New You Resolutions (Part 9) [Interactive]

“So tell me Morg, what do you think of the last year? Have you liked being this new, massive brute?” the MC asked him, the rest of the audience staring at him.

Morg sputtered a bit, before managing to get some words to come out of his mouth in a coherent collection, his deep voice growling through the microphone. “I, uh…yeah, actually. I guess I did…mostly.”

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so embarrassed, but it was the truth–he had enjoyed himself, the last six months in particular, slowly exacting his revenge on the unsuspecting football team at the college. He could see the rest of the audience all conferring below, and a moment later, the screen above him dinged, and the first change from the audience’s votes was revealed–yet another round of puberty, but this one would take minutes, instead of months.

Morg felt his entire body heat up suddenly, and he was growing again, his bones aching and burning as they stretched again, his muscles and tendons rushing to keep up with the sudden change. He went from close to seven feet tall, and after a new moments, he was a couple inches over eight feet, stumbling a bit, looking a bit out of proportion–at least until his muscle caught up. He began to bulk up next, the muscles growing and working overtime to fill in the space created by his new height–and there were other changes as well. The bald spot on his head grew more pronounced, even as the hair covering the rest of his body grew in even longer and thicker than before. His clothes started to burst at the seams, and in a sudden fit, Morg clawed at them, tearing them off like paper, leaving himself entirely naked on the stage, his massive cock growing even longer. It was flaccid at the moment, but easily nine inches long–he gave it a stroke or two, feeling it engorge with blood, and in another minute it was full erect–all fifteen inches of it.

There was another ding above them, but Morg wasn’t really paying attention–he was too focused on his new cock, how sensitive it was, how it felt in his massive hands. He didn’t notice his gut beginning to grow even larger, his muscular body developing a thicker layer of fat all over than made him even larger and more imposing. His gut ballooned larger than anything else however, and made it difficult to grip his cock–and he certainly couldn’t see it. He didn’t notice how much he stank all of a sudden, reeking of masculine, unwashed musk and cum, nor did he notice that when the MC handed him a fat, lit, 80 ring cigar, he shoved it in his mouth and sucked down the smoke like a hard cord addict.

Finally, there was one final ding–someone had made a purchase. The man who climbed up onto the stage was younger, a bit chubby–and he wanted a proper, abusive leather daddy bear to fuck him silly every night–and that was something Morg could get behind himself. He shoved the young cub against the wall and impaled him in his cock, fucking him relentlessly as well worn leather gear appeared on his massive frame, his hair turning silver and white as he aged into his late fifties, and the next morning, when he woke up in bed with his new cub, he barely remembered anything from his old life anymore. He gave his cub a rough fuck, and then got dressed and headed to work–eager to work up a good sweat his boy could clean up when he got home, before he fucked him all over again–just like he’d do every day for years to come.

The third person on stage stumbled out as Morg left, hunched over and small, wishing that his master and owner were with him, but he’d had to make the trip to the party alone. It was Leroy–or at least, it was the pitiful slave that Leroy had become over the last year or so. He was wearing just a collar and his diaper–a filthy, overused diaper from the look of it, sagging with filth around his meager waist. He had lost weight–his master’s diet was not particularly generous, and he had spent hours and hours of the last several months under the pen of a tattooist, finally getting the humiliating images and words he’d been fantasizing over for ages permanently inscribed on his body.

He shuffled to the edge of the stage, heard some of the men in the audience gag, and others just laughed at him, how he’d been reduced from the butch, masculine, authoritative professor in the images on the screen to this lowlife, diapered slave.

The MC announced that voting could commence, and the audience began to confer. Leroy was too stupid at this point to really understand what was going on–he couldn’t even read the simple words running on the screens around him, and much of what the MC had said was too hard for him to process…but he waited, as he’d been instructed to do, and discovered his final fate.

Here’s the next poll for Leroy, and here’s the Patron exclusive poll as well.

Whore on Demand (Patreon Exclusive)

Here’s another story based off of the suggestions from folks who support me on Patreon! In this sketch, a lecherous father decides to get a specialized whore for his son’s bachelor party, but things don’t go quite how he expected. You can find the story here! Anyone supporting me at the one dollar level or more can get access to all of these short stories, and also gets the ability to make requests of their own!

New You Resolutions (Part 7)

The list that Hugh had in his hand had the following resolutions on it:

Instead of gaming, I resolve to spend my time working out, and masturbating to kinky gay porn from now on.
I resolve to swap ages with my father, and he will become my son. I will also take over his job and role in life.
I resolve to become submissive to my new son, and service his every need and demand, no matter how perverse and humiliating his demands might be.

