Cruising (1 of 2)

“I gotta say, this cruise has been fucking amazing–thank’s again for the birthday present,” Lucas said, leaning over and giving his husband a kiss. They’d gotten married five years ago, and Mark had surprised his younger husband with a two week cruise through the Caribbean on the newest, hottest gay cruise that everyone was chatting about. Clothing was always optional, there were wild parties every night, and both Lucas and Mark had nailed so much tail–and each other–that halfway through, they were feeling a bit spent. Or Lucas was at least–Mark had always been the hornier one, despite being ten years older.

“Can I get either of you gentlemen something to drink?” one of the cruise staff had come sauntering over, carrying a tray. The staff was by far one of the nicest features to look at–every waiter, every bartender, every housekeeper–they were all handsome gym bunnies wearing nothing more than a thong barely containing their huge packages, and a sailor hat on their head.

“Heh, how about a nice drink of you?” Mark said, groping the man’s package.

“Of course sir, if that’s what you’d desire,” the man said with a wink.

“How about you, Lucas?”

“No, you go have your fun–I’m tuckered after that morning orgy–I’m gonna just tan for a bit, you two enjoy yourselves.

After an hour in their room with the waiter, Mark was finally sated, and the man got up, pulling his thong back on. “Anything else I can get for you, sir?”

“Fuck–I don’t know, you have any job openings?” Mark said with a chuckle, “I mean–what a life! Cruising around all day, fucking anyone you want–sounds like a dream job, though I’m probably a bit old for your staff.”

The waiter smiled, “I think you’d make an excellent addition to the crew,” the waiter said, took off his sailor’s cap and dropped it on Mark’s head, watching the older man’s eyes glaze over, his jaw slack. “Come with me sailor, and we’ll start your hiring process.”

Mark tried to fight, but suddenly he couldn’t control his own body. Stiffly, almost robotically, he got up and followed the waiter deep down into the ship to meet his new fate.

Arctos: Briar (Part 4)

Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”

“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”

Miles was blushing a bit, but also found it kind of sexy that they’d gotten caught by his…son? His mind immediately told him that couldn’t be right–he and Jase were almost the same age after all. No, so then…housemates? Yeah, housemates, of course. He kind of wished they were more than that, after all, Jase was one sexy fucker, but he’d settled for Jase’s equally hot coworker Cole in the meantime. He figured that if Jase…stumbled in on them a few times, he might eventually get up the courage to maybe join in. “Sorry Jase,” he said, “we got a little carried away, right Daddy?”

Cole didn’t say anything–if this wasn’t Jase, then who the hell…his mind started filling in blanks for him. How he’d met Miles when he’d stopped by the worksite one day to give Jase something from home, and the two of them had known at a glance that they were going to fuck, and soon. That very night, in fact, Cole followed Jase home and fucked around with Miles, much to Jase’s frustration. He could still recall, of course, that Jase had been his original target, but Miles was certainly a nice consolation prize if nothing else. “Yeah, sorry man…you know how I get around Miles, right?”

Jase didn’t know. Even as the other two had new memories forming, Jase was at a loss, the smoke filled room making his eyes water a bit, unable to understand where his dad had gone, and how these two strangers had gotten here instead.

“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”

“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”

Miles got off the couch, grabbed Cole’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, passing Jase along the way, who was still unable to process what was going on. He shared a look with Cole as he passed, the older man regarding him with a smile, but was there also a bit of disappointment there? They both went upstairs, and all that remained was their plumes of smoke, which Jase couldn’t help breathe in, and he started looking around wondering where his dad was, but the more second hand smoke he breathed, the less certain he became that his father was there at all. Still, he could remember him, right? Certainly he could remember someone else who should be here besides Miles, his housemate. No–what?

He paused. Where in the hell had that thought come from? And wasn’t Miles his father’s name? That was an odd coincidence he supposed, but not really that strange in the end. His memories felt more and more confused, and he heard a loud thump from upstairs in the master bedroom, where Miles slept, a groan, and then the squeak of his bed’s springs. Ugh, he couldn’t believe Miles liked Cole of all people. He didn’t really care that they were fags, but did he have to pick the coworker he liked the least the fuck around with? He shook his head, figuring there were just some things he wouldn’t understand, and he too, went upstairs, back to his room and inside, but where the air was clearer, the worries returned.

He saw pictures of him and his father, pinned to the wall, the memories of them here in this house so damn clear to him, but at the same time, some other part of him kept saying he had to be mistaken. He pushed that other part of himself away, and focused on his memories–coming home and talking to his dad. That strange box he’d received in the mail. It was crazy, but…but what if Miles…was his dad? Had something happened to him? Or more precisely, had Cole done something to him? He thought of the surprise he’d seen on Cole’s face downstairs, of the sense of disappointment as he’d walked past. The box…it had been for him. Was…did something happen to his dad that should have happened to him instead?

He could still smell smoke. He threw open his window, leaned against the screen, and his head cleared further still. His dad had been acting so strange about that package, and Cole was such a raging pervert…there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing though–what had been in the box? He went downstairs and searched a bit further, until he found where his father had opened it in the kitchen, but there was nothing there–just an empty box with Arctos printed on the side, a blank piece of paper beside it. This was no use–he’d have to…maybe if he spied a bit, he’d figure something out, something that would help him figure out what had happened to his dad.

He crept up the stairs, towards the door to the Master bedroom. The smoke was thicker here, the smell as strong as it had been downstairs, and he could hear them moaning behind it–he cracked open the door, smoke billowing through, and it was so thick, he could only see the outlines of them fucking on the bed. His housemate was there, Cole’s cock buried in his hole–no! No, it was his dad. Fuck, looking at him, how hadn’t he seen it before? He looked like he had in old family portraits, just hairier, and…sluttier. But he was so young, he couldn’t be his dad, and be that young. The smoke was thick in his lungs, making him feel lightheaded. Those doubts were back, and he fought harder, knowing that they were false…but the more smoke he breathed, the stronger they got. He could sense them, trying to rewire his mind somehow, frustrated that he was being as resistant as he was, and then they noticed his awareness, and they pushed harder. He focused as hard as he could, focusing on his dad, on helping him, on fighting, but it was too much. He felt a sharp pain rip through his brain as something in him broke apart, and then fell back clutching his head, trying not not to scream.

