Tag: anal vore

Dream Camp (Part 13)

Warning: Still gross and strange. Scat, anal vore, and other oddities of body and soul. This is the last chapter however! Maybe we’ll have someone more normal (and shorter) after this.

The final day of the camping trip was relatively uneventful, or perhaps it simply felt that way, because everything that had happened during the night was so insane it had rendered most everything else mundane by comparison. Christian came to his tent, and found his dad still cleaning up his morning mess–Barry was only too happy to take his son’s piss and shit right in his mouth, and then gave him a good solid fuck as well, though he found his increased mass made it substantially more difficult to give him as satisfying of a fuck as usual. Christian didn’t seem to mind–in fact, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by any of it. Barry asked him a question about the Hoffsons, but the name no longer meant anything to Christian–apparently, it was like they had never existed at all. They finished their fuck–and Christian helped his massive father get dressed, since he couldn’t quite manage his uniform all on his own anymore, and then hauled him free of the tent, where Barry found the scouts all lined up and ready to help feed their Scoutmaster. One by one, the crouched over and Barry ate the shit straight from their holes, washing it down with their piss, and Barry had to admire them all. They had all become proper young bears overnight, covered with hair, some of them muscular, but most of them rather fat, thanks to Alex and Eric, who were busy feeding their newest pet, a man whose name Barry couldn’t even remember anymore, whose face had dissolved into nothing more than a single, massive sucking maw, with only vestigial arms and legs now, it’s entire body flabby, and yet taut–already filled to the brim with the father and sons’ milk.

Barry felt sated by the end, and the scouts all went off to prepare their own breakfasts. Barry thought he might as well cook his own, but suddenly the idea of normal food simply disgusted him…because he never ate food anymore. No, it only satisfied him once it was coming out the other end–the only things he’d be eating from now on were piss and shit–and cum of course, but that was beside the point. Still, there was…something he needed. He didn’t want food, but he was hungry as hell…and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew what he needed. He needed to be fucked–and his hole needed to eat. Leaving his troop to their own meals, he set off wandering the campground, and he found for himself a group of college aged men enjoying the last bit of the weekend. Seeing this massively obese man lumbering towards them, covered with hair, beard crusted with shit, enter their campsite–all of them were disgusted–at least until Barry unleashed his first fart–then the three men were fighting each other for the privilege of fucking his massive hole first, but none of them needed to worry–he was famished enough to eat all three of them.

Later–now feeling considerably larger, his cock and balls swelling as the three young men dissolved in his bowels, he lumbered his way back to camp where the scouts were all eating their own meals, and he fed them all as well–his cum, the distilled manhood from the men he’d just devoured, watching his troop develop further, their hair growing longer, their musk stronger, their muscles and bones thickening and lengthening as they drank his cum, Barry feeling his balls shrink as they did, but he’d fill up again in no time. Still, it was time for them all to leave–after breakfast, the troop packed up their gear and bundled themselves into the cars–though there was substantially less room than before, with just Eric and Barry driving back–but there were also fewer scouts this time around as well.

Back at the parking lot, Barry returned his boys to their equally berish fathers, all of them so happy to see them–so happy that more than a few couldn’t resist the urge to fuck right there in the open, on the asphalt. Such a good troop he had–there was nothing Barry liked more than turning a boy into a real man–and his father into an even bigger, sexier man. And if they fought? Well, he ate the ones who resisted alive and fed them to their own sons, before auctioning off the boy to one of the other fathers in his troop. To this day, the only person who’d ever fucked him and lived was his son, Christian–and he planned on keeping it that way. The two of them headed home, finally–it had felt like that long weekend had lasted forever–but they were each already looking forward to their troop orgy Tuesday night, as well as next month’s camping trip. The entire troop had rented out a lodge in the mountains for a whole week–which meant Barry had to get busy if he was going to store up enough cum to feed everyone for an entire week. Still, Christian would keep him well supplied–he usually brought two or three men home for him every night. By next month, his balls would be so big, he’d be barely able to walk.

But before he fell asleep that night, and before he forgot, Barry took off the amulet and hung it away in the closet. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be wearing it again for a while–his dreams were so crazy now, he figured he’d better give the amulet a rest for a while–but at least he had it in case he ever needed it, or maybe he’d pass it on to one of his boys one day, and help them make their dreams come true too.

