The House Made Me Gay (Part 9)

Marcus sobbed, in the circle, looking down at his fat body, covered in hair, stinking, unable to believe what had just happened to him. Mr. Woodrow, confident that the changes were finished, and that Marcus most likely posed no threat to him, broke the circle, stepped forward, wiped a bit of cum up on his finger and gave in a taste. Musky, yes, but most certainly entirely human. A pity really–a little bit of demon can go a long way, in his interests. Still, unless he wanted to call the demon back–a very risky endeavor, Marcus was just this now–a fat, hairy, stinking pig of a man. Not a terrible outcome, by any measure.

“Oh god, what the fuck happened to me? How…Can you change me back? Please tell me you can change me back!” Marcus said, sobbing up at Mr. Woodrow.

“You go messing around in one of my workshops, boy, and this is getting off lightly, as far as I’m concerned,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a grin, “Besides, why should I change you back? Maybe I like the way you look now. Maybe it’s an improvement.”

Marcus froze, and looked at him. “Please, I just want to be normal again, that’s all.”

“Normal, eh? I think we can manage that at least,” Mr. Woodrow said, and before Marcus could ask what he meant by that exactly, a little beam of light shot out of his finger, pierced Marcus’ head, and he went a bit limp, eyes glazed over, in a hypnotic stupor.

“Come on then, let’s get you home.”

Marcus followed Mr. Woodrow out of the workshop, unlooking and unaware of everything going on around him, as they made their way into the house, upstairs to his room, where he was still in the process of unpacking, and Mr. Woodrow shut the door behind them. “Now, you’re going to forget all about the last two hours, Marcus,” he said, plucking the key from his head, “You no longer see the shed, and from now on, everything is going to seem normal–but here’s what normal is, from now on…”

And so, Mr. Woodrow filled Marcus in on his new normal. He’d been living with Mr. Woodrow for most of the summer now, in his memory, and he loved it here, naturally. He was no longer going to college–he was too stupid for school, and he’d dropped out, opting to get a job as a trucker and delivery driver instead–something that allowed him to pursue his more…piggy interests–and what piggy interests he had.

With a wave of his hand, most of Marcus’s things disappeared from his room, and were replaced by, well, a mess. The floor was littered with filthy clothing, most of it Marcus’s, but much of the gear was from other trucker buddies–as well as Taylor and Quinn. There was also an older computer in the room, and an old TV, a stack of old VHS tapes next to it. After all, so much porn these days seems sanitized to Marcus…but he’s an old hand at this sort of thing now.

The hair on his body is turning grey now, wrinkles lining his face. Before long, Marcus is no longer college aged at all, but in his mid-fifties, with decades of knowledge and experience packed in his piggy mind, crowding out all of his other concerns. Satisfied that Marcus would me more than satisfied with his new normal, Mr. Woodrow snapped his finger, the daze lifting from Marcus’s eyes with a little spark, and then, without warning, Mr. Woodrow shoved him over the side of the filthy bed and gave him a rough fuck.

Marcus didn’t mind–after all, Mr. Woodrow gave him a discount on the rent, on the condition he could use his piggy hole anytime he wanted. Marcus usually…topped, in his mind, but for the right fellow, he was more than happy to roll over. Mr. Woodrow filled him up, told his piggy to be good, and Marcus leered at him over his shoulder. After Mr. Woodrow left, Marcus was feeling frisky–it wasn’t long before he sniffed his way downstairs, to where Taylor was working out. When he saw the fat, hairy, stinking fellow come down the stairs, Taylor knew what to expect of course–Quinn had an arrangement with their other housemate, that he could use his boy’s hole whenever he wasn’t home, and Taylor wasn’t going to object one bit…he liked how rough Marcus was.

He pinned Taylor on the floor, drove his massive cock into him with a few thrusts, and rutted with him for half an hour, until he pumped one of his massive loads up Taylor’s well used hole, then slid down and ate the young man out as well, flipping him over and sucking him off. Just another happy member of the house–and another was due to arrive the next day, as well.

That fellow was Ethan. Like Marcus, he had a hard time believing that he had someone agreed to lease a place with these three disgusting, horny, perverse fellows, but Mr. Woodrow seemed so kind, that maybe…maybe he’d been mistaken, and he found his way to his room, and started unpacking. But what was waiting for him in his room, when he got there?

