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.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 9)

This is the end of the story as far as I ended up writing it–sorry again for the odd update schedule, life, etc. I’ll have some bonus posts tomorrow to make up for the gap.


The credits for the movie rolled. There were six actors, and all of them were naked, with Logan thought was very funny. The movie started, and an older man close to Grandpa’s age, and his grandson were in a bedroom together. The grandpa was tucking his grandson in…and Logan felt such a longing, when he looked at the grandson, at his chubby, smooth body; his small peepee; his short stature. That was what he’d wanted to see in the mirror, when he climbed out of the tub, that’s what he felt he should look like. The grandpa kissed his grandson goodnight, but then they started kissing longer, and the boy asked his grandpa why his peepee had gotten hard, and so the grandpa showed his grandson how good peepees can make you feel. In the room, Edgar had wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him close to him, rubbing his belly as Logan stared at the screen, rapt in faascination, and Edgar reached around and started rubbing Logan’s peepee again, making him shiver and moan.

The movie kept going. Soon, the grandpa put the grandson’s peepee in his mouth, and the grandson did the same. Then, the grandpa pushed his grandson onto his belly, climbed up, and put his peepee in the boy’s hole. When he saw that, Logan laughed, boucning up and down on the edge of the armchair. “I knew it!” he exclimed, “I knew you could do that with a peepee!” he leaned back, and looked at his grandpa with a suddenly serious expression, “Grandpa, I want you to put your peepee in my butthole, like that grandpa’s doing there.”

“Goodness boy, are you sure? Your grandpa’s awfully big, and you’re awfully tight.”

“I don’t care! Do it, I want to make your peepee feeel good.”

“Then you need to get it wet first. You remember what that grandpa told his grandson? Like a lollipop, but no teeth?”

“Yeah! I can do it…”

Logan wrenched himself out of his grandpa’s arms and got on his knees in front of him, licked his lips a few times, and then gave it a try, sucking on his Grandpa’s peepee as hard as he could, listening to him moan, knowing he was being such a good boy. With one hand, he reached back and started pressing on his hole, already so excited to feel his grandpa’s big peeepee in there…it was going to feel so good!

“Alright…alright, it’s wet enough,” Grandpa moaned, now get back up on my lap, and sit on my cock, boy.”

“Cock? I thought it was a peepee.”

“Boys like you have peepees, but grandpas and daddies have cocks.”

“O-Oh. Ok.”

It was the first thing he’d done in grandpa’s trailer that hurt, but he didn’t care, because after a minute, it felt so good he didn’t mind the pain, bouncing up and down on his grandpa’s cock, while grandpa rubbed Logan’s peepee. Logan groaned, and some strange white stuff sprayed out of his cock, shooting across the room. “Oh you fucker, you made a mess,” Edgar said, “Such a naughty dirty boy…”

“Oh…Oh, I’m sorry grandpa!”

“Heh, you can’t even stop yourself, came in here, and look at you now, just a boy desperate for grandpa’s cock. Been lonely for a long time boy–decades. I don’t get out much, and I’ve only seen a visitor after someone else has claimed ‘em, but you’re mine, you’re mine, and you’re gonna make me so fucking happy…”

Grandpa shoved Logan off his cock, sneding his boy sprawling across the carpet, but before Logan could do anything, Grandpa was on top of him again, ramming his cock deep, but now it really did hurt. Now, it wasn’t making him feel that good at all, and he started crying.

“Shut up! You think this is bad, heh, I can only imagine what those nasty fucks are doing to that nephew of yours. You should be thanking me–you’re going to have a good life here, keeping me happy. You’ll understand soon enough…”

The pain was bringing back other memories, and he remembered Tyler in that trailer, with those rednecks. What…what was he doing here? How much time had he wasted, and why…why was he letting his grandpa fuck him like this, and why was he enjoying it so much. He kicked and screamed, and managed to crawl away from grandpa, stumbling up. “No! No, I have to help Tyler. I have to call the police.”

