Frat Daddy: Interlude #5 (Jimmy/Bear)

Jimmy didn’t understand how they could all do it. Just…go along with it. Ever since Daddy had appeared and taken over the house, Jimmy had been hoping that someone would say something, or stop it, and while there were so boys would put up resistance (like Jake, who was going out every night to fuck girls in various sorority houses around campus, no one was…fighting this. Jimmy wasn’t fighting it either, mind you, but he wanted someone to, mostly because he was, well, falling behind. But then, Jimmy usually found himself behind, if he was being honest. He was a freshman, and he’d rushed the fraternity with a couple of his friends that he’d met at school, who assured him that it was going to be the best way for Jimmy to meet, and ideally fuck chicks. Jimmy hadn’t fucked anyone before–he’d had a few near misses back in high school, but he’d never gotten further than touching a boob. Jimmy wasn’t the most handsome, or the most athletic. He kept hoping that he would find a time to really shine–that’s what his mom always told him would happen at least, that he’d find his place at school, but now that so much had changed, he only felt like he was flailing more. 

Jimmy tried to keep up with the rest of the house as best he could, but he knew he was falling behind–although falling behind of what, he didn’t know anymore. What did he want out of any of this? He’d already hated being in the frat. His friends didn’t really talk to him anymore once they’d gotten in, and most of the other guys in the house just ignored him, and he’d already been looking for a way to get out as soon as he could. Now though, the rest of the boys were all, well, thriving, he supposed. Some of them especially, like Mike and Carter, were taking really well to Daddy’s new direction. Most of the rest of the guys were guzzling shakes, working out as hard as they could, and packing on mass. Jimmy struggled. He would drink as much as he could, but he’d struggle to even hit the goal Daddy had set for them, and if he did hit it, he’d feel so gross he wouldn’t be able to join the rest of the guys for the evening workout. He’d just smoke a cigar, horny as hell but with no outlet, and go to bed early. The other guys would come up, fucking each other into the evening and night while Jimmy laid in bed and hoped no one would accost him. No one did, which somehow made him feel worse. He was just getting fat, and the fatter he got, the more he hated himself, and the more he hated everything about all of this.

Each Friday night, he would stand at attention with the rest of the boys, utterly terrified that Daddy would pick him to come over for the weekend, but also desperate for some sort of recognition. Just…to know that he was noticed, and not simply disappearing. Daddy didn’t say anything to him usually, but he did see him, see through him, into him, and that was somehow worse. Eventually, it happened. Daddy had been taking a couple boys at a time, but this weekend, he only selected Jimmy. The others looked confused–why would Daddy want that loser, they would wonder. Jimmy didn’t know either, but he followed Daddy downstairs, through the tunnel, and into his dungeon. He was terrified that they would stop there, but instead Daddy led him upstairs, where dinner had been prepared, and Jimmy devoured the first real meal he’d had in ages. Daddy ate too, but he mostly watched. They were both silent, Jimmy looking up at the older man on occasion, wondering if he should say something, or if saying something was a trap.

“Is this how you got your way through life so far?” Daddy asked as they finished their plates, “Staying quiet and hoping no one would notice you?”

Jimmy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just kept mum, hands in his lap, eyes on his hands.

Daddy got up from the table, and motioned for Jimmy to stand as well. Daddy circled him, making a few little hmms and haas as he did, and Jimmy hated it, feeling like he was under a microscope all of a sudden. Of course Daddy had brought him here because he was a failure. He was probably going to kick him out. Would that be a bad thing? Isn’t that what he wanted anyway? A way out?

“Why did you join the frat, Jimmy? What were you looking for?” Daddy asked as he finished his circle.

“I wanted to…have sex with girls,” Jimmy said, a little horrified at how his mouth had just poured that out so easily. “My friends said it would be easy.”

“Have you been having sex with your brothers now?” Daddy asked, giving Jimmy’s cock a squeeze through his jock.

“Not…really. A few have fucked me, but I’ve never pulled out their plugs.”

“You must be a little pent up then.”

Jimmy nodded, and blushed, embarrassed that he’d admitted it all so easily.

“Do you want to fuck them?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Are you sure you don’t know?”

“I do, Daddy.”

Daddy nodded. “Alright then. Come on, let’s have a smoke, boy–Daddy’s cock needs some attention. Tomorrow, I have something I’d like to try with you.”

They retired to the lounge, where Daddy and Jimmy smoked a pair of cigars, and Jimmy spent the rest of the evening between Daddy’s legs, blowing smoke over his cock and sucking on it until Daddy fed him a sizable load–then it was time for bed, and Jimmy found sleep difficult, wondering what Daddy could have in mind for their day tomorrow.


After breakfast, Daddy left Jimmy to clean up while he disappeared for a little while, and then reappeared from downstairs. He told Jimmy to follow him down, but they stopped before they reached the dungeon. Daddy showed him three masks that were laid out on a side table. Jimmy hadn’t ever seen these sorts of masks in real life, but he’d seen pictures of things like them in porn before. There was a fairly standard looking pup hood, made of leather and neoprene. Next to it, was a rubber pig hood. Lastly was one he hadn’t seen before. It was similar to the pup hood, but clearly it was modelled after a bear, and made with much thicker leather pieces, with some metal studs to signify fangs on the snout.

“I think that each of these would appeal to you, in one way or another,” Daddy said, “A mask isn’t a solution, but it can…let us escape from ourselves from a little while, imagine something different. If you want my honest opinion, Jimmy, your problem isn’t that this place is a bad fit for you–it’s that you don’t know what you want to get from it, so you feel listless. This might help give you something to hold on to. Go on and pick one, and then we’ll go play.”

Jimmy picked up each of the masks, but wasn’t brave enough to put any of them on himself. He felt silly, like it was Halloween or something. There was one he preferred though–he handed the bear mask to Daddy, but Daddy just motioned for Jimmy to put it on. He did, not expecting anything miraculous from the experience. Daddy helped get it centered on his head so he could see easily, and then put him in front of a mirror, and the reflection…it did feel different. It was his body, but it wasn’t his face. The mask made him look tough. Like no one would want to mess with him. He tweaked his face a bit, and managed to bare the metal fangs of the mask, and a little thrill went through him, much to his embarrassment. He almost pulled it off then and there, but Daddy secured the mask to his collar and locked it, and then pushed the masked Jimmy into the dungeon, where he found himself looking at a boy on the fuckbench, hooded so he couldn’t see who it was, exactly, and there weren’t any other identifying features that he could see.

“Well, you told me you want to fuck a hole, Bear,” Daddy said, “So fuck it.”

Jimmy balked, at first, but something else pushed him forward, something…instinctual. He gripped the boy’s hips in his hands, hard enough for the young man to moan through the gag in his mouth, and Jimmy’s cock was already hard. Fuck, he couldn’t do this, could he?

He looked over at the mirror, and a new thought came to him. Maybe Jimmy couldn’t. Maybe Jimmy was too scared, too timid, too worried, too anxious. But was Bear any of those things? Bear didn’t look like any of that–Bear looked like a fat, furry, beast who was ready to fuck. He pulled the plug out without taking the time to second guess himself, and pushed his cock into the boy’s already lubed hole, and he moaned–no, no moans from him. Bear growls. Bear grunts. Bear fucks hard and mercilessly. Bear doesn’t take shit from anyone. Bear knows what he wants, and Bear takes it. Jimmy fucked hard, came once, and just kept going. Bear doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied, after all, and Bear has not had enough sex in a very long time. 

Finally, after three loads, Jimmy stepped back, exhausted and sweating, and looked at himself in the mirror again–but he wasn’t looking at Jimmy, not at the Jimmy he recognized. He was muscular, covered in hair, a thick beard pushing out from the bottom of Bear’s mask, tattoos on his chest and arms, a thick cock with a PA in the head, two massive balls swinging below it. He gaped at himself, until Daddy stepped up, unlocked the mask from his collar, and pulled it off–and the illusion was gone. It was just him standing there, and a very well fucked boy moaning on the fuck bench, obviously quite satisfied.

