was broke, and no one would lend him money anymore. You can imagine his excitement when he heard about a new kind of slot machine which didn’t require money to play, but will promised real winnings. Of course, he didn’t read the fine print, and after a few spins, he quickly realized he was gambling with his body and life.

He took a moment, and told himself he should stop while he was only a bit behind. He’d just gained 50 more pounds on a bad bet, but told himself he couldn’t stop until he he’d won back his straightness. Unfortunately, he never got there. When the casino security finally dragged him away, he was over five hundred pounds, had aged into his sixties, with an impotent, two inch cock. Of course, Tim never did learn his lesson–some addicts never do. You can still find him out back behind the casino, selling five buck blow jobs to random strangers so he can keep trying to win it all back.

For most athletes, college football is as high as they go, if they aren’t planning on going pro–and at a division III school, no one ever goes pro. It was the eve of their final game of the year, and someone (the prankster never revealed themselves, but it had to have been someone from the team, they thought) had left the box of shirts at the party house that night.

Laughing and already drunk, all of the football players had put them on, and when they woke up the next morning, hungover and aching, they saw that the shirts hadn’t been joking at all. They were all potbellied, in their thirties, balding, and very confused. When a group of biology students whose experiments they’d sabotaged last year as a prank came by, pretending to be members of the staff, and told them that the reunion was over and they had to get off campus, they had nowhere to go. How could they play, go to class, or even graduate, looking like this? Still, one thing was certain–none of them would play football ever again.

Source: usexybrah

Dennis had always hated being a little guy, but that strange hat shop had given him the answer to his prayers. He’d picked up the “Bubba” hat as a joke more than anything else, and when he’d put it on, he’d suddenly been transformed into a massive daddy bear wearing work boots, dirty Levis and a grubby t-shirt instead of his skinny jeans and hipster wear. Taking the hat off and on, he found he could switch bodies at will. He’d rushed home, admiring his new, bearish self in the mirror while he jacked off, and then decided to hit some of the clubs too see if he could find a hot bear to test drive this body with.

Unfortunately, Dennis should have read the warning label, telling him that prolonged use could result in irreversible mental effects. When he returned home the next morning freshly fucked, he’d already lost thirty-five points off his IQ, his fine arts degree had been replaced with truck driving and repair know-how, and he spoke with a thick, southern drawl. Now, with the hat or without, he was a “Bubba” through and through.

Gifts from a Magi – Part 1

Jake had a problem. Well, not so much a problem as a set of circumstances which were conspiring together to make him as unhappy as possible. First, was the fact that he was graduating this coming weekend, ending his college career and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had no job lined up, barely any money in his bank account, and after he’d come out to his family a couple of months ago, he…wasn’t exactly going to be welcomed back there with open arms either. Then there was Rand, on the left in the photo.

He was Jake’s best friend. They’d lived on the same floor during their freshman year, and had lived together ever since, even renting an apartment together as seniors. Rand was the first person Jake had come out to, and Rand in turn had been one of Jake’s biggest supporters at college. He was the one who’d convinced Jake to come out to his parents and quit living the big lie. Of course, this culminated in situations three and four, where Jake had fallen in live with Rand–even though Rand was straight as could be. Jake was…annoyed by this fact, but he treasured what relationship they did have, or at least what they had for the moment, because Rand was flying out the monday after graduation to start at his new job across the country, leaving Jake here…alone. And so, in his desperation, Jake was willing to cling to anything which might resolve this in someway which didn’t end with him alone, and possibly on the streets. Even a crazy idea like this one. He pulled the strange leather cocoon out of his drawer again and turned it over in his hands.

Jake had a thing for BDSM. He hadn’t delved into it too much, but he did like going out to leather clubs and hooking up on occasion. He’d been to most of the fetish gear shops in the city around the college, and had become pretty friendly with some of the regulars. He’d even played around with a few of them, and found a few fuckbuddies, but he’d always felt like he was saving himself for Rand, as sad as that was. He was talking about his problems with one of the shopkeepers when a strange man clad from head to toe in a shiny leather uniform had come up and introduced himself. His hand had been strangely cold and clammy to the touch, and something about his eyes bothered Jake, but he’d listened to the man’s offer. After getting the rundown on Jake’s situation, the man pulled out a strange, leather bodybag and gave it to him. When Jake asked what it was, the man said it was a solution to his problems–all he needed to do was get Rand into the cocoon, and then, twenty-four hours later, Rand would be a whole new man–Jake’s man.