“Heh, you should worry about yourself–not get back over here, before you make grandpa angry, boy.”

Fuck. Fuck, he didn’t want to make grandpa angry, but…but he needed to get help. He needed to get away from here, but he didn’t have any clothes, he didn’t have anything. He looked back towards the bedroom, but he’d never make it–all he could do is take a chance. He bolted for the door, slamming it open, and hit the ground running, and didn’t dare look back, not even when Grandpa screamed at him from the doorway, not even when his heart ached with guilt and shame, not even when he hit the edge of the trailer park and turned back the way he’d come. This place was insane, and he had a feeling he was going to be in so much trouble with grandpa when he got back home.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 8)

Sorry again for all the missed posts, and the double posts after the fact! Things are settling down (a bit) so hopefully the consistency will be back soon.


As he crept through the park, he began to realize how foolish this had all been–he hadn’t even let Howard know what was happening. He pulled out his phone, but the screen was cracked, probably from his fall off the truck, and he hadn’t been able to get service all day anyway, so it would have been next to usless working. All he’d really done is get equally lost himself–it wasn’t like he could just whisk himself back to the gas station–no, what he needed to do, first, was find that damn truck, and then find the police, and put these sickos where they belong.

The trailer part was structured around a loop, and at the back end of the gravel road, he spotted it–they had come in here, and they were probably in that trailer right next to it. Part of him wanted to investigate further, and see if he could save his nephew himself, but getting help wwould probably be a better idea, as much as he might want to be the hero. Should he knock on a neighbor’s door, or might they be in on whatever was going on? Without a phone, his options would seem to be, either, to ask to use someone’s and risk it, or to try and find the police station in town, wherever it might be. The first would save time–and who knew what those two might be doing with Tyler–but the second was probably safer. Still, he needed to figure out what was going on as quickly as possible, so he chose a trailer a little ways back which had seemed to be fairly well maintained, with the lights on, walked up to the door, and knocked.

“Just a minute!” a voice cried, male, sounding aged, and after a few moments, the door swung open, and on the other side of the screen door, wearing his a pair of boxers, was a man slightly older than Logan himself. He had a prominent gut, but the rest of him looked rather feeble and unthreatening, with a thick, but neatly trimmed white beard, glasses, and a small pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth, putting off a sweet scent that immediately set Logan at ease. but he seemed rather surprised at the sight of Logan, “Oh! Do I…know you? Don’t see out of towners around here very often.”

This, he thought, is a man I can trust. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but this is an emergency. I’m on a road trip with my brother and my two nephews, and while we were gassing our van, the two rednecks who live a few trailers down from you–they kidnapped one of my nephews! I…I followed them by riding on the back of their tow truck, as crazy as that sounds, but I need to call the police right away–do you have a phone I can use?”

“Oh my goodness, that does sound serious–yeah, Skip and Pa can be such troublemakers, I know just who you’re talking about, and we’ll get everything sorted out. I’m sure they don’t mean the boy any harm, though. Now come in, the phone’s inside. My name’s Edgar.”

“Thanks, Edgar. I’m Logan,” he said as the older man opened the screen and pushed it open for him, and as he climbed the stairs into the trailer, Edgar blew a could of pipe smoke right in his face, making him cough.

“Oh goodness Logan, I’m sorry about that–I smoke so often I forget I have it in my mouth sometimes.”

“It’s…it’s fine,” Logan said, clearing his throat, “I don’t really mind it that much, actually. In fact, it smells really…kind of sweet.”

“Oh, I’m too old to smoke the rough stuff anymore–sweet and young and soft, that’s what I like these days, you know?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Oh, now what did you do to your arm, boy?”

Now that he could get a better look in the dim light of the trailer, Logan figured that his earlier assessment that everything was fine might have been a bit hasty. There were no deep cuts, but his arm was covered in blood. “I…I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, and your face,” Edgar said, graabbing Logan’s chin in his hand and turning it towards him, Logan getting another face full of smoke in the process. “Did Skip do that to you?”

“No, it was…the older one.”

