Tag: biker

Porn Stash

Jeff and his two friends had decided to spend the weekend hunting up at his uncle’s cabin, and that night after dinner, as the three guys were lounging around on the way to getting drunk, they started arguing over what movie to watch on his uncle’s DVD player–since there was no TV reception. Jeff was the one who found the unmarked box with the disc inside–they’d all been curious, so he popped it into the machine, and it had started playing.

Much to their surprise, it was porn. It was faggot porn. Three burly guys were going at it together in a cabin…kind of similar to their own. They were older fellows, all of them with beards tinged with grey and white, smoking cigars and pipes, and having, apparently, a grand old time together. Now, none of the young men was gay, but they were sufficiently drunk to mostly find the situation funny, and after determining Jeff’s uncle must be a faggot (which explained why the older man’s hunting trips with his own friends never seemed very successful) they watched the video anyway, laughing at the sight…all of them massaging their cocks a bit, eyes all focused on the TV.

The first scene was short, as the three guys had a bit of fun with one another, and then a second scene started–a solo jack off session with one of the men from before, but now he was dressed in some sleazy looking biker leathers, smoking a thick cigar, and milking his cock slowly. Each time the camera zoomed in on the man’s face…Jeff was certain he was looking at someone he knew, but who? It was with some surprise that he recognized him after a couple of minutes–it was Tim. Tim–one of the two guys in that room with him. Just add twenty years to him, a bit of a gut, and lots of hair…and it was fucking Tim!

He tore his eyes away from the screen, and looked over at Tim, to see if he was right in the resemblance, but…Tim wasn’t there. Not the Tim he remembered, at least. No–the grungy biker was sitting right there, stroking his own cock and smoking that cigar, groaning and grunting as he edged his cock, watching himself on the screen. Jeff knew he needed to turn off the TV, but he had…to keep watching. His other friend, Aaron, had noticed Tim’s change as well, when another bear entered the room and started sharing smoke with the biker. This one was also from before, now dressed in leathers like Tim, and as soon as it focused on his heavily bearded face, Jeff recognized him as Aaron.

“No…No, fuck! It’s not…not me…” Aaron groaned next to him, but the voice was…so deep.

Jeff looked over, and saw Aaron changing, aging up, beard growing down to his chest, a big pipe appearing in his hand as his clothes shifted into leather, a heavily tattooed gut hanging out from his vest and over his chaps. He got up and crossed the room to Tim, and started making out with him, the room filled with as much smoke as the room in the video, and…the third man made his appearance.

He crawled into the frame, snorting and grunting. Jeff hadn’t noticed how fucking fat the man had been before, but now that he was wearing that harness, pulled tight against all that flab…he crawled over and started licking at Tim and Aaron’s boots, and one of them started pissing on the fucker’s head. Thankfully, though, he had on a hood…for a moment. The camera panned in, and the hood came off, and Jeff…Jeff saw that he was the pig. Forty years older, sure. Head shaved clean, a massive white beard stained yellow from smoke, and all…all that fat…the change was over in a few moments, and Jeff got on his hands and knees and crawled over to his two masters, to service their dirty cocks. The video ended abruptly, but the two new biker bears and their slave pig kept going all night long, all on their own–and when Jeff’s uncle showed up with some of his own dirty minded friends, the weekend only got longer.

Dale’s Story (Part 9 – Finale)

Thank you all for the input over the last month, this has been a lot of fun to do again! I’ll probably take a break on this for a little while, and go back to just photo captions for a bit (look for them on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays). Here’s the finale, which is option #3 with a twist of #2 for all of you desperate pups out there.

His dad did look rather lonely, nursing that beer over there all by himself, looking around at the bar as more and more men succumbed to the new reality slowly taking them all over, exuded by the stranger…or the mayor, right? Dale looked over at the old man, shoving pipe smoke down George’s throat at the bar, and wondered how he could have not recognized him all this time. The damn town mayor! What in the hell was wrong with him, that he’d forget something like that? Oh well, it wasn’t like his head was screwed on too tight when it came to anything that wasn’t food and cars, so he’d make do.

The two young men, Jack and Terry, were still licking him clean, and he started tweaking their brains a bit, a little at a time, pulling and unraveling a few strings at a time, making sure they knew what was happening, but also knowing there was nothing they could do to fight it. Soon enough, they actually kind of liked it–the idea of a man having total control over them, especially someone like Dale. A big man…a father figure, even. Someone they could respect. Someone they could serve, perhaps.

The mayor gave him a funny look, and then shifted his attention to the man who, yesterday, had been Dale’s father. He’d gone to pot a bit since his wife’s death a few years ago, putting on a spare tire, and getting a bit too attached to the beer and whisky. As dale watched, his gut expanded into a firm, hard ball belly, his shirt disappearing, revealing skin coated with hair. His beard filled in but remained a bit scraggly, his nose growing red and bulbous from a few breaks, scars from brawls due to his mean streak, a real roughneck, as rough as they come. A denim vest covered with biker patches and regalia appeared on his shoulders, some well worn chaps over his jeans–Bubba, as everyone called him, knocked back another shot of whisky, stood up, swayed a moment, then stomped his way over to where Dale was sitting with the two young men, and he definitely liked what he saw, liked it even better when Bubba lit a cigar, leaned over and fed Dale a deep lungful of smoke while his two boys went to town on Dale.