This had to be a joke–was this some stupid thing his dad had come up with or something? He knew that his dad was pissed at him for not doing something with his life (something that Hugh was in the middle of trying to figure out!) but this weird shit was uncalled for. He stormed upstairs and showed the list to his dad, demanding to know what this was all about, but his dad didn’t seen to have any idea–but that didn’t stop Hugh from getting angrier and yelling at him–at least until Carl shouted at his son to shut the fuck up–and he did.

Hugh tried for a moment to keep talking, but he suddenly felt such a wave of shame at what he’d been saying to his dad, that he couldn’t muster the anger anymore, as his father tore into him, telling him he needed to get his act together, that he needed to grow the fuck up…and he was right. Carl ended the argument by telling Hugh to clean up his room at the very least…and much to their mutual surprise, Hugh…complied. He went downstairs and cleaned his room for the rest of the afternoon, trying to figure out why…he was so hard all of a sudden. He took a break to look at some porn, but the usual sites wouldn’t load for some reason–they kept diverting him to new ones, kinky sites showing muscular men being dominated by smaller guys, and Hugh found himself watching them, obsessed with them, imagining himself a big guy like that getting ordered around by his father…

He shot before he even realized what had happened, and was horrified at the thoughts going through his head–just like the strange list had told him to do. He finished cleaning his room, and tried to start up his game again…but he couldn’t focus. He…needed to get rid of some more energy first, and so he started doing some calisthenics in the basement, until dinner was ready, and then kept working out after dinner too, stopping only to watch more strange videos, and jack off.

He didn’t play video games for days, and then weeks. He found himself drawn back to the gym, lifting weights, wanting to get bigger, and stronger–stronger so he could…could be even more humiliated, like the videos he found himself obsessing over now. His father’s control over him was growing stronger as well, as his dad discovered just how much he could make his son do…and much to Hugh’s horror, he found himself urging his father on, suggesting more and more humiliating things he could make him do. By the end of the school year, Hugh was thick with muscle, and had taken over most of the household maintenance–cooking, cleaning, repairs–doing most of it while only wearing a skimpy set of underwear, his father laughing at how ridiculous he was, before ordering him to give him a foot massage, or suck his cock like a good boy.

Over the summer though, is when the rest of the changes hit. Every few days, his father would lose a year, and Hugh would gain one, and as he grew younger, his father would grow more petulant, and more and more lazy. Soon, the game system was back out, but it was Carl using it now, taunting his son (or brother now, really) with it, telling him that if he worked really hard, maybe he’d let him use it for an hour each week–but Hugh knew there was no chance of that. As he grew older, he only grew larger and larger, even bigger than his dad had been before, but while he could appear imposing, inside…he knew he was weak. He was just a big muscle slut enslaved by his fat, lazy son, and as humiliated as he was by the fact, it also turned him on to no end. Come August, he took over his father’s position as coach at the high school, and the entire role came perfectly naturally to him, like he’d been doing it for years, but seeing all these young sweaty men, all Hugh really wanted was for them all to dominate him, just like his son had. Still, he had the whole school year, right? Maybe…maybe he’d be able to resist. All he had to do was make it to the party at the end of the year, and maybe–maybe he’d be able to convince this company to give him his life back.

Alright, this is the end of the setup–let me know what sort of ending you might like to see for our four characters here. I might not use the winning suggestion for every single character-if some of the other options are popular, I might use those where it makes sense with the characters here. The public poll is below, and the patron only poll can be found here.

A Daddy for Rubber Boy (Patreon Request)

Here’s another story, as suggested by a supporter on my Patreon! If you’d like to have the chance to read all of these stories (about one a week or so) and have the ability to suggest ideas yourself, along with lots of other perks, you can check out my page here!

This…was not the kind of gay bar that Aaron was expecting, the sort with drag queens and fancy drinks and mobs of straight girls. This was decidedly more…bearish, in flavor. He also probably should have checked the calendar on the website before showing up, because apparently it was kink night–almost everyone was wearing some sort of leather or rubber, which made Aaron, in his polo and shorts, stand out even more like a sore thumb. Well, one drink and he could leave and never come back, he told himself. He spotted a younger, skinner fellow over along the wall, one of the only guys there similar in twinky size to Aaron, and the only guy he was, and made eye contact. Not wanting to be rude, he gave him a nod–nothing too approachable–and hoped the rubber boy wouldn’t be interested in him. But much to his chagrin, a few moments later, there the boy was, in his black and yellow gear, grinning from ear to ear next to Aaron at the bar.