“I keep telling you to be careful around him, and you just don’t listen–well we’ll get you cleaned up, alright? Now get out of those clothes, they’re filthy, they have to be washed.”

“I-I think I really just need to use your phone…”

“The clothes, boy–you can use the phone later, but I won’t have those filthy rags getting my trailer filthy, and then you’re going to have a bath.”

Logan thought about protesting, but it was Edgar’s trailer, and he did want to be polite. He pulled off his shirt, doing his best to get catch the fabric on his bloody arm, his shoes and socks, and then dropped his pants, and without really thinking about it, he took off his underwear as well. Tsking, Edgar gathered up the pile of laundry and disappeared into the back of the trailer with them, leaving Logan naked, and feeling rather uncomfortable. He looked around, and saw the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchenette…but he really should ask permission first, shouldn’t he? He looked around the trailer a bit more, which was clean and rather spartan, though everything exuded softness, from the overstuffed armchair in front of the small TV, to the cushions on the chairs at the table, and he breathed a sigh of ease, the tension and terror that had been gripping him releasing slowly. His clothes were filthy, and a bath did sound wonderful, especially since all he’d had lately were low water pressure showers in grungy motel bathrooms. Tyler…he could wait a bit, right? Edgar hadn’t made it sound like he was in grave danger or anything.

He heard the sound of water running, and Edgar appeared again. “The tub’s filling up, now let’s take a look at that arm. Come here, over by the sink and we’ll see what that boy did to you.”

Logan followed him over, Edgar inspecting his arm under the light, before taking a fluffy washcloth and going to work, getting most of the dried and caked blood off. Like Logan had thought, it wasn’t as bad as it looked–but it was pretty bad all the same, with much of his forearm scraped away. Edgar didn’t say much, just smoked his pipe, pushing the smoke in Logan’s direction each time, watching his visitor inhale it now, a bit hungry for it, though Logan didn’t notice that the sweet smell was growing more and more appealing to him. When the worst of it was off his arm, Edgar turned his attention to Logan’s face, wiping the blood from where his lip had split, feeling the swelling there, watching him wince, though…his touch was still so gentle, just like the room around him, and Logan almost didn’t mind the fact that his touches brought a bit of pain–he…he just wanted Edgar to touch him, and…and be close to him. His cock had grown hard, but he hadn’t paid it any mind, but the old man saw it, and smiled. “Come on, boy–let’s get you in the bath.”

That was the second time Edgar had called him that. It was…strange, that he’d call him that, but he’d missed the chance to tell him to not call him that the first time, and now, his words felt so soft, he worried that if he asked him not to call him that, he might injure the old man. He was…so kind, and gentle. Logan didn’t want to do anything to upset him, of course. He followed him into the steamy bathroom, a large tub about half full of water. “Alright, get in and let’s get you all cleaned up.”

The water was hot, and bubbly–obviously Edgar had put something in to make it froth this much, and the room smelled sweet–kind of like his pipe smoke, but more bubblegum. It didn’t seem very appealing, but once Logan had settled down in the water, he gave a little gurgle of pleasure, He hadn’t taken a bath in ages–in his mind, baths were for kids, or something you did at spas, or something. Of course, his bachelor pad only had a shower, so it wasn’t like he could take a bath even if he wanted one. Still, this was…nice. In the back of his mind, he felt like he was getting off track. What about Tyler? He still needed to call the police, and tell them what had happened, or call the gas station, and try and get in touch with Howard, Jeremy or Dave. But all he really wanted to do was sink under the water for a bit. After all, it was just a bath. He knew where Tyler was, and he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Edgar got down on his knees next to the bath, and picked up a big sponge and dipped it in the foamy water, before pushing Logan forward and starting on his back. “There we go, let’s get my boy nice and clean.”

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of washing myself…you don’t have to…to help.”

