Frat Daddy – Interlude #1 (Carter)

So, given the answers on the last survey, I found that the chapters were going to be too rushed if I tried to fit everything in, but I was also a bit hesitant to have this story turn into some massive monstrosity. That said, I’ve been getting good feedback on it, I’ve been enjoying it, and so I figured I might as well embrace it and just let it get larger until I get a bit sick of it. This is the first interlude in the story, which are little asides, as Daddy takes the boys, one or two at a time, and gives them some private sessions of various kinds. There won’t be any surveys after these interludes, only after the chunks that advance the narrative further. I considered making some of these interludes Patron Only, but for now, I’ll go ahead and post them publicly.


On Friday night, the boys lined up in the living room, and Daddy came before them and considered them all quietly. None of the young men quite knew how to feel about this. Daddy had told them that, each weekend, he would select one or two boys to spend the weekend with him at his house next door, but it wasn’t clear whether this would be considered a punishment or a reward. 

“Carter, come along with me. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Carter gulped, but at the same time, he found himself…excited. Ever since that moment in the bathroom, where he’d allowed Daddy to cut off all of his hair, he’d found himself adrift, no longer sure of who he was, or what he was doing, or who he was becoming. But one thing he knew for sure, was that he would follow Daddy wherever he lead him. Daddy had apparently sensed the same thing in him, or perhaps something else. Carter followed him down into the basement, through the tunnel connecting the two houses together, and back up into Daddy’s home. Carter was scared, but doing his best to not show it too badly. Daddy saw his nerves, and pulled him into a hug. 

“No need to fret tonight. We’ll have dinner, have a smoke, talk a bit. Tomorrow, I have something special planned however. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Daddy cooked for them both. It was strange, seeing the figure who had spent all week dominating them doing something so domestic and ordinary. It was also the first real food that Carter had tasted in a week. The shakes from the machine weren’t bad–but they also weren’t this delicious. Regardless of what might come tomorrow, he would at least relish this. After they’d eaten, they adjourned to Daddy’s smoking room lined with humidors, smoked a cigar together, and spoke. Well, Daddy asked Carter questions, and he answered them as best he could. Questions about his youth, about his family, about manhood, about what he wanted. Questions that Carter couldn’t really answer anymore. He’d grown up in a rather free spirited family, independently wealthy, one of two children with enough freedom that they could both pursue whatever they wanted. He’d thought he’d wanted that freedom–the hair had been an expression of that, certainly. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

They finished their smokes, and Carter expected Daddy to ravage him at last, but instead, he led him to a guest room, and told him to sleep well. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, and he’d need his sleep. Carter didn’t think he’d be able to sleep at all, but was surprised that, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, and didn’t wake up until Daddy knocked on his door the next morning. They ate a light breakfast, but the nerves had returned, and Carter found it hard to eat, wondering what Daddy had in store for him today. He knew better than to ask–Daddy would tell him when he was ready for Carter to know.

Then, Daddy spoke to him, said…something, and Carter…couldn’t recall what happened next. But when he was next aware of what was happening to him, he was in darkness–total darkness. He was upright, his hands shackled and strung to the ceiling with chains, from what he could hear. His legs also had shackles on them, with a bar between them, keeping them spread apart, and also bolted to the floor. There was light then, and…Daddy walked in, but not…not Daddy. He wasn’t Daddy right now. Right now…he was Sarge. The leather uniform was gone, replaced by a pair of fatigues, combat boots, and a cap. 

Ethan stepped into the room, took a drag on his cigar, and admired the boy for a moment where he was suspended in the middle of his dungeon. Carter was a handsome man, well built, with a small coating of hair on his chest and a modest bush around a sizable cock, and a heavy sack below. He was looking at him now, eyes wide with something between fear and helpless arousal, as he tried to take in what was happening to him now. “I…Sarge…” he said, and the word sent a jolt right to Ethan’s cock, “What am I doing here?”