Arctos: Briar

Cole gave off another belch, then patted his gut and laughed, looking over at Jase, the younger man just rolling his eyes and walking off to get back to work on the site. “Come on, you have to admit that was a good one!” Cole shouted after him.

“You’re gross, Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “ Would you get some work done for a fucking change?”

Cole laughed, but did go back to working on the houses they were building, but he let off another belch, groped his thick cock through his cutoff jeans, amazed that he was horny again already. He’d fucking jacked off in the damn porta-potty twice today, and it looked like he was going to have to take another smoke break. Still, he kept up for a few more minutes, until his cock was aching, and then he pulled out his pipe, made a show of patting his pants, and said, “Out of fucking tobacco,” loud enough for a few guys to hear. Jase noticed, and sighed–it was just Cole being Cole, he thought, as frustrating as the fat fuck was, watching him head for his truck. He’d be missing for half an hour, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. Still, he’d been a part of the crew for so long, none of them could imagine it without him. As annoying as he was, he was just…there. Most of which was true, except for the fact that Cole had only been working with them for about a week.

Cole hadn’t forgotten his tobacco, of course–it was in his pocket, but he needed some time alone to blow off some steam. After a week, he’d gotten used to this body for the most part, and he’d thought he’d quit getting turned on by it so much, but damn, every time he let off a belch, or noticed the heft of his gut, or caught a whiff of his musk…He lifted an arm and took a whiff, hauling out his cock before fumbling with his pipe. It wasn’t a perfect pack or light, but it did the job well enough, and the cab flooded with smoke as he stroked himself slow, smelling himself.

He’d been playing a game, the last few days, trying to remember things about himself, before he’d opened that pipe club kit he’d received from Arctos in the mail, but the image was fading, and the memories too. He’d been younger than he was now, in his thirties. Clean shaven. Working at a desk all day, but he had no clue what he’d done. Pushing papers, spreadsheets, something like that. So much fucking better, getting sweaty all day under the sun, working your body out with a bunch of other burly fuckers. Of course, this job of his was new–he’d been so happy with his pipe, that of course he’d taken advantage of the discount to order a few things from Arctos, the construction kit and a few other accessories, and here he was–a nasty pig working on the site all damn day, and he loved it. He knew, in the back of his mind, that his old self would be disgusted by what he’d become, but why in the hell should he care about that fucker? He didn’t even smoke! Fuck, if Cole had to go without his pipe for a day, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

He hiked his dusty wifebeater up over his hairy gut, giving it a rub with his free hand, pinching one of his fat nipples, thinking about Jase. He’d been saving his referral to the pipe club for someone special, and on the first day, he’d decided that special someone was going to be Jase. The guy was young, but built–at least six four, three hundred pounds, a bunch of it muscle. Beard down to his chest, a bright red. He’d requested a kinkcub cut tobacco with a heavy musk flavor added, and expedited shipping of course. Earlier that day, he’d gotten a message from his phone that the package had arrived while they were here at work. He’d give Jase a few hours to…get acclimated, and then come knocking tonight, and the two of them were going to have some real fun. He storked a bit faster, gave a long fart, and then shot his load up onto his gut, rubbing it in until it turned sticky, and then climbed out of his truck, puffing smoke, and headed back to the worksite. Quitting time couldn’t come soon enough, in his opinion, and all day, jase noticed that Cole kept glancing over at him, rubbing his crotch, head shrouded in that pipe smoke of his–and he too, couldn’t wait to get away when the day was over.

Something Cole hadn’t bothered to learn about Jase, however, was whether or not he lived alone. In fact, Jase still lived with his father, Miles–he’d been trying to scrape money together to move out for a while now, but honestly it was just easier to stay with him. They were both pretty laid back, he helped out with expenses, he had privacy, and his dad, he thought, was mostly happy to not have to live all by himself. He was in his early 50’s, and worked a warehouse job early in the morning, and was usually home early in the afternoon–early enough to have answered the door when the burly delivery man from some company named Arctos showed up with a small package for his son. As soon as he touched the box, he felt an odd rush through his body, and along with that, an intense curiosity for what might be inside. To his knowledge, his son had never been one to order things online or anything–what in the hell could it be?

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!
Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?

His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”

Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.

Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”

They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”

Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”

Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.

“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”

“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”

“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”

Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”

“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”

“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”

“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, leaving Jase gasping and shaking on the floor, trying to understand what had just happened to him. Where even was he anyway? He looked around, found he was in the hallway outside his son’s door, which was open a crack. He must have been…been peeping. Yeah, he always liked to watch his son get plowed by the guys he brought home, and he’d been bringing that sexy fucker Cole home a whole lot lately. Damn, that pig was nasty, and a huge damn cock…

No–No, he wasn’t thinking straight. Jase stumbled up, but couldn’t catch his balance, felt like he was going to throw up. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror…but the reflection was wrong! He looked so…so young, not even a hint of grey anywhere, and certainly more muscular…right? He looked more like his son, if anything–what it the world was going on? Some other part of him was trying to tell him he was wrong, that something had happened to his mind, that he wasn’t thinking straight somehow, but everything was so hazy…maybe if he had a smoke…He patted his pockets, but his pipe wasn’t there. He checked the floor where he’d fallen, but it wasn’t there either.

Downstairs, he heard the doorbell. The pipe could wait a moment–it was more important that he go down and get his package. He opened the door and found a burly delivery man there–a sexy fucker, huge cock outlined in those tight shorts, and he handed Jase a small package, told him to have a good day, and then left. Jase closed the door and opened up the box, where he found a short note:

“Valued Arctos Customer,
We’ve been alerted to a reality incongruence event, and wish to apologize for any distress this may have caused you with a complimentary gift to help ease your transition.
Enjoy!”

It was his pipe.