“I know, you’re a big boy who thinks he can take care of himself,” Edgar said, but he didn’t stop, and Logan didn’t press the point, because…because he liked having the man touch him. That seemed…odd. Logan had never really liked being touched, but everytime his instincts told him to cringe, when the older man touched some other place, he instead felt…good. Soft, and good. “Alright, let’s shampoo that hair–close your eyes, you don’t want to get any in there.”

Logan obliged, squeezing his eyes shut tight while Logan massaged the soap into his scalp, telling him he was being such a good boy, and so patient, even thought Logan was squirming a bit, wanting to open his eyes, but he’d keep him shut, because…because he’d said so, because he didn’t want to disappoint him, right? Edgar took a small glass and used it to rinse the soap from Logan’s hair, and told him how good of a boy he was, keeping the soap out of his eyes, and…and Logan heard himself giggle.

He flung his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. What the hell was that? Edgar just laughed and rolled with it, soaping down his shoulders and front, running the sponge under the water over his belly and under his arms, which again, made Logan giggle. “That…that tickles!”

“Oh? Is someone a bit ticklish?” Edgar said, and pushed his hands into Logan’s armpits, wiggling his fingers, making the grown man lose himself in a spasm of giggles and sqirms, water splashing everywhere as they both laughed, the room full of smoke and steam, “No, Edgar! Stop!” he said.

“Call me grandpa, and I’ll stop!”

“No! That’s…that’s silly, you aren’t my…my grandpa!” Logan managed to stutter out in the midst of the man tickling him, but his chest and jaw hurt from laughing, “Alright! Alright, grandpa, stop! Grandpa!”

“Haha, that’s my good boy,” Edgar said, pulling his hands away, letting Logan catch his breath, still giggling a bit, smiling wide up at Edgar. “Alright, now get on your knees in there, let grandpa wash the rest of you up, boy.”

*

“Ok,” Logan said, and repositioned himself on his knees in the tub, and Edgar sponged him lower, around the outside of his thighs, his butt cheeks, and then the inside of his thighs, which made Logan shiver again.

“Ticklish?” Edgar asked., setting his pipe to the side with his free hand.

“N-No…no, just…funny, grandpa…”

“Funny good, or funny bad?”

“Funny…funny good.”

Yeah, that’s a good place, isn’t it? Your peepee?” Edgar asked, sponging Logan’s hard shaft under the water, then under to his balls, and between his thighs.

“Really good Grandpa, feels really…good…” Logan sighed, humping his cock into the sponge.

“Do you like how Grandpa makes you feel? How grandpa makes you feel good and soft and clean and happy?”

“Y-Yeah, grandpa, you make me feel really good, oh…oh grandpa…”

“That’s a good boy, my good, good boy,” Edgar said, letting the sponge float to the surface, wrapping one hand around Logan’s cock, stroking it slow, his other hand slipping under the water and around behind him, between his cheeks, lightly pressing against Logan’s ass, listening to his groan. “Do you want Grandpa to make you feel super extra good, boy?”

“Y-Yeah…” Logan moaned, a quiver of doubt in his voice, not quite sure what he was doing or why, but he didn’t want to stop. “Grandpa, why…I don’t…”

“Shush boy, everything’s fine, you’re happy and safe with Grandpa, I promise. Give Grandpa a kiss.”

“W-what?”

Give Grandpa a kiss.”

Edgar leaned over the tub, locking lips with his boy, and his doubts caved after a moment, Logan turning towards him as he humped into his grandpa’s hand, letting his grandpa shove his tongue deep in his mouth. It tasted of smoke, and was so soft, he didn’t notice that grandpa’s finger had slid into his ass until the pleasure surged through him like a bullet. “Oh…Oh Grandpa!” he cried into the older man’s mouth, but it was too late, he was shaking and cumming, spraying his cum into the bath water. They kept kissing a few minutes, until Logan had come down from his pleasure, Grandpa’s finger still probing his ass, and Edgar pulled his hands out, wiping them with a cloth, before picking his pipe up again. He took a deep inhale of smoke, and kissed him again, feeding him the smoke straight this time, and it was like Logan had never breathed fresh air before, the way he sucked it from his lungs. After a minute of sharing their air, they pulled away, both of them panting.