Alright, I think this will be the last fellow to join the house. After this, I’ll move onto a Halloween something for October! I have a few ideas, so we’ll see what happens. As always, my patrons have a bonus poll over here!

Caption: Arctos Influencers

“Ok, look cute–not too cute though. Don’t want anyone thinking we’re too snotty.”

“I know dear.”

“Good…not good enough. Look away, over at something.”

“At what?”

“I don’t care, just–look like there’s something interesting going on, over to the side there. You’re with me, you love it, but there’s stuff going on too. Mystery gets likes.”

“Alright, fine.”

Good…yeah, that looks great.”

It was the closest Nate had gotten to an actual admission that he was in a relationship with Mark–well, with Mark and his instagram account. Everything had to be documented–and staged just right so he could keep building his followers. He’d spent an hour on Nate’s wardrobe just this morning–and he was already exhausted, and wondering if this was what he really wanted. Sure, he was hot, and internet famous…

Nate sighed, while Mark uploaded the photo. When it was done, Nate watched the likes, and follows, rack up on his own page something fierce. It did feel good, didn’t it? Then, much to his surprise, an email popped up in his inbox, from some company named Arctos. He asked Mark about it.

“Oh, some weird as company, keeps trying to get me to be an influencer for them. Don’t know why–I am so not their aesthetic. Go take a look.”

Nate went to the site–and sure enough, the page was full of big, hairy, bearded men–the exact opposite of them in most every way. Nate laughed, but couldn’t help but be a bit curious. A little later, while Mark was watching TV, he got back on his phone, and clicked the offer–just to see what they wanted. The screen changed into a swirling pattern of red and black-like flannel, but…so much more than that. It was fascinating, and Nate couldn’t look away from it, no matter how hard he tried.

“What the–who the fuck are you?”

Something shook Nate out of his focus on his screen, and Mark was standing there, looking at him with utter disgust…but he just didn’t understand. “I…Look at this offer man, I think…I think we could do this,” Nate said, his voice…deep, gravelly, and so sensual all of a sudden. He turned the phone towards Mark, and as soon as he saw the swirl of pattern, he too went blank…and Nate watched his twinky boyfriend start to grow, packing on muscle, packing on hair, a thick beard pushing out of his chin and cheeks…and fuck, did he look sexy as a bear.

Needless to say, Nate and Mark have never been happier, and the influencer deal with Arctos has been working out great. Of course, a lot of Mark’s followers were confused at first, how they went from following a slim twink to a burly, hairy, bearded bear…but the flannel he was wearing smoothed out their concerns quickly–and lots of them used the link provided to purchase the shirts for themselves. After all, who…wouldn’t want to be just like them, those two sexy bears in the photo?

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 5)

Dinner was good, but boring. In line with his new look, Taylor made a simple dinner–chicken breast, brown rice, a side of vegetables–high protein for his growing physique, but for Quinn…it just wasn’t quite enough, or what he was really feeling like. They chatted a bit, Quinn trying to ask about Taylor’s research, but not really getting anywhere with him. Taylor mostly wanted to talk about his workouts, and about how nice their landlord was, and how much he liked living here so far. He was sure that Quinn would feel the same way soon enough.

After dinner, Quinn ran to the store to get some food of his own, and to get a few things on Taylor’s list. Things would have gone fine, probably, if he hadn’t caught sight of his reflection in the doors of one of the freezer cases…and seen those same, shining eyes from the mirror in his bedroom. Quinn just stared at them for a moment, popping an erection right there in the grocery aisle, and then he went back out into the parking lot, grabbed a cart, and started filling it. Ice cream, chips, cookies, soda–things Quinn usually never bought all just sounded so good to him all of a sudden–and what was wrong with enjoying himself, really? It wasn’t like he was going to be able to mooch off Taylor, since he was on such a health kick. He checked out, loaded everything into his car, and then drove home. Taylor was in his room, presumably studying, and so Quinn was left to his own devices–he put the groceries away, and then tore into some chips, still ravenous after the meager dinner Taylor had made. He took the chips with him back to his room, planning on playing a computer game or something, but he never made it that far–his reflection caught his eyes, and he just sat in front of the mirror for the rest of the evening, only leaving his room to go down and get more food, and the rest of the time he spent jacking off, feeding load after load of cum to the mirror–before collapsing into bed, exhausted.