Daddy pulled him out of the room and took him into a bathroom where Jimmy had a shower, and when he stepped back out, the boy was gone, and the masks were as well. It was just Daddy waiting for him, and JImmy understood what he’d meant, sort of. But that hadn’t really been him, had it? No–that had been the mask, it had changed him, he’d felt it. Daddy told him that he didn’t need the mask–that if he really wanted to become Bear himself, the only thing standing in his way, was himself.

It made sense, in a way. Daddy spent the rest of the day with him in the gym, giving him some pointers on exercising, encouraging him to convert some of that bulk to brawn, but when Jimmy asked if he could wear the mask again, Daddy shook his head. “You can’t just rely on the mask–things like that can have a mind of their own as well, if you aren’t careful,” Daddy said with a slight smile, “Never put it on without me there to supervise, alright?”

That sounded like bullshit to Jimmy, but he nodded in agreement. Maybe he had a point after all. But part of him couldn’t get past the idea that Bear was…different than him, that putting on that mask had given him some extra power that he didn’t have on his own. When he returned to the house that Sunday, feeling and looking a bit better, he did his best, and to some extent, he managed. He kept up with the meals and the workouts, and the other boys that had always ignored him, that he’d always assumed had despised him, didn’t seem so bad after all. But it wasn’t easy. It was work. After a week of it, he found himself falling back into his old habits, isolating himself, but now he couldn’t blame it on everyone else. Now he knew that he was making a choice, and that hurt.

If he could just wear that mask again, if he could just feel like that again, it would help, he knew it would. He found himself hoping on Friday that Daddy would take him again, though he’d never taken the same boy two weeks in a row. He didn’t, of course, and while Jimmy knew that his hope had been irrational, he still felt betrayed. Couldn’t Daddy see that he was still struggling? That he needed help? But it was all in his hands, he knew that. He could make the change, he could do the work, he could be that person he’d seen in the mirror. But if he was the one making the change, then why couldn’t he decide to use that mask to help him along?

He knew that was a bad idea, after what Daddy had said, but it stuck with him all the same. Saturday night, after a long rough day of struggling to make progress, he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went downstairs, crossed through the tunnel into the dungeon, going as quietly as he could, and found the three masks hanging on the wall. He pulled down Bear again, held it in his hands, and if he hadn’t been certain before, he was now. It wasn’t…alive, but it was aware. It had power. Whether it had power because he believed it did, or because Daddy had put it there, it didn’t matter. He pulled the mask on again, and felt that rush from before when he looked at himself in the mirror, watched himself growing thicker and hairier, a good amount of fat melting off his body and being replaced with muscle. He saw the tattoos on his body appear again, saw his thick cock grow hard and begin to leak, and he wanted to fuck so bad. Maybe…just go back to the frat, fuck one of the boys who was still awake. He could do that, right?

He went to leave the dungeon, only for a sudden sense of vertigo to send him to his hands and knees, the room spinning around him. Something was wrong. He was still…growing? No, he was still changing, but not getting bigger. Was he getting smaller? Growing more compact, maybe, his height contracting to around five and a half feet, even more mass piling on him as he grew hairier, coated in a full pelt of fur now. The voice from the mask was louder now, so loud! Not so much a voice, just…thoughts, desires, thirsts. He tried to pull the mask off, but couldn’t get a grip on it, like the leather had somehow fused with his neck. His skin…why did it feel so rough and leathery all of a sudden? His face ached, feeling like the mask was tugging on it, contorting it, teeth aching. He roared in pain and collapsed–the last thing he remembered was the sound of feet on the stairs, and Daddy was standing over him, when he fainted.

Jimmy didn’t remember much, when he woke. Daddy was there with him, still on the floor of the dungeon, stroking his side and back, making Jimmy moan. Daddy sighed. “I warned you about this, but I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Jimmy tried to ask him what was wrong, but his mouth didn’t seem to cooperate. He could get out a few words, but between his aching face under the mask, and his addled brain, nothing made sense, really.

Daddy hushed him, and kept him comfortable, gripped the amulet around his neck, and stroked his head. “Hush now, my bear. Go to sleep. Everything will make sense in the morning. It’s not what I wished for you, but it seems you may have made a place for yourself anyway. You’ll be more than happy, I promise.”

When Bear awoke, it was on the floor of the dormitory upstairs. He looked around, a bit discombobulated, but this was where he was supposed to sleep, right? He looked around at the little corner the boys had made for Bear, someone between a brother, a house mascot, and a pet. No one really knew where Bear had come from, if you asked them–especially not Bear. No one could recall Jimmy had ever existed, and his bed and belongings had seemingly evaporated. Bear crawled out of bed and gave a shake and a yawn, showing the rather…inhuman mouth he had inside that leather mask that never came off his head. No one knew for sure if it even could–Bear had been known to snap at anyone who tried to mess with it too much. Other than that, he was completely naked. Even when the boys took him on campus to go to their football games, Bear remained nude, but no one thought it odd. 

Bear was still hard from the rather pleasant dream he’d been having in his sleep, something he couldn’t remember, but which had certainly aroused him. He bent over, and gave the head of his thick cock a little lick, his stout body surprisingly flexible. He eyed the boys around him, just rousing from sleep, saw Eric had bent over next to their bed, and before the boy could do anything to avoid it, Bear had crawled over, hauled his plug out with his teeth, growled something that was understood to be the word “Fuck,” and mounted him right there on the side of the bed, his cock driving right into the boy’s hole.

“Goddamn it Bear!” Eric said, pinned under the stout fellow’s substantial mass as Bear humped his hole. Still, there was no saying no to Bear. In fact, getting fucked by the brute was a pleasure, since his cum always seemed to have a rather…invigorating effect on the boy who got seeded. Bear responded to the boy’s annoyance by putting his mouth around his shoulder, not hard enough to pierce the skin by any measure, and letting loose a low growl as he thrust deeper. It was enough to remind Eric that his hole was Bear’s by right–and that complaining too much just meant he would get rougher. Eric relaxed, and Bear fucked, grunting and growling and snuffling until he unloaded in his hole with a roar loud enough to make the other boy’s turn in his direction. Once he’d dismounted from him, Eric pushed his plug back in, keeping all of Bear’s helpful cum in his hole. He glowered at the beast for a second, who was panting happily, and couldn’t stay mad. Bear ended up on his back, growling and grunting while the boys all gathered around him, giving him his morning belly rubs, before going down for breakfast, Bear plodding after them–crawling through the room, and then toddling down the stairs on two legs, but hands and knees were preferable for him. Later in the day, Daddy came over to check on him and make sure he was acclimating well, but Bear had never been happier. He’d found his place after all, and he’d never look back.

The Journal of Peter Bishop

This story was commissioned by Tauro2, who I also want to credit as a co-writer on the piece. After reading my commission, he added a few entries of his own, especially to the ending. Hope you all enjoy it! You can find more of his writing over here.


Report 4610-12 of the Special Investigations Bureau

Overview

What follows are excerpts from a journal found, found at a trail head in the Rocky Mountains in April 2018. The journal belonged to one Peter Bishop, who had gone missing on the trail in July of 2017. The journal has been determined to be authentic by one Tasha Holmes, who was Peter’s girlfriend at the time of his disappearance. He kept the journal as a record of their backpacking trip through the wilderness, and his encounter with two other men, still unidentified, known only in the journal as Saul and Jim. What follows are excerpts from that journal relevant to Peter’s encounter with Saul and Jim, their activities together, and material relevant to his disappearance. The journal itself is considered a class two contaminant–access to the journal itself is restricted to level three classification with full PPE protocol 7 required for access.

***

July 16th, 2017 

[…] As I’ve written earlier, you get a strange sense of loneliness out here on the trails. I think I have seen more animals out here any people, and given how Tasha can get when she’s bored, I sometimes wonder if they might be better company! We’re a few days out from the next trailhead, where we can go down to town and resupply, maybe spend a night in a bed even! 

It was a surprise then, and a welcome one, that when he rounded a corner of the trail we found a nice campsite, and it was already occupied! I couple of guys were there, named Jim and Saul, already settled in and cooking themselves dinner–a rather tasty looking roast hare that Jim had, apparently, snared himself earlier in the day. They were generous with the meat, and neither of us had had fresh anything in days–since our fishing skills leave much to be desired, as I have noted.