“I…love you, grandpa.”

“I love you too, boy…but we should get the rest of you cleaned up.”

“But….but I want…I want you to make me feel good again, like that.”

Edgar chuckled. “I’ll tell you what–let’s finish your bath, and then we can watch a movie that’ll make us both feel good.”

“Movies can make you feel good?”

“You’ll see. Now sit back down, and lift up a leg so I can wash it.”

The rest of the bath proceeded largely without incident, aside from another tickle attack on Logan’s feet, which again sent him into spasms of giggles and laughter, water flying everywhere as he kicked and splashed, but finally they finished, drained the bath, and Logan stood and climbed out, but froze when he saw his reflection.

“Grandpa? Why…I look…” he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. What he saw was…how old he looked. With his grey hair, and wrinkled face. His sagging gut and tits covered with hair. His goatee and receding hairline. That…that was what he’d always seen in the mirror, sure, but…somehow, looking at himself, he saw just how many years he’d put on, without even noticing, and…and he hated it, but that wasn’t quite right. After all, he loved how grandpa looked, he looked…looking at him made Logan really happy, in that good way, in the way that made his peepee hard, but that wasn’t how he wanted to look! That…that wasn’t how grandpa wanted him to look either, he bet. “Why am I so ugly?”

“Oh, don’t worry about how you look right now, you’ve had a rough day–all you need is your beauty sleep,” Edgar said, as he started towelling Logan down from head to toe, paying special attention to his boy’s peepee, of course, his boy leaning against him, feeling how soft and comfortable his grandpa was, how much he loved being close to him, how much he loved touching, and being touched by him. “Now, we were going to watch a movie, right?”

“Yeah…but…”

“What?”

“There was…Wasn’t there something else I needed to do?”

“Like what?”

Logan searched his head, trying to remember, but couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it–just let grandpa take care of the hard stuff, alright?”

“Ok, sounds good, grandpa. But what movie are we watching?”

“Oh, it’s one of my favorites–I’ve watched it lots of times.”

“Really? What’s it about?” Logan asked, as they went back into the living room.

“It’s about a grandpa and a grandson who love each other very much, and who love making each other feel good and special.”

“Kind of like us!” Logan exclaimed, with a laugh.

“Exactly like us! That’s why I know you’re going to love it.”

Grandpa put the video in the player, and turned on the TV, then went over and sat in the armchair. “Now come on boy, come sit in grandpa’s lap, and let’s watch together.”

Logan sat down between his grandpa’s legs on the chair, and felt his grandpa’s peepee poking him in the butt, but he didn’t mind…thinking about his grandpa’s finger in his hole, and how good that had made him feel…maybe…maybe that’s what peepees were for…even? He felt like he should know that, and yet the idea felt so staggeringly revolutionary to him, that even if that wasn’t what peepees were for, he…he kind of wanted to try it anyway.

The Fetish Gun is Loose! (Part 7) [Interactive]

Sorry for the slight hiatus! Life is getting a bit hectic at the moment.


Now that Rick had a pair of boots, like he should–he could even feel the two of them gently massaging his feet, hungry for his sweat and stink–he turned his attention back to the gun, and noticed that one part seemed to be emitting some sparks. A bit concerned, he tapped the side, where a panel had popped off slightly, tried to push it back into place, but when he did, there was a sudden surge of electricity that slammed into him, and he stumbled backwards into a booth and slumped down, unconscious for the moment.

The gun hit the ground, and when it did, the sparks seemed to be getting worse, the gun shaking and spinning on the ground, arcs of yellow electricity leaping in every direction, building up into one large spray of light that shot out of the gun, slamming right into a young man on the dance floor, and sending him stumbling several feet away. He’d arrived to the bar dressed in jeans and a western shirt, and had been an early target of the gun’s creator, making him a bit more…country flavored, with a lip full of chaw, cowboy hat on his head and cowboy boots on his feet. Now, where he was sitting on the floor, feeling rather out of sorts, he looked…quite a bit older than he had before. His face was weathered from years spent outside on various ranches and farms on the rural side of the state, though he liked to come over to the city regularly to let loose at the bars.

