The Hog King

A gift for a certain someone’s birthday.

Warning!: This story has some weird stuff in it. Cockvore, cock to pussy tf, mpreg. Read at your own risk!

It had been three years since the Emperor–as the leader of the rebellion had called himself–had emerged to challenge the King’s rule. Laughable, really–no one had even understood what the rebels had wanted. The realm was prosperous, at least for the wealthy, but who cared about the peasants really, so long as they were contained–and the King contained them well. It was assumed that the local levy would be enough to contain the initial uprising–but then it spread, and with it, came the first of the rumors of this so-called Emperor.

A giant, they said. Ten feet tall, packed with muscle, massive beard and hair in thick braids, swinging a monsterous axe. Powers–impossible powers. Controlling minds, swallowing men whole. A cannibal, a wizard, a monster. The King was undaunted, of course. These were just rumors–effective ones against the local dukes and counts, who were coming to pester him more and more for aid and assistance, telling him that he simply didn’t understand the threat. The Emperor–he was doing something to the people. Changing them. He could take anyone, no matter how feeble and weak, and turn them into violent brutes seemingly overnight, willing to do and sacrifice anything for their new Emperor.

Did he want treasure? Prestige? A title of his own? When it became clear that the rebellion would soon spark a proper civil war, the King called for parlay, and sent a team of diplomats in good faith, to determine what this so called Emperor desired–but the men who returned, claiming that they were the same men the King had sent…it couldn’t be true. They were twisted somehow, corrupted. One had grown massively obese, and was carried back on a palanquin by the guard, no longer able to stand. One had become some inhuman beast, caged. Another, so old he seemed to be in his 90’s, barely able to speak. With them, an Emissary of the Emperor himself, with a simple message. Bend the knee. Submit to the Emperor, and he will give you mercy. Or else, you will become a toy, like these.

He ordered the Emissary jailed, but he escaped the dungeons–leading the King to believe there were already traitors in his midst. Seeing no other option, he rallied all of his troops, hired in several bands of mercenaries from neighboring kingdoms, and set out to crush the revolt once and for all–but things did not go as planned. The army he faced was vast–like every peasant in the land had become a soldier in the army itself. Their morale was great–every single soldier fought with a single minded devotion to the Emperor that the King’s trove of gold could never hope to inspire in his own army. The Emperor did not even enter the field–there was no need. The King’s armies were shattered, and the King himself sent scurrying away–but his castle had fallen as well, while he was away. His heirs were hidden, sent to other kingdoms, and the King was reduced to a mere scoundrel, hiding as the monstrous army pursued him–but even that had come to an end now. Betrayed once more, he was now here. Back in his own castle, in the dungeons, with his own King’s guard imprisoned with him. His luxurious garments gone, now clothed only in rags. He had been crushed, and today, he had been told, the emperor would crown him with his fate.

He did not know what that meant. Execution, most likely. It’s what he would do, what he would have done to the Emperor had he emerged victorious. Now here he was, 33 years old, a thriving and prosperous reign brought to an end by some violent sorcerer’s ego and lust for power. He had been a good king, he told himself. And if he was to die today, so be it–at least he never beant the knee to the cretin. They were men–him and his guard. They would die like men too.

There came a sound from the stairs, and a sizable regiment of the Emperor’s troops came to the dungeons. These ones seemed…mostly normal. As normal as any of the Emperor’s minions seemed. Still human, at least. Some of the beasts on the battlefields…Men with the heads of boars, and the claws of bears. Small dog men speeding through the ranks, tearing at flesh with razor sharp fangs. It was impossible. A nightmare. These guards, though hairy, and naked, each with a cock at least a foot long, stinking of blood and sex…this was easy to comprehend, compared to some of what the King had now seen. To think, he had imagined them rumors. Still, though, he had not once laid eyes on the Emperor himself–and over these three years, the rumors of him had grown only more and more monstrous. Who knew what awaited him in his own throne room, even now?

The guards hauled the King and his guard from their cells, shackled them together in a line, and marched them up from the depths, for their audience with the Emperor. The halls had been stripped bare for the most part, and every part of the castle was packed with heathens and warriors–and more than once, the King saw them fucking one another, in twos, and threes, the most despicable, blasphemous acts…what was to become of his noble kingdom, under the rule of this perverse tyrant? He felt despair, thinking of his court, of the noble houses, most of them now doomed to end. He doubted the Emperor would stop at his own kingdom–and if he could do this here, he could anywhere. What could possibly stop him?

They came to the throne room doors, and even the King could not stop a shudder from running through him–though he did his best to keep his men from seeing it. He held his head high–ready to face him. The guards opened the doors, marched them inside, and the King gazed upon him for the first time…and he could not help but gasp.

He had heard rumors, so many rumors, but nothing compared to the man he now laid eyes on, if man was even the term anymore. The throne had been removed–the Emperor could have never fit upon it anyway, and he now merely sat at the top of the steps, a 25 foot giant. How had he even entered here, the King wondered? He looked, and saw one wall of the room had been demolished, a ramp constructed up the side–most likely just for him. Just the sight of a man so impossibly large was enough to make some of the men in the group pause, and one of them fell to his knees, astounded that this–this is who they had been fighting. How could they have ever hoped to win against something such as this?

The guards forced them all upright and into motion again. The King did his best to reclaim his calm–but he was shaken. How could he not be? A lion, the men fleeing the battlefield had called him. Now he saw that the metaphor was more apt than he could have imagined. Human, yes, but the Emperor’s hair was long, and impossibly thick, streaming around his face in a mane. In the dark room, it was…well, it was difficult to know what color it was. It seemed to shift, depending on how far away he was, and how much light shone on him–deep auburn, fiery red, golden blonde. The mane was perfectly braided, and each braid cascaded down the whole length of his person, pooling around him in massive coils, all the way to his bare feet. The rest of his body was hairy–but enough that skin could be seen in most places. Bristly hair, almost like a boar.