Yeah, they were going to be Bubba’s boys for sure, not that the rest of the town couldn’t have a piece of either one whenever they felt like it. He looked down, and saw them changing under the stranger’s gaze. Jack first, his body bulking up with a muscle and fat, a bushy goatee around his mouth, body covered with scars, sores, welts and bruises, but that’s just normal for a punching bag fag like him. He’d grown up taking everything Bubba had felt he deserved, and Bubba thought he’d deserved a whole damn lot–thankfully, the boy’d grown to like it well enough, and generally was happy enough to let anyone abuse him as long as he got a fuck out of it in the end. Bubba tapped him on the head, and Jack looked up, mouth open, letting Bubba drop a cinder in his mouth to swallow, and then he went back to licking Dale’s chest, his tongue leaving a trail of sodden ash wherever it went.

Next came Terry, or Terrier, as everyone called him. A simple boy, he hadn’t really been up to being a man, so Bubba had trained him to be a pup instead. He was smaller than his brother Jack, more lithe and muscular, and he dropped down onto all fours, wagging the buttplug tail in his ass to and fro, as he scrambled under the table, buried his nose into Dale’s fat and started working on his cock, lapping up Dale’s cum as he moaned, and Bubba hauled out his own cock and fed it to Dale’s hungry mouth, and he looked again at the stranger, whose eyes were on him now.

He could feel his awareness dulling, his memories of the last twenty four hours dimming and dulling away into this new sense of normal. He saw Farmer Mick burst into the bar, hauling his massive pig behind him on a leash, coated with mud, and it was just…normal. His sucking Bubba’s cock was normal too, of course. He’d always had a thing for rough types like him, and Bubba had always liked pounding his big, fat ass into the ground, whenever he came in to get a tuneup for his harley. Course, Dale did have a bit of a reputation to uphold–he couldn’t just go around letting the whole town think his fat ass was open to just any fucker who wanted it, but he did have a soft spot for the big lug, he had to admit it. “Ya know Bubba,” Dale said, when he pulled away for a moment, “How ‘bout you ‘n yer boys, ‘n me ‘n mah boys, all spend a nice long night at mah place tahnight?”

“Heh, I had a date with a few biker buds of mine, but I wouldn’t pass up a chance at yer big ass, the way I’m feelin’ tonight,” Bubba growled down at him, and they shared some more smoke, before Bubba hauled him up out of the chair. Dale gave a whistle, and his two boys came over, and all six of them headed off into the night, happy denizens of the new town, where they lived happily ever after, in one life or another.

Learning to Like Ass (Part 4)

WARNING: ***SCAT***

From that day on, things seemed even stranger to Rudy. For one thing, his body–he knew it was wrong, he knew that he shouldn’t be this fat, that…his fucking face was all wrong. He’d been handsome, but now, with the shaggy, unkempt beard; the under bite with the crooked, missing teeth; the bulbous and crooked nose; unibrow and severe balding…well, he wasn’t much to look at at all. His body wasn’t right either, not this fat fucking tub of lard he’d woken up with. He could…almost remember it, how muscular he’d been, how much effort he’d put into his body, and all of it had disappeared over night, leaving him an almost 400 pound lard ass–with an emphasis on ass. His gut was huge, sure, but it was his hips that were so insanely wide, his ass jiggling with every step he took, gently vibrating the dildo or plug he wore…all the time now, whenever he wasn’t getting properly fucked, of course. He did his best to carry on, but the hunger was constant–he had to feed his mouth nearly as often as he had to feed his other hole.

It would have been easier if other people had noticed the changes as well, but everyone just acted like this was normal, like he’d always been like this. And in some ways, he had–guy’s recognized him in the woods now, not as a top, but as a ugly pig bottom, willing to take a load from anyone, no matter who they were. Work was…hard. Not because of his size, but because something had happened to his head. Sure, construction wasn’t exactly something that needed brains, and Rudy had never been smart, but fuck, he just didn’t…get numbers anymore. They like, counted things, sure, but he didn’t even know how much anything was, it was nuts. He started carrying around hundred dollar bills, just so he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself when he handed over not enough cash for food on booze at the gas station on the way to the rest area after work. It was like he was trapped in some fucked up dream–the only time he felt awake–really awake–was when he was in the woods, or in a bathroom stall with some big cock in his hole, snorting and grunting, begging whoever it might be for a hot load in his ass so his cock could shoot again.

It wasn’t really surprising when he got fired. He couldn’t do the work anymore, and his brain was shot. If anything, it was a relief. He’d hated working–all he wanted to do anymore, the only thing he could focus on, was eating and filling his ass with as much cock as he could find. He spend his whole day cruising rest areas and truck stops now, well aware that his meager savings was going to run out sooner or later, but this new him–he just didn’t care about any of that. His ass would just keep tingling, his cock would get hard, and the only thing that would matter was finding some cock so he could cum. He never wanted to go through that again, the aching balls, the sleepless nights. He also…kept hoping he’d see that biker again. He didn’t know what he’d do if he really did see him. Ask him what he’d done to him. Ask him to change him back. Ask him if he’d just gone insane.

When it did happen, finally, Rudy was nearly out of money. It was dark, but he was still in the woods, sitting down against the truck of a tree, feeling some stranger’s cum leak out of his ass into his underwear. He’d gotten fucked a few times, he felt good, but…but he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to stay here either, of course, but he didn’t want to go back there either, back to that stinking wreck of a sty. He’d given up on keeping anything clean, along with the rest of his life, and he just couldn’t face it anymore. It was twilight, but he didn’t know when exactly it was–it felt like he’d been there for ages when he smelled the cigar smoke, and his heart leapt up.

“Hey Rudy, long time no see.”

He looked around and saw him a few paces away, the butt of his cigar the brightest thing in his world, and he started crawling away, utterly terrified. “Please, please just leave me alone, please…” He said.