“Looks like your first time here,” the boy said to Aaron, “You should slip into something a bit more comfortable, or at least get out of that there,” before Aaron could do anything, the boy had one rubber gloved hand under his shirt, and Aaron pushed it away, shivering at the touch, and backed off.

“I’m not–look, this isn’t my scene. I ended up here by accident.”

“Oh, no one ends up here on accident, daddy,” the boy said, “Pigtown is for everybody. You just need to learn how to loosen up a little is all…”

The boy assaulted him again, this time shoving one gloved hand down the front of Aaron’s pants, and before he could yank it back out, he started working Aaron’s cock…and he shuddered in a sudden bout of pleasure. The rubber…fuck, it felt amazing somehow, and Aaron just groaned, and slumped over.

“There, see? That’s what I mean, just relax daddy, let your boy take care of everything.”

Aaron found the energy to fight him off again, but as he did, something still felt odd down his shorts. The fly and button had come undone, and in the dim barlight–he saw that his cock and balls were coated in black rubber. “What…what the fuck is this?” he touched it, and it was malleable, and he could feel it spreading across his groin to his legs, and up the front of his abdomen.

“Don’t fight it daddy, you’re going to love it, trust me.”

The rubber spread onto the hand that had touched it, and Aaron tried to shake it off, but it was spreading too quickly. He tried to run, but the boy grabbed him, pulled him into a hug, the rubber suit he was wearing sliding around Aaron’s body as well. “I’ve been waiting for a daddy for so long! You’re going to love it, I’ll make sure of it, just trust your boy, everything is going to be fine.”

The rubber swallowed him up in less than a minute, sealing him in from head to toe. Aaron fought, squeaking the rubber mits around his hand against his face, trying to breathe, until a vent opened up by his mouth and he could inhale again, only for thick tobacco smoke to flood into his lungs. A visor appeared as well, and began shining hypnotic lights into Aaron’s eyes, making his sink down into a booth, the rubber boy guiding him down safely, making sure the cigar shoved in the tube leading to Aaron’s new gas mask stayed lit. “That’s in daddy, soon everything will be just right.”

Inside the suit, Aaron began to sweat. He could, distantly, feel something happening to his body, feel it…growing thicker, bones growing longer, muscle filling in stronger, making him…making him a proper rubber daddy.

Yeah, that’s what the lights were telling him he was, he was a rubber daddy. A rough, aggressive rubber daddy, smoking cigars, pissing all over his rubber boy, making him drink it, getting them both soaked, fucking his boy’s hole with his massive rubber cock…

Aaron shook his head, trying to clear it. That wasn’t who he was at all! He didn’t want to be some rubber clad freak. He struggled again, trying to break his way free of the rubber, and almost like the suit could sense his resistance, the lights shone even brighter.

Not just a rubber daddy, no, he was a stupid rubber daddy. Too stupid to know what was good for him. Best to just…just let his good little rubber boy tell him what to do, best to just rely on his instinct. Still Aaron fought–but the rubber was sliding deeper now, into his ears, into his nose, sliding into his very mind, smoothing it over, making it so much harder to think about anything other than sex, anything other than making his rubber boy happy. He inhaled deeper now, feeling the smoke lodge deep inside his chest, feel how much he needed it, how much he loved the sensation of rubber against his skin, how much he hated being away from it. He wanted to wear it all the time, feel it against him whenever he could. He wasn’t complete unless he was wearing his suit, after all.

The suit knew it had won, and the lights shut off, the suit solidifying, losing its flexibility, seams appearing, and the boy peeled the gas mask away from his face, looking down at the weathered skin, the thick, greying beard stained with smoke, and kissed his daddy. Aaron…resisted for a moment, but then gave in, rubbing himself against his boy, feeling their rubber bodies sliding against each other, his rubber cock…aching, but not to cum. He let loose a blast of piss between them, and the boy latched into the head of his daddy’s cock, sucking down as much of it as he could hold.

“That’s…that’s a good boy…fuck yeah, drink down yer daddy’s filthy piss…” Aaron muttered, the gears of his new personality grinding to life. “Drink it all down, then daddy’s gonna pound that hole a yers, you’d…you’d like that, right boy?” It was a genuine question. Aaron wasn’t quite sure enough of his own mind anymore–best to always check with his boy. His boy…he was so smart, he always knew the sexiest things to do.