Closer still, more fine details appeared to him. The massive hands capped not with nails, but with claws–long, black claws manicured perfectly–enough that the hand was still usable, but plenty deadly to a challenger. The same was true of his feet as well. What he had first thought mere flesh between the Emperor’s legs became apparent as his cock–but it seemed impossible too. The thing was huge–nearly as thick as an entire man, and easily six or eight feet long. Then there were the eyes. The King could only hold the Emperor’s gaze for a moment, before he would look away, head swimming, What were the eyes, even? There was something there, something else, something deep, and ancient, and horrifying. Something older than humanity. He looked again, struggling to hold his eyes there, showing that he would not be bent, and the irises, like the hair, were constantly shifting in color, and…and it was beautiful.

The Emperor was beautiful. He was a monster, but looking at him there, he was regal. He was an animal, but one conscious of his own nature, one capable of presenting himself as civilized. Had he been a man before this, or was he some beast, raised up by sorcery? He trembled then, and did not feel the tears running down his face, before he finally looked back away, and nearly fell. The Emperor had seen inside him, he could feel it. Had been pawing and clawing across his mind, in that moment they had shared that gaze. The King had barely scratched the surface, but he was sure the Emperor already knew more about him than his closest advisors.

“There you are, My King!” the Emperor said, and laughed, a great booming laugh that sent the stone walls and floors shuddering. “So generous of you to finally grace me with your presence and full attention after all of these years. I have been looking forward to this moment for so very long, I assure you.” The Emperor bared his teeth in a smile–the fangs were sharp, and glistened with drool, the mouth…too wide, somehow, more like the jaws of some unseen beast.

“I know not what you wish from me,” The King said, doing everything he could to keep his posture upright, and still, “But spare my men–I will accept whatever punishment you wish. Have mercy on them, and the rest of the kingdom.”

The emperor just laughed some more, and the beasts in the room laughed with him. The calmest was the Emissary, who simply smiled in his cloak off to the side. “Nonsense King! You think I have brought you here to punish you? This is your coronation!”

The Emissary pulled something out from behind the massive Emperor then, and the King saw that the vault had been raided–there, in the Emissary’s hands, was his crown–apparently untouched. Every jewel still in place. What sort of game was this? It did not make any sense to him. Why not take the jewels? Melt the gold? The Emissary came forward, crown held gently between his hands. The King tried to make sense of him–as far as he could tell, he was fully human–so why side with these beasts?

“Now, King–kneel, and allow me to crown you once again–and you can assume your rightful place in my empire.”

He did not move. This was a trap–he could sense it. Two guards grabbed him however, and unchained him from the rest of his men. He struggled, but they were two strong–the two stinking brutes dragged him forward, and forced him to his knees before the Emissary–who gently–ever so gently, set the King’s crown upon his head–and it began to glow with a slight, golden light–and the King felt a filthy, corruption spread down through his head and into his body.

The King gave a grunt, and collapsed to his hands and knees, but forced his head up to look at the Emperor, determined to remain steadfast against the corruption suffusing him–but there was no amount of willpower that could stop what was to come. He felt his body churning, his gut grumbling, and it began to expand, his young muscles withering away as his body filled with fat. He tried to push it in with his hands, but there was nothing he could do as he swelled–another hundred pounds, and then another–fatter than any man the King had ever laid eyes on–other than his one-time diplomat, he supposed. His rags fought as hard as they could, but they shredded away in moments, leaving him naked on the ground before everyone, grunting and wheezing, feeling his vitality, too, begin to sap away.

He was getting older. His hair growing longer and receding, leaving a thin horseshoe of long, greying locks around the back of his head. He reached up to his face, feeling his sagging jowls, a beard pushing through as well, growing just as long and knotted down in front of him. He could smell himself now–the corruption seeping out from his very pores, and as much as he wanted to be disgusted at himself…he found himself relishing it. Groping his fat body, smelling the stink rising from his unwashed fat. More grey, bristly hair erupted from his skin–mostly down his back, his skin toughening into a leathery hide. His hands and feet felt like they were in a vice–fingers crushing down into hard, clumsy trotters–the same with his feet–and lastly, his face began to push out into a short, pig’s snout–though anyone would have been able to recognize him for who he’d been–as the king. The magic seered through the crown, and it began to melt and warp around the King’s fat head, now just a mass of golden, tarnished metal and dull jewels–it was far too warped for it ever to be removed–but then why would he want to remove it! He was the King! The Hog King!

The Emperor, seeing that the transformation of his rival was coming to an end, took a deep breath from his massive pipe, and pushed out two massive streams of smoke from his nose. They wound towards the King, wrapping around his arms and legs, lifting him into the air, and solidifying into a sling made of solid smoke–the changed King now facing his own men–and they gasped at the sight. Where the King’s cock had been moments ago, there was now a massive set of labia, drooling on the floor under him, the King reaching down with one trottered hand to push inside it, squealing as he did in filthy, forbidden pleasure.

The new Hog King saw his men there, saw the horror on their faces, but why were they so horrified? Could they not see him in all of his glory? Crowned again, victorious at last! They…they would serve him–yes, serve him in all of his needs! “Fuck me!” he squealed, “Fuck your Hog King, men! Shove your cocks in my dirty pussy, I command it!”

All they could do was stare. One man, shuddered and turned away, unable to bear the sight of his King, the man he had fought beside for years, reduced…to this monstrosity. None of them stepped forward to obey him, and the King grew enraged, grunting and snorting in his sling, unable to get out, shouting for them to fuck him, to fuck him rough, to service him as he demanded!

“Well, your King has given you an order–do you not obey him? Have you not each sworn an oath to him? I have heard from other knights, that your oaths are all that separate you from the beasts of the land who prey on the innocent–are you all so easily convinced to cast them aside?” the Emperor said.

“You vile, horrific abomination!” One of the knights spit at him, “I will not let you taunt us with this thing, with this cursed beast. He is not out King, and you will never rule us either!”

The room fell quiet, and the Emperor considered the man carefully for a moment, and then one of the Emperor’s long braids shot out, coiled itself around the outspoken knight, and hoisted him into the air, drawing him across the throne room to where the Emperor reclined. “Ah–if you will not obey your king then, I suppose that is treason against the crown–isn’t that right, my King Hog?”

The King snorted in agreement, and again demanded the remaining knights fuck him–but they all stood there, watching the knight struggle against the coils, his face turning slightly blue, as the Emperor’s cock began to writhe on the ground, the head rearing up like some nightmarish worm. “Well, I suppose my cock is a bit peckish–I knew one of you would have to be an example in any case–so I skipped breakfast.”