The next morning, Quinn woke up hungry–but before that, he needed to take care of something in the bathroom. After taking a piss, he looked at himself in the mirror–and he was certain something was off. His stubble seemed too thick for one thing. He usually only had to shave a couple of days a week, but it was coming in thick, and dark after just two. He thought about shaving it for a moment, but the eyes of his reflection sparkled for a moment, and he changed his mind. It looked…good, didn’t it? He admired himself in the mirror, the slight paunch that hadn’t been there a few days ago looked nice too…but it might look better if it was even bigger…

No, wait, why had he thought that?

The eyes of his reflection sparkled a bit brighter now, and Quinn went a little blank, hauled out his cock, and started masturbating right there in the bathroom, looking at himself. He looked good. Hot, really. He liked masturbating to himself, liked admiring himself, wanted…yeah, wanted to get fatter, and hairier, and…

He didn’t cum–but he came back to himself at the edge, and pulled back. He could…cum in his room, but first he needed breakfast. He went down to the kitchen and stuffed himself, then went back up to his room, where much of his day was spent the same way–sitting there in front of the mirror, masturbating, and the changes continued.

A week later, Quinn was hardly the same young man who had moved into the house. The scrawny, five foot six inch fellow was now nearly six feet tall, and had packed on close to 100 pounds in just a few days. His once hairless skin was now covered with a thick layer of body hair, across his chest and shoulders, down his forearms–and across his sizable gut. He was also balding–enough to make him look a few years older at least. It had distressed him, when he’d first noticed it, but after some time in front of the mirror, admiring it, he realized it just made him look even more manly. He liked looking manly. He liked men.

That was a thought that had been occurring to him more and more lately. He liked men–and since the only man he was around regularly was Taylor, Quinn found himself liking him more and more. He would fantasize about how he had caught him masturbating after that workout, think about what he could have done if he’d been more of a man at the time, and not so scared. Then again, he was a man now, wasn’t he? He stroked his larger, seven inch cock…and started to wonder if there wasn’t a way he might get the two of them to do a little exploring together.

Alright, how are we going to bring these two together? You can choose two of the four options. The bonus patreon poll is over here–as always, patron votes count five times more than votes in the regular poll!

Caption: Trent’s New ID Badge

Trent stepped out of the elevator and into the basement of his building, still a bit confused by what was going on today. He’d tried to get through security, but it wasn’t the usual guys standing at the metal detector–instead, it was two massive, hulking meatheads–both of them easily six and a half feet tall, who had taken one look at his ID card, and told him he needed it to get updated before he could enter, and they directed him down here, to the basement.

He was frustrated–there was an 8:30 meeting he was about to be late for, and there was nothing wrong with his picture! Still, if he could do this quick, it would be fine. Sure enough, there was a security office down there, also staffed by a meathead, who waved him back–and there, he found a chubby fellow, wearing some dirty looking suit, waiting for him. “Ah, here for an updated ID?” the man said with a leer, “I’ll need you to hand over your old one first.”

Trent did so, and the man looked him up and down–and Trent could see him…groping himself like a pervert. He was disgusted, and tried to leave–but discovered he couldn’t move an inch.

“On your knees please–I’m going to need this photo to be very accurate, you see…” the man said.

Trent found himself forced down, and the man stood up, dropped his pants, and pulled out his cock, inches from Trent’s face. He could only register his horror for a moment, before the man, after a couple of pumps, sprayed his load all over Trent’s face and the top of his shirt. The man huffed for a moment, and then put his cock away. “There–you’ll be perfect now, I think–go stand against the wall so I can take your photo please.”

Trent got up, horrified, and stood where the man had said, smiled when he said to smile, and the flash…was so bright. He rubbed his eyes, a bit dazed, and licked his lips…and tasted cum. Unable to help himself, he started wiping it off and licking it off his fingers, moaning, his own cock hardening in the front of his pants.

The man laughed, watching Trent humiliate himself, and when Trent finally pulled his hands away, he saw the man had his ID ready–with his new picture.

Below it, for his job title, it just said “Office Cumdump, Floor 8.”