It was nice having some conversation for a change, and both Jim and Saul have a great sense of humor and quick wits. Tasha, though, was quiet all evening, and it was later that I found out why–she was understandably nervous about the two of us camping with two strange men out in the middle of nowhere–what if they killed me raped her, she wondered.

Sigh–she can be so extreme sometimes. I don’t think we have anything to worry about. […]

***

July 17th. 

We woke up this morning, to discover that Jim and Saul were braking camp themselves, and were heading in the same direction as us–towards the next trailhead. I suggested that the three of us might as well hike together for the company at least, and both Jim and Saul were thrilled at the prospect of me coming along with them.

Tasha was pissed at me though. She wanted us to camp here one more night, and then leave, so we could be away from them. I pressed her for more details, about why she was so nervous about these two, but she wouldn’t give me much of anything. They smelled, she said (we all smell–none of us have been near an actual shower in weeks) she didn’t like how friendly they were with me, while neither one of them had said ten words to her this entire time. A few times, she caught Jim looking at her with a real…nasty sort of disdain or disgust. Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. It made me think about how jealous she could get, if we were at the club and another girl was looking at me. 

Knowing it would probably just piss her off more, but kind of enjoying it, I told her that they were probably gay. Two guys with few boundaries sleeping in one tent in the backwoods? She got all huffy then, but she knew I was probably right–it explained why neither of them had shown her any interest at all, but that only made her angrier I think. She didn’t really like gay guys much–though lesbians are fine if they’re flirting with her, naturally.

I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t read this part–but I’m starting to have my doubts. A month in the outdoors, relying on someone…you get to know them more than you want to, in some ways.

[…]

After lunch, we get moving again. Jim, who is pretty obviously the strongest of all of us, moves to the head of the pack. Tasha is behind him, and ahead of me, still mad about that dig I gave her over lunch, and that left me and Saul in the back, a good ten yards back from them both. Saul is…well, built like a brick shit house, and a few inches shorter than Jim. He’s plenty strong, but more in the ‘lifting heavy shit kind of way’ and not in the ‘cover ten miles a day for two weeks kind of way’. I like his pace a bit better honestly, even if he sweats like a pig, and kind of smells like one too, let’s be honest. We chat, and I ask them where they’ll be finishing their hike, and they tell me they’re heading to a particular cave deeper in the mountains. It’s a few days out from the trailhead we’re heading to, so they’ll be going off from there. 

I ask them about it, and Saul talks wistfully about it. Right by a massive mountain lake, great views, lots of stuff to forage, good hunting for snares. He and Jim usually stay there for a week, living off the land, before coming back. He did such a good job selling me on it, I kind of want to see it myself, honestly.

[…]

I mention it to Tasha in our tent, the cave, and she…gets so angry at me for even mentioning it. She tells me that Jim was so cold to her earlier, and…she swears he bared her teeth at her and growled when she tried to make conversation. Jim was so nice over dinner though–I don’t get it. They’re two perfectly nice guys–why does she have to try and hate everything that seems threatening to her?

***

July 19th

The weirdest thing just happened. The call of nature woke me up and I went out to piss on a tree. I was just about to start when Jim scares the shit out of me. How can he be so quiet moving through the forest? Not just that, he was shirtless. He has to be the hairiest guy that I’ve met in my whole life. He said that he needed to piss too and asked to join me. I usually don’t like peeing next to other guys, even in a restroom with dividers, but when he sidled up next to me–way too close for comfort…it actually was kind of nice, somehow. So we’re standing there, pissing away at the same tree, and Jim asks me about Sasha–it’s pretty clear there’s no love lost between the two of them. I guess I should have defended her more, but yeah, she’s really been a wet blanket so far on this hike. I finished up, wished him a good night, and he turned to say goodbye. It wasn’t until I got back to the tent that I realized that he had peed on me a little at some point. I could…smell it, and it made me a bit horny, somehow. I thought about waking Sasha up for a little fun, but I just ended up jacking off quietly instead. It seemed…better.

***

July 20th

[…]

I didn’t think she’d actually just…leave like that. Fuck–well, it’s too late to chase her down now, and honestly…I’d rather hike with Jim and Saul, if I’m being honest.

We hit the trailhead around noon, just in time for lunch. Tasha and I hadn’t mentioned the cave since I first brought it up–but now the moment of truth is here, and I start asking the guys about it again, just to get some more details. It’s about 20 miles, but the trail is rough and hard going–it takes about three days in, and two out–once you know the land–and you’re going downhill. Tasha immediately notes we don’t have the supplies–and she’s right. But after hearing them talk about it for days now, I’m, well, I really want to see the thing!

Tasha refuses to even play the game, as I try and figure out how to make it work. She wants us away from them as fast as possible, and she blows up at me, and at them, yelling that they’re turning me against her, that she hates them, that if I don’t leave with her this second, we’re through. She gets up, grabs her pack, and heads for town a few miles out. I let her–and figure she’ll come back in a second when she realizes she doesn’t have my half of the gear anymore–but while we wait a couple of hours after lunch, just relaxing and chatting…she really did just fuck off and leave me here.

I tell the guys I need to find her…but they just laugh, and tell me to leave her. She obviously doesn’t have my sense of adventure–and they’re right. Saul tells me that they have enough food for the three of us, that Jim is the best hunter, and Saul is the best forager, and we’ll have plenty to eat.

So fuck it. I went with them. Why not? I’m tired of Tasha anyway–I don’t care if she waits or not. I’ll be down in a couple of weeks probably, and we’ll sort things out then. For now–I want to see this cave, and enjoy the forest. That’s what I came here to do anyway–not to play stupid games with her.

[…]

Fuck, I just realized she has the tent with her. I told the guys, and they laughed, and told me I could sleep with them–said they’ll keep me safe from the bears and wolves.

[…]

***

July 21st

Well that was an interesting night. I had been carrying the food for most of the trip, while Tasha had the tent–when she marched off yesterday, we didn’t exactly take the time to redivide the packs. I told Jim and Saul that I’d just sleep under the stars, but they insisted that there was enough room in the tent with them…and they were mostly right. I figured I’d end up on the outside, but they put my stuff in the middle between them, and after the day’s hike along the narrow, overgrown trail, I was too tired to argue. Then, both the guys strip down to just their underwear–Jim in a…really nasty looking jockstrap, let’s be honest, and Saul just has on some equally nasty briefs, and they climb in and just sandwich me in there.

Jim is behind me, and spooning me, and my face is planted right next to Saul’s sweaty, stinking pit. I thought he smelled bad on the trail, but being that close to him–to them both, honestly–was something else entirely. They both fall asleep in moments, and I’m left trying to get comfortable–but I do drift off eventually…and that’s when it happens.

It must have been some dream. I can’t remember a single bit of it. All I know is that I’m woken up by Jim shaking me, and I’m shuddering, and realize a moment too late that I just had a wet dream between them. Saul is awake too, and the two of them just start laughing, and I feel humiliated, honestly, but then they’re hugging me tight, and…and I actually do feel better, you know?

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had two guys touch me as often as they do. They want to be around me. They want me here–I really believe that. And…more and more…I want to be here too.

[…]

Caught a whiff of Saul’s BO on the trail, and immediately popped a huge boner. Fuck–what the fuck is wrong with me?

[…]

As the day wore on, Saul and Jim kept taking off clothes, complaining about how hot it was. It was hot, but not…that hot, with this many trees and the brush we’re pushing through. But we hit a meadow just now, and I looked and saw Jim take off his pants too, and shove them in his pack. His ass…fuck, why the fuck am I looking at his ass? Jim wants to camp here for the night, and he runs off into the woods, mostly naked, to ‘set some snares’ while Saul lumbers off to go forage, leaving me alone to get camp set up.

These guys are so fucking weird, but why…fuck, I kind of miss them, and they haven’t been gone for half an hour. I heard a wolf howl in the twilight, and got a bit nervous. I hope they get back soon.