“I’m just trying to educate you, Rudy. I just wanted you to understand why I love asses so much, and I wanted you to love them too. Don’t you want to love them Rudy?” The biker stepped out in front of him, even though he should have been behind him. “Don’t try and run Rudy, there’s nowhere for you to go. When’s the last time you ate, Rudy? You hungry?”

“Oh god, please no, not that,” he tried to turn around, but the roots of the trees were holding him in place, and all he could do was stare at the biker undoing his pants and chaps, and dropping them to the forest floor.

“I do love a fuck, of course, but nothing gets me off better than a fat, filthy pig like you eating the shit from my ass. I haven’t had a pig riding with me in awhile, you know Rudy, and you don’t have a lot of options. Better to spend your life doing something you love, right? And you are hungry, right? So fucking hungry for some fuckin’ shit, right Rudy?”

His gut was growling, he was shaking with hunger, with need. He felt his clothes shifting, his shirt splitting apart into a leather vest, tattoos swirling over his fat body, greasy jeans and chaps covering his wide ass. He snuffled forward and licked at his biker master’s hole, loosening him up, waiting for him to bore down and feed his pig his first proper meal.

Learning to Like Ass (Part 3)

The biker walked over, and pressed close, laying the length of his cock in the crack of Rudy’s ass, listening to his whimper, feeling him try and maneuver his hole into position. “Not so fast, Rudy,” the biker said, and started kneading the cheeks in his hands, “I wanna take a moment, savor this wide ass of yours. Gonna be a nice fuck, especially if I don’t have to look at that ugly mug of yours.”

“Please, just fucking fuck me! I can’t fucking take it anymore, please, I need it so fucking bad…”

“Oh now Rudy, you know I never fuck without eating first, it’s only polite,” the biker said, and slipped down onto his knees, and started licking at his crack, burrowing in with his tongue, making Rudy squirm and grunt, gripping the sheets in an iron grip. It felt good, hell, it felt amazing, but it wasn’t what he wanted–what he needed more than anything. Still, he didn’t push him, he tried to just enjoy himself, one hand stroking his oozing cock, hanging on the edge of an orgasm but not able to cross it.

When the biker was satisfied that Rudy was open enough, he got back up, pressed the head of his cock to Rudy’s hole, and slipped inside, feeling him shudder around him and immediately throw himself back, but the biker stepped with him, teasing him, keeping just the head inside. “Come you, this is what you fucking want right? So fucking plow me!”

“I just don’t want you to get excited and blow your load too soon. After all, a good, fat piggy like you knows you can’t cum until you’ve made the man you’re with cum, right? Only once you have a nice and warm raw load in this chute, can that cock of yours finally explode, isn’t that right?”

“Oh god, please…”

“Well? Am I right or not, Rudy? I think I know my fat pigs well enough, I’ve plowed a shit ton of them. Get that hand off your cock, you’re too eager. You’re attention should be on me. On making sure my stay in this hole of yours is the best it can be.”

“Ok, ok,” Rudy said, pulling his hand away, feeling his gut drop, first brushing against the sheets, and then pressing into it. Fuck he was a fat pig, fuck yeah, and he was gonna make sure this hole was the biker’s best fuck in ages. He might not look like much, sure–hell, he was outright ugly, but once a guy got inside him, they all forgot about that. He relaxed, and felt the biker slide in deep. He shivered, unable to stop himself, and matched the biker’s rhythm, slamming back with his thrusts, feeling his entire body jiggle, especially his ass, fuck, this guy was fuckin’ with some goddamn force, just how he liked it! He was getting close, he could feel it, feel the biker trying to hold back, but he clamped down, dragging him over the edge, feeling the cock explode deep in his guts, and it was like a wave crashing into him, his own balls exploding their load on the sheets–

He kept humping the bed, sheets tangled around his legs and gut. He could feel how wet his sheets were, but fuck, what a dream! He was sweating hard, muscles quivering and aching like he’d just tried to run a mile or something. Had…had it even been a dream? Like that last one, before this. Still, where that one had been terrifying, this one had been so incredibly satisfying. He shuddered, the last bit of cum seeping out of him, and he…he needed to feel that again. He grabbed one of his dildos (he always had one on his nightstand for easy access) and slipped it inside his hole with a quiver and a moan. It wouldn’t be enough to get him off–no toy had ever been able to replace a real cock for him–but it would at least let him calm down, his hole milking the latex rod like a baby sucking a pacifier. He wrangled the sheets back on top of him, kneaded his soft gut for a few minutes, and drifted back off to sleep, snoring away.

Learning to Like Ass (Part 2)

Rudy started screaming, but the knife–it was definitely a knife, landed against his throat.

“I won’t kill ya–just…fuck up your voice box a bit. Or do you just wanna be quiet for daddy?”

He shut up. The knife rolled over his neck, and then the biker dragged the tip down his chest. He didn’t apply enough force to cut him, but Rudy stopped breathing anyway, freezing his body as best he could, feeling the knife slip lower, past his cock where it finally came up from his skin.

“Not an assman, what a crock a shit. Guys like you should be happy anyone’s willing tah offer you a hole at all. Can’t do to be that picky, you know.”

“I get plenty of tail,” Rudy spat at him.

“Heh, sure man. That’s why you’re prowlin’ ‘round the rest stop, cause ya got plenty a tail. No Rudy, no one wants tah get fucked a sad sack like you.”

Rudy started to retort, but froze when he felt something slip between his legs and between his ass cheeks. It wasn’t the knife, like he’d first expected–it was just the biker’s finger–and before he could object he started pressing at Rudy’s hole with the tip, massaging it slowly, and unable to stop himself, Rudy let out a long sigh, collapsed onto the bed and moaned.