He screamed at the man then, told him off, and the man just laughed at him. “If you aren’t happy with that photo–I’m happy to take another one. Go back and stand on the X again please.”

Trent found himself unable to refuse–and after another flash, even brighter than the first, he got a new ID card–but this time, his face was different. He looked to be twenty years older, and fatter–with a thick double chin that even his beard couldn’t hide. In horror, he looked down at himself and saw he was, indeed, fatter, and older, and…hungrier.

“If you still aren’t happy with that–I can make an even better one,” the man said with a grin, “I could even change that title there too, if you feel like it.” Trent fled the office, ID in hand, the man laughing uproariously–but didn’t get very far–he saw the meathead in the office, and stopped to suck him off–and then sucked off the two muscleheads at the security station too. He was the office cumdump after all, and he had a new job to do.

Straight Town

Last Updated – 8/12/19. It’s finished! Thanks all for your patience with this one. New stuff will be coming tomorrow.

NOTE: Click the “Continue Reading” button below first, before using the links in the table of contents, or else most won’t work!

Supplemental Writings

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Patreon Bonus: Father’s Day Tales

There’s a new set of short stories over on my Patreon page for supporters! If you’re already supporting me, you can go find all three of them here, and if you’d like to know more about what supporting me can get you, then you can take a look at my Patreon page! As a teaser, here’s the first story of three.

A Pipe for Daddy

“It was a deal actually, if you buy them new, it usually costs a hundred or two hundred bucks.”

“Would he want one that somebody else has smoked out of? That seems weird to me.”

Parker shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll mind, honestly. If anything, it’s a bit easier, because you have to put a lot of work into a new pipe, making sure you smoke it right the first few times, or something like that. A used one is easier, assuming it’s in good condition.”

His roommate, Robert, just looked suspicious, as usual. Pipe smoking was sort of a dying trend, Parker supposed–he only knew so much about it because his father, now widowed, smoked them all the time, and was always looking for new ones to add to his collection. Parker smoked them on occasion as well, but not with the same regularity–it was a bond they shared though, and Parker was thankful for it. He might give this one a test drive later, when Roger left for his usual date on Saturday night with some of the other guys.

Roger did think it was weird–smoking a pipe was for crotchety old men, right? Still, if that was the strangest thing about his roommate, then that wasn’t really much to complain about. As planned, Roger took off for the evening not long after that, and Parker settled out on the balcony of their apartment–where he could smoke according to the lease–packed the pipe with his usual blend, lit it, took a draw–and coughed. The tobacco didn’t taste right in it–not like the cheap blend he usually bought. Something richer, deeper, smoother. Parker took another draw, pulling the smoke deeper than he usually did, feeling the heat suffuse him, the smoke filled up crevices in him he hadn’t known existed. He didn’t cough once, just sighed out a huge plume and sat back, content with his pipe. Yes–his pipe. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving this one away, his…favorite pipe. No–why had he even entertained the idea? He kept smoking, his head growing foggy, floating, feeling the smoke slide deeper into him…but there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with anything.

He stretched out, unaware that his bones were snapping and growing longer and thicker, his body inflating with muscle and fat. The hair on his head began to recede, as a thick beard grew in across his face. There was a surge of horniness that made his cock spring to life–but he did have an inkling of modesty still. He…shouldn’t smoke in the apartment, but what did he care, really? He lumbered in, pulling off his too tight clothes as he did, and gripped his rock hard, eight inch cock, thinking about…about girls? No–not…not girls. His…his boy. Yeah, his son, where was the fucker? He’d gone out–fuck! He was just going to have to nurse this for a few hours until he got back–and then that fucker was going to get it.

Roger returned later that evening, frustrated and horny. He’d hit on a few girls, but none of them had been interested, which meant it was just going to be him and his hand tonight. Roger was strikingly handsome, but tended to be a bit crude and unruly–especially towards women–and so didn’t have much luck in that arena. He opened the door to the apartment, and immediately coughed, the thick smoke inside stinging his eyes and throat. Why was there so much of it? Parker only ever smoked on the balcony, but if the scent hadn’t been the sweet scent of Daddy’s pipe smoke, he would have thought something was on fire.