[…]

***

July 22nd

Another wet dream last night. Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me? They’re the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had, and neither Saul nor Jim seem to care one bit. Once I wake up, they both just hold me close and…and they smell so good. Jim smells different than Saul, I’ve learned. There’s…this smell, like rust almost. It’s…thrilling in its own way too. I get hard again, while they’re cuddling me, and they suggest we all jerk off to relieve some pressure. I haven’t jacked off with guys since college in the frat, but I don’t object. I end up huffing Saul’s pit stink and stoking harder and harder while they both urge me on, and I cum again, another massive load–and then Jim is licking it off my belly, and his tongue feels too long in the dark, Saul snorting and huffing as he jacks his own cock, and the smells intensify suddenly, like something…changed, and I fall back asleep again not long after that, exhausted.

[…]

The guys have been teasing me relentlessly, and so I’m finally hiking naked with them, in just my boots. I thought it would be weird, but it’s actually…kind of nice. I can see a cliff face rising in the distance. The guys say we’ll reach the cave tomorrow morning or afternoon, depending on our pace. They’re…excited. I can smell it on them, and they’re quiet now. Quieter, I guess. I don’t know how I can tell really, it’s strange. I can smell…a lot of things better out here, somehow. Like the air is just clearer. I haven’t seen a jet trail all day, I just realized. The sky is so blue.

[…]

I feel like something must be happening to me, but I don’t even really know how to explain it. It started earlier today, as he hiked, we passed…something. A threshold. But the air got so much…brighter. Not light bright, but crisp somehow. I don’t know how to even write this. Saul and Jim seemed to sense it too, and…and they smelled different too, more pungent sure, but also…I don’t know, it’s so hard to describe what I’m feeling, and that’s not even the craziest thing honestly. I was going off to take a leak, and then Jim comes right beside me and grins. It was kind of like that night a few days ago. I don’t know how to make this sound…not crazy, or freaky, or whatever, but it wasn’t. It was…natural, somehow. He started pissing before me, and the smell from it hits me and then everything got foggy, like I can’t think, just observe. He pushed me down to my knees and started pissing all over me. And that smell covered me and I got rock hard. He circled around me and covered me and I just sat there and took it and loved it. I started jerking off and he kept going. He finished and shook the last few drops on me and I blew my load right there and I just fell over, not able to think, just experiencing it. Saul came over and they both lied down beside me, saying things that I didn’t fully understand. Something about being “marked”? I think. I just felt such affection for them. I know it’s gross and disgusting and wrong, but I loved every second of it. I think I love them. What’s wrong with me? Why is all of this happening?

***

July 23rd

We got to the lake–it’s beautiful. Fuck, they weren’t kidding, everything out here is damn pristine. I thought about Tasha this morning, and realized it was the first time I’d thought about her since two days ago, with the whole tent thing. I haven’t missed her, I don’t want to share this with her. But I’m so…fucking glad I met Jim and Saul. I feel…fuck, love feels like a stupid word for a couple of guys like them, but what else do I say? There’s something between them–something deep. I feel like they’re doing something to me. Drawing me in with them into the same bond. I feel closer to them than I have to anyone in my whole life, and…and now that I’m here, I don’t know if I want to leave, you know? I just…forgot to put on clothes this morning, just my boots, all three of us just walking around naked now, like a pack of idiots, or animals, or whatever. 

[…]

They have something planned for us at the cave this evening, I think. They keep whispering between each other, and looking back at me and smiling. It’s…kind of a hungry smile. But I trust them. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t think I could help it now.

***

The following entries are undated. All of them were entered after the 23rd, The first several are likely from the following few weeks. Much of the handwriting is large, like Peter was writing with a hand not used to holding a pen.

[…]

Fuck it wasn’t a dream it wasn’t a fucking dream, I don’t fucking, how could any of that have fucking happened I don’t

[…]

I gotta write it down, I gotta write it. Just get it out, what I remember.

So we got to the cave. The place is huge, just…like a big worn out hole in the wall of the cliff, that also goes deep. We go down, and as we go, there’s these torches, and Jim and Saul know where everything is, like they’ve been here more than once. The cave is sloping down, and we come to a sizable underground lake where rainwater must have pooled for ages. But on the shore, all around us, are all of these…artifacts. 

I don’t really know what happened next exactly. There was something in my lunch–I thought it was just disagreeing with me, but I think…it was a drug. Something they gave me. I was floating, and everything swimming a bit. Saul had been supporting me down into the cave, and now he led me over to this stone slab and laid me down on it, and fuck, I thought they were going to kill me. I thought I was seeing shit then, when…Jim just fucking changed.

Fucking wolfman. He’s a fucking wolfman! I could hear his bones cracking, and all this grey fur sprouted all over him, a thick fluffy tail, and his fucking teeth, his eyes. I realized why he smelled like rust, why he was such a good snarer–and why he’d never let me see the rabbits before he cleaned them–because there would have been fucking fang marks on that shit. He was fucking hunting–as a wolf!

He’s looming over me, and Saul is too, except Saul is different also–though a bit…more human, I guess. His face–he looks like a boar. Short pig snout, these two long tusks thrusting out from his lower jaw, floppy ears. He has a short tuft of a tail behind him, his back covered with boar bristle. He’s just…huge, and thick–both of them are over six feet tall I think, and then they’re chanting, and…and Jim has this bear claw in his hand, a real fucking bear claw, and he drives it down into my chest.

It doesn’t hurt. I don’t even see blood–and the claw…it’s gone, like it just slid into my body and disappeared. I think I must be tripping, having some dream, but the more this is happening, the more I’m remembering my dreams from the last few nights, how…how I’d seen this happening. I knew what was coming next, could feel the power thrumming through me on the stone slab, Jim and Saul still chanting, the fires are so damn bright, and I start to change too.

I can feel it happening, but there’s no pain. If anything, it feels good, like the rush after you take a drug or something, this sudden euphoria as I watch my bones start to lengthen and shift, every part of me getting thicker, as a thick belt of black hair starts filling in across my body. My gut grows out into a solid mass, my shoulders so damn broad, and I open my jaw, almost like I’m yawning, but I can feel my face extending into a snout, tipped with a black nose, jaws full of fangs, my hands…are kind of human, but the nails are claws now. And I’m lying there, my cock harder than it has ever been, and still mostly human–though emerging from a sheath–and before I can do anything or even catch my breath, Saul is on it, sucking and licking at it, and I…roar? Moan? Something. I don’t know what these sounds are, but fuck it feels good.

Jim kisses me, and I can taste the blood now, and it’s making me hornier still. I…lose myself. Whatever they gave me, it’s only getting more intense, and I…I don’t remember much of what happened that night. I fucked them both, hard and rough, especially Jim. We…wrestled, and fought. Not serious, but I have a few bite marks, and I know I gave him a couple of scratches, before I topped him and…and I won, I guess.

Won is the wrong word. There’s nothing to win, but I showed…superiority. That’s the only way to explain it. I lumbered off into the woods in the early morning, terrified, unable to believe what I had become, what I was now, and…and I was starving. I stripped some berries off a bush and devoured them, I found a stream and…fuck, I just knew how to catch trout now, as they leapt out of the water and…I was so hungry. I caught more, I brought them back, and Saul and Jim had gotten some food for us as well, and we ate and…they told me everything.

[…] 

I belong here, with them. I see that now. They knew that as soon as they’d smelled me, back with Tasha. It took me so long to realize it. I’m an idiot. Such a fucking idiot. 

[…]

The second night, I decided to be better to them. Gentler, maybe. I…I lost control, I didn’t know what I was capable of, and…and honestly, I still don’t, but it was a test too–to see who was strongest. I’m…in charge, I guess. Jim was before, and he thought I would be under him, but he doesn’t resent me for it. It’s not…anything strict. It’s…complicated, and yet so obvious and simple at the same time. I wanted this night to be about them, and about…me gaining a bit of control back. 