“That sounds great daddy–fuck me while you smoke one of your big cigars, and then you can fist me too, yeah, you’re such a sexy daddy! I’m gonna love you forever, I promise,” the boy said, hugging his daddy tight, and then pulling him deeper into the bar for a night of rubber fun they’d never forget.

Herman’s Pool Party (Caption Sketch)

It hadn’t quite been the pool party that Mac had expected, when his neighbor Herman had invited him. For one thing, the entire party was made up of men–and men who were not, exactly, in the most peak of physical condition. Even Mac wasn’t quite in as good of shape as he’d been when he was a bit younger, but compared to the old, fat men around the pool today, he was quite the stud, in his opinion. It was a nice confidence boost, in any case.

He also noticed, rather quickly, the party appeared to be composed of only men. He’d…had his suspicions about Herman perhaps being a fairy, but he hadn’t bothered asking. After all, it didn’t exactly have anything to do with him, who Herman decided to fuck, but he had the feeling that he’d been invited here today as eye candy–but before he could excuse himself, Herman had come over, welcomed him warmly, and pressed a beer into his hand, telling him to make himself comfortable.

It took Mac a couple of minutes to realize that Herman wasn’t actually wearing a swimsuit…in fact, quite a few of the men at the pool were swimming naked, letting their fat bodies and old cocks swing free, and while Mac knew he should feel some disgust…he felt something else quite surprising. He felt a bit…envious. They all seemed so happy, somehow, so free. None of them cared about what Mac thought of them–in fact, none of them had even really given him a second glance–which made him feel a bit…inadequate. Shouldn’t they all be interested in him, after all? He was the muscular, handsome one, right?

Instead, it was Mac who found himself…feeling a sudden attraction to the men around him, one he couldn’t understand, but one he also couldn’t control. He realized, a bit late, that Herman was beside him, talking to him about…something, something he couldn’t quite recall, and their conversation drifted to other topics quickly enough, but Mac felt like something was…off.

“You know Mac, wouldn’t you feel better taking a swim? It’s so hot out, don’t you think?”

“I…uh…I don’t know, I’m a bit…” he looked around him, and at the rest of the men, still confused, “I don’t really feel like I…belong here, somehow.”

“Nonsense friend, that’s why I invited you. Just relax! You’ll feel better in no time, after a while in the water. We’re a friendly bunch, you’ll see.”

So Mac did. He got in the water, swimming around with the other men, and to his surprise, he did loosen up a bit. When one of the men complimented him on his beard, he was confused for a moment–after all, he didn’t have a beard, did he?–but he just…relaxed, and went with the flow, feeling the beard on his chin growing in, just…just as it should be. He got to know some of the men, little by little, all of them warming up to him, complimenting him on his soft gut, his short but girthy cock, his white hair. He was so flattered by their attention, that when they started feeling him up, and sliding their cocks against him, he was just…so happy, so eager to go with the flow, to just relax. He ended up on his hands and knees beside the pool, Herman fucking his ass, another old man fucking his throat, and he was so…so happy, he just let everything float away.

Later that night, after plenty of fucks, and quite a few loads of his own, Mac returned home, and laid down in his bed, bones aching a bit, but happy that another one of Herman’s pool parties had gone off without a hitch. There was another one next weekend, and Mac was already thinking about it–stroking his cock, feeling his gut bounce, and thinking about all the cock he’d be sucking until then too–especially Herman’s.

A brand new Mac, relaxing alone after the party

New You Resolutions (Part 4) [Interactive]

There was no way he was going to do this, Morgan told himself. The list he was holding read like a nightmare:

Morgan’s Resolutions for 2019

Drink lots of cheap beer, and grow a big beer gut.
Drop out of college and find a job doing menial labor.
Go through a second, intense puberty, and age an additional ten years.
Act like a lazy slob, rarely shower, and get off on my own musk.
Become an aggressive, dominant top, and double the size of my cock.

Why in the hell would he do any of this shit? Who in the hell was this company anyway? He looked back at the letter, and then at the list again, looking for more information, but there wasn’t anything else, just this sudden wave of anxiety, and he…he…

Fuck, he needed a fucking beer.

Morgan shook his head, trying to clear it. Why in the world had he thought that? He didn’t drink much at all for one thing, but it did nothing really to slake his thirst. The older couple were out of the house for a while, running some errands…and before he could muster any mental opposition, he went down into the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed one of the beers the man always kept on hand, but which Morgan had always refused, and chugged it, letting off a long belch afterwards.

And fuck, if he didn’t feel so much better, almost immediately.