Wait, Daddy’s pipe smoke? Why had he thought that? He breathed the smoke in more, unaware that his breathing was calming down, his body relaxing.

“That you boy?” a voice called out from deeper in the apartment, “About fucking time you got home–thought I was gonna have to stay up smoking half the night.”

In the doorway to the kitchen a man appeared, smoking the pipe Parker had purchased earlier, but the man was not Parker. He was massive, easily six foot six, close to 275 or even 300 pounds and full of muscle, body covered in hair, with…with a huge cock erect, and pointing right at Roger–who couldn’t tear his eyes off his daddy’s cock.

He fought as best he could, but Daddy bent him over the kitchen table, tore down his jeans, and forced his way inside him–fucking his boy rough, just how he liked it. How they both liked it. The smoke was making it hard to think, hard to think about anything other than how horny he was for his daddy, forgetting all about those women from earlier. The only man he wanted was daddy, after all.

The next day–Father’s day–Roger and his father, Parker, loaded themselves up into the truck together and drove across town to visit Parker’s brother–a fellow pipe smoker. He didn’t have any kids of his own, and usually got lonely–but thankfully, Roger loves his uncle’s cock as much as his daddies–or at least he would soon enough. He was surprised, at first, when the strange, massive man appeared on his doorstep with a young man, saying he was his brother, and this was his nephew–but as soon as he caught the first whiff of Parker’s smoke from the pipe, he started to…remember a bit better. Inside, the rooms full of smoke, he remembered better and better, until he was balls deep in his nephew’s hole, inhaling smoke from his brother’s mouth–it was the best father’s day the new family had had in ages.

Caption: I Only Fuck Dads

It was just supposed to be some harmless roleplay, or so Henry thought. The young guy was one of the hottest fuckers he’d seen in a while, and one who was available for a fuck, but when he’d looked at Henry’s page, he’d almost turned him down, telling him he was more into dads–whatever that meant. Still, he’d been open to playing, but told Henry that they’d probably have to roleplay a bit, to get him into the mood. If that meant the guy called him daddy, while Henry fucked him, then he could get behind that, he supposed–he’d been with stranger guys than that. But things…well, this is not what he’d expected, at all.

“Come on daddy, what do you want–tell me what you want!”

“I want you fuck my ass already, boy, fuck it hard–do whatever the fuck you want, just fucking change me the fuck back!” Henry felt himself say, horrified, but he couldn’t moderate the words coming out of his mouth–just like he hadn’t been able to stop the young man from…changing him. He was up on the bed on all fours, and this body–he was fat! He was fat, and hairy, and his hairline was receding, and…and the young fellow was just circling him, thinking about him, and Henry didn’t know why he didn’t just fuck him already!

“Hmm…just not quite…what I’m feeling like today. I think I know what would be hot though…tell me daddy, tell me again what you want.”

“Aww jeepers boy, I sure would like it if you would just put your big tool up in daddy’s hole back there ya know?”

That wasn’t his voice–what the fuck had happened to his voice? It was…nasally, and sounded like he was from the midwest.

“Fuck yeah–that’s better, getting me hard daddy, listening to you ask me all polite like that. That how you talk to your wife daddy? When you want to have sex with her?”

He didn’t have a wife–but…but there were these new memories, of a woman. His age–his new age, and he could…remember everything about her, fuck!

“I wonder what she would say, if she knew her polite, buttoned down, conservative husband never went bowling on Thursdays like he says, but he comes here to get fucked by my hot young cock–because that’s what he really wants. Hell, I bet you two don’t even fuck much, not with that puny thing of yours.”

“Aww no, don’t go and shrink my ding-a-ling too!” Henry said, but it was too late–his eight inch cock shrank down to three inches, buried up in his fat.

“Well, it works well enough to give you a few kids, right? You can’t be a daddy without a few boys running around, right? How old are they?”

“They’re…they’re uh, twelve, fourteen, and seventeen…oh my goodness gracious how do I even know that?”

“Oh, that’s too young…” the man said, and Henry felt his body changing again, adding another decade of life, more hair falling out and turning grey, glasses appearing on his face as his eyesight gets worse, his cock shrivelling up further, no longer able to get hard. “Yeah, your boys are 22, 24, and 27–I bet they’re handsome fuckers, aren’t they? I bet you think about them a lot, about how much you want your boys to fuck you like I fuck you.”