Saul stood in front of me. His cock was short but thick and oozed precum. Fuck, his balls; they’re like two hairy oranges dangling between his legs. I used my coarse tongue on his nut sack and then started lapping the cockhead. Jim started to give me a rim job. Fuck, he knew exactly where to put that tongue of his. Saul snorted the whole time and tweaked his nipples. I gave the occasional satisfied growl. Between my ass getting eaten out, the taste of Saul’s pre, and his musky bush, I was leaking pretty heavily. Finally, his thrusts increased and he shot his load into my mouth. Where does it all come from? I mean, yeah, his nuts are huge, but even I couldn’t possibly swallow it all. I don’t think that I got half of it. I moved to start sucking Jim off, and I wanted Saul to rim me too, but he warned against it with his tusks. I later learned that he had once tried a rim job on Jim; Jim couldn’t sit down for a whole week. Instead, Saul licked my cock from below while I deep-throated Jim. His cock was longer than Saul’s and I had to work my tongue around it to get the whole shaft. I came at the same time that Jim did, covering Saul’s face. Jim happily went down and licked his face clean. And then we just laid back under the stars, snuggling each other. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.

[…]

They helped me change back to human. I look different. I’m me, but I’m not really who I was. I smell different. I’m hairier, bigger, maybe even older, but that’s harder to tell. Clothes feel awful–we all hate wearing them. Even being human is–it feels wrong now. It’s not who I am, it’s just a mask, but we don’t want to wear the masks. Jim and Saul left for the winter to avoid the cold, and it took them all Spring and Summer to get back here. This place isn’t…a place. It’s a feeling, and a smell. I don’t know if I really understand it, but we’re all afraid to leave again. If we don’t find our way back, we’ll be stuck, and we…I think about the human world, and I hate it. All of it. I always did, that’s why I loved hiking. But with the three of us, late in the season…we want to try. I don’t know if we’ll make it, but we have to at least try.

***

The entries become fewer in number. Most detail their life through the fall and into the early winter.

We bagged a fucking elk! I can’t believe it. We’ve got this shit down. Saul spotted it yesterday and we made a plan. Saul and I chased it down a ravine to Jim’s hiding spot. He took it down like a fucking boss! I did feel a little sorry for it, but Papa Bear’s gotta eat. Saul carried it back to the den (and I got to watch his muscles work the whole time). This thing’s gonna keep us fed for a good week at least. Afterwards, we decided to have some fun, I was so ready. I stuck my nose right into Saul’s rank pit and came right there on the spot. I even let Jim fuck me, he deserved it. He was more than willing to eat me out right afterwards too. Fuck, that tongue of his. Saul blew his load down my throat and we all snuggled for a little while after in my den. Do we got this winter thing? Do we all shit in the woods?

[…]

Why did I read that last entry? So hungry. Did we catch that elk a month ago? I think? Things haven’t been good. The ground’s too frozen for Saul to dig out any tubers. I can still catch a few fish, but a lot of the streams have frozen over, and it gets old, nothing but fish. Even Jim can’t catch that much, just one or two rabbits every couple of days. It’s not enough. And those fucking squirrels! They know how to stay just out of reach. Even Jim can’t catch them. I got within a couple of inches of one and I swear the little fucker flipped me off,. I’m pretty sure he flipped me off. I’m gonna bite that squirrel’s fucking face off.

[…]

We finally bit the bullet. We left the cave and the lake, and came back, down the mountains, and into town. Jim managed to find a cruddy apartment in town where the landlord wouldn’t ask too many questions. It’s not much, but we’re together. And we don’t mind the cold, so we just keep the heat on enough to keep the pipes from freezing. It’s been rough though, getting used to…people again. Jim and I managed to get jobs at the general store, even in the slow winter months, and the work is a distraction at least. It’s been harder on Saul. It’s difficult for him to go out in public. He can shower, but he’ll start stinking again in about an hour. Of course, I don’t mind, but he gets nasty looks if he gets too close to people. He’s been shovelling sidewalks for cash, and other odd jobs like that, but I think he misses home more than both of us. Jim and I go to the bars, just the two of us; I feel guilty about it, but Saul insists. He doesn’t want us to stay in just because of him–though we stay in more often than not. Getting drunk…well, we’re so big it takes a whole fucking lot, and we also tend to, well, lose control. It’s best if we…stay inside, together.

[…]

I just feel like such a fucking failure. They don’t want me to take it too hard, winter is…rough, but I feel like I failed them. I’m…I’m the leader, somehow, and they trust me, and I did my best, and we all agreed to come back, to change back, but now here we are, back with the people, and we all hate it so much. I can already smell the lake slipping away, moving away, god, if we don’t find it again come Spring, fuck. We aren’t meant for this world. The only time we can transform is when we’re in bed together. Even then, we can’t do everything we want. We want to make all of the noises, all of the growls and roars and howls and oinks and squeals and grunts and fucks that we fucking want to. I start to think that we should have just stayed out there, even if we starved to death. I can’t do that to Saul and Jim though. I need to figure something out. If we can get more people, we can get more skills, more hunters, more foragers, more contributors. I don’t think I can do this again.

[…]

I almost forgot about this journal. It’s been spring about a month now, and compared to being trapped in town, it’s like heaven. We ripped each other’s clothes off the moment we got far enough into the woods. And then we went at each other. I may have been a little too rough with them. I’m hoping Saul doesn’t get scars from those claw marks. But what do you expect, we’d been cooped up for what seemed like forever. Now we just have to find that damn cave again, just have to get home again. I…can almost smell it, maybe. I sniff along, but it leads me…to people, other hikers. Jim says it was the same with him–that I smelled like home somehow. Maybe…I think I have an idea, on how to get home. We met an older fellow, loves hiking and the woods, he smells so…strongly of it, and I can smell it through him, somehow. He was easy really, and he wants to see the cave himself…and I know we can get there, all of us together. With him. He’s the key, just like I was the key.

***

The final entry is the only newer entry that is dated.

June 7th, 2018

We can’t go back. We don’t want to go back anymore, but we can’t avoid it for now. But you–if you find this, you know what happened. Maybe you even feel the pull of it. You could find us too, if you want. If this is something you want. We…don’t want to go back to the world you know, and if you’re out here, you probably don’t either. You could come here though, join us. Trust your nose. Follow the trail–just do what comes naturally. We’re waiting for you, all of us. Come play, come live.

***

Further Notes

The journal was found on June 10th by two hikers who returned it to authorities when they left the trail. Both of the hikers were women. During their interrogation, both of them described a sensation of repulsion at the journal and it’s contents, mostly due to the way it smelled. Both of them, however, had heard of Peter Bishop’s disappearance, and brought the journal to town for the sake of evidence. When asked to describe this smell, one of them said, “It smells like a bear pissed all over it or something, it’s disgusting.” Most women describe a similar reaction. Men, however, find the scent mild, and somewhat intoxicating. A smaller number of men have a more troubling reaction, especially when exposed to object 4610-12-B.

4610-12B is a scrap of cloth that was stuffed in the back of the journal, between the last page and the back cover. It has been determined to be from a set of soiled underwear. Samples taken indicate it is predominantly soiled with sweat, urine, and semen. The scrap of cloth is classified as a class one contaminant. Access to it for further study is limited to level 5 access, and then, only permitted for women, who seem to remain immune to the contamination, though access is still highly discouraged. 4610-12B has been associated with five other missing persons cases, including two researchers. PPE and psychological supervision required for access.

Attempts to locate the Peter, Jim, Saul, and cave itself in the mountains have been unsuccessful. Various reasons have been posited, and you can see supplemental findings from these expeditions in files 4610-13 through 16. For details surrounding the disappearances of those exposed to the journal or the cloth, see files 4610-6 through 10. A full transcript of the journal’s entries can be found in file 4610-3.

Caption: Arctos Influencers

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

“I know dear.”

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

“At what?”

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

“Alright, fine.”

Good…yeah, that looks great.”

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

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

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

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

“What the–who the fuck are you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, wait, why had he thought that? 

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

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

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

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

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

Caption: Cheater’s Remorse (pt. 1)

Here’s the first in a pair of captions I posted over on my discord recently–again, if you want the second half, the only way to get it is to support me over on Patreon with a pledge of $5 or more!


“Is he there or not, Max?”

“Kev, just fucking drop it, alright? What the fuck are you even doing, calling me.”

“I just want to know where Ryan is–is he with you or not?”

As a matter of fact, Ryan was with him. Max was lying on his bed, propped up on the headboard, talking on the phone to his friend Kev, while Ryan–Kev’s boyfriend, was kissing and rubbing up against Max’s stomach like a fucking whore. He didn’t know how Kev had cottoned onto their little arrangement, but he supposed revealing the game at this point wasn’t going to cost him anything–after all, he had Ryan, whatever happened.