He spent so much time trying to be perfect, so much time trying to live up to some standard, to prove everyone wrong, to be everything he was supposed to be…but why? Why was he doing this, any of this? He knew he’d had answers, he might have even had answers when he’d woken up that morning, but he didn’t have them right now…and he found that to be such a relief, somehow. He grabbed another beer, drank that too, and then figured he should just go buy some of his own to replenish what he’d taken. He bought a twenty-four pack at the nearby gas station, went home, and in three days, it was gone.

In three days, he hadn’t taken a shower, he hadn’t thought about school, he hadn’t thought about those jocks or being bullied, or any of it. He’d sat in his room, drunk off his ass, doing jack shit, masturbating to the smell of his pits, and feeling…odd. It took him a few more days to realize what was odd–it was that he was aching in a weird way, like he was growing again, but faster than he had in his teens. He was angry too, all of a sudden. Angry, and lazy, and he had so many hormones rushing through him, that by the time school started back up a few weeks later, it was a relief to have an outlet, that he could charge up to the registrar, drop out, and be done with the whole mess.

It felt good, doing it. It felt good, like he was freeing himself. Sure, he didn’t have a job or anything, but he’d find something. He had some savings, some cash from his parents, enough to pay the rent and coast for a couple of months, and figure some things out–that, and finish growing. He hurt all the time now, in ways that he hadn’t remembered since high school. Each day, it seemed like something new happened–his voice cracking and dropping to a low bass, acne appearing across his face, his cock…growing. It seemed like it packed on another inch each week, and Morgan found his desires shifting as it grew, away from the mostly bottom he’d been, to something far more aggressive. He’d watch porn videos of gay guys taking down straight homophobes, raping them, and nothing would get him harder–he’d explode all over himself, thinking about the jocks he hated, so happy he’d never have to see them again–but if they did, boy, would they have a surprise coming to them.

By the time March hit and he had to hit the streets to look for work, Morgan looked like a brand new person. He was about six inches taller, more muscular, his jaw stronger and covered with a thick beard growing up his cheeks, his arms and chest similarly coated with hair from his renewed puberty. His gut, however, was the most notable part about him, jutting out like a beach ball in front of him, making him balance it out by leaning back a bit. He didn’t have a hard time finding a job in the city, and ended up working in a warehouse down on the docks, amazed at how much he could rake in with a union job, enough to move out of that room and rent his own place by June–a proper bachelor pad, he told himself.

By then, he barely recognized himself at all in the mirror, and sure, part of him was horrified…but part of him liked it. A growing part of him, a brute thrumming in his chest, the mean drunk that came out when he’d had a few too many, the brute that had…forced himself on a couple of the guys at work, who had, to his surprise, relented, and let him plow their holes with his massive, ten inch cock. But the greatest conquest was something special–after finals, one of the chief jocks who had bullied him ended up there in the bar–in his bar. Morg knew just what the prissy piece of shit needed–and he cornered him in the bathroom, and fucked the young jock’s brains out, raped him for all the shit he had done to him, and he realized, then, that perhaps these resolutions weren’t so bad after all.

But who else got a letter from the company?

Here’s the next poll! I used two fairly popular ideas from the last poll, to give them one more chance, and also used two ideas from readers that they submitted with the last poll. The public poll is below, and the patron only poll can be found here.

The Three Daddies and a Spoiled Brat (Caption Sketch)

The four of us were on our way to Jeb’s parent’s cabin for the weekend, and we were getting there late, so we stopped at a bar along the way to get some food, and a drink. Now, I’m the only one of us who was under 21, but I had my fake ID with me. I don’t fuckin’ know how that old cunt knew it was fake, but when she refused to serve us…I got pissed, and maybe I said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t fuckin’ faze her though–she just stared at me, and I felt this…chill run down my spine, and then she looked at my three friends, and told us to get the fuck out of her bar. We…did, but as I was leaving, she whispered to me, “If you want to act like a spoiled baby, you might as well be one.”

I felt weird for the rest of the drive. We all did, really. No one said much of anything, and we were all hungry, and I felt dumb for making a scene, and for being called out by some old bitch. We got to the cabin and started unloading, but as we did, I noticed that something was off about all of my friends. They seemed…older. Mitch had some grey hair in his beard, and his hair was receding. Nate’s beard was a bit longer, and he seemed chubbier than he had before. It was about that time, that I realized the crotch of my jeans felt warm, and when I looked down, I realized I had pissed my pants without even noticing.