The knight tried to scream, but could not find the air, as the head of the Emperor’s cock surged up, and swallowed his feet down into the maw. The Emperor took his time, and the only sound in the room was the King’s squeals and petulant demands, as the knight slowly disappeared down the Emperor’s urethra, his legs, then his torso, until just his head remained free from the neck up–and then even that was swallowed up. The knights watched as he struggled in the shaft for a minute, and then went quiet–just a bulge in the middle of the Emperor’s massive cock, that was pulled a few feet further towards the root every few moments, until it was gone all together–and then they saw the King’s balls swell, and a trickle of precum began to flow from the head of his cock onto the floor of the room.

“Yes–that’s much better. I only have room for a few of you in here though,” he said to the knights, “The rest, I think, I will slide into my ass–I do love feeling you squirm and thrash inside there. Now–obey your king, or you know what fate your Emperor has in store for you now.”

The knights were pale, and quiet. Finally, one of them stepped forward, up to the King, and pulled out his cock. This close, the man could smell the King’s pussy, the corruption flowing from it, and his cock stiffened immediately, and he forced it inside, losing control of himself almost immediately as the King urged him to fuck harder, and deeper–and the knight, too, began to change. Back broadening as he grew taller, packing on fat and muscle, face contorting into a bestial caricature of his former self. He fucked harder and harder, spewing precum into the King’s pussy, his brains draining, until with a final roar, he came after a few minutes–fully changed into one of the Emperor’s elite warriors. He pulled free, his cock now fully porcine, and went to stand with his fellow men.

One by one, the knights all accepted their fate, fucked their king, and became one more soldier in the Emperor’s massive army. No where near sated, the King began demanding more–cum dribbling from his pussy down onto the floor below him, but the Emperor silenced him with a word. “Take the King down into the courtyard. He will be displayed and made available to all the men for the next week–you of his former guard will see to his other needs of course, keep him fed and well watered. After seven days, the king shall take his place in the harem, with the other breeders–I’m sure he will have a load of piglets brewing by then.”

The warriors all hurried to obey their Emperor’s orders, and he relaxed–knowing that the war was now won. All that remained was to hunt down the King’s heirs and bring them here–but that task was already underway. They would be brought unchanged, just as their father had been–but they would see him–the new Hog King he had become, and then they, too, would likely join him in the Emperor’s breeding stock. After all, royal lineage had power–and he would need power, for his plans to come.

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 10)

Viruses mutate, in time. What started as a simple infection can become monstrous, with the right evolution. Jacob stumbled down the street, wearing only a bathrobe that, on a normal person, would be rather oversized, but which could barely encompass his huge frame. His mind was a jumble–he…he hadn’t always looked like this, hadn’t always felt like this, hadn’t felt these needs welling up inside him, like the milk that seemed to pulse through his cock, through his massive tits, through his very veins. What…was he now? What on God’s earth had he become?

But God, that God, the God he had followed all his life until this very afternoon, he now knew to be a false god. In his heart, there had always been doubts. Doubts that what he was doing, and what he served, were empty–empty of any real power, beyond the power that the men who believed it gave it, but now…now he had a taste of real power, of something more, something that…that he could give. Christ could only give of his body as metaphor, but he–through this new god pulsating inside him, changing him still–he could give of it literally.

It was twilight now, and he could, to some extent, go unnoticed, but he knew that he had to try and find someone, somewhere that he could be safe. He ached, ached for someone to feed from him. The milk inside him was welling up, filling him to bursting. He could feel it under his very skin, welling up from his pores, sweating out and down his hairy chest, dripping from the hair that had grown there, smelling like sex and cream. He turned up a driveway, up the steps, pounded on a door, kept pounding, until it opened, and a man stood there, older, the age of Jacob’s father, and of Jacob’s new god, looking at the heaving bestial man in the door frame, dripping with milk, his eyes wide with terror and confusion.

“Do…do not be afraid, I come from God to…to feed you the milk of…of life…” Jacob grunted, trying to make the words connect up in his mind, but all he could really do was reach out, grab the fellow by the collar of his shirt, and pull him into his hairy, milky chest. He…had to taste it, they all had to taste it, to know it. To know God.

There was screaming then–a woman had rounded the corner to see her husband in the grips of some massive, wet beast. Jacob looked at her, uninterested, disgusted–they would find somewhere else to go, somewhere they would not be disturbed. Jacob released the man, looked down at him, his milk glazed lips, his wide eyes realizing what he had just tasted, and he turned and walked back down the steps, and back down the driveway.

The woman went to go to her husband, but he shrugged her off–one taste hadn’t been enough, the virus was coursing through him now, changing him, his mind now…obsessed with the beast, with feeding from him, tasting everything the man could give him, and he stumbled down the steps after him, leaving the woman shouting for him in the doorway, as he followed Jacob down the street.

More men encountered them. None of them could resist the beast, neither young nor old, and each fell into step behind him, until they came to a small greenbelt, and towards one end, a thicket of trees. There, Jacob knew he could rest a while, and his new flock could feed, could better understand what he was offering. He could give them over to his new God. He nestled down at the base of a large tree, and the men swarmed around him, fighting over him, licking at his milk-sweating skin, sucking on his teats, fighting for the stream of cum flowing from his cock. Jacob could feel his body draining, and the virus inside him quickened again, more teats sprouting down the front of his chest and down his belly, the glands of his mouth no longer producing spit, but rather thick, viscous cream he could drool into the mouths of his disciples, watching them all grow larger, hairier, bestial, groping themselves and each other in horny delight, their humanity dissolving away as they each embraced their new God, their new purpose.

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Spook Mart (Part 10)

When Ferris woke, he was in a cage. He was not the only thing in a cage near him–rather, he seemed to be in some massive room, filled with cages, and the cages, in turn, were all filled with a countless number of beasts. He couldn’t recognize any of them, they weren’t anything like what he had seen in his entire life, they all seemed massive, and hairy, full of teeth, glaring eyes, and sharp claws, and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking in terror.

He…could remember now, something he’d long forgotten from his youth, a dream he’d had as a child, a dream he had had over and over again. He’d be walking down a street–an alley really–lost and separated from his parents, calling out to them, and then it would sound behind him. A deep growl, so low it was more felt than heard, and when he turned around, it was there, the beast. A dog perhaps, but he had never seen it as a dog–dogs were friendly. No, this was something else, something feral and vicious, something that had sensed him cut off from the people who could protect him, something that wanted only to devour him, and nothing more.