“Yeah, he’s fucking here, Kev, you’re loss. He’s gonna be sucking my cock here soon too, in case you were wondering what we were doing together.”

“Oh, I knew what you were doing, I just wanted to be sure he was there, before I released him.”

“Wait, what?” Max asked, but he didn’t get a reply–Kev just hung up on him after a little chuckle. “What the fuck ever,” Max said, and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, and focused on guiding Ryan down towards his cock, when Ryan suddenly shuddered, like an electric shock had gone through him, and he fell back off the bed in surprise.

“Hey, you alright? Max asked him.

“Y-Yeah, I…I fuck, I don’t feel so good, all of a sudden,” Ryan groaned, and then stood up, his legs shaking a bit, and he headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Max wondering what in the world was even going on around here. Was this…were the two of them playing him, or something?

Max could here Ryan groaning and moaning in pain behind the door, but the more sound he made, the…stranger he sounded. His voice was getting deeper, and raspier, and…distinctly un-Ryan. “Are…you alright in there?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m…It’s fuckin’ fine, boy!” the voice hollered back at him. That–was definitely not Ryan. Max went to leave, but the door opened, revealing a short, hairy, old piggy looking fucker, big nose and greasy skin, everything that was not Max’s type, sucking on a short, foul smelling cigar. “That’s fuckin’ better,” the stranger said, “Now boy, where the fuck were we? Get down on yer knees, ‘n get suckin.”

Max tried to say no, tried to run, but his legs betrayed him. He fell to his knees, and started sucking on the ugly bear’s short, thick cock–unwashed and uncut cock, too, he soon found out.

“That’s a good boy–we’re gonna have a real good night together, aren’t we,” the bear said, with a chuckle, “yeah–yer gonna love it, trust me.”

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 4)

Ashford didn’t realize he was jacking off until his hand was around his hard cock, and once he realized it, he didn’t want to stop. It would be better anyway, to get rid of some of this…pressure, in him. He hadn’t been horny like this in years, not even when he’d been with Carter’s mom…not that he’d ever really been…that attracted to her. Was that true, or was that new? He couldn’t quite tell. It was like someone had jumbled up the puzzle of his life and fit everything together differently, not the way it should have been, but somehow this arrangement made perfect sense. More sense, maybe, than the last one. He’d been gay. He’d always been gay, and in denial. He’d divorced, and…and when his son had come out, it was only natural to…to show him…

He came hard, all over the toilet. The shame was almost enough to make him puke again, realizing what he’d been thinking, how easy it had been for him to think it at all. He made his way to his own room, where he found his wardrobe had…changed. Not only did the more…normal clothes fit him now, even though they were a size larger than before, he found a new selection of clothing hanging in the closet, everything he recognized as the leather gear he’d ended up in by the end of the night, all of it well used and smelling of smoke–fuck, he could use a cigar. He bet Carter could use one too. He grabbed a couple from the humidor, clipped them, and lit one and then the other, holding them both in his mouth while he went downstairs (the bears always got a kick, seeing how many he could fit in his mouth at once) and Carter was in the kitchen, still naked, working on breakfast for them both. He turned around when he smelled the smoke, saw his dad with the cigars, and his cock went immediately rigid at the sight.

That was enough to make Ashford feel mortified. What the fuck was he doing, walking down here naked, with a couple of cigars in his mouth. He wanted to retreat…but didn’t. He walked over, handed a cigar to Carter, and then got on his knees, exhaling a plume of smoke over his son’s cock before sucking it down his throat.

Carter was frozen. The eggs were burning, and his father was smoking a cigar and sucking his cock at the same time. He pulled the pan off the burner, and then devoted his full attention to fucking his dad’s throat–he loved his dad’s blowjobs along with their first cigars of the mornings…didn’t he? Why did this feel so normal? Why did he remember doing this so many times before?

It had been like this, after his first time. Reality warping around him, the stash of cigars in his closet, smoking one out his window after his dad had left for work, like he always remembered he had. It was normal, even though he’d never done it before, and now, this was normal too. He knew he should feel ashamed, but he didn’t. He…loved it. They both loved it, how open they could be with each other…right? With his son’s cock finally in his mouth, it was the best Ashford had felt all damn day. He pulled away from Carter’s cock, opened wide and stuck out his tongue–Carter rolled the ash off onto his dad’s tongue, watching him quiver as he ate it. Carter loved the taste of ash, but he doubted anyone loved it as much as his dad did. He held it there a moment, savoring the heat, and then took it in his mouth, soaking it with his spit, and then went back to sucking, the ashy paste in his father’s mouth rough on Carter’s sensitive cock, some of the dark spit running down into his father’s beard.

“Fuck, Ash–fuck…” Carter moaned, tugging on his nipples until he unloaded into his father’s mouth, Ash drinking down all of his son’s cum, tasting the ash with it, and after a couple pumps of his own cock, he came again all over the kitchen floor, in front of his son. Both of them looking at one another, panting slightly.

“Thanks, boy,” Ash managed to say. Was his throat dry more from shame, or from the ash he’d just eaten without a second thought? But why would he feel shame? There…there was nothing wrong with this. He’d…wanted this. From the moment he’d found out that Carter was gay, his sexy, hairy, handsome boy…Ash had wanted this. First, just with inside himself, secretly…but he didn’t need it to be a secret anymore, how much he loved turning his boy into the cigar master of his fantasies.

“Dad–we…we can’t do that again, please don’t do that again,” Carter said. “I can’t do this to you.”

“Boy, I did this to you! I did this because I wanted this–we’ll keep doing it all we want, who cares what other people think?”

“No dad! That’s just–that’s what it wants you to think, how that place twisted you. I know you’re still in there. I know it hurts, but you have to fight it.”

“Fight it? That’s not what you wanted me to do last night, boy, all you wanted last night was for me to submit, and give in…and what, now you have second thoughts?”

His father sounded…hurt. Again, Carter tried his best to remember the night before, but he couldn’t–just little bits. Red light, a howl of pain, the feel of a lash taut between his thick hands… “I don’t remember what happened last night. I’m sorry…for what I did, I wasn’t…me. That wasn’t me. No one in there is who they are, really–that’s what that place does.”

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 1)

All Ashford wanted was for his son to talk to him again. It felt like it had been ages since they’d last sat down together–over a meal, or playing a game, or just out on the back porch–and really talked to one another. When Carter had been younger, he’d never had a problem telling him anything, and Ashford loved listening to him, and learning from him. There was something about how a child saw the world that made you look at things differently, sometimes like you were seeing them for the first time ever, and Carter, too, had always seen his dad as some amazing repository of knowledge. Everyone had to grow up sometime, though, and Ashford could have accepted that, or at least, he’d told himself that he’d need to accept it at some point.

For a time, he’d been able to pass the distance growing between them off as as just that–his son just growing up, and while he was never quite the buoyant, precocious little twerp he’d been before, he still was, well, normal. Normal interests, like a normal boy. But things had started to shift at some point–Ashford had never really been able to pinpoint where exactly, but things certainly hadn’t been easy, after his son had told him he was gay. While Ashford did his best to be supportive, he knew almost nothing about it. It wasn’t that though, but it was something else like that. He started keeping secrets from him, outright lying to him on occasion. Ashford was too afraid to put his foot down, worried he’d just drive him further and further away, but he just kept drifting all the same. Still, when Carter graduated from high school, he could still recognize him. It was sometime during Carter’s sophomore year at college that…something struck him, hard.

Carter had gone to the state school in the city, close enough that he could live at home, and take the lightrail to campus each day. Ashford gave him the space he felt he needed, but did his best to enforce some boundaries too–making him get a job and buy his own groceries and pay for his own transportation. He had a habit of staying out late with his friends, and Ashford didn’t pry into where he was going, or who he was seeing, figuring Carter would bring someone home when he was comfortable doing so. Then, from one day to the next, one Carter left to go to school in the morning, and the next day, a…different young man left his son’s room, came down, and ate breakfast with him at the table. His head…told him he was his son, and he had no trouble recognizing him…but how had he grown a beard overnight? And why did he smell like cigars?