A younger man walked over to help the old cowboy daddy up, but as soon as he touched him, there was a static shot that leapt off of the daddy and sunk into the young man, and he began to change as well, his skimpy club clothes becoming well worn jeans and a long sleeve shirt like the man on the ground. More changes followed, a full goatee around his still young face, one lip full of chaw just like the man he helped up–just like his daddy. They embraced, the son glad his dad was alright, and then looked over to where the gun was still spraying sparks and light–just in time to see another blast launch off in a different direction, where it hit a glass on the bar, and it refracted into a wide swath of light, catching two bartenders and the whole wall of liquor in its path.

No one noticed any changes right away, until an older fellow grabbed their affected drink from the bar and took a sip, not noticing as years began to melt away from his face, his body shrinking lightly and becoming more toned, his hips and booty catching the beat on the dance floor as his clothes shifted to something much more revealing. Soon enough, the new twink had finished his drink and joined the throng on the dance floor, though the gun wasn’t finished yet. There was one more blast of light, this one was a wide swath cutting low along the ground, catching several tables and chairs in its path, the furniture beginning to shake and rattle–along with the people sitting on them–and the wood and cloth they had been made off began to warp and discolor, until they were all made from leather and rubber stretched over metal frames.

Before anyone sitting in them, or near them, could do anything, the leather and rubber had come alive, and was wrapping itself around the men sitting on them, or dragging nearby men into a sitting position. They all struggled at first, but as the leather and rubber dissolved their clothes and replaced them, they all began to moan and grind into the strange furniture. Some of them were absorbed entirely, becoming human-esque chairs and tables held in bondage, quaking with desire. Others were simply covered by the substances, their minds warped with new, kinky desires. One in particular, Now a rubber covered gimp wearing a gasmask and covered with leather straps, eyed the gun they had noticed send off the light, and then the rest of the room.

On the floor, the gun had stopped sending off sparks, finally, and the small screen on the side was flashing–Critical Error!–Reboot and Repair. The gun shutdown, and glowed for a moment, as the nanites buried inside went to work, repairing the damage from the fight, and after a few moments, the gun was back to normal–and back online–ready to be used by whoever picked it up next.


Who gets a hold of it next?

  1. Davie sees the commotion and reclaims the gun.
  2. The new twink from the dance floor gets it–he’s looking for a daddy play with–and decides to use Rick, still passed out in the booth.
  3. The rednecks get hold of it, and want a few more guys for their family.
  4. The gimp gets it, and makes himself a rubber master, and decides to use Davie.

Here’s the twitter poll

Here’s the Patron only poll

Voting ends Thursday!

Curse of the Homophobe (Part 11)

As soon as Evan thought about giving into this persona, however, the spirit welled up inside him–warning him. Telling him that it would get its satisfaction one way or another, whether he helped it along or not–and so, it would be best for him if he simply cooperated. He looked over at Harry, who was now naked, and felt that familiar squeamishness rise up in his throat at the sight of him, like looking at naked men always seemed to do to him, like he was some fucking queer–and he hated it. He hated Harry, most of all, in that moment, and he thought of all the vile things he could do to him…but he held back and restrained himself. He couldn’t lose himself again, like before. Stay in control of himself, and maybe he could keep his wits about him.

“You know, I just don’t think you have what it takes, Harry,” he said, the power twining out and around him–but not changing him yet, just…sliding a little bit of doubt and confusion into his mind.

“What are you talking about, Evan?” Harry asked him.

“I mean, as far as recruits go–you’re a pretty sorry looking fucker, you know that? I mean, what are you, five foot five? 240 pounds? Decided to tuck into those doughnuts even before you got through the academy. Can’t fucking imagine how you managed to pass the physical tests with that sort of frame, but maybe the standards just aren’t quite what they used to be, back when I went through. They’ll let any short fat dumbfuck become a cop these days.”