“Don’t worry man, mah finger’s can work magic,” the biker said. “What do ya think, man? Think I can convince ya anal might not be so bad?”

“F-Fuck you…” Rudy groaned, his back arching, limbs tugging at the ropes holding him to the bed.

“Fuck me? No no no, fuck you, Rudy.”

He tried to shut his hole up, but the man’s finger just…just slipped into him effortlessly, and fuck, it felt good in there, like it fucking belonged. His cock was hard, and he could already feel it pulsing, getting ready to blow. Deeper still, fuck, more, another finger, something, he needed it, he was so close, he was gonna explode–

*

He woke up, with a suddering groan, two of his own fingers burrowed deep in his own ass, and his cock started spraying cum across the bed sheets he’d kicked off in the night. He just laid there, fingers still inside, panting and looking around. Hadn’t…he been tied up? Out the window, the sky was the deep purple of the hours before dawn, but it had been pitch black, hadn’t it? When he’d been in here? He realized his hand was still inside him, and he yanked it out, got up from the bed and immediately washed his hands over and over until he couldn’t smell it anymore, and then looked around for evidence, but found nothing. He had no bruises or marks on his wrists or ankles, not even a speck of ash from the biker’s cigar that he’d been smoking. So had it been a dream? He’d never had a dream like that, it had felt so damn real! He managed to shake it off after a bit, and by then it was time for work, so he got dressed and left the trailer, hoping he could just forget about it as quickly as possible.

The rest of the week was just…strange. He didn’t quite feel like himself. He’d look at himself in the mirror, and something would throw him off–the scraggly beard, the unkempt hair, the paunch–none of which he could recall having before. Sure, he was himself, but…maybe it was just his confidence or something, but he kept striking out. Girls who usually were desperate for a lay with him were suddenly throwing him cold shoulders or coming up with lame excuses for why they didn’t want to meet with him. The guys at the rest area seemed equally uninterested, and for the first time in long time, he went several days without fucking anyone, and it was driving him mad. It didn’t help that whenever he masturbated he…couldn’t get himself over the edge. He’d stroke for hours on end, but all that would happen is he’d end up even hornier than he’d started. He couldn’t sleep either. He was too terrified that he might…dream like that again, or worse that it hadn’t been a dream, and the biker would show up like before.

It was a week and a half, when it happened again. He’d started sleeping a bit better, but the crushing horniness was only getting worse. The heat was increasing too, as summer wore on, and he woke that night in a froth, his cock achingly hard, and resigned himself to try again. He started stroking, but nothing was happening, but he also couldn’t stop! He wanted to cum so badly, he’d…he’d do fucking anything.

“Anything, Rudy?”

His stomach tried to crawl it’s way out his mouth. He looked over, and there, smoking one of those nasty cigars of his, was the fucking biker, right there in his armchair, watching him try to jack off. “What…How did you get in here?”

“The door, Rudy–you fucking dumbass,” the biker said, and stood up, “Yeah, dumbass. Anybody else woulda put two and two together, but ya couldn’t even get tah two in the first place. You remember what made you feel so good last time, Rudy? Why don’t you try that and see what happens.”

No–not that. But his hand, it…it wouldn’t stop. He licked two fingers, rolled over a bit and poked at his hole, gasping immediately as precum started gushing from his cock. He fingered himself, deep, desperate to cum, but as good as it felt, it…wasn’t enough. “I still can’t cum, you fuck,” Rudy said, “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“You can’t cum, Rudy, cause fingers aren’t enough for you–you know that,” the biker unzipped the fly of his pants and let his huge cock fall from his pants. It…looked ever bigger than before, and fuck, Rudy wanted it inside him, he hadn’t even known how much he wanted it, but fuck did he.

“Oh god, fuck me, fuck me please! Please, I just want to cum, please…” Rudy said, rolled up on his hands and knees, ass towards the biker’s cock.

“Heh, if you insist Rudy, if you insist.”

Learning To Like Ass (Part 1)

Rudy certainly wouldn’t have said he was bisexual–that was just another word for faggot, in his vocabulary. No, to him, it was just that the mouths of faggots and bitches were all the same–if they wanted to eat his cum, then fucking fine, let them. And so, when he couldn’t find a woman to screw, he’d usually just head down to the local truck stop, where the various faggots hung out. He’d hang out in the woods, and before too long some dumb, whimpering faggot would crawl over and beg him for his cock. Two rules though–they couldn’t touch him, anywhere, and if they did he’d pummel their face into the forest floor. He also was completely against anything anal–that was for shitting only, in his mind. What kind of sick, perverted freak could think it was alright to stick anything in there at all?

At least, until one afternoon. He’d struck out again with his usual bitches, and so he’d stopped by the truck stop to see if he could let loose a few loads in a faggot instead. Sure enough, he found a faggot mouth after a few minutes, who agreed to his two stipulations, and the guy started sucking him off–when Rudy noticed someone was watching them. This wasn’t unusual–there were more than a few fags who seemed more interested in watching someone else than in doing anything themselves. He thought this was strange, but they weren’t breaking his rules, so he let it slide. This watcher, however, wasn’t cut from the same cloth as most watchers. Usually, they were older, chubby, with small cocks–it was no wonder why they were alone, just jacking off–who’d want to fuck with someone like that? No, this guy…from what he was wearing, he was probably a biker, but his clothes…they were filthy. So nasty, that Rudy could smell him even fifteen feet away. It helped that he was downwind, which also meant that the guy’s cigar smoke kept drifting into his eyes. He thought about stopping, but this faggot was good with his mouth–then the biker walked over to them both.