Carter grew more and more distant after that. His grades were suffering too, and the friends he’d been hanging around with before had been replaced with others, older men mostly, scruffier, and not the sort of type Ashford wanted him associating with. On one hand, he was his own person, but didn’t he have some duty as a father to make sure he wasn’t in trouble? Frustrated that Carter wouldn’t talk to him about what was going on with him, wouldn’t explain why he kept wearing all that leather, and who those old men commenting on his facebook selfies were with all that…inappropriate innuendo. In the end, he did it not for Carter’s sake, but for his own peace of mind. He just had to know that he was alright, that he wasn’t in any real trouble. So here he was, on a Saturday night downtown, following his son down a lonely sidewalk, watching the cloud of cigar smoke drifting up as he strode in his leather pants and jacket, looking lonelier than Ashford had ever seen him in his life.

He just wanted to rush up to him and hug him, tell him everything was going to be alright, tell him that no matter what it was that was going on with him, whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into, that he’d help him if he could. He didn’t though. He hung back most of a block behind him, waiting as Carter chatted with a few guys he passed along the way, laughing and chuckling, more than one sharing a kiss with them, and the occasional grope. He’d never imagined Carter doing something like that…maybe he’d never known him as well as he’d thought. He followed him deeper into the city’s gay district, away from the well travelled streets and down into the alleys, where he stopped at an unmarked door–aside from a sign hanging above it with the face of a cartoon pig winking on it, and rang the buzzer. After a moment, the door opened, Carter slipped inside, and then he was gone.

Was that it? What was behind that door? A club of some sort, probably. But what was wrong with that, exactly? He hadn’t been buying drugs. He wasn’t working the street as a prostitute…probably. But none of his questions were answered by this…but maybe, if he went in…and then what? Maybe he should just accept that his son had grown up and away, that there was nothing he could do to fix the distance between them. He was, most of all, tired–and wanted to go to bed. He turned around, when three burly guys turned the corner in the alley and started coming towards him. He froze. The space was a bit too narrow to pass them easily, and he didn’t really want to get into trouble with anyone.

One of them whistled. It took him a moment to realize it was directed at him–that all three of them were staring right at him, coming closer, the one in the back openly groping his crotch. “Now what’s a cute little business bear like you doing in a scummy little alley like this?” one of them said, closing the distance between them, the others circling and pinning him to the brick wall in a semicircle.

“I was just…leaving, actually, if you wouldn’t mind,” Ashford said, and tried to push his way out of the three of them, but when he tried, one of the bears just spun him around, pushed him back to the brick and leaned into him–where he could feel the man’s hard cock pressed against his ass through both of their pants.

“Leaving? But the night’s just getting started. You weren’t gonna leave without going inside, were you? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you around here before, buddy.”

“Get off me, you fucking homo!” Ashford said, and shoved back from the wall, making the bear come away from him laughing. The other bears were chuckling too. He tried to get back out of the mouth of the alley, but before he got very far, two of the bears grabbed him, and the third, who he’d shouted at, stepped very close to his face.

“Homo, eh? And what does that make you?”

“You don’t…I was looking for my son.”

One of the bears whistled, and the bear put on a mocking grin, “Oh daddy, don’t worry about your little boy, I’m sure he can find someone better than you in there. Hell, he probably already has. But I’ll tell you what–why don’t you let the boys and I give you a tour? See if we can find him for you. Or who knows, maybe you’ll find something a little better–us homos have a way of knowing what men are looking for,” he reached out and started rubbing Ashford’s cock through his pants, and with the other hand, grabbed him around the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss, Ashford trying to pull away from the man’s breath that mostly smelled of cigars, until he pulled away. “Come on guys, let’s help the daddy find a boy–or something better. After all, you never know what you might find in Pigtown, right?”

Smoke Spirit (Part 4)

He begged him not to, but Pete walked over, after getting the cigar blazing nicely, and slid it into Douglas’s mouth. It tasted…heavenly. More than just tobacco, it felt…right, in his mouth. What he should have been smoking this entire time. The taste of it, the feel of the smoke in his mouth and in his lungs as he drew it into him. The thing inside him–the hunger–it gobbled down the smoke, so much that when he exhaled, almost nothing came out of his nose aside from a wisp–and he took a deeper inhale, feeding it, desperate for the pain to stop, he never wanted to feel that way again. The hunger, however, remained. It twisted into something else, and when he looked up at Pete, watching him light a second cigar for himself now he could…sense something unfinished. Still, it could wait a moment, but as soon as Pete got his own cigar burning, Douglas grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer to the bed, Pete’s knees buckling as he swallowed Douglas’ throbbing cock to the hilt.

Smoke was pouring out of Douglas again with every shuddering exhale. The cigar–it was more powerful somehow, and the spirit began to form again–a full head now, hands up past the elbow, and a massive, throbbing cock and pendulous balls. He found himself entranced, watching the spirit’s cock, how one moment it seemed to literally float in the air, while the next it had all the heft and weight of flesh. It kissed him again, and while before he had gotten weak…impressions, this time it was forceful, directions and orders imprinted across his consciousness. He backed up on the bed, forcing Pete to climb up onto it with him as he chased Douglas’s cock–taking breaks only to take in more smoke himself. Douglas watched the spirit for any sign of acknowledgement, but received nothing. Still, he had done what it had…asked, in a sense. It floated around behind Pete, it’s hands lying on his clothes, and embers leapt from them. Douglas panicked, as flames consumed them, worried his roommate was about to be set on fire, but he was unharmed–simply naked. Then the thing came closer, hands gripping Pete’s hips and slid it’s cock inside him.

Pete howled–though whether it was in pain or pleasure Douglas wasn’t sure. One thing he did see, was his eyes immediately clouding over entirely, becoming a solid smoky grey–even cloudier than they had been before, outside on the patio. He began sucking harder on Douglas’s cock, neglecting his own cigar entirely now, and Douglas gripped the sheets in pleasure. It was like the night before, when that…mouth had sucked him off, how it had drawn…something out of him, or through him, perhaps. The spirit was fucking Pete at a slow, steady pace, sliding in deep with each thrust, and the next time Douglas managed to look up, he could barely see Pete at all. The smoke in the room had become so thick it was difficult to see, though breathing was somehow easier than ever. It took a moment for him to realize where the smoke was coming from–not from their mouths, and not from the spirit–but from Pete, like it was somehow seeping from his very pores all over his body, like everything inside him was smoke now–like he had been consumed from the inside out. A minute later, he couldn’t be seen at all–though he had to be there in some form, because something was still sucking forcefully at Douglas’s cock. His eyes shifted up, and he saw that the spirit’s eyeless face was directed at him now, and the smoke from Pete’s body was curling up into wisps, and they were swirling towards him now. He tried to pull away, but the mouth sucking him off kept him rooted in place as the smoke settled over him, dug into him, seeped into every crevice, coating him in a blanket of soft grey. He couldn’t see, but he could feel something happening to him and his body…but he could also feel Pete, somehow. Not just feel him sucking him off, but some…connection to him, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Pete was tethered to him. Pete was his. He owned him. The sensation was building inside him, and he came forcefully, bucking on the mattress, but Pete’s mouth never left his cock, and continued to suck even after he had collapsed back, heaving for smoke.

Soon after, the smoke began to dissipate. Much of it was drawn back to Douglas, sliding back into his body, where he could sense it…belonged. He could see the room again, through the haze. The spirit was still there, but standing off to the side of them both at the foot of the bed. Whether it had cum or not–whether it needed to cum or not–he could sense it was finished with Pete. His muscles ached for some reason, but Douglas managed to prop himself up and look down at Pete, who was still nursing his cock, and saw that the nerdy, long limbed roommate he’d had that morning was no longer there. Instead, he saw some muscled cub sucking hungrily at his cock, taking occasional breaks for an inhale off his cigar, before continuing. Douglas pushed him off, and the cub sat back on his heels, giving Douglas a better look at his new body. His chest and arms were thick with muscle, but with a slight gut–and a sizable cock jutting out below–all of it coated with a perfect dusting of brownish red hair. His beard was trimmed short, as was his hair–but his eyes…they were empty. A…perfect, flat grey surface. “Sorry Daddy,” Pete said, smiling around his cigar and seemingly perfect normal aside from his empty eyes, “Guess I got a bit carried away there, but your smoke always gets your cubson horned up so bad.”