Horrified, I ran inside to the bathroom, stripped out of my pants and got cleaned up–hoping no one had noticed. It took me about…half an hour? I walked back out, and found all three of my friends on the couch–fucking making out with each other like a bunch of fags! That, and all of them were white haired, and had stripped down to their underwear, showing off their hairy, chubby bodies, and I was so stunned that I fell down–and I couldn’t stand back up, no matter how hard I tried, and…and I fucking started to cry.

My three friends on the couch in the cabin, shifting

Jeb told me everything was ok, but before I could stop him, he put me in a diaper! I couldn’t even speak, everything came out as gibberish, and I watched all of my daddies having sex…and I got jealous. I got hard in my fucking diaper, and started groping myself, and when Daddy Nate saw, they gave me a spanking for being a naughty baby, and put these damn mitts on my hands! I just wanted to be a big boy like my daddies, but I was so naughty, all I could do was work myself into a fit of horniness.

Me the next morning, after falling asleep finally, still hard as a rock in my diaper

Thankfully, after the weekend, we all changed back–mostly. I…still have to wear a diaper, I can’t control it, and the only people who can change it are…are my daddies. Whenever I’m with them, they get old again, but they hate it–and they’re all avoiding me, but I don’t have a choice! I…I need to go back, and beg her to fix this, but I’m terrified. Terrified…she might just make it even worse. But what choice to we have?

New You Resolutions (Part 2) [Interactive]

Duncan read the list a few times, mostly just disgusted and confused by what was on there. Hell, some of the things didn’t even make sense, or didn’t even seem possible! There were five items on the list:

Stop going to the gym and work to get fatter instead.
Start smoking cigars, and age an extra thirty years.
No longer cut my hair, beard, or body hair, and grow it three times as fast, and three times as thick.
Cum only on myself and my clothes as often as I can, get as many men to cum on me as I can, and never shower again.
Replace my wardrobe with slobby clothes, and never wash them again.

He couldn’t control how fast he aged, or how thick his hair grew in–it had to just be some stupid prank someone was pulling on him. In any case, he had so much he had to get done today, and this stupid thing had wasted too much time. He skipped breakfast in his apartment–there was nothing that…would satisfy him here, went down and got in his car. Instead of going to the gym, like he thought he would, he wound up at a fast food place, went inside, ordered a massive amount of food–and ate all of it.

The whole time, he was trying to make himself stop…but he had to do it. He had to get fatter, right? That’s…what the list said. He didn’t understand where the compulsion was coming from, and eating the greasy food was disgusting to him, but he couldn’t get his body to stop, no matter how hard he tried. Once he finished, he again tried to get himself to drive to the gym, but instead he looked up the nearest smoke shop that sold cigars, went in and bought a pack, along with a lighter and a couple of ashtrays. He told himself to throw it out, but instead, he drove home, lit one, smoked it as best he could, and started stuffing his entire wardrobe into trashbags, and threw the whole thing into the dumpster. It took long enough that he finished the cigar–though it made him sick to his stomach and he nearly vomited, but he was…proud of himself, for finishing it. Proud of himself, for…for doing it, doing what he was supposed to do. Proud, and a bit…horny? Horny enough to sit down on the couch and rub out a load, which he onto his thigh, rubbing it in, feeling it get…tacky. He…wanted to shoot again, but he had more errands to run first.

He left the house again, this time going to the nearby thrift shop, and buying himself a new wardrobe–sweats and undershirts, some…used underwear, which disgusted him, and some mesh ahtletic shorts and beat up sneakers. Then he went home, lit another cigar, despite the fact he still felt sick from the first one, and he jacked off–spraying his load all over his flat belly, rubbing it in, and feeling the stubble growing there.

Duncan had always had quite a bit of body hair, and at his agency’s request, he kept himself shaved all over, and photoshop took care of the rest. Now though, he could see the first dark hairs coming back, much faster than they usually did…and there were so many of them! He went into the bathroom, and saw that the same thing was happening to his face, his stubble was so thick, and so obvious–he tried to shave it, but his hands just threw all of his shaving equipment right in the trash. Furious, he figured he could at least take a shower–but again, his body refused to even get in the tub. When he kept trying, his body ended up disassembling the entire shower fixture and throwing that away too.

And that was just the first day. He lost all of his modeling contracts in a week, and his agency dumped him by the end of January. He had some savings, but not nearly enough–he had, however, befriended the guys at the fast food joint where he went for most of his meals now…and while he held onto his dignity for a while, he eventually had to ask them for a job. He thought they would be disgusted by the idea–after all, he reeked like a cumrag and was so damn hairy now–but when he asked them they were eager to have him there…after all, it was handy having a cumrag around for them to use whenever they got horny. Even the owner of the place didn’t seem fazed by his hygiene, though he usually kept Duncan in the back, making fries and cleaning equipment, getting even filthier and greasier as the months wore on.