Jake had been appalled by the idea at first–who wouldn’t be? And the man had been vague as to what exactly was going to happen to Rand. The man said it would turn Rand gay, but he also kept mentioning other changes, which he never elaborated on. Jake had tried to refuse the man’s offer, but he’d walked away, leaving Jake holding the leather. He’d stashed it for a week now, but he was starting to feel like he didn’t have a choice–he had to try, even though it was wrong. Still, he had no idea what would happen when Rand got into it, or whether he would even survive in the hot leather sack for a whole day, but he couldn’t help but think he needed to try. Hell, if he ruined their friendship, at least it would be over before Rand left him for good, which is what it felt like. But Jake still felt like he had to be honest to Rand first, and tell him how he was feeling.

So, that afternoon, as Rand was packing, he brought him a beer and they sat down, and Jake told him everything–about his fears of joblessness, of his unrequited love, of how he desperately needed Rand in his life…and while Rand didn’t freak out, he told Jake that he couldn’t be everything Jake wanted him to be. That he had his own life to live, and his own dreams, and that while he would always care about Jake–as a friend–he needed to leave, and Jake was furious. That settled it–he had to try the cocoon–he had to.

He went to the kitchen, popped open a couple of beers, roofied one of them, handed it to Rand and proposed a toast to life long friendships…and an hour later, Rand was so out of it couldn’t stop Jake from lying him down in the cocoon, apologizing and professing his love the entire time he fit him into the leather and zipped it up over his face. As soon as the zipper came up over the crown of Rand’s head, the tag broke off and the teeth disappeared, leaving only a stitched seam. Rand struggled inside for a few minutes, Jake watching with something between terror and horny fascination as his movements grew weaker and weaker–and then he was still.

Jake came over and could feel nothing, neither a breath nor a heartbeat, and his first thought was that Rand had suffocated and died. He tried prying apart the leather, cutting at it with scissors, a knife, stabbing it, anything he could do to rescue the man he loved, tears streaming down his face, but nothing marred the impervious leather. He thought about calling the cops, or an ambulance, but what would they say? What would they think? What had he done? He had to find that man, the one who’d given him the cocoon in the first place. It was his only chance. He left the apartment, giving one last look to the leather encased Rand, and drove downtown.

He trolled the leather bars and the bathhouses, he searched the fetish shops open late and the adult bookstores, but he never found him. He was reduced to wandering the streets, too terrified to return to look at what he’d done, but the eventual light of dawn, and his own exhaustion drove him home. Rand was still there, on the floor where Jake had left him…but something was different. The cocoon was a slightly different shape, like Rand was growing larger inside of it, and the leather itself had changed, gaining creases and cracks in the surface like it had been spent years uncared for by anyone. He put his ear to Rand’s chest, and faintly he could hear the pulse of a heartbeat, and the sheer joy he felt was overwhelming. He was alive in there–and changing. Perhaps the man had been right after all.

Despite his nerves and residual panic, Jake fell asleep and woke up in the early afternoon, rushing to check on his friend. The cocoon was looking quite worn now and almost…brittle, but even though it appeared weak, it still refused to be cut. The cocoon had continued growing, while remaining skin tight against Rand’s form, though it was looking quite a bit less like Rand at this point. Jake realized that he had no idea what was going to happen once the twenty-four hours had past–would Rand be a completely different person? Jake felt his nerves start up again, as he checked the clock. When exactly had he done the deed yesterday? He couldn’t remember. It had to have been sometime between five and six in the afternoon, and it was now four…this wait was going to kill him, but he couldn’t leave…what if Rand woke up and no one was here to meet him?

Jake tried watching TV, he tried reading, but nothing could take his eyes off the cocoon for long. Eventually he pulled over a chair and just sat down, watching and waiting for something to happen–though he had no idea what he was waiting for, exactly. He found himself getting caught in fantasy after fantasy, Rand emerging from the cocoon transformed into his own ideal man, with rippling muscles beautiful blow job lips and a tight hole. Jake had always fancied himself a top, and as he thought about what might come out, he found his fantasies turning more and more twisted. He would show Rand for denying his love–he would beat him. He would lock him in chastity. He would train him to love him as much as Jake loved him back, and they would be happy forever.

Rand’s first movement caught him off guard, the odd lurch and groan from inside the now thin, leather skin. Jake knew he should do something, but he could only sit and watch as Rand’s struggling increased, and he began ripping and tearing at the cocoon crumbling around him, and Jake caught the first glimpses of the new Rand. He had stripped him down to his underwear before putting him in the cocoon the day before, so when a leather booted foot burst out, he was taken aback, especially when he saw the thick hair covering the thigh, and he grimaced.