He would wake, screaming, and his parents would console him, but the beast would always return the next night. Eventually, it faded, as these dreams do, he supposed, but it hadn’t faded from everywhere. In every cage, he could recognize them now, every beast from those dreams, caged up in his own mind, or caged up in the dream world, kept for him, for some terrible reason.

The nightmare in the cage next to his lunged at the steel bars, making it rattle, and he screamed, the beasts around him howling and snarling louder, drowning out his own voice, making it impossible to hear himself at all–and the fear, he had never felt fear like this. It was mindless. There was no controlling it, no tempering it or taming it, no rationalizing with it. He found himself reduced to an animal himself, shaking his own cage, but there was no door, and it seemed to be getting smaller, or tighter. He kept screaming, but all he could hear were the howls of the beasts, almost like they were all pouring from his own mouth, and then wall of the cage broke apart and he tumbled out of it and onto the floor outside, the cages surrounding him on all sides, but the fear was there, the fear would never leave him again, and he could…he could feel it changing him, warping him, somehow. He wasn’t right, he couldn’t stand up, he couldn’t speak, or scream or anything.

He could see it now, the nightmare. It had been feeding off him, draining his sanity and his soul, sucking away his rationality and his humanity, and when Ferris looked down at himself, in the midst of the cages, but he was no longer human–but he also was not a beast, not like them. He was nothing like them at all. He was soft and vulnerable. Fleshy and slow. No claws or teeth, no way to defend himself, because he was prey, he realized. He had always been prey, this whole time, but this was the first time he truly realized it.

“Stupid animal, coming to our realm in the night,” the thing said. It wasn’t human speech, but Ferris could understand it, somehow. “Still, such delicious fear–you’ve made me so very strong tonight–do you have more to feed me, little pet?”

A collar appeared around his neck then, choking him, and the nightmare approached him…and violated him. Ferris, perhaps, might have called it rape, but it was unlike any sex he had ever experienced–the thing wasn’t ruining his body, but choking out his mind, dimming it, ruining it, draining it–if he did nothing, then Ferris was certain he was doomed. It ended, and he felt for the tether, the last bit of himself connecting himself to his reality, to the waking world–but it was so weak. The nightmare dragged him back into the cage and sealed him back inside, and looked at him, at the fleshy, soft pig-like animal Ferris had become. “Not much longer now–soon you’ll be all dried up, just like all you mortals who make the mistake of coming here.”

The voice was clearer now, in his mind. He could…understand all of this, somehow, even the meanings in the snarls of the beasts surrounding him. The dream was corrupting him–and likely his tether as well. If he didn’t act soon, he’d be trapped here–and either be dead, or perhaps worse, doomed to wander as a nightmare himself, in this wasteland.

What fate befalls Ferris in the dream world?

He escapes the dream world, but the nightmare has warped reality around him.
He becomes trapped in the dream realm, a roaming nightmare to terrorize others.
He breaks free in the dream, and devours the dream spirit.
He is turned over to the beasts, and he is trapped in his own nightmare forever as their bitch.

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Winter Vacation [Interactive] (Part 10)

The demon hadn’t quite counted on Maury becoming quite as much of a vegetable as he had–still, he supposed that’s what you get from watching far, far too much television–and not even good television at that. He found the remote and clicked off the screen, and it took Maury a moment to even realize something had happened. He failed about, muttering and grunting, obviously looking around for a way to turn it back on, but the words were just gibberish. He was certainly in no state to be the daddy of the house, by any measure–it was a pity too, because the coach had always been fond of him. He could be useful though–and plenty of fun. Since his mind was basically gone, leaving him slobbering and grunting like an animal–and since the hair covering him was nearly a pelt anyway, he decided he was going to be the house’s new pet.

But what kind of pet? Nothing so domestic as a dog or a cat–no, he needed to be…something special, for his new family here. Still–it was easy enough to know where to start, looking at the size of him. The demon laid his palm on Maury’s forehead, and he felt some force flow through him. Maury didn’t have the words to describe anything at the moment, but all he could really sense was that the strange figure looming over him had…warped some deep piece of him, some piece of his own humanity, and then he felt the bones and muscles of his face begin to warp and shift. He gave a wild scream of pain as his nose and mouth pushed out into a boar’s snout, a few teeth falling out while the incisors began to grow, blood dribbling down his chin as two massive tusks curled up on either side of his new face. He brought his hands to them, concerned, but the rest of his body felt..strange as well. There was an odd sensation running down the front of his body, as his fat began to rearrange–and after a moment, three new pairs of nipples erupted down his belly and began to engorge. The demon tweaked one, and Maury squealed in pleasure, as thick, fatty milk leaked out. He tasted it, and it was such a delightful blend of sweet and sour.

Maury could smell something now–something…powerful. He heaved himself off the couch onto his hands and knees, and snuffled at the demon’s crotch, rubbing his snout against the demon’s huge cock, drooling now, in hunger. The demon guided his face to the head of his cock, and the demon started sucking at it as best he could, and there was another flush of power pushing through him. Maury felt his tongue…grow. It became long and thick, and very strong–he wrapped it around the demon’s cock and started squeezing it, enjoying the sound of his master groaning in pleasure. He had to shift positions, too–as his arms and legs became the same length, and something was pushing out above his ass. He couldn’t see it, but a thick tail was growing from his rear, several feet long and covered with hair, but very prehensile, capable of wrapping a grown man up and squeezing the breath from him, if need be. His hands and feet were growing larger as well, the skin on the hardening and cracking apart into scales, nails growing into thick black claws. He exhaled, and a flicker of flame and a belch of smoke erupted from his throat, engulfing the demon’s cock–it frightened Maury at first, but the demon seemed to enjoy it more than anything else. He winced, as two wicked black horns pushed out of his skull, longer than his tusks–but not by much.