Harry tried to rebut him, but the spirit was too quick, warping him as Evan spoke, until the lean, muscled, veteran of the force had almost entirely disappeared. In his place was a short, stocky young cadet, fresh out of the academy, who had been given to Evan to train. The words…stung, but while Harry knew he should try and defend himself, and his honor…he couldn’t seem to make his brain work fast enough to come up with a retort.

Evan just continued, feeling more confident, feeling his cock hardening in anticipation, “I did have a chat with Grant, though, about you. I always check in with him when I get a new cadet to train–and you know what he told me? Grant and I go way back you know–he paired me up with you for good reason, boy–he told me all about those special skills of yours you used to get through the academy. That sweet mouth and tight ass. See, we let the occasional faggot through, you know. Not many–they never make good cops, but they sure can make great bootlickers. You a good bootlicker, boy?”

Evan put his booted foot up on the bench, and watched Harry’s eye go right to it. He knew what was expected of him–and he walked over, got down on his knees, and started shining his superior officer’s boot with his tongue–first one, and then the other, paying special attention to the bottom of the soles (where Evan reminded him he’d walked through dog shit earlier that day) and then shoved the young cub up against the lockers and fucked his tight ass, showing the boy what he could expect his proper place to be in this precinct–though he knew what he was signing up for, didn’t he? He’s fantasized about being a cop’s sex slave for as long as he could remember, which is why he signed up for Grant’s special recruitment program, after all.

He came deep, pulled free, and made the cadet clean off his cock, before ordering him to get changed and out of his sight. Harry did as he was ordered, his own cock rock hard the entire time, and Evan knew he would be jacking off as soon as possible–these little faggot cadets were all the fucking same, after all. Evan went back to changing, and noticed that he had changed as well. No longer just a beat cop anymore–he was the captain in charge of this entire precinct–which is exactly why Grant had sent this pig here–he was just Evan’s type after all, and his last pig had finally broken down and quit a month ago. He wasn’t worried about they talking–they all wanted it, after all, even if the reality was always too much for them. Still, this one was…particularly eager–he might last longer than most, but Evan would grind him down eventually. That was his favorite part, after all.

He was dressed in his street clothes, admiring his broad shoulders, silver hair and mustache, thinking about how nice it would be to get home for dinner…but something was nagging him. This wasn’t quite right, after all. He knew he should be remembering something…but he was so tired, and maybe it was easier to just finally forget. (will check 60%: success! The story goes on!) He did remember though–how could he forget? This wasn’t real, but his task was, at least, finished…and maybe he’d be able to avoid the same fate as before now, if he was careful when he changed back. If he changed back, that is.

He…was important, now, after all. He had ambitions, and…needs. He could becomes someone even more important–he was attending a gala with the mayor and the commissioner in a few days, after all. But is that what he wanted? Thinking about Harry’s young hole…there were some young men in the neighborhood who could use his  If he changed back now…what if he did end up back with Robbie, or maybe even something worse? But what did he want, really?


Alright, Evan can either change back into something else at this point, or he has a couple of options if you’d like to see him continue in his cop persona. If he changes back, there’s two different options below–each has two possible outcomes (two cleaner, two grungier, depending on your tastes).

  1. Changes back into either a campus security guard (50%), or burly ex jock coach (50%).
  2. Changes back, into a grungy, chain smoking redneck sheriff (50%), or Robbie’s fat, slobby mall cop boyfriend (50%).
  3. Pursues his ambition, and corrupts the commissioner and mayor of the city. (80% end)
  4. Pursues his needs, and corrupts some young Mormon missionaries in his neighborhood. (80% end)

Here is the twitter poll

Here is the patron only poll

Polls close on Saturday!

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 8)

“Well I gotta say fucker, for a cub, you make one hot fuckin’ daddy, you know?”