Jake had never been a fan of body hair–he was more one for smooth muscle. He’d actually suggested to Rand that he start shaving his chest a year ago. As more and more of Rand emerged from the casing, he realized that Rand whad become someone far removed from his dreams and fantasies. He was hairy, for one–really hairy, that glimpse of the thigh had been the tip of the iceberg. His chest was covered with a thick pelt, and when his head burst out, framed by a mane of wild, greying hair with a thick, long beard beneath, he couldn’t help but let out a sound of disgust. He couldn’t even bring himself to get down and help him as Rand struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair and plopped down into it with a gasp.

“Fuck…” Rand muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, “God I need a smoke…” He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his vest, lit one and took a deep drag, letting out a thick plume of smoke into the room.

Jake’s face twisted up. He hated smokers…it was a filthy, disgusting and deadly habit. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was so caught in his disgust, that he almost didn’t register Rand talking to him. “Hey–Hey! Jake, what the fuck did you do to me, man? What the hell was that thing?”

Jake almost couldn’t get the words out, but the did come, and he told Rand the story, told him about the man, and the cocoon, and that he couldn’t imagine living without Rand, so he’d drugged him and forced him into the cocoon. Jake left out the part about how he now found Rand absolutely repulsive…but he started noticing how Rand was was now looking at him, while he played with his pierced dick.

He finished his story, and they both sat in silence for a moment, before Rand spoke. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted–I have to say that you look damn cute over there–so if this is the way things are going to be, I could get used to it. Now how about you come on over here and give me a hand with this? Daddy’s fuckin’ horny.”

Jake couldn’t move for a second, he couldn’t even speak. Rand had become everything he was least attracted to, an old, dirty smoker with a thick pelt of body hair, he fought the urge to vomit at the suggestion of even coming into contact with him. “No…No you don’t understand, this isn’t what I…I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, you’re the one who did this to me,” Rand said, “And I’m touched Jake, that you wanted me, and now I want you…oh fuck do I. I can’t wait to plow that hot ass of yours.” Rand got up out of the chair, tromping over towards Jake who quickly got up and put the chair between them.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you’re fucking…you’re disgusting!” Jake said, and Rand stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

“What–You think I’m…” Rand said, his face growing redder, “You’re the one who fucking did this to me, Jake. You’re the one who wanted me to fucking love you, to want you, and now I do. This is what you fucking wanted–and I don’t give a fuck whether you want me or not, I’m gonna have that ass of yours, bitch!” He grabbed the chair away from Jake who tried to run around towards the front door and escape, but Rand tackled him to the floor. Jake fought, and he fought hard, hitting and scratching at Rand’s face until the big man pulled back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rand shouted.

“Get out you fucking freak!” Jake screamed back, “I didn’t fucking want this, get the fuck out before I call the fucking police!”

Rand looked back and forth, from the crazed Jake on the ground to the door, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. He saw the clothes Jake had stripped off him the night before, he bundled them up in his arms and fled out the door, leaving Jake shaking and sobbing in the living room, alone.

*****

To be Continued Tuesday

Fairytale – Part 2

***WARNING***

This story contains heavy raunch and watersports. Don’t be a pussy–just fucking enjoy it.

*************

“There you are,” Jeff said, as Harry squeezed past him and back into his seat, “I was wondering if you fell in or…” His voice trailed off, as he got a better sense of the filthy man taking the seat next to him–and the stench rolling off him, and he had a strange sensation that this wasn’t the man he’d agreed to go out with…or was it? His momentary unease didn’t seem to have any basis in his memory–it was the same filthy, incredibly hairy, obese slob who he watched stuff himself silly at dinner…wasn’t it? Why in the hell had he agreed to this date in the first place? This guy was disgusting.

Harry could see the confusion in Jeff’s eyes in the dim light from the screen, and he grinned. Just like the Fairy Grungefather had written, Jeff had no idea that he’d changed so much in the last half hour. “Here boy,” he said handing Jeff a large soda, “I got you another drink, after I plowed through the last one.”