“Oh please boy, please put that horn stick in mah hole, you’re gettin me all riled up, ya know, talking about my boys like that…”

The man fucked him then–fucked him hard, just how Henry liked it, and he fantasized that it was his oldest son, working construction right now, that was fucking his own father, and when the boy was finished, he was a sweaty, heaving mess.

“Alright boy, you had your fun, now change me back, alright?” Henry said.

“And lose my favorite Thursday night hookup? No way! Now go on and get dressed daddy–you should get home before your wife starts to worry about you any more than she already does.”

His old life fading in his mind to a faint shadow, Henry put on his bowling shirt and slacks, and headed down to his sedan, his bowling ball, unused in years now, sitting in the passenger seat beside him. He looked at himself in the mirror, at his jowls, his glasses, his grey mustache…all the lies he’d told over the years to keep his marriage together. What other choice did he have? At least…he had this, once a week. Maybe that would be enough–or maybe the boy up there was only getting started on his new project.

Interactive: Hypno Time! (Part 3)

The results from that last poll were both…conclusive, and also inconclusive. the top picks were fairly obvious, but some of the more…flavorful options were more hotly contested. The next poll will be have some more precise options after this one, that might seem a bit familiar, and that’s why!

Again, like always, it seemed like no time passed from the time Johnny fired the gun and put him into trance, and when he woke up. It was disconcerting, that in one moment he was standing by the door, the windows dark, all of the lights in the apartment on–and in the next moment, he was sitting on the couch, morning sunlight streaming in, and while his mind caught up to the sudden dilation, it was clear, from the soreness of his muscles, that he’d been put through a bit of a wringer over the course of the weekend. But unlike the first time, apparently Johnny wanted him to know what he’d been doing to him, because he was struck by…something else. As his mind caught up, it was like all the memories from the weekend struck him, like a videotape fast forwarding through a movie, and he saw exactly what–and who–he had been doing all weekend long.

Johnny hadn’t told him who he’d be servicing on Friday night, when he put him under, but now, he could remember who was at the door when he answered it, right after being put into his trance. Two older men, hairy as hell, and both of them quite chubby, entered the apartment, looking at him with a bit of suspicion, but a few orders from Johnny put them both at ease, as Max helped them all get comfortable, took off their clothes, massaged their feet…

Max had never been attracted to bigger guys in his entire life. Johnny knew this, of course, knew that Max took tremendous pride in his physique, and went to the gym five days a week. So remembering now how he threw himself at these fat men, how he worshipped him, how they all humiliated him, and degraded him, how they sat on him and made him squirm for breath–it was so much to remember, so much to think about, and he felt a bit…nauseous. The weekend went faster, from the men getting comfortable with him over Friday night, and they stayed with them all weekend, Max waiting on all three of them all weekend long–cooking for them, feeding them, doing everything they asked not because he…wanted to, but because…because they deserved it, didn’t they? Didn’t such handsome men require such care and devotion? Everything was feeling so confused now. They’d left on Sunday night, hadn’t they? But then who was the fat fuck he’d spent last night with, unless…

He shook his head and shuddered, looked over, and there…there was Johnny. Not the Johnny who had shot the ray at him on Friday night–like before, over the course of the weekend, he had…changed. Before this, Johnny had been about as slim and muscular as Max himself, but now…well, now he was quite pudgy, easily 250 pounds if not a bit more. There was something else off about him, standing there smoking his cigarette as he did now–as they both did. He looked…off, his hairline a bit different, some wrinkles around his eyes…was he older?

Not as old as the two men who had stayed with them this weekend–they were easily in their fifties, but Johnny had been a few months younger than Max, and now he looked older, by months, if not a couple of years. “Well come on then, muscle boy–isn’t there something you’d like to do?” Johnny asked, sneering at him.

There…there was. Max got up from the couch, went over, and started kneading Johnny’s small gut, feeling his own cock stiffen, realizing how sexy he was to him, looking like this, how much better he looked now than he had before.

“Yeah, made a proper chaser out of you now–No more complaining about my weight from now on. I think you’d like to see me get a bit bigger, won’t you? More like Dick and Charley from this weekend?”