“Well don’t get used to it–that’s not…something I usually do…” Carter said, still feeling mortified. This was so unusual for him,

daddying out for an evening and waking up with a cub in his arms? That wasn’t usually his style at all. He’d been in for quite a shock, when he’d untangled himself from the young muscle cub in his bed, gotten up and seen himself in the mirror. The changes from the night before had reverted quite a bit, but that didn’t make it any less jarring to look at himself, covered in hair still matted with the cub’s dried cum, beard down to his chest with several streaks of white. The muscle cub, a young man named Wyatt, had been surprised as well, that the sexy daddy who’d picked him up while he was out of it on a Hot Shot had ended up being a chubby little cub like this. His tongue was thick still, and his cock was a bit less red, and a bit less hard, but he could go another round–not that the cub was likely up for it.

“Got any coffee? My head is pounding.”

I can make you some. Those Hot Shots at Cubster’s can be a doozy.”

“Fuck, I should know better. Those things always fuck me up,” he said, “Still, it’s worth it–how about that fuckin’ load, man? Ever seen one that big?”

Carter had seen a few larger, but not many. Mostly he was trying to connect the dots of the night, and the day, before, but nothing seemed to line up very well. Still, it had been a wild night–and now it was a new day. You just had to roll with it sometimes, and sort it out as you go.

“You, uh, wanna take a shower, while I brew a cup for you?” Carter offered.

Wyatt shook his head, raised one arm over his head and took a sniff, “Nah–Daddy loves when I come home smelling like fucking–drives him nuts! If I hurry, I can catch him before he heads off to work, and he’ll probably add his load to yours, if I can keep it in there–damn, you really stretched me out!”

Carter smiled, “I feel like I should at least get you breakfast or something.”

Wyatt just shook his head, and hauled on his rubber shirt. “Thanks man, just the coffee, and then I should get going.”

There was something welling up in Carter’s chest, some…longing he didn’t quite know how to explain, or put into words, but he swallowed it back down while he made a pot of coffee for them both. The cub took a mug and nearly chugged it, and then put on his sneakers and then bounded back up, a big grin plastered across his face, a grin that seemed…son familiar to him. Had Carter seen him before? Known him from somewhere? He didn’t really want him to leave, and yet he had no real reason for feeling that way, as far as he could know. Perhaps in another life, they’d known each other. The city felt like a parade of ghosts to him, at times. All of your lovers were just strangers in waiting; every stranger was a lover to be made. It could feel so lonely one moment, and then like the coziest family the next.

He walked Wyatt to the door, and gave him a hug and a kiss, smelling the cum on him, feeling a desire for another round rising in him, and in his crotch. He wasn’t really one for cubs, ever, but something about this one just made him…hungry.

“You know, I’m pretty much always free on Thursday nights–you wanna meet up again next week? I’d love to see you in some rubber, if you have any, maybe spend the night at Slick’s, see if we can’t bring that dirty daddy out again to play some more,” Wyatt said with a grin, “He was a lot of fun–not that you wouldn’t be too, of course.”

Carter said that he would like that, and they traded phone numbers to keep in touch, before Wyatt slipped out of the apartment and down to the street, joining the other throngs of men parading home after another night out in the city. The loss was there, but it was easing somewhat, and Carter made himself a nice breakfast to go with his coffee, since food usually made him feel much better, and by noon, he was feeling more like himself–and looking more like himself too, except for a few smile lines in his brow, and a couple flecks of grey in his goatee. Still, he had to admit that they looked good on him, in a way. He laughed at himself, imagining him changing into a bear. It was hard to imagine after being a cub for so long, but it wasn’t exactly out of the question, now was it? Hell, if Wyatt had his way, he’d probably be a full fledged daddy for real by this time next week. There was a buzz from his phone, and it was from Wyatt–a picture of his pert ass, cum dribbling down the inside of his thigh.

“Just like I thought–the smell of you on me got Daddy all excited. Thanks again, see you next week hot stuff.”

Carter grinned, feeling his cock throb, and jacked off to the picture, before sending Wyatt a pic of his load. Every stranger was a lover to be made–never had that felt more true to him in his lives.

-END-