Without speaking, he yanked down the faggot’s jeans and underwear, running his greasy, dirty hands over the fag’s ass and into his crack. Rudy felt the fucker…shiver. That was too much for him, he didn’t want to see this shit. He tried to extricate himself, but the biker said, “No, stay put–we’re gonna put this fucker on a spit.”

There was…something in the way the man said it, in his voice, in the smell of smoke and musk, that…made him stay put, watching the biker haul the fag’s ass up so he was bent over at the waist, and the biker…got down and started licking at the fag’s hole, shoving his tongue in–it was so disgusting, and yet Rudy couldn’t rip his eyes away, watching the biker take a deep inhale of smoke from his cigar and breathe it into the fag’s hole, feeling him moan around Rudy’s cock in his mouth. The biker kept it up for a few minutes, then stood up again, drool in his graying goatee, and he let some spit drop onto his cock, got it wet, and slipped it inside. Between them, the fag started jacking his cock faster, and after a minute he’d exploded all over the leaves between them. Rudy couldn’t stop watching the biker fuck–slow at first, and then he built up a rhythm, the sound was…filthy, and then the biker came, filling the fag’s guts up backwards.

“Turn around bitch, clean off my cock of your nasty hole,” the biker said, and the guy immediately left Rudy’s still hard cock and turned his attention to the biker’s disgusting shaft.

“Hey, I didn’t cum yet,” Rudy said.

“Then use his hole–still tight. Got lot’s of seed to lube it up for ya,” the biker said.

Rudy looked down, the hole oozing cum down the crack. He…he couldn’t. “No, that’s fucking disgusting.”

The biker chuckled. “Little boy, scared of an asshole.”

“You faggots are fucking disgusting, I’m getting the fuck out of here,” Rudy said, and hiked up his jeans, shoving his spit-slick cock back in his underwear. The biker didn’t say anything, but Rudy could feel the man’s eyes on him as he left the woods and returned to his truck outside the restroom. That fag’s mouth had been damn good too–but that nasty fucker had ruined everything. He got in and got back on the freeway, heading home again–the small single wide in the trailer park, which was all he could afford with his shitty job at the factory one town over. It wasn’t much, but it was home, at least. He called up a couple of bitches again; no one even answered the phone, and so he had to resort to his hand that night. Still, it was hard getting even one load out–all he could see, as he got close, was that biker’s seed leaking from that hole, and he’d go soft every time. He eeked out an unsatisfying load, drank way too much whisky, and then climbed into bed.

It was the smoke that woke him, in the dark. His first thought was that something was on fire, but this smoke, he’d smelled it before, back in the woods. He tried to get up, but discovered his arms and legs were tied at the wrists and ankles to the end of the bed. This had to be a dream, it had to be. He still felt a bit drunk from the night before, was this some fucked up nightmare? He looked over, and saw the dull light of an ember in the dark, and heard that same chuckle. The biker?

“What, how the fuck did you get in here?”

“Followed you home, boy,” the biker said, walking slowly into the dim light from Rudy’s window, “Easy enough to pick that shitty lock. You were so out, I didn’t even have to use this,” he said, and some metal glinted–either a gun or a knife, Rudy couldn’t tell which. “But I came because I like ya boy. Because you ‘n I are gonna have some fun together for a while, how does that sound?”

Christmas III: A Brand New Stanta Claus (Part 12)

The light cleared after a few moments, and a very different Matthew was sitting on Stanta’s knee. He’d traded debate and Christian Fellowship for football, fights in the school yard, and cigarettes and cigars whenever he could manage to get them. He’d gotten a bit too drunk when he was sixteen, and gotten that first tattoo and piercing–he…hadn’t really been able to stop getting them sense. Frustrated with school, he’d focused on autoshop and dropped out as soon as he’d found a mechanic that would hire him. He’d bought that Harley he’d always dreamed about, and he’d never looked back. And now? Now here he was–a six foot two, muscle bull with a thick gut hanging out of the ragged leather vest he was wearing, his skin a riot of tattoos, though still not as many as Stanta had, though Matt’s were of far inferior quality. His hands were calloused from work and scarred from drunken brawls in biker bars all over the state–he’d ever served a couple years in prison for assault, but he could always find some shop willing to hire him. He…he might not have always made the best choices, but they were the choices he’d wanted, and he’d never once regretted them, or looked back. he ran one hand through the long beard he’d been growing out for close to a decade and smiled over at Stanta, “Fuck, this…this feels good.”

“Ya look pretty good too,” Stanta said, leaned over and locked mouths with his son, tasting the stale smoke on his lips, their tongue studs clinking against one another, Stanta reaching over and freeing Matthew’s studded, tattooed cock from his grimy jeans. “Got a good head on your shoulders too–so you’re gonna have to take care of your stupid older brother. I don’t think either of you will mind, right? Matty, you love using Mark as a punching bag and fuck toy, right? And Mark, the chance of you fucking up is so much less if you let your brother make all the decisions, right? If you let him be your master? You want a master, you fucking pig? I think that’s the only way you’ll stay out of trouble.”

Mark hated it, but Stanta was right–without Matthew beating some sense into him on occasion, he’d only get in trouble. A leather collar wrapped its way around his neck, and a tattoo appeared on his wide ass, marking him as his brother’s property, just like…like he’d always wanted to be. He switched over and focused on his Master’s cock, sucking him expertly, just the way Matt liked it. If Mark did something wrong, he’d get a slap at best, or the shit beat out of him at worst. Stanta focused, and the two of them glowed bright once more, but this time they disappeared–whisked off to the run down trailer park where they lived now, content in their filth and sloth, and Stanta eyed his final, youngest son–John.