“Oh…uh, thanks,” Jeff said, and took a drink, still unable to figure out why in the world he was out with this disgusting man. Harry could sense his rising disgust, but he already had the first of the three spells from the fairy in his mind, and he mumbled the chant under his breath. The spell would make his chosen target irresistibly attracted to filth, and hopelessly subservient to any man dirtier than him, though, as a twist, as the subject becomes dirty himself he will, in turn, become more and more dominant. However, Jeff was so clean right now, Harry wasn’t too worried about that just yet. He felt the power in his words burn his lips slightly as the spell wrapped its way around Jeff, and to give it a test, he reached out and put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders and pulled him close, his face dangerously close to his disgustingly ripe pit.

Jeff felt the spell hit him, but had no idea of what to make of it. He was happy when the wave of nausea he’d felt in Harry’s presence dissipated, but when it was replaced by an equal, and very forceful attraction, he tried to resist, but the spell was too strong. Suddenly, his memories of this giant slob from the past few hours were ones of giddy excitement at the other man’s filthy body. How he’d sat, agape, watching the man stuff himself at dinner, Jeff’s cock rock hard the whole time. How he’d kept trying to catch whiffs of Harry’s musk on the way to the theater. The stench of his armpit played into his new, deep fantasies, and he leaned in closer, taking a deep sniff, getting close enough for the hairs to graze his nose.

When Harry’s hand contracted and shoved him into it, he struggled with him out of reflex more than anything else. “Shush boy,” Harry said, “I know you’ve been wanting this all night, so here’s your chance–now lick it good and clean, like I know you want to.” He did. He really did want to, so he buried his face in and started licking at the funk, inhaling deep and feeling Harry’s belly jiggle as he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it.” Harry continued, “Doesn’t that taste like heaven? Go on boy, take out your cock–show me how turned on that nasty funk has gotten you. Here, I’ll take out mine too.” Harry dug around in his camo shorts, pulling out his five inch, thick cock with ample, cheesy foreskin, and without removing his face from Harry’s pit, Jeff did the same, pulling out his eight inch, rock hard cock, which he started milking.

Now Harry didn’t begrudge his date his big cock, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous–and given how submissive Jeff would be for the moment–at least until Harry had him good and filthy–he figured this might be a good time to try out another spell of the Fairy Grungefather’s. Until dawn, the fairy had granted Harry the power to trade physical attributes with any man he was touching–and Jeff’s tongue and face against his pit certainly counted as touching. Harry concentrated, and watched as Jeff’s cock started shrinking in his hand, growing tinier and tinier until it was barely an inch long, and Harry was suddenly grasping a foot long monster cock thicker than a beer can. He decided to take what he could from Jeff’s balls as well, and soon he had an orange resting below his huge member, leaving Jeff with almost no manhood at all.

“Fuck boy, is that all you got to work with? Here, play with mine, and find out what a real cock feels like,” Harry said, and guided Jeff’s hand away from his miniscule cock onto his, both of them trying to suppress groans in the sparsely occupied theater. Jeff was in heaven–he hated his small cock, but given how much he loved bottoming for filthy men, he didn’t mind too much–especially when he was on a date with a monster like Harry. Jeff could barely contain himself, when he felt his tiny cock suddenly start leaking precum uncontrollably. He’d never been much of a leaker, what with his tiny balls, but now–he already could feel it running down the sides of his cock and onto his boxers.

Of course, Jeff didn’t know that his sudden leakage was the result of another one of the fairy’s spells. Harry had been given the ability to control the quantity of any kind of fluid excreted by any man he wanted–and there were all sorts of fluids Harry felt like toying with. He was going to make Jeff leak precum spontaneously for as long as he wanted him to–he hoped he would have a stinking wet spot on his crotch by the end of the film. Jeff’s attention didn’t stay on his cock for long, as he went back to admiring Jeff’s huge, nasty cock, and he felt Harry hand start guiding his face down into his crotch. “Go on boy, suck it–I want to feel that nasty shaft buried down your throat–and make sure you get all that cheese under my foreskin–I know that will drive you wild…”

Jeff struggled for a moment as he resisted the multitude of changes in the world around him, but the fairy’s magic shut him down at every turn. He knew this wasn’t what he wanted, that his cock wasn’t supposed to be an inch long straw leaking precum like a faucet, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything about it, and the more time passed, the more he just felt crazy. And he did want that cock, and that cheesy foreskin. When Harry’s hand pushed him down, he didn’t resist, and swallowed as much of the cock as he could, though he could take more than he’d expected, thanks to the small boost in jaw flexibility and throat size Harry gave him. In fact, he could take it all the way to the hilt without gagging once.