His favorite pipe was in this box for some reason, along with a pouch of his usual tobacco, but how in the hell had it gotten there? Then again, maybe…maybe that wasn’t worth worrying about, better to just get it lit as soon as possible. He’d feel better with some smoke in his lungs. He found his son’s lighter and packed the pipe, fumbling with it awkwardly, like his hands kept trying to fight him somehow, some voice screaming deep in him, best to shut it up quick before he got any ideas. He pulled in the first lungful of smoke, and calm suffused his body, muffling the objections he’d been feeling. Everything was alright, now that he had his pipe–now he could get back to what really mattered–watching that hot daddy Cole give his son a proper pounding. His standards seemed pretty low–maybe he’d even give Jase a fuck too.

He climbed the stairs, and halfway up his joints and muscles started to ache familiarly. He passed the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Funny, he thought he’d looked odd a few minutes earlier, but things were looking more normal now–his frizzy mane of hair had lost nearly all of it’s red at this point, the same with his beard. He was short, with a thick gut, arms and legs withered a bit with age, that puny cock of his…couldn’t even get hard anymore, not that he’d ever had much use for it. No, he was an old pig through and through–taught his boy everything he knew, and he couldn’t be more proud of the filthy slut Miles had become.

He got back down on his knees, slowly this time, one hand on the wall to steady himself. It fucking sucked getting old–twenty years ago, there wasn’t a single pig around here who could match him. Still, maybe it was time to pass the baton to his boy, because fucking look at him. The way he’s taking Cole’s cock, god damn. Jase reached down under his sweaty, greasy gut for his short cock and found it at half mast–even that was an increasing rarity these days, but a relief to know that the old pecker wasn’t quite dead yet.

Miles and Cole shifted positions, and the cub looked over and saw the door was open, and someone was crouched down in the crack. He had no idea who it could be, but he recognized his pervy, nasty dad after a few moments. Odd how he’d looked like a total stranger for a moment, but rare was the time when his dad wasn’t watching his son get fucked by the men he brought home with him. He put on a bit of a show, watching his old man’s gut heave a bit, drool in his thick beard, old tongue on his thin lips, huffing on that ancient pipe of his. Past his prime, but damn, Miles wished his old cock could still work. His dad wasn’t much of a fucker of course, but Miles had always liked how…close he felt, getting fucked by his dad, back when he was still learning what a damn pig he was. Cole noticed him a moment later, and his reaction was a bit more extreme. He hauled his cock out and stepped back, shouting, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Just my pig dad Cole, don’t worry about it. I always let him watch,” Miles said, “Get back in me daddy, I want your damn cock, sir…”

Cole ignored him and strode to the door, opening it, and looking down at the short, flabby old man in the doorway. Jase–he could still see him in there, even as the smoke rewrote his memories. He’d always pictured him as a cub…but damn, he made a sexy old pig in the end too. “Nonsense, I think your dad should play too, don’t you Miles?”

“His cock don’t work anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jase added, “Was never much a top anyway.”

Cole smirked, “Get in here dad. Shove that fist up your boy’s cunt, and I’m gonna feed his throat. How’s that sound?”

Jase’s cloudy eyes lit up with a sparkle. Cole helped the old man up and together they flanked his son and got to work. By morning, all three of them couldn’t even fathom a time when they hadn’t been living together, their own fucked up family unit, getting more and more perverse every time a new Arctos sample showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?

Connected/related to this caption

“No boy, I still don’t think that’s shiny enough, do you?”

He shivered again, felt the leather glove against his scalp as he pulled the brush back, looking down at the boots of his master–

Master? No, this was…who was he again?

Coworker? They came to the convention together, didn’t they? But he’d come back to discover this…older man in these leathers, who had complained that his boy hadn’t shined his boots properly, and now here he was, trying as hard as he could. Why wasn’t anything good enough?

“I’m…sorry sir.”

“Don’t be sorry, just fix it boy.”

The leather glove on his hand was firmer now, pressing down.

“Go on, look closer. See those smudges? Looks like shit, boy, you can do better for daddy.”

The leather was so shiny he could see his reflection, though in the curve of the black, he seemed to be warped. His face seemed so smooth, as smooth as the boot. Where had his beard gone? Where had his hair gone? The glove weighed him down, and he found himself moving closer still to the top of the boot, fear and a strange exhilaration overwhelming him. Licking the leather, tasting the boot black, it seemed so natural. Proper.

He was cold. Naked. Bent over as he was, he saw his suit had disappeared. His body was as smooth as his face, as smooth as the boot. Flabby, underdeveloped. His one accessory was the metal cage around his puny cock and balls, to keep his boymeat in check.

Daddy allowed him up, and he inspected the surface. “Better boy.” Now the other one. The boy’s cock throbbed in his cage and he leapt to the other boot, hungry for the flavor of leather now, tongue black, teeth gritty, but anything for his daddy, anything.

Source: bootedmentobeadmired

Arctos Monthly (Part 5)

From that moment on, the two of them were inseparable. Andy was my roommate, sure, but he moved in with Mitch–after Mitch got done kicking his old frat bro out of the place to make room. While Mitch tried to go to class and practice, Andy spent the day fucking himself, smoking, drinking and eating, but as soon as Mitch got back to the room, they’d fuck all night long. I joined them regularly, but it was clear I was a third wheel, and when I got my third package in the mail–well, that changed everything, literally.

It came a few weeks after Mitch’s first, and it was moderately sized. I had no clue what might be in there, but I took it back to my room and opened it up, and when I did–I still don’t really remember what was in there. Nothing…physical, but as soon as I opened it, I started…seeing and feeling and knowing all of these things I knew I couldn’t, that all of this was impossible, and when I felt like my head was going to explode, I passed out–and woke up in my house. Yeah–my house, not what I was expecting either, not that I really knew what to expect from Arctos at that point.

But I had a house. I had a whole new life, actually. I made my way to a mirror and got a look at myself–now in my early fifties, a good amount of grey accenting my red. I’d done well for myself, working construction and owned my own company–I’d never been to college. It all felt perfectly natural, and totally unfamiliar at the same time, but needless to say, I was freaked out. I was still in the same town as before, so I hopped in my truck and headed for campus, where I discovered that both Andy and Mitch both remembered me, and that no one else did.