“Well come on boy, dawn’s coming quick, and I hate waiting.”

John thought about fighting it, but didn’t–he walked over and sat down on Stanta’s knee, and said what he’d knew would come out of his mouth, but which he was already dreading–something he’d…he’d been meaning to say for a long time. “I…All I really wanted, was for my father to love me.”

It was true–Stan had never loved John as much as his brothers. Where they had each grown up tall and strong and manly, John had lagged behind–short, a bit underdeveloped, a sissy, as Stan had seen it. Still, he knew, that as a father, he’d failed him, and he didn’t blame John for wanting more. Still…maybe, maybe Stanta could still fix things. He pulled John close to him, the young man feeling a pulse of lust flood into him. he tried to push him away, but Stanta’s tongue was shoved down his throat before he could fight it…and…and he didn’t want to fight it. He…He wanted it, someone to love him, to adore him.

Stanta laid him down on his belly and started eating out his son’s hole, listening to him moan, before he lined his massive cock up and started slipping it inside him. He screamed, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt, at how…full he was, even with just half of Stanta’s massive cock lodged inside of him. “You want my affection boy?” Stanta whispered in his ear, “You want me to love you? Then you’re going to have to become someone I can love. Someone who can satisfy me. Think you can do that? Is that what you really want?”

John didn’t know whether he was compelled to say yes or not, but it didn’t matter–he did want it, he did want this, as terrified as he was, and it came tumbling from his mouth over and over, in time with Stanta’s thrusts. Santa fucked his hole as best he could, and shot inside him–but as soon as he pulled out, he snapped his fingers and a strange rubber blob shot from his bag, and smacked John right in the chest, growing over him until he was completely mummified.

“Well boy? Daddy will be more than happy to give you what we both want. But no magic–well, maybe a little magic at times, but I have a long year ahead of me, and I’ll need a project to keep me occupied,” he said, shoved the squriming man into his bag, and shot back up onto the roof. The sun was cresting the horizon, but he’d finished his night–finally. It had felt like an age, long enough to die and become someone else entirely, but he could finally go home. Go home, and have a little chat with Timmy about how disappointed he was at his deception, and to settle upon a proper punishment.

To be continued…

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 9)

“Let’s get you in the sling,” Ralph said, but that was easier said than done, however, since Doug had started growing fatter and shorter throughout all of this. Now, he was just barely five foot two, and it took both of them to get him up into the leather seat, Ralph securing his boy’s ankles to the industrial chains, giving him easy access to his loose hole, and then chained Doug’s wrists as well, giving him complete control over his body.

He teased him for a few minutes, admiring the changes that had spread across him like wildfire, changes he was having a hard time even recalling. Everything about him just seemed so…normal. He sucked and chewed on one of his boy’s thick nipples before digging through one of his drawers, pulling out two snake bite suckers and attaching them, and then he tugged on his boy’s balls, feeling them swell and drop in his hand, Doug unable to suppress in groans, nor the precum which had begun flowing from the head of his huge cock. He was…beautiful, looking at him like this. Fat, filthy, nasty, covered with tattoos, everything he fucking wanted in a man, but…but that was because Ralph had made him this way…right?

He could remember now, dimly, how he’d taken the boy under his wing, fed him fatter, taught him the ways of filth and sex, covered him with the tattoos of his choosing, forced him to smoke constantly until he needed smoke and ash all day long, forbid him from cutting his hair of shaving any part of his body. As these memories flooded him, he felt like his own past was fading away. College–who the fuck was he kidding? He’d never gone to college, hell, he’d never wanted to go to college, he’d dropped out a high school years ago. Yeah…years…ago. His beard was beginning to grey, long streaks mixing with the brown–the same with his hair. Face growing cragged and wrinkled, scars to match his oft broken nose from fights and rough fucks, and this sweet young boy, fuck. His boy. He’d always wanted one, and now he had one.

He stepped away from the sling and pulled on a thick, industrial rubber glove, coating it with a thick layer of crisco from a half used tub on the dresser, and then walked back, pushing two fingers into Doug’s ass, his weak hole accepting them willingly, listening to the boy moan, swinging his body onto the intruding hand. Three fingers, four, and then his fist popped inside him, Doug letting off something between a sigh and moan as his daddy’s fist invaded his ass. It was…so familiar to him. Ralph twisted his wrist, applied a bit of pressure, and his boy’s dick started spraying piss all over the both of them, Ralph licking it from his beard and mustache as he grinned, watching his boy loose complete control, pressing harder until it was completely empty, and then he switched again, and started prodding his prostate.

He never touched his boy’s cock–he didn’t need to. Doug’s groans and moans only grew louder from the stimulation, his cock flooding precum from his massive balls, until his daddy finally milked a massive orgasm from him, making him shout and groan and cry, sucking down smoke from the cigar still in his mouth, and Ralph yanked out his hand and replaced it with his cock, fucking the loose hole raw until he too was cumming, feeling a bit…light headed. His boy’s collar…it was glinting, shimmering. It seemed so bright, all of a sudden, and everything else was so dark. Doug seemed to have passed out in the sling, and Ralph struggled against the darkness. He didn’t want to go under again, he didn’t want to loose himself again, no more, no…more…

*

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Ralph gave a snort on the filthy, piss soaked floor where he’d collapsed, rolled up onto his ass, rubbing the side of his head. Fuck..what the hell was that?

“You ok?”

“Fine…I think…” Ralph said, grabbed onto the chains of the sling and hauled himself back up, Doug swinging to and fro from his weight, the ceiling groaning where the chains were anchored.