In the dim light, Harry watched the boy work, and decided that there needed to be a few more swaps here and there–just for some added fun. Never in his life had Harry ever had the chance to be muscular, and he’d always wondered what it would be like–so he gave Jeff a large percentage of his own body fat, while removing as much muscle as he could without endangering him. Jeff himself was already a bit chunky, but he had to keep adjusting his position as his gut grew out, his chins expanded, and his gunt swallowed his tiny cock whole. Harry was a bit worried, when he realized his planned change would make Jeff grow out of his clothes, but they seemed to expand with him–his button down shirt expanding to fit his massive gut, his khakis doubling in size to match Jeff’s wide ass and thighs.

Harry himself felt the fat melt off of him, as his body showed off muscles he’d never seen. Neither he nor Jeff had been particularly muscled, but between the two of them, Harry had managed to pick up enough to look like a decent hunk, with well defined pecs, ridged abs and thick arms, not to mention it showed off his cock really damn well, and gave him a great view of Jeff’s fat face chowing down on his filthy cock, but Harry still felt really old, with his greying hair. He decided that if Jeff was going to hold onto his fat for a while, he could hold onto some of Harry’s years as well. He decided to drop back to the age of twenty one, which would give Jeff close to thirty years, bringing him up to the ripe old age of fifty six.

He watched as his beard and hair suddenly lightened, and his new muscles suddenly filled with a new, remarkable vigor. He felt amazing, and his cock! He was so horny it took all of his effort to not cum the next time Jeff deep throated him. Looking down in the dim light, he could see that Jeff had grown up just as quickly–his hair receding back, face lined with wrinkles, and the blow job was starting to wind him. Harry decided to give Jeff a bit off his own beard, and also took Jeff’s hair, leaving him with an inch long beard and a perfectly smooth, bald head, Harry’s own hair growing a bit longer past his shoulders. To finish Jeff’s transformation into an old, chubby bear, Harry reluctantly sacrificed most of his thick pelt, watching it sprout all over Jeff’s new fatty rolls instead. Watching the bearded old man suck his cock was too much, and Harry unloaded down Jeff’s throat, cumming harder than he had in years–though that didn’t make sense. He was just twenty one after all, every cum shot felt like that.

He saw Jeff swallowing his cum eagerly, and when the flow stopped, Jeff started to come off the cock, but with one hand Harry pushed him back down and a second later, Jeff’s mouth was flooded with piss. He’d never tasted anything so rank, and he choked a bit at first, getting some on Harry’s clothes and on his new beard, but he caught onto the rhythm and was soon drinking that down just as eagerly, his new love of filth urging him on, not to mention his attraction to the hot, muscular redneck who he still couldn’t believe had agreed to go out on a date with a fat geezer like himself. After he finished pissing, Harry finally allowed Jeff up, but only after he’d sucked whatever piss he could get from the front of his shorts, and then let Harry lick the piss from his beard, and Harry decided it was time for Jeff to start getting dirtier.

While they made out, one of Harry’s hands snaked down under Jeff’s massive gut, and found the sticky mess of precum his earlier spell had generated, and he started feeding it to Jeff on his fingers, Jeff happily sucking the filth off them as well. Harry also wanted Jeff to start getting musky, so he used his spell to kick Harry’s sweat production into high gear. Beads started dotting Jeff’s suddenly red face, and sweat stains started formed under his armpits. Harry wanted to get in the middle of it, so he worked his head under Jeff’s sweaty gut and into his humid crotch, rubbing his face in the cum and sweat, listening to Jeff’s muffled groans as he licked away at his tiny cock. Harry must have lost track of time in there, because he was caught off guard by Jeff hauling him out by the back of his shirt, back into the fully lighted theater.

In the sudden light, Harry was struck by how much he had changed Jeff in the dark theater. Where a young cub had sat when the movie started, there was now an elderly, obese bear, dressed in a shirt and tie with a nicely trimmed grey beard and completely bald head–thought the shirt was nearly soaked through with ripe sweat. Harry couldn’t see himself, but he could sense from how Jeff was looking back at him that he was a fine piece of muscular redneck, though maybe it was just his funk making Jeff look at him like that–not that it mattered. They saw the ushers come into the theater, and Jeff said in a deep voice, “well young man, what say you and I zip up and skedaddle?”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing,” Harry said, tucked his cock back into his tight camo shorts and helped Jeff stand up, and together they made their way out of the theater, Harry flaunting his shorts damp with piss and the muscles stretching against his sleeveless tee, and enjoying the stench of cum and sweat rolling off Jeff next to him. Harry felt sexier, and hornier, than he’d ever felt before, and the night was still young. Jeff and him had plenty more to do before dawn, and he hadn’t even tried all of the fairy’s spells yet. Things were only going to get hotter, and filthier, from here on out.