It was June when he realized, finally, how much he’d aged in just six months. He’d been 25 this year, but he’d already added another fifteen years or so, making him an even forty, according to his driver’s license, that was always accurate somehow. He was balding, his thick, already inch long beard was starting to grey, and his teeth were yellowed from the cigars he smoked almost constantly now when he was home, and always on his breaks at work. He got kicked out of his apartment for smoking and wrecking the place, and had to move in with one of his coworkers, another fat, horny slob like him, one who was more than happy to keep him around as a personal cumrag. More than once, he’d be woken up to his fat coworker looming over him, spraying his beard and hair with another massive load of cum, and Duncan, would just…thank him, and usually milk out another one of his own to go with it.

All he wanted was for 2019 to end, but he kept remembering the letter, and the party it had mentioned. He didn’t know what that might entail…but if it meant this nightmare could finally end, he’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get his body, and life, back to normal.

Of course, New Life Industries sent resolutions to more men than just Duncan. Who else got a letter from them this January?

Here’s a few options for possible targets by New Life industries. Some of these are more…revenge focused, while others are more about helping guys stuck in a rut become something…different. Also note, that there’s a space to write in your own ideas too! If I like them, I might include your suggestions in the upcoming polls to pick other victims of these New You Resolutions! Here’s the poll for Patrons (remember, your votes count for double in the Patron poll!) and the public poll is embedded below!

My Summer Job (Caption Sketch)

Trevor had just graduated from high school, and had the summer stretching out ahead of him–his last summer stuck here in this small, rural town, before he went off to college in the fall, which, he hoped would let him get out of this place forever. However, college was…expensive, and while he had a good amount of assistance, he needed cash too. However, the town was…not in the greatest of financial shape, and so it was difficult finding a job. In the end, he just advertised around town as willing to do whatever work people might have for him on his property, and it ended up working out well–at least, until he drove out to Arthur Johnson’s rundown old lot a ways outside of town.

Arthur was well known as a bit of a loner, and he wasn’t seen around town very often. Trevor was nervous, but the old man greeted him warmly enough, shirtless and smoking a cigar in the already hot morning, and set Trevor to work clearing blackberry bushes from the side of his house. After a few hours, Trevor was exhausted, and when Arthur offered him a break and some lunch, he was more than happy to take him up on the offer. After they’d eaten, Arthur also offered him a smoke–Trevor had never smoked a cigar before, but smelling Arthur’s all day long had…piqued his interest. Arthur showed him how to punch and light it, and Trevor took the opportunity, once Arthur had left the room, to take a picture of himself with it, for something to tell his friends later.

But a couple of minutes later, he started to feel…a bit strange. Still, he passed it off as nothing important, and got back to work, still smoking, but the stick was making him feel a bit sick, and his head a bit…thick, somehow. He saw Arthur watching him from the porch, smoking as well, and Trevor found himself…aroused, somehow. Still, he pressed on, the nausea passed, and he felt…invigorated. After another couple of hours, Arthur offered him a beer on the porch, and one thing led to another…and Trevor found himself on his knees in front of the fat redneck, sucking his cock, groping his own member, but it felt…strange. A bit shorter than it had been, and hadn’t he had a gut, and…and why was it so hard for him to think, all of a sudden? Arthur fed him a load, and Trevor asked to use his bathroom–and in the mirror, he just stared at himself–at the body he had suddenly. He looked to be in his forties, with a thick goatee, heavily muscled, skin tanned from hours and days working in the sun, with a short, thick cock drooling precum…but was that so wrong? He fiddled with his cock until he came, and as he did, the nausea came back–as did his real body.

He fled, Arthur laughing as he ran off, got in his car and drove off, vowing never to go back there again…but that was before the headaches set in the next day, and the nausea, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to cum, no matter how horny he got. He…could still taste the cigar smoke on his tongue, and a few days later, drived by desperation, he went back to Arthur’s place, took another cigar from him, and spent another day as Arthur’s burly handyman, fixing up his house between servicing Arthur’s cock.

He told himself that he only had to get through the summer…but as time wore on, and he spent more and more time smoking Arthur’s cigars, he found himself…losing his younger identity more and more. His car changed into a beat up pickup full of tools. His body would change back less and less. He couldn’t think as well, and the accent he had grew slower and thicker. No one else seemed to notice a thing–and when the end of August rolled around, he said a tearful goodbye to his mom and dad, but didn’t drive to school–he drove to Arthur’s, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever be his real self again.