“Thought I might be stuck,” Doug said.

“Heh, ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” Ralph said, leaned over his boy and gave him a deep, smoky kiss, “Just got…too excited, is all. Still, how ‘bout we get ya down?”

He undid the shackles holding Doug’s arms and legs, and helped his short boy down from the sling, holding his filthy body tight to him. He was still horny, and before Doug could get dressed, he bent his boy over and ate out his nasty loose hole, tasting the grease and his own cum from earlier all over his boy’s crack, sucking down his farts in between drags off his cigar, and Doug looked around the room.

It wasn’t much, their little studio, but neither of them made much money. Well, he was the one who worked to support them, really, with construction work during the day and offering up his ass all night. Daddy worked…sometimes. He had a hard time getting hired, and he usually lost his temper whenever anyone tried to tell him what to do. Still, it worked out, and he did what he could. He had his daddy to think of, after all. Some little voice in his head was screaming though, that this was wrong, but it was getting quieter. He gripped his chain collar and felt it diminish more, until he couldn’t hear the words, just feel an odd unease.

Ralph finally came up for air, licking his lips, “Let’s go for a ride, boy. A long one, a few weeks–nah, fuck that. Even longer I gotta feel the wind for a while, too fuckin’ cooped up here.”

“I gotta work in the morning, daddy. We ain’t got nothin’ for rent.”

“Fuck that,” Ralph said, grabbing hold of his chain, “We’ve lived on the road before. Only thing you gotta do is keep daddy happy, and daddy ain’t happy here. Now come on, let’s pack our shit, just what we need. We can meet up with some old buddies a mine; they got a nice clubhouse where we can stay as long as we want. Don’t need rent–they’ll just want our holes. They’re sick fucks, but nothin’ we don’t love anyway.”

Doug couldn’t say no, and so they suited up in their filthy leathers, hoped on their bikes, and rode off into the night, their old lives just glimmers in the back of their minds. Eddie, however, had been keeping an eye on them. Another great buy–he looked at the two collections of preppy clothes and college supplies he’d recently acquired–and knew he’d be making someone happy next weekend at his next special sale.

The End

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 8)

Thankfully he didn’t pass anyone on the way to the dorm, though it was difficult getting out his key so he could swipe it at the entrance to the building. Their room was on the second floor, and he must be getting tired faster than usual, because it seemed like with each step up Doug grew heavier, dragging him down a bit more. He stumbled to their door, fiddled with his keys, pushed his way in and unslung his roommate off his shoulder and onto his bed. He was still out–is this how long he’d been out, when it had happened to him before? It hadn’t felt like it had taken this long, but he wasn’t sure. One thing he did know, was that something strange was happening to Doug.

The sensation of him growing heavier hadn’t been an illusion. He’d started off as very lithe, probably one hundred forty pounds on a six foot two frame, but here in the room, he seemed to have lost a bit of height…and he was packing on weight. He already had sprouted a gut, and as Ralph watched, it was only getting bigger…in fact, he couldn’t…look away. Fuck, just seeing his boy like that, he was getting horny. The small clothes were starting to cut into him; Ralph grabbed hold and ripped them off, licking his bearded lips as he did, and fuck, he pushed up one of Doug’s arms, got down on his knees and shoved his nose and mouth in the pit, snorting and licking, feeling a bush of hair sprouting as he did–nearly as thick as his own…and the more he licked, the thicker–and ranker, the armpit became.

No, no! He yanked himself back, unable to understand the feelings washing over him. He couldn’t do this, the guy wasn’t…wasn’t even awake…but the need, the desire was overwhelming him. He passed over the stinking pit and started sucking his nipples, biting and pulling on them until they were thick, inch masses, studded with piercings, and then worked lower to his cock. It was hardening from the attention, and he swallowed it down, sucking it, feeling it grow and expand as he did until it started pushing its way down his throat and was so thick his jaw ached. Then he rolled his boy over, kneading his ass with both hands, feeling it inflate as he did, before spreading them apart and diving in, licking the crack with broad sweeps of his tongue, his spit sprouting thick ass hair as he did, and then started tunnelling into his hole, feeling it loosen at his will. He took deep inhales of smoke and blew it into his ass, and it was blown back into his face as ripe, pungent farts–but Doug didn’t wake up until Ralph shoved his cock inside him. He screamed, and tried to claw away his way off Ralph’s cock, but he grabbed a handful of Doug’s hair, feeling it lengthen so he could get a better grip, yanking back, bucking deep, sinking his teeth and sucking at his boy’s neck, feeling his terror ease into pleasure, until he was pushing back, eager to feel his daddy’s dick inside him. Ralph’s teeth left a strange mark on his skin, it began to discolor in odd shades, and then began to spread out as wild, whirling tattoos around his neck, down his entire back, around onto his chest, and down his arms past his wrists. Ralph’s breathing was turning ragged and quick; he was close. With a low growl he came deep inside Doug’s loose ass, but this was wrong, fuck, what the fuck had he just done? He pulled out early, spurting cum all over Doug’s filthy crack and stumbled back and away towards his side of the room, staring at his roommate, his…boy.

Doug was still moaning and groaning on the bed, but it wasn’t clear whether it was from pleasure or pain, or some strange combination. Now that he no longer had Ralph’s heavy body keeping him down, he could roll over and sit up, cum leaking from his hole onto his sheets, and he looked down at himself, at his fat body still growing fatter, the tattoos coating him, and he looked up at Ralph across the room. He wanted to be angry–he knew he should be angry, but all he felt was hunger, and this strange desire to…to serve. It was overwhelming, his daddy…he had to serve his daddy, and he got off the bed, falling to his hands and knees and crawled towards him.