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Never Heckle a Hypnotist

What’s the story with who? Oh, Robbie? The guy guzzling piss down at the end of the bar?

Ha, funny story there–let me just tell you this–never heckle a hypnotist.

What, you want the whole story? Alright, but look, I confess that it might have been a bit of a stunt, but you have to understand what it’s been like for us gay bars here in this economy, right? Guys just aren’t coming out as much, and if they need to hook up, they just use one of those fancy apps of theirs–and look, we didn’t have anything like that back in my red sock days, so you’ll understand that I was feeling a little desperate. I mean, how desperate do you have to be to hire a fucking sex hypnotist for a show? Even I felt a little silly talking to the guy when we were setting it up. Besides, the guy didn’t sound all that impressive over the phone, but he offered me a deal, and I was willing to try anything.

But anyway, this is really about Robbie, not about me and my bar–regardless, I just want you to know that I didn’t mean for it to happen–it was his fault really for not keeping his mouth shut, let me tell you. Robbie…Robbie is, well, was a troublemaker, a rabble rouser, whatever you want to call it. He mucked up shit is what I’m saying. If he could say something to get a rise out of you, he would, and let’s just say he wasn’t really well liked at the bar, and never went home with anyone who really got to know him, but he was a staple, right? You got used to the inane bullshit which generally spewed out of his mouth after a while, still, I probably should have warned the hypnotist that there would be heckler in the audience.

And I might as well point out Jimmy too–he’s Robbie’s, well, I guess you could say boyfriend, although I think Robbie only calls him “daddy” in public now. Trust me, he wasn’t always the cocky leather bear you see over there.

Back before the show, he was a just a meek little clean shaven cub. Cute, but really, really quiet. He and Robbie, well, Robbie took advantage of him I think, made friends, they had sex a couple of times, but Robbie, well, I don’t know the details. Suffice it to say, Jimmy got burned–bad. But that’s what Robbie does I guess–well not anymore, that’s one good thing. He’s too busy drinking piss to throw shit around now.

So the night of the show rolled around, and we had a decent crowd in here–maybe thirty or forty, and Robbie was present of course and already drunk by the time the performance rolled around. Now we tend to cater to an older, bearish crowd, so everyone was pretty lackluster when the small, slight hypnotist took the stage. I too, was a bit disappointed, because I was hoping he would at least be some decent eye candy, but eh, whatever. He did his little introduction, and then asked for volunteers from the audience. He got a few good looking guys to go up there–he could at least read the tastes of the room.

One person he did manage to get up on stage was Jimmy. I don’t know why he worked so hard at getting him up there, but the shy cub gave in eventually. I don’t really remember the rest of the volunteers, it was mostly the regulars who were open enough with everyone to not mind being made a fool for the rest of our amusement. Anyway, the hypnotist got the inductions going, and I kept looking over at Robbie, knowing he was going to say something stupid and that I’d have to haul his ass out to the curb, but he stayed quiet for the meantime.

Once they were all under, he did some pretty generic stuff, making them strip down to their underwear as fast as they could, then making the loser get down and lick the feet of the winner. Making them all get uncontrollably hard and horny, but unable to get their underwear down or touch their dicks. It was pretty funny, actually, but then Robbie started his shit. Heckling the guy, telling him how stupid his act was. I let it go on for a minute, and then started over, ready to kick him out, but a stern look from the hypnotist stopped me, and I realized I might have misjudged the young guy.

He put the other volunteers to sleep, and then addressed Robbie, inviting him up onto the stage. Robbie, of course, insisted that he couldn’t be hypnotized, but everyone else had had enough of his shit too, so eventually he was forced up onto the stage, where he stumbled about, drunk off his ass. Needless to say, little miss I-can’t-be-hypnotized was out like a light in about thirty seconds flat, and then the fun really began.

He stood Robbie up and laid into his ass in front of the audience, belittling and insulting him, but always telling him how he was a naughty little boy who probably couldn’t even hold in his piss, and sure enough, less than a minute later, the front of Robbie’s jeans darkened with a tell-tale stain.

He’d actually gone and pissed himself, and the whole room started roaring with laughter. Robbie hadn’t even noticed yet, and as soon as the look of horror crossed his face, the hypnotist said “Freeze,” and Robbie couldn’t move a muscle while the rest of us hooted and hollered with glee. But the hypnotist wasn’t done, not by a long shot. With Robbie immobilized and humiliated, he stood He stood Jimmy up and started working on him.