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 2)

The next day Chuck was waiting for me, idling outside–and I didn’t want to go out there, but like before…I had to. I didn’t know how he was doing it, but he had some sort of fucking control over me, and I didn’t have the will to resist him. He’d arrived so early we had plenty of time to work, but he drove a couple blocks down, parked, and fed me more spit, making me shoot another load, and then ordered me to jack off on the way to work–that whenever I was in his truck, I was going to be jacking off, and shooting my cum on my clothes, where I’d rub it in and leave it. His spit…it got me so fucking horny, I shot another load on the way there, and when we got out, it was clear my shirt was…messy, but I just tried not to think about it, as we got to work.

But everyone on the crew had seen us arrive together. A few of the guys…they were looking at me almost…excitedly, while others couldn’t even meet my eyes. Chuck gave me my nickname at lunch–everyone was going to be calling me Spitoon from now on–Spitty for short–and no one objected, not even the foreman, who seemed…more scared of Chuck than anything else. Sure enough, more guys than I’d thought chewed tobacco on the crew, and starting that day…I got all of their spit. On me, in my mouth–it didn’t matter, but that’s what I was for–or at least, that’s what Chuck told me, and a small part of me…almost believed him. No one’s spit tasted like his though–his was…electric. Every time it hit me, every time I tasted it, it was like some strange wire sparked in my body. Still, I was getting out, right? That’s what I was still telling myself, at least. He could humiliate me for a few months, and then I’d be back at school, and I’d never have to see him again.

But on the third day…I noticed something strange about my body. I’m not a hairy guy by any means, but all of a sudden I had a beard filling in across my face. I’d tried to grow a beard a few times before, but had never managed anything like this, and it had been just two days since I’d last shaved. The rest of me was changing too–most noticeably my new gut. I wasn’t happy about losing my abs, but I also couldn’t explain the sudden weight gain. I hadn’t changed my diet, and my metabolism had always been so quick I could eat nearly anything and stay slender. Chuck teased me about it, of course–made me…rub it, while I jacked off on the way to and from work. He’d make me take off my shirt and spit on my belly, rubbing it in there until it was streaked with black and tingling–and a few days after he’d started doing that, I noticed that, like my new beard, hair was growing in all over my new belly–and my belly was still growing as well.

Still, it was a couple of weeks before I was certain–it was Chuck’s spit. I’d…known that, somehow, but that only seemed to confirm it for me somehow–it made it more real. Chuck was doing this to me, and when I got in with him the next day, I…I begged him to stop. That I was sorry, that I didn’t want this. I told him I had a future, that I didn’t want to be stuck in this shitty town for the rest of my life. That I was sorry his life had come to this, but that didn’t mean he had any right to ruin mine too. He just pressed his hefty frame into me as my pleads dissolved into whimpers, groped my cock with his huge hand, grinning at me, letting his slobber dribble into his beard…watching me watch it fall…and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in and sucking it from the hair of his beard, shuddering a bit. “That’s a good boy–you’re a real good boy, Spitty. I think it’s time daddy introduced you to the real shit tonight–yer comin’ home with me for some real fun.”

All day long on the work site…all I could think about was what that meant. I tried to make myself run off, I even begged the foreman for help, when I had a moment of clarity, but he just shook his head, grabbed me by the chin, and fed me a load of spit. “I’m real sorry, Spitty,” he said, “But Chuck…he’s real keen on ya. He was keen on me once too–I know…what it’s like. But don’ worry, things’ll git easier, after tahnight.”

I pressed him for details, tried to get him to tell me what was going to happen, but he didn’t say anything else–just told me to get back to work and try not to worry about it, because there wasn’t anything I’d be able to do to stop it anyway. Chuck didn’t stop grinning all day, and grinning at me especially. It wasn’t even mean–he was really fucking happy, or excited, or who knew what. Our foreman let us both go an hour early, when Chuck asked–I hadn’t really noticed how often Chuck got whatever he asked for from anyone on the crew–and the two of us got in the truck. After a sloppy kiss, he ordered me to haul my cock out and start jacking off, and he raced off towards his place, a run down but nice little house on the edge of town. I asked him if I could at least call my parents, but he didn’t even hear me–just dragged me inside by the hand, my head trying to fight him, but my body was his willing subject, as always.

Too Clever For Your Own Good (Part 1)

If you’re smart enough, and focused enough, then Pigtown is pretty much the holy grail. Walk into those doors, keep your wits about you, and you can walk out as anyone you want to be, with anyone you want to fuck on your arm. At least, that’s the technique which had worked for Eddie, so far. Hell, two weeks ago, he hadn’t even been Eddie–he’d been Edward, a young, shy guy, new to the city and looking for love, or anything, really. Mostly, he just didn’t want to feel so alone. But what had happened in there–fuck, he still had a hard time believing he had any sort of relation to the young man he remembered, just because he was so…fucking different.

The next morning, he’d found himself in a whole new body. Mid fifties, muscled with a solid gut, a thick layer of hair all over him, nice full beard. He…definitely wasn’t the kind of guy that “Edward” would have ever wanted to be in his life, but who the hell cared what that old version of himself wanted? This new him, he was plenty happy with his new lot in life. He had so much confidence–he started work the next week, and discovered he’d leapt four or five rungs up the corporate ladder. By day, he was a high ranking company executive, wearing tailored suits and smoking expensive cigars over expensive fare during power lunches with his fellow. At night, he’d trade in the suits for leather gear, and prowl the streets for men to take his cock…but as much as he wanted to return to Pigtown, he also knew he wasn’t ready. He’d been lucky, before, to end up with such a good life, but he could remember other people in the bar who…hadn’t been so lucky. If he didn’t want to end up like them, he was going to need a plan, and the first part of that plan was going to require a wingman.

Once you enter Pigtown, you lose touch with yourself–the only thing you can rely on is your memory and your will, but the place can fuck with that too. No, you needed someone with you, someone you can work with, who can confirm for you what you’re doing, and who you are. A partner–someone watching your back. But he never found anyone suitable in the various men he fucked over the next few weeks. It was risky…but he was just going to have to make himself a partner, and the only place he could do that, was Pigtown.

He had several friends at work, none of whom were gay, but who trusted Eddie enough to meet him at an unknown bar in the evening for drinks. The one he ended up choosing was Peter–smart, witty, and always grounded, never one to panic or lose focus–he was perfect for the role, provided Eddie could convert him to his side. They didn’t venture very deep into the bar–that was too risky, but Eddie quickly discovered that the very qualities he appreciated in Peter made him…resistant to the sort of persona Eddie wanted him to become, and so, he was forced to push a bit harder than he would have liked.

The next day, he wasn’t quite satisfied with the end result. His new husbear Pete might be one hot fucking daddy bear, like him, but he definitely hadn’t kept all of Peter’s intelligence and will. Hell, he didn’t even work at the company where Eddie was anymore–he was an electrician. He made good money, sure, but not because he could think. Still, to his…slight disgust, Eddie found himself loving him all the same. Not only because he was hot, but because he was willing to do anything Eddie told him to do, and living with him for a few days…Eddie started to fantasize about having a whole family of men at his disposal, all of them under his thumb.

He started talking with Pete about it, convincing him how hot it would be if they had a couple of cubs–sons even–to fuck around with. Of course, this was an easy sell for Pete, because he wanted whatever Eddie told him to want. And so, after a few days of discussion and planning, the two of them suited up in their leather gear, and made their way back to Pigtown.

“Alright Pete–remember, we have to stay focused at all times. I can’t lose you in there–we can’t lose each other. No matter what, remember this–we’re two daddies, and we’re making two cubs. Got it?”

Pete nodded.

“Good. And don’t get lost, and don’t get separated. Stick with me at all times, got it? Just follow my lead.”

“Anything you say Eddie, you know I’ll do anything for you,” Pete said, and they shared a smoky kiss, and slipped into the bar, to fill out their family.