From that moment on, I drifted apart from Andy and Mitch, though I kept tabs on them well enough. Andy got his final package a week after me, and ended up in a rundown trailer park not too far from my house, living like a complete pig, eeking out a living as a long range trucker–which is about the only job he could manage with his piss-poor work ethic. Mitch quit going to school and moved in with his pig, and got his second package in due time–Andy made him hold off on using the cigar that arrived for him for four days, and Mitch smoked it with Andy in the room, of course. Mitch is massive now–shaved head, covered in tattoos, a real mean fucker, but the new Andy loves it–the abuse, the rough fucks, being his urinal, the fisting–all of it. Mitch doesn’t have a job–he doesn’t do well with authority–but they make some extra bucks renting out Andy’s hungry holes to a few local biker gangs, and Andy pimps himself out on his trips as well–though Mitch usually follows along in his hog, keeping tabs on his pig bitch. After Mitch’s third package, he aged up a bit, but not a whole lot changed–the two of them are certainly happy together still. I see them on occasion, but I don’t fuck Andy anymore, now that Mitch insists he charges me too–I don’t even get a fucking discount, can you believe that? Fucking ungrateful bastards.

But yeah, I was lonely, I admit it. I hooked up regularly, but most of the fucking bears around here are little bitches. It was Arctos who reminded me that I still had one referral left that I could use, and I’d made friends with an older fellow in my neighborhood named Orville–a widow in his early seventies, no kids. He…tolerated my sexuality, but didn’t understand it, but I figured, why not give him a chance to experience it himself?

He got the package a few days after I requested it, and twenty minutes later he was pounding on my door, dressed in some rather age inapporpriate attire–some denim cutoff booty shorts, a leather harness, and steel toed boots, a pipe shoved in his mouth, and my tongue shoved in beside it in short order. He was confused to say the least, and less than happy after I gave him the whole story, but, well, once he’d gotten a taste of my dick, he couldn’t quite get enough, and I was happy to have a steady fuck again. The pipe had put on some pounds, and fuck his ass was nice–soft and pillowy, but not too fat–just right.

He’d come around by the time the second package arrived, and he asked me to stick around while he smoked it. I was more than happy to do so, and when everything cleared–well, we were a bit closer than I was expecting. He’d picked up my red hair, though his was quite a bit whiter at his age, and a nice, thick accent that made my cock jump immediately. Yeah, he’d become my own father, and somehow that only made us hotter for each other. he loved lording it over me too–ordering me around, telling me how to take care of the company he’d given me when he’d retired, but in bed, he did what I told him–I made sure of that. The third and final package showed up and burst his bubble, however. When he woke up, he discovered he’d lost fifty years of his life, and now he was my young, chubby cubson, but I think it made him happy. Fifty more years, and someone sexy to spend it with? He thinks he’s pretty lucky, and I’m pretty lucky too, having a sexy son like that in my life.

To say that Arctos industries changed my life is an understatement–it was transformative, and it can be for you too! For just $149.99 you too can get a three month subscription to Arctos Monthly, and a gift subscription for a friend. I promise you won’t regret it–after all, as with all of Arctos’ products, your one hundred percent satisfaction is always guaranteed.

Paid Vacation (Part 3)

***WARNING*** Still nasty.

For the first week, Ian was able to trick himself into believing that the programming was having no effect on him. He would fight and resist as much as he could, when he was awake, but the fact remained that there was very little he could do to prevent anything from happening to him. He focused his efforts on Rick, trying to get his coworker to see how fucked up this was, but Rick would just smile and shake his head, “I…I used to think like that too, you know. But don’t worry, you’ll understand here soon. You’re going to be so happy, just like me, just like we all are. I…I just want you to be happy, baby–here. let me make you feel good…” he said, and rubbed another load out for Ian, before leaving for the night. Rick was the only person he saw, after that first day, and after about six days, he’d started to loose hope that he’d escape. Still, he only had to hold out for a month, right? That’s how long his vacation was at least. If he could just hang on that long, if the programming didn’t work, then maybe…maybe they’d just let him go! He had a strong will, he could do this!

Then, slowly, he found himself enjoying what was happening to him. Enjoying the feedings, finding himself sucking down as much of the slop as he could, eager to fill himself up so…so he could shit more. So he fill his diaper to bursting. He tried to push the thoughts away, but they persisted, growing louder and louder in his mind. Still, he knew they were intruders, and even as they gained volume, he fought them, trying to work on Rick, trying to make him see that this was wrong. But my the middle of the week, he’d noticed something new–that whenever he tried to talk, the only thing that would come out sounded…immature and childish, using small words, or nonsense words. Even in his mind, he found himself using ‘poo-poo’, ‘pee’, and calling his penis his ‘wee-wee’. He forgot Rick’s name, and couldn’t recover it–the only thing he could think to call him was…’Daddy’.

Rick heard him say that, and chided him. “I’m not your daddy, little boy–you know that. Why don’t you just call me your big brother? Because we’re family, and families take care of each other, right?”

That didn’t sound right at all, but…but it did make him feel good, “Ok, big brother,” Ian said, smiling wide.

“You wanna take care of your brother’s wee-wee for him?”

Ian nodded–the taste of his brother’s cock had started growing on him, and he sucked him off, cumming spontaneously when Rick shot down his throat.

The next day, he woke to discover he was no longer tied to the bed. This…this was his chance! He rolled up, surprised by how…heavy he felt, and saw that his small gut had doubled in size in just a week. What in the world was he being fed, to make him do that? Still, now was his chance to get the hell out of here. He tried to stand up, but his legs couldn’t–or rather, wouldn’t support him. Instead, he started crawling across the floor towards the door, feeling his full diaper sagging down between his legs, making his wee-wee hard, just thinking about…about how nasty it was. How much his big bro would love eating his filth later. He shook his head, and reached the door, struggled to balance on his knees…but froze, in front of the doorknob, struck with terror, and…guilt. He…he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be a bad boy! No, no! He was a good boy, and good boys did what daddy wanted, and daddy wanted him to stay…right? Ian had lost his mental footing, and he sat back in his own shit, trying to sort out what he should do, reaching no firm conclusion before Rick came in to get his little brother cleaned up and fed, but disappointed that Baby Ian had gotten out of bed by himself. Doesn’t he know that’s dangerous? He disciplined him, smacking his ass after he’d licked it clean, Ian sobbing, promising he’d be a good boy from now on, and Rick let him suck his cock to quiet him back down, before diapering him back up, helping him back onto the bed, and giving him his daily programming.