Still, there were a few remaining details to take care of, before his new chimera was complete. He pushed through one last wave of changes as the beast kept pleasuring his cock, and it felt it’s own cock shudder, and begin to grow. A fleshy sheath grew down his belly, swallowing up the cock almost as quickly as it grew, but a foot of cock still hung free, slimy and dribbling greyish cum on the floor below him. The eyes, as always, were the last to shift–the humanity draining away as the iris’ changed to a bright yellow, the lids sliding shut sideways like a lizards would. The demon slipped it’s cock free of the chimera’s hot mouth, walked around and fucked it’s ass, the beast pushing back, eager to be filled by its master’s cum. When the demon was finished, he sent the beast to go lie down, and it curled up, tongue wrapped around it’s own cock, teasing it with licks of flame until it milked a load out of itself, and swallowed that down hungrily too.

The demon went to the window, and saw that dawn was approaching quickly–almost time for his two boys to be rousing themselves. He shimmered, and again he was clad in a more human form, though not one that resembled the coach’s original appearance at all. He was tired of looking at that man’s face in the mirror–it was time to be his own man, now that he’d been unleashed on the mortal realm. He’d treat his two boys to a nice, gluttonous breakfast, but what’s the main course going to be

What’s the demon going to feed is two son’s for breakfast?

Milk from the chimera.
Filth from the drone below.
Food to help them grow.
His own, demonic cum and piss.

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Beasts of the Corn (2 of 2)

I was completely turned around at this point, shouting for my friends, but getting no response. My phone had no service at all, so I knew I was on my own. A few minutes later, I got ambushed by two more of those things…and I remembered it a bit more. How one pinned me down and…and the other fucked my ass, it’s claws raking across my back, teeth biting into my shoulders. Again, when I could get up, I had changed–more hair, fatter…shorter, and were my arms a bit longer even?

I didn’t know what was happening, or how any of this was even possible, but I kept going, kept searching for the exit, even as the beasts followed–taunting me. I could…hear them now, even understand them. They all wanted me to stay, they wanted me to play with them, to…to feed them. I didn’t know what they meant, but I was determined to avoid finding out what they meant my all of that. One of them chased me, and I managed to dodge it and run away, only to run right into two more. I could see them more clearly now–they were like nothing I’d ever seen–no more than three feet tall, with a round belly and short bowed legs. Their cocks were huge, and they reeked of some scent which is just…impossible to describe. Those two raped me as well. I mean, I say rape, but…but I enjoyed it. It felt good, having them inside me, and when one presented its hole to me I…I gave in. I fucked it, like it had fucked me, but I stopped myself. I stopped and hauled my cock out…and it didn’t look quite human anymore, and it was bigger.

I understood, then, what these things were. I understood what would happen to me if I gave in, if I let them have their way with me. I ran off again, shutting my ears to them, refusing to entertain their suggestions. That I relax and stop running. That I play with them. That I become one of them. That I don’t really want to be human. There was…one more time, that I couldn’t resist. It was almost night, and I was exhausted and cold and hungry. One of them jumped me, and I was so tired of fighting, so tired of being so scared. They could all feel me, beginning to give in, looking to see if this was the moment I would break. I…felt my body shifting more–my beard longer, my teeth sharpening, my balls swelling larger with strange, inhuman seed, my brain dulling around the edges-losing focus and will, but I crawled away. I’d still be in there if I hadn’t found the exit a few minutes later, stumbling out of the corn, sobbing, unsure if I was happy to be out, or if all I wanted was to go back inside.

The hicks…I understood who they were now. They were like me–tied to the beasts of the corn. They offered me shelter and food at the house, and I took it, desperate. They were amazed that I’d made it out at all–they rarely saw anyone as far gone as me emerge…and stay. I knew what they meant. I could feel the desires tugging at me. I could never go back to that old life of mine. I could stay here, living with them, fucking…keeping each other as sane as we could be. Feeding others to the beasts so they might give us a night without the whispers, calling us back inside. I took another picture of myself, in the bathroom. I looked at myself as I’d been, and as I was now. No one was surprised when I threw my phone in the trash, left the house, and ran back into the maze, the beasts cackling with delight as they descended upon me in the darkness.

Source: danartrd

Beasts of the Corn (1 of 2)

I thought it was a stupid idea–I mean, who actually wants to go do a fucking haunted corn maze? I haven’t done something like that since I was ten. But when my friend and his girl suggested it, and Tina, my girlfriend, loved the idea, it wasn’t like I had a whole lot of options but to go along for the ride. It wasn’t like it would take longer than a couple of hours, and then we could go do something a bit more adult.

The maze was a few miles out of town, connected with some rundown farm. The whole thing seems sketchy as all hell–it’s all these sort of redneck looking guys running the show, but we all pay the admission fee, and listen as the guy talks about the maze, tells us to be careful and not get separated–and definitely don’t get lost, or the beasts in the maze might have their way with us. He added what I assumed was supposed to be a menacing laugh, but I just rolled my eyes. Sure, some spooky fuck will jump out at us looking like the wolfman–who gives a fuck?

We head into the maze. There’s apparently four or five secret locations, and the more you find, the better your chance at getting a prize at the end. Tina and her friend want to hunt them down, but I just want to get the damn thing over with, because the maze is giving me the creeps. No one’s actually hopped out to scare us at all, but I have this…feeling that I’m being watched all the same.

It was my stupid fault. While they were hunting for the clues or whatever, I was just looking for the exit. I would head down other paths, scouting things out, before heading back to rejoin them–and it wasn’t long before I got separated from them in the maze. The sensation of being watched was only more intense now–I turned the corner of the maze only to find myself facing a dead end–and there was…something waiting for me. There was a slash of fur and claws, and then it was on me–I don’t remember much at all, but I woke up on the ground, out of sorts…and my clothes had all been ripped to shreds, and my ass hurt.

I stood up, and found myself naked–but I looked different. A little pudgier, and hairier. My phone still worked, but didn’t have any bars. I took a photo of myself to see, and sure enough…I was different. Hairier, I even looked a bit older.

I heard a rustle in the corn near me, stood up, and hurried back the way I’d come, thankful my shoes were intact, at least. I could hear them, whatever they were, chasing me, taunting me. I had to get out of here before they caught me again.

Source: bareboy

Dream Camp (Part 11)

***Warning*** Here’s where things start getting really strange. You might just want to stop here if watersports, scat, anal vore, or snuff freak you out–which just to clarify, they probably should freak you out. Still, these are horror stories! You’ve been warned!!!