He asked Jimmy how his father had treated him–hell, we all could tell he’d probably had a rough childhood, like most of us–and he described a rough, demanding man with a definite affinity for corporal punishment, especially spankings. Well the hypnotist started winding him up, tell him that it was time for Jimmy to step into his daddy’s shoes, and show the little boy on stage what happens to him when he’s naughty. When he unfroze them both, Jimmy stormed over, grabbed Robbie by the forearm and hauled him over his knee, pounding his ass and hollering at him in a strange, deep voice about how it’s time to take his punishment, for being a naughty little pants-pisser.

Robbie obviously wasn’t used to the treatment and started to cry, but the hypnotist kept them both quiet and told them what to say, narrating a scene where a little boy who loves pissing himself finally admits to his daddy that what he wants, more than anything else in the world, is to be a urinal. I swear, I know it sounds nuts, but that’s how it ended up, with Robbie bent over Jimmy’s knee shouting for the whole room to hear how he wanted to be a urinal, “Please daddy, make me a urinal!” and the hypnotist turns to us, and asks whether we should help this naughty little boys dream come true, and of course we hoot and holler yes like a pack of wolves.

Well, the hypnotist starts telling Robbie about everything it takes to be a good urinal for a men’s room, gets him naked aside from his underwear, then sets him down on his knees, on the stage, and tells all the guys up there that Robbie needs to practice a bit before taking his “daddy’s” piss. So they all piss in his mouth and down the front of him, and Robbie just can’t get fucking enough of it. I mean, I knew then, that this was going to far, that we had taken a left turn at crazy, but I couldn’t stop it–I was laughing too hard.

So he drank all their piss, and he’s fucking soaked, when it’s finally Jimmy’s turn, but the hypnotist has a challenge for them. He wants them to stand as far away from each other, and see if Jimmy can still get his son doused in his piss, and by golly, that piss arced a good six feet, I’m not lying. Sure, the hypnotist worked a little magic on Jimmy’s bladder, but hey, it was still hot as hell, and I’m not even into that shit.

It was quite the finale, and we all gave the hypnotist quite the ovation, and he had a little chat with all of his volunteers before letting them off for the night, although they were all left with a few tweaks that were only supposed to last a night. Jimmy, well, he kept his big daddy persona with the deep voice and confidence to boot–and Robbie, fuck, he had no fucking clue. The hypnotist told him that for the rest of the evening, he would think that his clothes were perfectly dry, and that he would be unable to use the bathroom, pissing his pants instead, and he would be forced to announce it to the room every time it happened. Lastly, and perhaps worst of all, he was going to keep drinking all night, but instead of going to the bar, he’d ask around for piss to fill his glass with from men in the room, thinking it was beer the entire time.

Fuck, watching him walk around thinking he didn’t have a ton of men’s piss soaked into his clothes, including Jimmy’s, who he’d treated so poorly, it was priceless. Hell, when he wasn’t looking, guys kept pissing on him, at least when they weren’t providing him with bottomless refills in his glass. He left that night with a stomach so bloated, I figured he would piss gallons when it all finally worked its way out of him. Still, the bar was such a fucking mess, I was here for hours mopping up piss after closing time.

Well, a few days passed, and Robbie was suspiciously absent from the bar. When he finally did show up, it was with a foggy memory, and no one really wanted to razz him too hard, to be honest. But Jimmy, man, had he become a cocky asshole, though still nicer than Robbie had been. That little personality adjustment had really gone to his head, and he was getting laid right and left–and topping all of them, or so I’d heard. He’d also gone out and bought some new leather gear, and started smoking cigars so he would look older. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he went and dyed his beard grey, he’s so wrapped up in looking like a good leather daddy now. Anyway, when he saw Robbie, he just wouldn’t let up, and to my surprise, Robbie was the submissive one this time around. By the end of the night, Jimmy had Robbie down at the end of the bar, right where he is now, drinking down piss once again like it was his favorite thing, and the two have been inseparable ever since, believe it or not.

I will say though, that having a bar urinal has been great for business. I’ve never really made inroads with the whole kink community, but hey, Robbie has been great for that. Besides, the two of them seem happy…god, that’s kind of sick, isn’t it? Well, I’m actually scheduling another performance with the hypnotist for next month–you should come watch it. I think it’s going to be a packed house, but like I said earlier, stay quiet, and never heckle a hypnotist. You never know where you might end up when he’s through with you.