Clarity came less and less. The few times Ian found himself considering escape filled him with fear of disappointing his family. No, he would be a good boy, good and obedient. His feedings grew longer, now that he could eat more, and his shit would regularly overflow his diaper after his meals…which filled Ian with disgust at first…but when Rick saw and praised him for being such a good, nasty baby, he felt himself well with pride–and he started eating more, shitting harder, to make Rick happy. After two weeks of his vacation, Rick finally fucked him–before licking him clean, shoving his cock into Ian’s shit coated crack, and Ian couldn’t believe how…how horny he was, playing and fucking in his own filth. Rick began fucking him regularly, and even let Ian suck his cock clean, even though Rick saved most of his mess for himself, and Ian found himself wondering what his big brother’s crack might smell like in the rubber, what…what his shit might taste like.

Ian could tell his body was changing, but his mind was so addled it was difficult for him to comprehend everything that was happening to him. The fat he was putting on was the most pronounced shift–after two weeks he was already close to 350 pounds, and his muscles had begun to wither. Now, even if he could remember how to walk, his leg’s wouldn’t have been able to support his weight. All of his hair, from the top of his head to his face to the rest of his body had fallen away, leaving him perfectly smooth from head to toe. His cock and balls had changed as well, growing smaller. His balls, by the end of the third week, were more like raisins, and his cock was shrunk back to less than an inch, and was usually buried in his fat. His nipples had grown larger, however, and become incredibly sensitive–it was easier now for him to cum by playing with them, that trying to find and play with his cock. He was losing, and he knew it, and a growing part of him didn’t even mind anymore.

My Boys (Part 1)

It certainly wasn’t somewhere the three of them wanted to stop at for the night, but it was best they had seen for miles. Besides, this far from a city–not that they were really certain how far away from a city they were, at this point–a single story motel, an all-night diner and a small convenience store was obviously the best they would be getting this late at night. Bruce turned off the engine, exhausted after driving nearly the entire day–his two sons climbed out of the car, stiff and frustrated that their dad was so bullheaded when lost. They’d given up trying to get him to ask for directions, they’d just have to do it behind his back in the morning. Of course, for Bruce this was part of the fun of road trips. If you didn’t get at least a little lost, then how would you ever find something interesting?

Still, he was getting a bit too old for this, and his sons were a bit too old to keep humoring him for much longer. It had been fun, when they were little, to take these road trips–all three of them had sworn that they’d reach all forty-eight states together, but with college and internships and sports they’d been putting off this last leg for years–a trip through the upper midwest, from Iowa up through the Dakotas and Montana. It was clear to him, halfway, that he’d misjudged his now adult sons’ enthusiasm for the trip. They were just humoring him, really, and maybe he was just humoring himself too. Ever since Brianna had died a few years ago, he had to admit that he’d been in a funk. The road trip had seemed like…a way to get his old, younger self back. See something new, maybe. But in the end, he had to admit he was just fooling himself. They’d get back home in a week and a half, and she’d still be missing, the house too empty, his sons’ avoiding him.

“Do you want to get something to eat, Dad?” Nick asked. He was a year or two out of college, holding down a decent job. The younger son, Sean, was going to be a senior this year.

“You two go on and order me something, I’m gonna have a smoke.”

“Dad–”

“You won’t let me smoke in the car, so I’m gonna have a damn smoke.”

Sean was about to say something else, but Nick just dragged him along, knowing their dad well enough to let him be. The two of them had been trying to get him to stop smoking for years, especially after their mom died of cancer. Bruce knew he should quit, but he’d done it for so damn long–he was just happy his sons had never started–not that they’d taken after him much at all. He suspected that the reason he never saw them much was because neither of them had much love left for him, beyond that minimal amount that draws you back for the occasional holiday or two, with quiet dinners (quieter now, without Brie filling the vacuum with inane chatter he’d always hated, but which he now missed more every passing day) and this nagging expectation that things had always used to be better than this.

Nick and Sean stepped into the diner, he waited by the car for a moment, lighting one of his cigarettes. He only had a few left in the pack, so he might as well buy a few more. He walked towards the convenience store connected to the gas pumps, a few semis parked among them filling up, and a couple of rusted out, dirt crusted pickups, most likely owned by the farmers around here. As he walked, his nose caught a strange scent on the wind–it was smoke, but strangely sweet and floral. Curious, he began circling around to try and find the source of the smell, circling back behind the convenience store, where he found an older man smoking a large pipe.

The man had to be in his sixties or seventies, with a long white beard reaching town to his ample gut, his hair receding back into a overlong horseshoe of hair reaching the nape of his neck. He wasn’t particularly clean either–wearing just a grungy wife beater and a pair of jeans which had seen better days, and as he approached and got a better look at the short, fat man, he only grew more disgusted. Why was he even approaching him at all? The man had noticed him at this point, but paid Bruce’s approach little care, aside from a slight smile, revealing more than a few missing teeth.

“Howdy,” the man said when Bruce came close enough for a handshake, “Don’t see families like yours around here very often, that’s for sure.”

“I–I’m sorry,” Bruce said, “Who…are you?” His words felt silly and sluggish as the rolled out his mouth, and his cigarette tumbled from his slack lips. The old man stepped forward and put it out with a stomp of boot, coming closer to him.

“I just couldn’t help noticing what fine looking boys you have there,” the man said, “Handsome, strong. Always wanted boys like that of my own, you know. They don’t seem too fond of you. In fact, you don’t seem like a very good father figure at all, to me.”

Bruce wanted to storm off, get away, but the slackness had spread to the rest of his body, his mind increasingly numb. He was helpless as the old man unzipped each of their flies, reached in, and carefully freed both of their cocks. The old man was already hard, and with a few strokes Bruce was hard as well.

“It got me thinking–maybe you don’t deserve those boys. Maybe you can’t love those boys enough, the way they deserve to be loved. But I can, so why don’t I take things over from here?”