“Silly, silly little boy. Playing at being a grownup this whole time, but I remember you, oh fuck, do I remember you now,” Kyle said, as he stalked closer to him, “Weak, fat, terrified. My son was right to beat you up, you little shit!”

Spittle flew, smacking Barry in the face. He kept trying to move, trying to run, but his feet were glued to the ground, stuck in the mud, and he felt…shorter. Smaller and weaker than before, this monster bearing down on him, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing–he was…was weak. He was just…just a pig, just a boy, not a man at all…

His body was changing, and he was aware that it was his own loss of confidence causing it, but there was no stopping it, nothing he could do, because Kyle was right. ScoutMaster Hoffson was right, had been right about everything. He could feel his muscles diminishing as his fat spread all around him in every direction, rooting him into the ground even more, sinking into the mud which had begun bubbling around him. It…it would feel so…so good, to just stop. To stop fighting, to just…embrace this. He was too heavy to do anything, too heavy to fight anymore. His legs began to wobble, and finally collapsed beneath him, mud splattering out and up, sinking into his folds, cold against his balls and cock, and he could feel them shrivelling up, growing smaller and smaller, tucking themselves away into his fat where he’d never be able to reach them, where no one would be able to reach them, where they should just stay. He didn’t need them, he didn’t even want them.

Master Hoffson walked over, pushed him backwards into the mud and climbed on him, pinning him in the muck, his huge cock pushing itself into his soft gut, “Not even a pig–fuck no, just a hog. Worthless as a fucking man, no fucking balls at all–all you’re good for is eating and abusing, isn’t that right? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To eat? To drink? To serve? To be abused?”

Barry knew, in his head, that everything he was saying was a lie, that he didn’t–that he shouldn’t–want these things, but feeling his balls shrivel further and finally disappear, feeling his snout start drooling, he was…starving. Every hole of his was starving. Master stood up again, leaving him in the muck, walked around to his head and squatted down over Barry’s now porcine face, his hairy ass right over him, and Barry knew, what he needed. Knew what would satisfy his hunger, and he began licking at his Master’s pucker, feeling it loosen, and the shit start pouring over him, and he swallowed down as much of it as he could, the filth choking out any shame that remained in him, the desire for filth overwhelming him, dominating every last chunk of his small mind, feeling his own bladder release, piss cascading from his gunt and out over his fat thighs, shit spilling out into the mud beneath him, warm muck between his cheeks. Master Hoffson finished his load and allowed his pig to lick his crack clean, and then washed off his face with a blast of musky piss, marking him now, demonstrating to them both that this was not just any hog–but his hog. His toilet. His cumdump. And Barry no longer could conceive of wanting to be anything else.

He looked up and saw his Master had changed–no longer simply a beast, he had reclaimed his some of his humanity, even as Barry had lost his own. His cock was still slimy and inhuman, but his face had lost its snout, now merely angular and hyper-masculine, with a grin full of sharp, pointed teeth, a body coated with hair, bulging with muscle without a single trace of fat anywhere. To Barry, he was simply a god, everything he wasn’t. Everything he could never be. The only life he could imagine was one serving this god, of providing the only services he could now–as a hole. As a dump.

“Max, get the fuck up–you’re fine. No son of mine is going to let a pig control him, right?” Barry could barely lift up his head to see Max, where he’d been lying on the ground, hole wrecked, begin forcing himself up at his father’s command. “No, you’re a real man, a true beast, like me. Show this pig what he deserves–I want to see you destroy him.”

The feral anger in the bully’s eyes no longer filled Barry with fear–only with a crude desire. He wanted this beast to abuse and wreck him, wanted it more than anything. Max forced him to roll over, his body expanding with bulk, his mind filling with cruelty as his father filled him up, and he hammered his cock into Barry’s disgusting hole, and Barry squealed with pleasure, his cock forever soft, but his new ass now incredibly loose and sensitive to even the smallest probing, his fatty folds shaking and shivering with pleasure, but Max didn’t last long–after a minute and a half, he finally spasmed and exploded deep inside the pig’s filthy bowels, and tried to pull out, but Barry wasn’t satisfied. Barry wanted…more, and with a sudden motion, he clamped down his ass on Max’s cock, locking him in, even as Max, in a bit of a panic, started yanking at it, clawing at the pig’s ass, but Barry wasn’t done yet–Barry needed…more. He needed everything Max could give him, and he was going to take it, whether he wanted to give it to him or not.

Dream Camp (Part 10)

Kyle was in a space–outdoors, but nondescript–a thick collar around his neck with spikes, attached to a heavy chain, attached to a post rooted in the floor. Barry was standing a few yards off, watching him struggle and fight against it, trying to get loose, but there was nowhere for him to go now, nowhere he could go to escape this anymore. But still, he was stubbornly resisting, his will bouncing off of him, but he’d anticipated this–and he had an idea for how to finally get Kyle to accept his dream.

Max appeared, looking around, confused, like he’d been somewhere else entirely a moment prior. He had the same collar on as his father, but was unchained, and seeing his father panicking and terrified, he knew what he needed. He flinched away from his son when he tried to come closer, and Max began chasing him around the post, until Barry began shortening the chain, giving Kyle less and less room to avoid him, until Max finally pinned him in place, and swallowed his cock into his hot throat. The initial pleasure overwhelmed him, Barry feeding his libido, encouraging him, convincing him to enjoy his son’s beastly throat. He came to his senses after a few moments and pushed his son away, but it was too late–he was weakening. His…cock. It wasn’t human anymore. It had gone into Max’s mouth human, and what emerged was…pink, inhuman, and slimy, with a sheath. Stunned, he allowed Max an opening to keep sucking, and the pleasure now was impossible for him to deny, and his instincts began to overwhelm him, making him grab hold of his son’s head and ramming his new cock down his throat, Barry watching as the rest of his body began changing as well.