Max moaned, dropped to his knees, and started sucking on Johnny’s cock, feeling his gut press against his forehead when he went deep. Max shot quick, and then pulled out.

“Alright, enough of that for now, I have to get to work.”

“W-Work?” Max asked, a bit confused–weren’t they both in college?

“Yeah, fucking work–you get so dumb when you come out of trance, it’s kind of hot,” Johnny said. “Not all of us can be a college muscle boy like you. Now, you’ll have a nice big dinner ready for me tonight, won’t you boy?” Johnny said to him, “You do love watching daddy eat, after all.”

Max didn’t really know what to say, as Johnny laughed, grabbed his bag, and left for his job, leaving Max alone in the apartment. Horrified, trying to avoid processing what had happened over the weekend, he went to the gym to burn off some steam, but that, in its own way, made things worse. All of the men he usually enjoyed looking repulsed him now. To his new desires, even Johnny was a bit small for him…and a bit too young. He looked at himself in the mirror, and the usual delight in his physique wasn’t there either. He just felt…ugly now, even though he knew he shouldn’t feel that way at all! Johnny…was it him, or was the gun fucking with both of them?

From that weekend on, Max was in a trance from Friday until Monday, and Johnny would entertain men at their place for the weekend. Sometimes it was the same men, but usually it was different ones, all of them fat, and old–and each weekend that passed, Johnny also got older, and fatter, until he was cresting 325, and his driver’s license said that he was 46. Only Max seemed to have any memory of the way they had been before this, and he didn’t dare say anything, or risk upsetting his daddy. It was clear, however, that Johnny was becoming a bit restless, and the men who came over were becoming…odder, until a long holiday weekend came along, and Johnny told Max he had something special planned for them.

Alright, hopefully the embedded poll below is visible, unlike last week! I tested it, but if you have problems, let me know on twitter or tumblr or discord etc. Here’s the link to the bonus patron poll as well! You get two choices in each poll, so pick your top two!

Caption: Bodysitting for my Great Uncle

My great uncle is…well, he’s an eccentric, you might say. He likes to call himself an inventor, and judging by the massive house where he lives, and all the gadgets he has, I suppose it wouldn’t be too far off. He also never married, devoting all of his time to his work–whatever it is that he does. I was home from college, and he offered me a chance to keep an eye on his house while he was on vacation–but when I got there, he revealed that he had a more…peculiar offer in mind.

He wanted to switch bodies with me, for the length of his vacation! It sounded ridiculous and impossible, but he…did it, and changed us back right away, but fuck, it was trippy. He offered me…more money than I’d ever thought I could have in exchange for borrowing my body for a couple of weeks. I said yes, because why the fuck wouldn’t you? Besides, this house is a palace. I wish I could live here all the time, the place is amazing. I think I’ll go lounge around and watch TV, eat some junk–after all, his body is already going to shit, what does it matter really what I do to it?

It’s towards the end of the first week…and I think something weird is going on. I…I’m having a hard time focusing on things in the house, and it feels like I’m sleeping a lot. More than I should be, I guess. My great uncle told me that I might feel a bit weird, being in his body for so long–and he does feel old. His body aches like hell, even just sitting on the couch…but I feel like I lose hours in front of the TV, and I can’t even remember what I was watching. The one part of me that’s working just fine is my cock–I mean, my uncle’s cock. I’m jacking off all the damn time, it seems like, and I don’t know why I’m so damn horny.

Fuck, that was a sexy fucking video, love watching that old fuck get plowed by both of those boys at once. Makes me so fucking horny, I could blow all over again, just thinking about it. Can’t believe all of this nasty fucking porn my grandson has at his place, all of these old men getting fucked by boys like him, I wonder…wait, that’s…not right, I keep thinking that, but he’s in my body, right?

Fuck, where’d that dildo go? I…never knew how good it could feel, getting fucked, until I got drunk that night, I think, and woke up with that thing inside me, but maybe it’s just this hole that does it. Makes my old cock so damn hard, starts me leaking like nothing else. I mean, nothing besides my grandson’s hot fucking cock. He gets home in a few days, and fuck, I hope he plows my old hole into the fucking ground.

“Yeah, you like that cock in your ass, don’t you you old nasty pervert?”