The old man pressed the heads of their cocks together, grabbed his long loose foreskin and stretched it out, so that it covered Bruce’s head, linking them together. Bruce had never felt anything like this before, and when the old man started stroking his cock, he felt…something start pumping from his balls, through his cock, directly into the old man’s sack. He tried to pull away, but the smoke had him tight within its clutch, and all he could do was watch as the old man’s face started to grow younger. No, more than younger, the more he pumped, the more he was certain that the old man was beginning to look like…him. That same broad nose, the man’s chin growing more angular. He was growing younger as well–his hair growing back in, though it remained the same semi-long, tangled mess as before–the same with the man’s beard, which turned to match Bruce’s own hair color, but remained just as long. All the while, Bruce was feeling weaker and weaker, smaller, like he was shrinking, his head…something was wrong with his head…

“Yeah, an old faggot like you, you don’t have sons. Hell, you don’t have anyone.”

Old…faggot? He tried to shake the words, but struck some odd, deep truth that he couldn’t avoid. Bruce shuddered, pumping the last of himself into the stranger’s heavy, full sack, and he stepped back, disconnecting them. When the man commanded him to strip, he did it without hesitation, putting on the man’s nasty clothes, which fit him better than the baggy things he’d been wearing. The man sucked on his pipe and examined the wallet he found in the back pocket of the jeans. “Bruce, eh? I can be a Bruce.”

“But…Bruce…my name.”

“Your name ain’t Bruce. Your name is Faggot. Now get out of here–go find some trucker dick to suck, and don’t come near me and my boys ever again, you hear me?”

Bruce watched the new old man, now nameless, totter off towards the trucks parked off by the gas pumps, and then walked towards the diner to join his new sons for dinner.

Baby Bear – Part 2

How could I have forgotten? I’d sucked his cock nearly every night, and most nights he’d fucked my ass as well. I’d licked his body clean from neck to toes. He’d fed me pipe smoke right into my eager mouth. And I had somehow forgotten all of it, gone off to school each day like nothing strange was going on at all. I realized I had done none of my studying that I’d needed to do, and I was failing all of my classes. The semester was nearly over, and I had no idea how I was going to turn any of it around. Perhaps it was silly to worry about school when you discover some old man has been manipulating you and forcing you into diapers, but it was something I could think about. I didn’t want to think about his old cock in my mouth–I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted his cock in my mouth, really. Because I did. And I wanted him to fuck me. And so I ran.

He probably expected me to try and run; he didn’t even try and stop me. I didn’t even care that all I was wearing was a diaper soiled with my own cum, I just wanted out of that house. I flung open the front door and ran out across the lawn, but as soon as I was outside, this monstrous fear rose up inside me. I was outside. More than outside, I was lost. I didn’t know where I was. The world was gigantic, and I had no idea where Daddy was, and I might never get home, and who was going to take care of me? I made it to the curb, tears rolling down my face, no longer able to focus on getting away, not even really understanding what I was feeling, and then he was beside me, pulling me close–Daddy. I was so happy to see him. I gave him a huge hug, and he led me back up the driveway and into the house, where the fear immediately disappeared, and my mind tried to get a grip.

“I wouldn’t try to run away again, baby bear. You all try it once, but if you keep trying, then I’m going to have to punish you,” he said. Daddy said. I struggled with his name, trying to find it in my mind, but his name was just that–”Daddy”. I remembered that was the same thing all those strange men who visited called him, and before I could ask, he explained what he had done to me, and to the rest of them over the last several decades.

It was true–he was lonely. He had been a very skilled hypnotist when he was younger, and he decided to make himself what he called “Baby Bears”–young men he’d keep in diapers, and raise to be better men than what they might have otherwise been. Better from his perspective, of course–I was horrified at the thought, but he assured me that there would be no escaping my new fate. He told me that I had already accepted the first round of conditioning, and now it was time for us to decide what kind of bear I was going to grow up to be, and how much work it was going to take for me to grow up.

You see, he would only be able to make me into a “proper bear” after he’d destroyed and erased most of who I was now. This could be, he told me, a rather violent process, and leave a person’s mind quite damaged, unless they went along with him, and willingly allowed him to destroy their old selves so they could be reborn again. I, of course, was freaking out. He assured me that the more I fought, the worse it would be for me. I was convinced that if I tried hard enough, if I proved indestructible, he would have to let me go. He smiled. It was almost like he liked the idea of me fighting back. And then he said something, some phrase I can’t remember, and things grew slippery. I could feel him ripping out chunks of my personality, and I was fighting him, trying to hold onto them, but he would just tear harder, and it would hurt, like a massive migraine, but I couldn’t let him win, I couldn’t.

I don’t know how much time passed before I came back to myself again, shaking on the floor in a fetal position, Daddy sitting in an armchair beside me. I was still me. I still had lost some, but I still remembered who I’d been. He told me to quit fighting him, that if I kept fighting him, he was going to have to make things worse for me. I laughed, and told him to give it his best shot. He looked disappointed, repeated that mysterious phrase, and this time, I had no real understanding of what was happening. When I resurfaced, however, something had changed in my mind. I was moving slower. I tried to ask him what had happened, but all that came out was baby talk. I also realized, to my horror, that I had pissed my diaper again–and that I had also taken a massive shit as well. I tried to get up, I tried to stand, but my body wasn’t working quite right. All I could do was crawl. Daddy got down at eye level with me, and told me that I was being a very dumb baby bear. That I was going to grow up and become a very dumb baby bear, and if I didn’t let him win, I was going to be the stupidest bear he’d ever raised, that I’d never even be able to go potty like a big boy again. I didn’t want to be that stupid, I really didn’t. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life wearing diapers. One day, I wanted to be a big boy, I wanted to grow up again. I was crying, and he asked me if I was done fighting him. I wanted to say no, but I was exhausted, and I knew he would win. When I went under that final time, I let him remove every bit of me that he could find. This is the last of me, this is the last little bit, the last chunk, and I’m holding on, but he’s coming, he’s coming and–

Commission ~ Roadhouse Men (Danny Boy)

~July, 1986~

Dan’s old sedan rattled a bit as it drove down the two lane highway. Surely he should have hit Sparksville by now–had he missed the turn off? The road had been winding quite a bit, and he was no longer certain whether he was even heading East. The convention was in Chicago in a few days, but he’d been hoping to hit a few stops along the way to check in on some customers, but it was looking like he might be lucky just to get to the convention on time. When he saw a neon sign up ahead, flashing “Ed’s Roadhouse and Inn”, he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully they could at least show him where he was, and help him get back on the proper highway. He pulled up in front of the building, grabbed his map from the passenger seat, and took it in with him to see if anyone might be able to help him out.