His nails lengthened into claws, giving him a better hold on his son as he skull fucked, him, the rest of the changes radiating from his groin. Fur spread across his body, even as what little fat melted off him, his muscles bulging with power. Barry could see Kyle there still, in his eyes, both trying to understand what was happening to him and still trying to fight it, but as the fur grew over his whole body, it was obvious that he was growing weaker. Finally, his head and skull began to reshape, his snout pushing out, and there was nothing he could do to fight it any longer–or contain the anger he had always kept barely contained within his body. He threw his son off his now thirteen inch cock and mounted his ass, grunting, snorting and slobbering, licking his emerging tusks with his now long, prehensile tongue, hungry for pain, hungry to fuck, hungry to dominate. Barry saw what was happening, saw he was growing larger than he’d anticipated and tried to push him back, but his will was rebuffed–Kyle’s muscles swelling even larger, his bones and frame growing to support him, until he was at least seven feet tall, Max limp and whimpering beneath him like a ragdoll, simply trying to survive being pummelled by his beastly father’s now foot and a half long cock. He came with a thunderous roar, cum spewing with such force that it spurted out of Max’s now wrecked hole, forming a puddle around his body, his father removing his cock from him. Barry wondered if he was still alive–he didn’t seem to be moving.

Kyle, at least, turned to him. The collar was now comically tight around his neck, and with one hand, he reached up, grasped the leather, and ripped it apart, letting it fall behind him as he stalked towards Barry, eyes full of fury, his massive cock jutting out in front of him. He was taller than Barry was now, and Barry felt…something he hadn’t felt in days now–he felt fear. That same fear he’d always had, before all of this, the fear of this man, of Max, of what this brute might do to him, and too late, he felt the amulet feed off his fear, and Kyle grew larger and bulkier, looming over him now. Should he run? Should he fight? He was strong, sure, but was he that strong? He didn’t know, he didn’t know anymore.

He was losing control, just like he’d lost control the night before, in the tent with Christian, allowing his friend desires to warp him. He tried to hold on to himself, tried to focus on the power, on shrinking him down, on making him weaker, anything at all, but he couldn’t–he couldn’t do it because…because.

“Because you’re weak, pig.”

It was Kyle who’d said it, his voice impossibly deep, almost entirely a growl, but he understood it all the same.

“Because you’ve always been weak–but I should thank you,” he said, “I…I hadn’t realized, how strong I could be, but don’t worry piggy, we’re gonna have some fun. We have all night, right? In our dreams?” He took a step closer, and Barry tried to back up, but it was like his feet had been sucked into the earth, and all he could feel was terror, as the beast he’d created stalked toward him, licking it’s chops and stroking it’s gargantuan cock.

Dream Camp (Part 9)

“No…No! This can’t be real, this can’t be fucking real…” Kyle muttered, unable to believe how hard his own cock was, unable to believe that he…a part of him, a growing, part of him, wanted this.

“Oh, but it is real, and it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” Barry growled in his ear, with one hand, he grabbed the back of Kyle’s pants, took hold of them, and ripped them apart, revealing his lightly haired ass, and with one grimy finger he started probing inside him, licking the side of Kyle’s neck, feeling him shiver at the invasion, and push back slightly. “That’s good, real good,” Barry said, “You know, I was a bit worried about you, you know, that you might not want to join in here, but maybe you just needed a bit more work than everyone else. Still, I think we’re gonna be spending the night together, but I’m not quite tired yet–why don’t we find a way to keep you occupied until then?”

Barry looked over his shoulder, and saw the knots the fatter scouts who’d stayed back at camp had been working on, and chuckled, “Who wants to earn their ropework merit badge? Mr. Hoffson…would like to be restrained–you scouts think you can work on that for a little while?”

The chubby scouts were more than happy to do anything their ScoutMaster wanted. They grabbed the rope and hurried over, collectively pinning down the still struggling Hoffson and working on binding him tight. Barry supervised, giving advice and encouragement to his loyal scouts, and when they were finished, after an hour, Kyle Hoffson wouldn’t be going anywhere, his arms and legs behind his back in a hogtie, his balls bound up and strung up to his ankles, his muscular body crisscrossed by rope, his mouth gagged. Barry picked him up by his bound hands and feet, like a basket, listening to him groan as he tugged on his bound balls, and carried him over to the middle of camp, where any number of scouts had given into their burgeoning desires, fucking and sucking and licking out in the open, no longer able to resist each other. The scouts who had remained behind seemed to have taken on their own qualities, all of them weighing at least five hundred pounds, after sucking down as much of Alex’s milk as they could drink. Some of the musky, hairy scouts immediately gravitated to them, fondling their fatty rolls, pushing them down and mounting them, others preferring to worship their fat bodies, the chubby young men shivering with pleasure.

Barry set Kyle down on his side, hearing him sigh when the tension on his balls is lessened, and then he called Max over from where the strange mutt was busy servicing Christian by one of the firepits. Max came bounding over, eager for anything his Master might desire–and Barry pointed him to his father. “Max, why don’t you entertain your dad here for a while? Suck his cock, finger his hole, lick him clean–but don’t fuck him. I do, however, want that ass of his nice and loose by nightfall, so make sure you at least work your fist in, got it?”

Max nodded eagerly, and Kyle tried to struggle away, calling to Max, telling him to stop, to not do this, that he was his father for Christ’s sake, but Max was too far gone now to even consider obeying him, his simple, near feral mind focused on his master’s and their commands. He slobbered all over his paw like hand and started rubbing it against his father’s backdoor, gently massaging it, Kyle trying to pull away, but unable to do so without yanking his nuts and making himself nauseous, and before too long one finger was inside, and Max rewarded him by sucking his cock. Kyle sobbed, unable to believe that he was somehow hard, but the stench of musk in the air was beginning to affect him, make it harder for him to think. He fought against feeding his own son that first load, begging him to stop when he felt his balls constrict, but Max wanted it, wanted to taste his dad’s cum, wanted to see if it was as delicious as he’d always imagined it might be. He fought less during his son’s second suck, and by the third, with his boy’s feral fist buried in his hole, drilling his prostate, he had begun to beg for it, plead for it, encourage his filthy animal of a son to suck him harder.

He realized that, at some point, it had become night. The young men in their patrols had eventually grown hungry and were busy cooking their dinners, though some of the fatter young men had decided they would rather feast at the tit for the evening, and were jockeying for position in front of a quivering, milk soaked, Alex. Eric was still focused on his newest addition to the harem, molding his strange form to better serve as his one of his whores, and Barry had finally found a moment to pull his son aside and mount him next to the fire, slowly and gently, enjoying their mutual musk in the night chill. It wasn’t too much longer after that, when the campers, exhausted from a busy day, began to go off in groups to their tents for one final romp before sleep, and Barry knew it was time. “Son, I think you’re gonna have to sleep without your daddy tonight–I got some other business to attend to.”

