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.

Stinkers – Coach’s Senior Gifts (Part 8)

Erik…wasn’t sure he wanted to put on his old jock. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to being that old him. He liked this body–the fur, the stink, the power, the brutality–but he did as his coach told him to do, and pulled on the jock, being careful not to rip it on his claws. It was tight, and while it did fit–it felt weird, over his fur, like it didn’t belong on him at all. Then, he helped coach, both of them hauling the other, much tighter, jockstrap up Paul’s thick legs and thighs, getting it to settle under his gut and around his sheathed cock.

By that point, Erik had noticed that some of the changes his body had gone through were beginning to fade. His paws were becoming hands again, his claws returned to nails (though they seemed harder, and sharper, than before), and his snout was pulling back into his face. Still, not everything changed back. He kept quite a bit of the hair–in some places, it was still thick enough to completely obscure his skin–and he also didn’t lose any of his new height or mass. He didn’t have an exact measurement, but he had to guess he was close to six foot five at this point, and he probably weighed in at over 300 pounds of fat and muscle. In a locker room mirror, he looked at his face–which was mostly the same, aside from the much thicker beard, and the thick head of brown hair he had…but it didn’t feel like his face. It felt like a mask. Underneath…he was still the bear, still that monster. He hadn’t changed back, so much as covered his new self up with the skin of his old body. He peeked into the pouch of the jock, and sure enough, nothing in there had changed at all–his skin just as hairy, his cock still…inhuman. It made him feel at ease, seeing that.

Paul gave a groan, and rolled over. The orgasm had been so powerful, that he hadn’t really been able to focus on, or do, much of anything as long as it had lasted, and it had lasted close to twenty minutes. He’d been able to feel Coach and Erik moving him around, and even felt the two of them forcing some tight jock onto him in his stupor, but he hadn’t been able to do anything to help them, or stop them. Now, however, he was able to at least roll up, and see that whatever strange body he’d had had also faded away somewhat. Like Erik, the obvious animal traits–the snout, the ears, the trotters, the tusks–had all disappeared for the most part–though his incisors were still peeking out over his lip, he was still massively fat, and his skin still felt so rough and thick, like before. Paul peeked in the pouch of his own jock, and saw that his strange cock had slipped back into its sheath, his massive balls still churning below, and just the sight of it made him get a bit horny all over again.

Coach explained the rules of their new bodies to them both, while Sponge worked behind them, scouring the floor for any drop of moisture and filth it might have missed earlier. If they had their old jocks on, both of them would be…mostly human. But when the jocks came off, they’d be themselves again in a few minutes, proper sexy beasts. The jocks wouldn’t rip, and they wouldn’t age, so both of them wouldn’t have to worry about destroying them, but if they were ever washed, their old selves would be washed away too, and they’d be trapped in their real, bestial forms forever. Should that ever occur, the coach advised that their best bet, would be to go live in the woods somewhere.

Paul was only half listening at this point–the powerful musk coming from beneath erik’s pouch had drawn him back, and he was sucking at the bear’s cock while coach kept talking, groping his own piggy cock through the mesh. “I should also mention, that since you two…transitioned together, you’re going to have a fairly strong bond for quite a while, as you can see. I don’t think you’ll mind, however. And if you need to let loose with someone else, well, you always have me and Sponge, as well as a few other choice alumni I can put you both in contact with.”

Erik and Paul were more than happy with one another, however, though no one else at the school could figure out why, one day, two straight football players had simply gone gay for one another…or why the two of them stank so much…or any of the other oddities of their new bodies. Their musk, even with their human skins on, was so powerful that few people could stand to sit anywhere near them, and when they were together…well, it wasn’t long before they were in the rest room, banging each other’s brains out. They each decided that they couldn’t do the college thing, not like this, and instead they got jobs out of school with a few of Coach’s contacts in the Stinker network. It was a few years until they were able to afford a cabin up in the mountains, but no one saw much of either of them from that point on, and anyone who coach sent to pay them a visit seemed to disappear as well.

Sponge, on the other hand, never left the locker room again. Coach introduced all of his teams to the dummy the next week, and soon, they were all happily using the thing as their cum dump and urinal. After a few months, the thing was utterly sodden, and was having a hard time keeping all of its moisture in. By the end of the school year, it had passed capacity, and constantly wept filth which it tried to wick back into itself. Coach let it dry out a bit over the summer, alone, and it served the teams well over the next decade, before it finally started to rot dissolve away. Coach salvaged the jersey for his personal collection, sold off the rubber head to a collector, and looked forward to the day he’d find another one like Anton. They were, after all, his favorites, and he knew just how to treat them right.