Apparently, men started drinking pretty early, wherever he was now. The bar was already loud with drunken laughter, and he could barely hear the old Dolly Parton single in the jukebox scratch away in the corner. Surprisingly enough, there was an empty spot at the bar; Dan walked up, laid out the map, and waved over the bartender. The older man, chubby, balding, but with a face that flipped between youthful and aging at a whim of the light, say him wave, poured a draft walked over, and set it down in front of Dan, and was off filling another order before Dan could ask him anything. Scowling, Dan waved at him again, but he was deep in conversation with a regular. Dan sipped at the beer, was surprised at how nice it was, and decided that he might as well stay for a drink before continuing on. In fact, it was getting late–maybe the inn had a room for him, and he could worry about getting back on the road tomorrow.

He settled in at the bar. No one engaged him in conversation, but the atmosphere, and the beer, did wonders to lift his mood. In fact, by the end of the first beer, he was positively giddy–the bartender came over, set another down in front of him, but this time stopped to chat.

“I haven’t seen you here before–what’s your name?”

“Oh…it’s Daniel. Hey…uh, I was wondering if you could tell me where I am?”

“You’re at Ed’s Roadhouse.”

“No–No, I mean, on the map–” Dan said, but realized he no longer had the map with him. Where had it gone?

“What map?”

“I had it here, I did…”

“You’re about twenty miles south of Sutherland–that help?”

It didn’t.

“I’m heading for Chicago.”

“Ah–big city man.”

“I’m a salesman actually, there’s a convention.”

“A lot of hot guys in Chicago too–you can have some fun at night too.”

Dan was taken aback–guys? The bartender winked at him and slipped away before he could answer. Put off, Dan looked around the room and had a realization–this wasn’t just a bar…this was a faggot bar. Some of the rugged men had paired off and were making out in dusty corners. He was pretty sure that one guy was getting a blowjob by the jukebox. His stomach knotted–this place was probably infected with AIDS. He’d fucking taken a drink from that faggot! He got up off the barstool and tried to head for the door, but a burly man dressed in biker leathers–most likely a bouncer–pushed him back. “Where you goin’ so fast?” he said, “You weren’t about to leave without payin’, were you? Sit back down–Ed will settle up with you.”

Dan shouted an obscenity, the bouncer shoved him back onto the barstool and stood behind him, keeping him there. Dan found himself nervously sipping at his second beer, against his better judgement, and by the time the glass was half empty, he’d forgotten to be so concerned. Everyone was just having such a good time here! He kind of wished he could have a good time too, but he wasn’t gay.

Ed came back up to him when the second beer was gone, Dan swaying a bit in his seat, his mind in a happy haze. “Hey, big city man, most of these guys aren’t interested in stuff like this, but I just got imported a high grade Absinthe out of Europe. I haven’t sold any yet, but it’s pretty fantastic stuff–how’d you like a glass?”

Dan was all too happy to nod his head, but he wasn’t quite sure what he’d just agreed too. Ed set down a glass, set a spoon across it with a sugar cube on it, and then started slowly pouring drops of an emerald green liquor over the sugar, where it dribbled into the glass below. He was fascinated by the stream, and couldn’t peel his eyes away from it. He’d heard stories of absinthe, debaucherous stories from post-war Berlin. He’d been disgusted at the time, but now this whole idea seemed somehow so exciting and adventurous. The sugar had all dissolved, and Ed took away the spoon. The room was silent; all of their eyes had moved to Dan, but he was oblivious. He had heard that absinthe could cause one to hallucinate, but he hadn’t even drank it yet–how could it look like liquid emerald and still be real? He lifted the glass, trying to leave the surface as undisturbed as possible, with no ripples or waves, and took a sip. Anise, bitter, the sweet sugar, it rolled over his tongue and down his throat like quicksilver. He took another drink, this one larger and longer, and drained it on the third daught.

“Alright boys! Oldest gets the first fuck! Raise your hand if you’re over eighty.”

Way too many hands went up in the room. Dan didn’t hear the call for licenses and proof of age, he was running his tongue around his mouth, trying to figure out what the shape of it was. He felt…smaller, somehow. Lighter, like he could fly. He’d heard tales of fairies appearing in absinthe haze, but it couldn’t be striking him this fast, could it? The back of the bar was mirrored. He stood up, but was too short to see himself clearly; he climbed up on the barstool, balancing on his knees, and refused to believe that the young slender man, more of a boy really, balancing in the glass could possibly be him. Had he…become a fairy? He reached up and felt the clean, green hair cascading down to his shoulders, ran a hand along his graceful, smooth jaw line, unbuttoned his baggy shirt and saw his lean torso and abs. All he seemed to be missing were wings, and yet, on his knees on the barstool, he could almost imagine himself levitating, and then a drunk biker, heavy gutted with a grey beard and furry belly, came up behind him and picked him up effortlessly, chuckling, and pulling him close.

“Hey boy, how about you come on over here–we’re all gonna have some fun.”

Dan looked at the man’s lined face, his speckled beard. He was so handsome–such a daddy. He reached up with his soft, small hands and ran them through the man’s beard; the touch surprised him, and reddened his cheeks while Dan laughed. “Some…somebody likes what he sees,” he said, but was that really his voice? It was so high, with a lilt or even a lisp, and yet he could see something in the man’s eyes, a reflection of himself, almost like he could see how the man saw him. Young, pure, loving. He was all of those things, and the man reluctantly set him down in the midst of the men. Ed was off with a few white bearded men who were all disputing each other’s ages, and the rest were staring at Danny, like he was a void. Like they were trying to fill him with all of their longing, with all of their desire, and Danny took it all in, his own cock hardening at the thought of these men filling him. He could be empty. He could hold their wishes and…and their cocks. Yes, oh could he take their cocks! He singled one out, and slipped up to him, wrapping a slender arm around his shoulders, the man smelling mint and anise on Danny’s breath. “You wanna fuck me daddy?” he asked, and laughed, “I love being fucked by daddies, you know…”

“Now now, hold on Danny Boy,” Ed said behind him, “Don’t you want to have some fun with the oldest first? Jerrod here, he’s eighty-one, but goodness, does it look like he wants to fuck you…”

Danny looked at Jerrod, a short, somewhat withered figure with a bulging gut, and a long, matted white beard, a horseshoe of hair behind. Danny could feel the desire, feel the longing. Oh, he could be filled up so full, and Jerrod wanted him. He wanted him more than anyone in the room, he could feel it, and he wanted to be filled by him. The older man pulled him close, and the warmth of the young skin filled his old muscles with strength, he ran his tongue up Danny’s neck, tasting sea salt and fennel.