Christian objected loudly, but Barry stood firm, consoling him with the fact that Max would sleep with him, keeping him happy all night long, but Barry, well, Barry needed some time with Kyle. His son wasn’t happy about the arrangement but he knew better than to disobey his father–so he led Max off to his tent, and Barry again picked Kyle up off the ground and carried him over to his tent, set him inside, and started untying him, but left his hands bound in front of him, his ankles bound as well, and then pulled him close, sliding Kyle onto his cock, feeling the older man sob even as he enjoyed the wonderful fullness, the hot rod buried inside him, the musk of the ScoutMaster shrouding him, making it hard to think. Barry was fighting the heat of the amulet, trying to stay awake and relish the moment, but he finally succumbed to sleep as he worked his cock in to the hilt, started snoring, and immediately began to dream.

Dream Camp (Part 8)

They returned to the rest of the hiking group, pushing through the trees, the scout now sporting a full beard, a small gut, and a longer cock he couldn’t seem to keep his hands away from. Barry watched something pass through all of them, almost like a wave of some strange energy, the scouts all turning more…manly, all of them except Kyle Hoffson, who remained stubbornly unchanged…even when he saw his son Max, come lumbering out of the woods behind them, shorter, no longer wearing a uniform other than his neckerchief, soaked with sweat and cum, his paws glued to his thick, bestial cock.

“M-Max?” he said, mostly to himself, “What…I…”

Kyle couldn’t take his eyes away from the strange, disturbing beast. That…that couldn’t be his son. He would never…never, have a son like…like that, right? Max grinned up at him, baring his strange teeth in that inhuman snout, and then walked over and hefted a heavy pack onto his muscular back, and Kyle…Kyle felt something inside him, something he’d never felt before, grow tighter. It had been getting tighter all weekend, ever since he’d seen that obese monstrosity of a man in the parking lot dropping off his son, this strange sense that his hold on reality, it was becoming strained. He was trying to hold it together, trying to keep in mind what was real and what wasn’t, but increasingly he’d felt like he was living in some twisted, perverse dreamscape. First, Eric and Alex Mendel with their, freakish leaking chests. Then the disgusting perversity of Barry Brooke and his overgrown boy, and now…now his son? His own son? He couldn’t look like that! If…if Max looked like that, and if Max was his son, then…then what would that make him?

It grew tighter, he didn’t feel like he belonged in this place anymore. He looked around at the scouts, his scouts, and realized he barely recognized any of them, anymore. All of them were suddenly hulking, hairy young men, stinking with musk, all of them obviously corrupted by that filth Barry Brooke put out from his disgusting body. The disgusting fucker, he revelled in it, in his…his power and authority. Look at him, his cock hanging out openly, all of the scouts staring at it, smelling it, smelling him and each other. He had to get out of here, he needed to get out of here, and with a sudden terror, he grabbed his pack and started off back on the trail, leaving the rest of them behind. He had to get back to camp, he had to escape, before whatever this insanity was overwhelmed him.

The rest of the scouts watched him leave, and then looked to Barry. He could…sense it now, Kyle’s hold on reality beginning to fray slightly. He wasn’t sure whether it was simply stubbornness or just a lack of imagination that made him so resistant, but now he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist his dream forever. “Well boys? What do you think? Should we get back to camp for the evening?”

His young men all nodded, and Barry led the way, Max behind him, carrying his scoutmaster’s pack along with his own, happy to serve as beast of burden, like always. The boys followed behind, enjoying the musky scent of their ScoutMaster leading the way, their bodies developing as they did, bodies growing hairy, beards filling in and growing long, their own bodies becoming sweatier, their cocks and balls growing, leaking in their uniforms. More than once, on the way back, one of them would begin to have doubts, begin to fear what was happening to them, and they would try to hang back, to get away, but Christian, following up at the end, was waiting for them. They would, spend a bit of quality time together, their faces buried in Christian’s reeking pits, our slurping at his engorged cock, until they no longer questioned what was happening, until the desired it, and then the two of them would double time and catch up to the main group.

Up at the front, Barry kept the pace quick, not necessarily because he wanted to make it back to camp quickly–if anything, he would have preferred a few more breaks, so he could see how his scouts were all developing behind him, wallowing in his cloud of perverse musk, but no–he was keeping his eyes ahead, to where he could see Kyle trudging along as quickly as he could, desperate to put as much space between himself and Barry as he could. Barry could smell him on the wind: his sweat, but also his terror and confusion. He saw him ditch his pack to the side of the trail, look over his shoulder at the band of scouts behind him, led by their massive, obese ScoutMaster, his eyes wide with the terror of prey, and he started running proper, with about two miles left before they reached camp. Barry let him pull away from them, keeping the pace steady. Kyle was strong, but he wasn’t that strong, to keep up a run like that for much longer than a mile. Still, Barry wanted him exhausted. Barry wanted him stinking, and scared, and too weak to fight him. Let him run, he thought, he can’t run from what’s been coming to him for years and years.

Kyle reached camp, and found himself staring at something just as disturbing, his fellow leader latched to Alex Mendel’s tit, now the fattest man he’d ever seen, his arms and legs beginning to wither and atrophy, all of their muscle now concentrating themselves in his neck and chest, his eyes becoming swallowed in fat, his ears growing smaller as he became more and more cut off from the world, now just a body made to suck and swallow. The man, hearing him coming, pulled away from Alex and looked over at him, his mouth toothless, just two swollen lips, a thick, grotesque tongue licking them clean of milk, before Alex guided his face back to sucking, which the man would be doing for the rest of his life. Alex smiled at Kyle, and beckoned him closer, squeezing out of his tits, spurting out a bit of his sweet milk, and Kyle…Kyle felt himself stretch to the brink. With a primal scream, he ran to his SUV and started clawing at the door, needing to get away from this nightmare, when a bod slammed up against him, pinning him to the side, a voice in his ear growling, “No Kyle, I don’t think you get to leave yet–what would the troop do without their favorite pig?”