Image Vignette: The Life Sucked Out of Me

This, was me.

This was me before I met my master–before I got the life sucked out of me.

I should explain. I was a hotshot cub, and my real fetish, the one I couldn’t get enough of, was bondage. Something about getting hogtied, of having all the power stripped away from me was the biggest turn on in the world. I was always on the lookout for some top to strap me down and do whatever he wanted to me–unfortunately, I found out the hard way that what some predators want can be…unconventional.

He messaged me, something about an officer wanting to come make an arrest someone aching for punishment. It didn’t have a photo attached, but the scenario sounded fucking sexy. I’d always loved cops, especially in uniform, so I messaged back with an address, and said I’d be waiting for a warrant. My reply came from a knock on the door. When I opened it, I had just enough time to take in the silver daddy filling out his leather uniform, chuffing on a big cigar and damn, was he hot. Older than I usually liked my men, but he would do just fine.

Then, he had me shoved up against the wall and his handcuffs around my wrists, the entire force of his weight on me, the cigar in his mouth heating my ear. “Oh yes, you’ll do nicely…good and young and fresh…” he said. He pulled out a chloroform soaked rag and covered my face, and before I could even get out a safe word, I was asleep.

I woke up back in the lair, in one of master’s playrooms, although he wasn’t my master then–not yet. I woke up bound to a wrought iron bed, my hands in mitts and chained to the posts, my legs spread eagle to the bottom corners, and stripped down to my jock, and my harness. I struggled for a few minutes, and even the terror of an actual kidnapping was enough to quell the raging hardon distending my jock. It was a scene right out of my most twisted fantasies, and I was loving it, and yet, what did he have planned for me? Would he let me go?

I don’t know how long until he returned, it could have been minutes or hours, but he did come back, still in uniform. “Hello boy–welcome to my sanctum,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll learn to love it here, like the rest of my thralls. Still, I’ve had a few passings lately and I need to replenish my…stock. Still, the first time is such a pleasure, I’m sure neither of us will mind.” He grinned, and I saw something I hadn’t in the doorway–the fangs. I freaked. I begged, I pleaded and fought and struggled, while he removed one of his gloves, licked his finger, and ran the saliva up my chest. The sensation was indescribable, the burn of the spit became pure pleasure coursing through my body, and in my sudden convulsions of delight I felt my cock began to leak, and he bent over, sucking the precum from my jock. “Delicious…you will be a feast, I can already tell–I won’t have to eat for days!” He pulled back my jock, revealing my red, throbbing cock, and he looked up at me, “Well thrall, are you ready to have the life sucked out of you?”

Before I could say a word, his mouth was around my cock, and I screamed from the pain of his teeth sinking in, my sudden, forceful ejaculation, and the pleasure from his spit dribbling down the shaft of my cock. He began sucking, and I swear, I could feel him latch onto my very spirit, and begin drawing it from my body.

My hair began to recede at first, and turn grey, my brilliant red goatee turning pure white, as the changes worked their way down my body. My chest hair turning grey, my skin taking growing pale, toned body growing fat until I had a prominent gut, cheeks becoming sunken and sallow. I had no energy to fight, I could only lay there and allow the vampire to have his way with me, to take my youth, feed from me. I thought things couldn’t get worse than that, but they did. I could feel him manipulating my mind, erasing my memories, replacing them with love and devotion to him. I was made to serve him, to obey him, to be his thrall. It consumed my mind, it is all I can think about any longer.

I do not know how long it took for him to feast upon my soul. The men I have seen him eat since then, he can drain them in minutes, or hours. Sometimes, when I enter the room to clean up, there is nothing but a husk, or a pile of dust, but I was lucky. He chose me, he remade me into his servant, and I will be forever thankful.

When he was sated, he stood again, wiping the cum and blood from his lip, and I saw him, my master, in his true form, restored to his glory.

The hole where my soul, my will had been minutes or hours before now ached with a burning need to service him, to obey his every command until I should pass on. He released me from my bondage, and I accepted my new bonds of the spirit, kneeling before him, now old and decrepit, worshiping and servicing his massive member, and then he gave me my task.

I bring him men. Any man will do, but my master prefers them young and willful. I pose as the lonely daddy, the sugar daddy. I buy them drinks, I ply them with drugs, I bring them to the master’s lair and he feasts, and in return, he gives me strength. Small trickles of youth from a kiss, or his cum, which will keep me alive for a few more days, long enough to bring a new victim, and receive what I need most. I am a thrall of a vampire, and this…this is me.