The End

Dream Camp (Part 12)

***WARNING*** This is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever written, though it does have significant competition on that front. Scat, filth, snuff and anal vore–you should probably skip this one too.

Max yanked harder, but Barry’s hole had his cock in a vice grip–he could pull harder, perhaps, but he was genuinely terrified that he might end up ripping off his cock. He looked to his father in terror, and Kyle began shouting at the pig, ordering him to release his son’s cock, but Barry wasn’t listening, because he was too focused on his own strange thoughts to pay attention to his master. It…it was the amulet. It could…sense that he’d lost control, and it was…giving him an opportunity, something he could use to fight back. Without knowing exactly how, his ass began…tugging at Max’s cock, making Barry shudder with pleasure all over again, like he’d turned on a perpetual orgasm machine–and it was clear that Max felt similarly. His cock, despite being in a vice grip, came again almost immediately, and then again and again, the orgasms coming so rapidly that to Max it became excruciatingly painful. He began tugging harder, but suddenly Barry’s hole made a new motion, latching on and pulling in even more of him, swallowing not only his entire cock, but his massive ball sack as well. Max began screaming in proper terror now, yanking and tugging, no longer caring if he yanked his genitals off, but he was feeling…weaker. His muscles were fading, his body was turning pale, and as Kyle watched, his son collapsed over the pig’s back, shuddering on occasion, shrinking bit by bit, until Barry’s ass opened once more, impossibly wide, and a much smaller Max fell partway into the stinking maw, the ass slamming shut, bending him backwards with a sickening crunch–like a bug in the mouth of a frog–Kyle screaming at his son’s lifeless eyes, and with one more crunch, Max fell into Barry’s ass and was swallowed whole.

Barry only had a distant grasp on what he’d just done, but with Max now…inside of him, he could almost feel him…digesting. His own body was changing, his balls…regrowing, emerging in his fat, his cock lengthening again as well, but he was still…famished, and he looked to Kyle, and grinned.

“What…what the fuck did you do to him?” Kyle stammered, “What the fuck did you do to my boy!”

Barry just looked up at him from the muddy filth he was lolling in, felt a pressure building at his ass, and let loose a filthy, disgusting fart, the stench both horrid and yet…oddly appealing. Kyle took a step back, but the stench hit him with the force of a truck, his cock immediately hardening and leaking, unable to think about anything beyond the horrid stench of the pig’s hole…and…and how much he wanted to…to fuck it. He fought, he pulled away, even though every fiber in his body screamed at him to fuck. Barry unleashed a second fart, louder and frothy, and watched Kyle’s eyes go blank, the beast stumbling forward and around behind him, lining up his hard, aching cock, and slipped it inside, Barry immediately clamping down and milked him roughly as well, but Kyle didn’t fight, not like Max had. The…stench, it was eating away at his mind. He was happy to be fucking, happy to feel these orgasms ripping their way through his body, happy to feel his body begin withering away, as he fucked himself deeper, allowing himself to be sucked into the gaping maw, eager to be swallowed by the disgusting, dripping orifice, happy to die fucking, and his mind was gone even before he’d been swallowed up whole.

Finally, Barry could feel himself relax, his ass full of food, feeling it slowly digest, his body changing slowly as he lounged in the muck. His muscles pumped themselves up again, enough that he would at least be able to walk. His cock bulged out, his balls as well–not as large as they’d been previously, but he was at least happy to have anything at all, after everything Kyle had done to him. Hair filled in across his body once more, turning slightly silver, as he grew older once more, but he was…happy. Content, and for the moment, not hungry. The dream, he could sense, was finally beginning to fade, the nightmare finally over. 

Over…it was over, he was finally awake from that insanity. He rolled over in his tent, vaguely aware that he should still be sleeping with Kyle Hoffson…but he was alone. Alone, because apparently the old wive’s tale was true–if you die in your dreams, you really do die in real life. Or in this case…it would seem that you fail to have existed at all. That made him…feel rather uncomfortable, and his massive belly gave a loud rumble of discomfort–one he assumed was a stomach ache, until he felt his ass suddenly release, and shit spewed forth from him into his massive sleeping bag. The humiliation and embarrassment only lasted a second, until he smelled his own mess and they were both swept aside by excruciating hunger–and he began eating his own shit, grunting and snorting in his tent, piss following shortly behind, soaking the floor of his tent, and he realized he had hardly escaped that dream unscathed–and he wondered how true the final segment of it might be as well.