Trev, after a day of work, with his old truck.

Trev appeared in town like he’d always been there. He was none too bright, but he could fix pretty much anything that needed fixing, and he was never hurting for work around town as a capable handyman. He lived with Arthur, and everyone suspected they might be a couple of faggots, but no one knew for sure–no one, except for any man who got a good whiff of Trev’s cigar smoke while he was working. Any man who did would find themselves unable to resist using Trev’s holes, filling the stupid, muscular redneck with their cum while Trev begged them for it, always paying him for the pleasure, but forgetting about having done it soon after–but Trev never forgot. Deep inside, Trev knew this was a lie, but he was far too addicted to go back to who he should be, and in time, he learned to accept it, and even, at times, believe it. Still, when he found out he would be spending a week fixing his parent’s roof–he rebelled, as best he could, but Arthur had plenty of ways to put Trev in his place.

And so, Trev found himself passing his father the cigar Arthur had given him. He watched as his father turned into a musky, hairy, big gutted and big dicked redneck biker, who beat Trev into submission before fucking him raw. He tried to deny liking it. He tried, but he couldn’t. And when his dad begged him for another cigar the next day, even knowing what would happen to him, and another the day after that–he knew that Arthur had plans for their little town far beyond just Trev. They both ended up back at Arthur’s that night, Arthur and his brute of a father fucking him senseless…but what could he do? He was just a stupid, weak, hick faggot, like they said he was, and that was all he’d ever be, forever. At least, once Arthur opened his cigar shop, he wouldn’t be the only one–hopefully.

A Family Man (Caption Sketch)

For those of you who like these sorts of caption stories, I’ve started writing and posting them with some regularity over on my discord server for Patrons! It’s open for everyone supporting me at the five dollar level and up, and includes the ability to request captions, get exclusive access to all the captions I post (because I won’t be posting them all here) and you can also help me out by play testing some of the odd transformation RP games I design in my rare spare time. You can find more details here! I hope y’all had a nice holiday!

It had been a long day for Roy, and a bit of a strange one at his job, and he was glad to finally have the chance to put the day behind him and head home for some peace and quiet. Roy was an office manager at a sizable tech firm, and part of his duties included hiring, and firing, personnel. In particular, he had let go one fellow by the name of Evan the week before. He hadn’t been performing up to par, and had been blaming it on his family–but families were a choice. Kids were a choice. Roy didn’t have kids–of course, Roy was gay, so he had no interest in making them at all. Roy mostly just liked being by himself, that, and working.

But today, Evan had stormed into Roy’s office, and lunged at him, grabbing him by the hair and yanking some out before security hauled Evan off him. Roy was planning on charging him for assault, as soon as he knew more, but that was a problem for another day. Today, he just wanted to get home, relax for a while, listen to some music, cook himself a nice dinner, and go to bed, alone, like always.

Except when he got home to his condo, he realized he wasn’t alone. Someone heard the door, and in a young, male voice called out to him, “Daddy! Daddy come here, I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

No one called Roy daddy–none of his last relationships, and none of his fuckbuddies even. Confused, he went into his bedroom, and saw that it was…different. Everything was filthy, and there on the bed, on hands and knees, was a young, chubby man, his dirty ass facing him, wearing just some ragged, filthy underwear and nothing else.

“Come on daddy, you’ve been away so long today! Your boy needs you so badly…” the young man said, and shook his meaty ass at Roy…and Roy, found himself…confused. He didn’t know this young man, and yet…and yet, something about him seemed…right. “Such a naughty daddy–you don’t understand how important family is at all. Well don’t you worry, I’m going to be all the family you ever need, and you want to be my perfect daddy, don’t you?”

Roy nodded, his mouth dry and unable to speak.

“Take off that suit–my daddy doesn’t work in an office. No, my daddy stays here with me as much as he can, taking good care of me, and making sure I’m nice and happy. Now come on daddy, my crack is so dirty, and you love making sure your boy is nice and clean, don’t you?”

Roy stripped out of the suit, but the clothes didn’t just fall to the floor–as they came off his body, they just vanished away. He didn’t wear a suit after all, he was…he was just a daddy, and maybe something else, sometimes, but always a daddy first. Still, Roy needed lots of reminders about what kind of daddy he was. How old he was. How dirty he was. How fat he was. But most of all, how much he loved his boy, more than anything else in the entire world. After a few days, the old Roy was completely gone, and in his place was the perfect family man–or at least, the perfect daddy for a twisted son like this one.