“Don’t…don’t come over here, I don’t know what’ll happen if you do,” Ralph said, “I can’t stop this, I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“F-Fuck you…” was all Doug could manage in reply, before pressing his face to Ralph’s filthy boots running his tongue over them, coating it in the filth there, eating it down. He kept…trying to grab his cock, but for some reason it was hard for him to grasp. It certainly wasn’t an issue with it being small–rather it was this…strange idea in his head that he shouldn’t touch it. That he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Ralph was quivering, looking down at Doug licking his boots clean, feeling these desires rising in him, strange, perverse fantasies. He sucked a deep draw off his cigar, a large cinder falling from the end and hitting the floor–without even needing to be told, Doug scooped it up in his mouth and chewed it down, before returning to his daddy’s boots. He couldn’t stop himself. He aimed his cock and started pissing all over him, watching the stinking yellow run over his head, soaking his long hair and coating his body in filth, Doug shuddering beneath him and licking up as much as he could from the floor, but Ralph reached down after he finished, grabbed his boy by the chain collar, feeling that same odd heat pulse through him, and hauled him to his feet, shoving his tongue in his mouth. After eating his boots, ash and piss it was none too clean, teeth chipped and rotting, yellow with smoke, black with ash, but it tasted…it tasted wonderful. They pulled apart and took a hit off their cigars–though Doug couldn’t remember when he’d actually lit one, and then shared another smoky kiss, grinding their filthy bellies together, Ralph’s hands twisting and yanking on his boy’s nipples, and then one dropped down and started stroking his cock, feeling him spasm and groan.

“How long has it been, boy, since I gave you a good milking?”

“Too…too long daddy,” Doug sighed.

“Well how about we do somethin’ about that, eh?”

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 7)

Doug had heard tales of wild roommates in college, that the “matchmaking” attempts by colleges generally resulting in horrible Freshman combinations, but it was past Labor Day, and he was already wondering how in the hell he could get rid of this fucker. Everything had been fine for orientation, hell, Ralph had actually seemed like a normal, decent guy, but this fucking weekend, what in the hell had happened to the guy from before? He didn’t have a problem with someone being a bit of a slob–hell, he wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy either–but this…mess.

Ralph’s “side” of the room looked like a bomb had hit it, and smelled like it had been a bomb filled with piss. Filthy clothes were strewn everywhere, across the floor, the chair, all of it muddy and messy. His computer had disappeared, replaced by a tool box, his posters of indie bands suddenly biker memorabilia, but how had he even had time to redecorate, when it seemed like he’d spent all weekend out getting drunk and smoking. Hell, it smelled like he’d even been smoking in the room, while he was gone. He’d already tried talking to the RA, but he’d said that unless he did it in front of him, there wasn’t anything he could do, which meant Doug was on his own. He’d tried to just stay away from the room as long as he could, but maybe he just needed to have a fight with the guy, see if he could sort some this shit out before it got even more out of control…but when he returned to the room that evening, Ralph wasn’t there–thankfully–but the room had somehow grown even more disgusting. It was littered with sex toys, leather gear and who knew what else. Disturbed at what might have been happening, he fled the building and walked around the side, when a nearly familiar voice shouted out his name behind him.

Doug looked over his shoulder–the fattest, filthiest man he’d ever seen was panting after him, beard grown down past his waist, hair nearly as long grown down his back. He had a cigar shoved in the corner of his mouth, and was wearing chaps and a vest over some of the most disgusting clothing he’d ever laid eyes on in his life, and the guy looked like he’d gotten in a fight earlier, from the swollen nose on his face. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it was Ralph–his roommate. Part of his head knew it couldn’t possibly be, but it was, and that uncertainty drove him to walk faster, and then break into a jog.

“Wait! Fucker, I just…come on!” the man behind him shouted. Doug knew he could outrun him. He ccould outrun nearly everyone–hell, his performance in track had helped get him into this school with a scholarship, but what was he doing? He’d been planning on confronting this guy, they needed to hash this shit out before the semester got going, if they were going to live together…right? But why…why was someone like Ralph going to…college? He looked much too old for one thing, from the streaks of grey in his hair and beard, which Doug could see better once he turned around, stopped, and let the fat biker catch up to him.

Ralph reached where he was standing, and then doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

“Be easier if you didn’t smoke that shit.”

“Fuck…Fuck you…” he gasped, “I really don’t need that shit right now, it’s been…a really strange weekend.”

“No fucking shit!” Doug said, “What the fuck are you even doing? Our room’s a fucking sty, and I know you’ve been smoking and drinking in there. What the hell is wrong with you? Classes start tomorrow.”

“I…I know that…” Ralph stood up and bent back, but when he did something slipped from the pocket of his vest and hit the ground in front of Doug’s feet. It was a small box, and when it hit the sidewalk it came apart, a shiny chain landing on the ground, with a lock. Doug…couldn’t look away from it, and he bent down to grab it. Ralph tried to warn him halfheartedly, but didn’t move to stop him. His roommate grabbed it and picked it up, feeling a bit woozy and hot suddenly, his heart racing.

“Fuck, I feel…kind of weird…” Doug said, and Ralph, realizing what was about to happen, guided his collapsing roommate into his arms as he fainted–and he looked around. It would be easiest to get him back to their room–so he hefted his limp, unconscious roommate over his shoulder and started for the dorm, not noticing that somehow the chain had gone from being in Doug’s fist, to being around his neck, with the padlock closed, securing it tight, like a necklace…or perhaps a collar.