“I never thought something like you could exist.”

“Fill me daddy, fill me up, I’m everything you’ve ever wanted.”

The men cheered, Jerrod ripped down the ill fitting jeans that clung to Danny’s now slender waist, revealing the curve of his hip bones, a wisps of green around his cock and balls, but Jerrod had only one interest, reaching around, one old finger slipping into the young slut’s hole. Danny gasped, allowing himself to be pulled closer into Jerrod’s grip, sucking the older man’s tongue into his mouth, grinding up against his hairy body. The room was a blur, everyone tinged green. The energy of the men around him, he could feel the ebb, he could sense the need of these men to fill him, but Jerrod first, Ed told him Jerrod first. Ed was different. Ed was…the energy flowed around everyone else, but it went through Ed. He was a hub, he was controlling it, controlling Danny, as he spun around, dropped his ass a bit and let Jerrod work his cock into his eager, young hole.

The drink, this had to be an hallucination. He couldn’t focus on anything beyond that old cock in his ass, filling him after a few minutes with a load of cum, and then, as soon as Jerrod pulled out, two more men, just as old, were surrounding him, one sliding into his ass, while the other guided his head into his crotch, letting Danny suck his impotent cock back to life, giving him a taste of that youth he’d lost, man after man taking from him, giving him. He was for them, he thought. All of this was for them. All of him–his youth, his body–was for them. The room filled up with green, and he remembered almost nothing else until the morning, when he awoke to a pounding headache on the sawdust floor of the roadhouse. He groaned, his ass hurt, what the fuck had he drank last night?

“You finally up, Danny Boy?”

Ed, it was Ed–the bartender. He pushed himself up, but his arms were so thin and fragile. He wasn’t drunk, and yet that same lightness he’d felt in the room was still there, but it was just the fact that he’d lost so much weight. He’d never been this thin in his life, he was thin, and yet he, for some reason, was behaving like all of this was somehow normal. He was naked, why was he naked? Ed was behind the bar, cleaning glasses. Handsome, fuck. Did Ed fuck him last night? He hadn’t actually looked at him the night before, hadn’t paid much attention to him at all, but that beard speckled with grey, the muscular body coated with a firm layer of fat. Suddenly his cock was hard, and he was stroking it. He was walking up and taking a seat, smirking, his young lips curling, watching Ed watch him move. “I…I think you need to tell me what’s…what’s going on, Daddy…” Danny said, unable to keep the sex from his inflection.

Ed set down the glass he was cleaning, reached out and wrapped his hand in the back of Danny Boy’s green hair, and pulled him over the bar into a deep kiss. Answers could wait; Danny wanted him. He reached out rested his hands on Ed’s shoulders, moaning into his mouth.

“You dumb slut,” Ed said.

“Shut up and fuck my boy hole, I fuckin’ need it.”

“You always fucking need it.”

This should be wrong. He shouldn’t be getting up on the bar, letting Ed spread his ass and start licking his hole, but fuck, that’s what he fucking wanted. Ed climbed up after him, they fucked doggie star on the bar. Danny would watch their reflection for a few minutes until the dysphoria drove him to look away, but his eyes would always creep back to himself. To that hair, to that young toned body, to Ed, balls deep in his ass with unfocused eyes. He was almost there. Danny tightened up and felt the cock pulse inside him, and Ed slid out, gave him a kiss, and told him he should get to work before they fuck the day away.

Danny swept the bar–mostly. In the end, they fucked most of their time away anyway. And when men started arriving, Danny served them drinks, flirted, and if they paid enough–or were old enough for a freebie–he’d slip into the back with them for a bit of personal attention. And that was the way it was for a couple of years, until Ed decided he’d like to expand his collection further.

“You know, before you can grow up, you need to go all the way back. Martin here, he’s almost there. You can hear him whimpering through that gag; he’s scared. Of course he is, nothing in that life had prepared him for this. Still, he won’t remember much of any of this–who remembers their childhood in any detail, really? He’s gonna like being himself too much to think about it anyway.”

The man gets down next to Martin, where he’s tied to the chair. I can smell the full diaper from across the room, and wonder how long since its been changed. He ruffles and strokes his hair with one hand, and it’s hard to tell whether the flinch Martin gives is trying to get away, or trying to get closer to him. “You’re almost there–I know you’re tired of fighting it? The drugs just want to set you free, you don’t have to fight them. You’re so close, and that final step is hard, I know, but do it for me–do it for daddy.”

He tweaks one of Martin’s nipples and the whimpering gets louder. “Can’t wait to see you grow up, you know. It’s gonna take a while, but it’ll be easier the second time around, and you’ll have a much better dad this time around. A tough one, one who’ll turn you into a proper fucker. Furry chest, muscular–you won’t take shit from anyone. Angry and self-centered, smoking cigars too big for your face, daring someone to say something, cupping that cock of yours through your ripped, filthy jock…”

He continues in a low voice, and Martin starts seizing against his bonds. It isn’t clear what’s happening exactly, and I realize he must be cumming, but more than that. There was pleasure, but also a look of death–with every violent shake, I wonder if his neck might break. I had assumed that he was bound up because he was being held back from escaping, but was he bound up to protect him? To ease the worst of it?

He strokes Martin’s hair, calming him down, and something is different. Martin’s posture is no longer tense, but utterly relaxed, sagging against the leather straps holding him in place. He was gone, gone where I hoped to be, soon. “He’s back where he belongs now,” the man says and turns to me, “So, boy, what do you want to be when you grow up again?”