“Oh fuck boy, fuck! Yeah, fuck your granddaddy with that big cock of yours.”

“Yeah, it is my cock, isn’t it? Sure seems like I know how to use it better than you ever did, isn’t that right?”

“Whatever you say boy, just don’t stop…You’re making my old sloppy hole tingle…”

“Yeah, feels real nice–you like being an old pervert, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck, more than anything.”

“Tell me–it we could, say, swap bodies, would you even want to? Be young and hot again?”

“And never get fucked by my grandson’s cock again? Hell no! Now shut up and fuck me boy, you keep slowing down when you talk.”

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 8)

Harrison Drake–Harry to his friends, and son of Theodore–was down in the den of the house, watching TV on that Saturday afternoon. His father had left for his golf game a few hours before, and his mother was out running errands, leaving him alone in the house, which he honestly preferred. Harry was a couple of years out of college now, and had imagined himself pretty much anywhere else beyond living with his parents at the age of 25. But while he’d landed a few unpaid internships, and the occasional side job, he hadn’t found anything that made him enough money to move out on his own, much less feel like he was going anywhere with his life. He just felt aimless–and his father and mother nagging him constantly didn’t help matters at all. He wanted change–but probably not the kind that the virus had in store for him.

Theodore had well-adopted the so called “internet of things” into his home. Everything from his lights, to his windows, to his door locks, to his speakers and TV were all hooked up to the wifi, and so, the virus had access to everything inside the house–and through it, Terrance was observing the lone Harry on the couch, snacking and staring at the TV, and considering what to do with him.

He was not an ideal subject for the virus. While he was infected, Terrance did not find much in his sexual proclivities that would allow the virus to take hold. Similar to his father, Harry had always been a bit of a prude, and didn’t look at much porn, even as a young man–but while Steve’s proclivities had accelerated and warped Theodore’s corruption, Terrance was going to have to start from scratch with Harry. If the virus was going to corrupt him and turn him into a proper carrier, he was going to have to change substantially.

Harry saw the screen of the show he was watching flicker once, and then the entire screen began to waver and shake. He reached for the remote, or at least he tried to reach for it, but discovered that his body was…frozen, or paralyzed. He couldn’t move a muscle, the virus had taken control of his motor functions, ensuring that it had all of his attention focused on the screen, as his show disappeared, and was replaced with pornography–gay pornography.

Harry was appalled at the sight of it. He’d always had a thing against faggots, thinking that they were all dirty, horny old perverted men looking to prey on younger men like him. The virus captured that idea from him, and the porn shifted, showing just that sort of filthy scenario on the screen, and the speakers around the room began to speak to him, telling him what a dirty old man he was, how much he loved looking at porn, the stranger and more obscene the better.

Harry resisted as long as he could, but the virus was stronger. His hand was no longer reaching for the remote, it was now wrapped around his cock, stroking it. He could hear himself moaning in pleasure and excitement, and as the minutes turned into hours, his moans got lower and lower as his voice dropped into a growl, the virus accelerating the aging process inside his body, advancing Harry into a middle aged man around the age of fifty. His mind was warped further and further, all the desire to be a normal, well adjusted, contributing member of society was replaced by new desires–to jack off and have sex of course, but first and foremost, to corrupt the handsome young men he encountered, and warp them into perverse, kinky sex addicts that were hungry for sex with a dirty faggot daddy like him.

When Terrance was finally happy with the result, the virus allowed Harry to cum, a massive load spurting from his achingly hard cock, arcing up onto his chubby belly, where his old hand rubbed it into his hairy gut, enjoying the sticky sensation, the stench of it, and he stood up from the couch and had a short stretch, looking at himself in the mirror. A little voice in the back of his mind told him that this wasn’t right, that he wasn’t supposed to look like this, with his grey beard, and sunken eyes, and shaggy receding hairline. But that wasn’t an important voice, it wasn’t the voice that mattered–there was a new voice, a horny voice, and it didn’t want porn today–it wanted something more…satisfying. Thankfully, the virus saw an opportunity, and gave it to him.

Here’s a few options for what Harry does next. Regardless of what path we decide to go down, I’ll try to work in as many of the kinks as people were interested in as I can! The bonus poll for patrons is over here as well.

Tag: age progression