“What you told me last night, Cadet, none of that surprises me. You lack structure and discipline. You crave it, but without a real man giving it to you, you have become shaggy and overgrown, both outside and inside. I’m going to train you into something new, into a proper man–isn’t that what you want boy?”

Ethan had stepped into the room, and as he spoke, ran a hand along Carter’s stomach, bulging a bit from his new diet, but still plenty firm. Carter flinched at the touch, and then shuddered a bit as the hand came around to his back, was joined by another one, and ran down the whole of his back down to his ass, groping and pinching enough to make him wince slightly. “I…I don’t know, Sir…”

“Why did you let me cut your hair, cadet?”

“Because…in the mirror. I…I didn’t want to become that…that person.”

“And what did you see in the mirror? What scared you more there, than the prospect of me cutting off that beautiful hair,” Ethan said, and ran his hand over Ethan’s scalp, feeling the young man shudder again, his young cock pulsing slightly. 

“I…I was old.”

“Everyone gets old,” Ethan said, and gave Carter a sharp slap on the ass, making him gasp, “What did you see! Be honest boy.”

“He…he was a loser, Sir.”

Another sharp smack, another gasp.

“He didn’t have anything left! There…there was nothing, I don’t know what you want me to say Sir, I don’t know, I just…I couldn’t…”

Ethan stepped around, and looked the boy in the eye. Carter flinched like Ethan had struck him again, and dropped his eyes almost immediately. 

“He…you…I didn’t want to look like that Sir. I…wanted to be like you. He looked like he had no control, over anything. But you…Sir…you can control…anyone. I…I want that.”

“Then the first thing you have to learn, Cadet, is self-control,” Ethan said, grabbed hold of Ethan’s nipples in his hands, and tightened the pinch slowly. Almost immediately, Carter began to groan and try and twist away, but Ethan was relentless, tightening, and twisting, with a slight pull, until Carter was begging him to stop–but Ethan just held him there, until he looked at him again, and he saw the fear in his eyes.

“You have no control here. I can do whatever I want to you. You have no choice but to submit to me. The one thing you can control here, is yourself. Your anger. Your pain. Your pleasure. Your fear. Master all of those, and there is nothing I can do to you that will touch you.” Ethan released his tits then, and Carter sighed, and Ethan grabbed hold of Carter’s cock in one hand–and Carter realized he was…hard. Rock hard.

“You seem to have betrayed yourself, Cadet. Do you like having those tits of yours tortured?” Ethan said, and while one hand stroked the young man’s cock slowly, he twisted one tit again…and this time, Carter felt something unexpected. There was pleasure twisted up with the pain now, and he gasped, unsure of which sensation brought it forth. His cock spasmed, and precum shot from the head all over the back of Ethan’s hand. He pulled it away, and wiped it across Carter’s face. “Today, I’m going to show you something else. I’m going to show you just how little control you have over yourself. It will be up to you, do decide if you want to develop the will after that.”

Carter tried to reply, but Ethan pushed a gag into his mouth, secured it around the back of his head, and began. He started with his tits–pumping them first, and then when Carter was moaning, a puddle of precum collecting underneath him, he tugged the pumps off, clipped each of them, and added a weight. His balls were next. Ethan tugged them away from Carter’s body, secured a leather parachute around them, and began adding weight, little by little, until Carter was dribbling pre in an almost constant stream, begging Sarge for release–unsure if he was begging him to allow him to cum, or begging him to let him go, because the pain was growing more excruciatingly exciting. 

Sarge stepped back and admired his work, the boy’s body slick with sweat now, breath quick, cock hard and red and angry and eager to shoot–but not yet. No, not yet. He picked up a paddle from the wall, went around behind him, and went to work on the boy’s ass, each swat causing his body to jolt forward, his the weight on his balls and tits swinging away from him, picking up a rhythm, the boy descending into heaving, gasping, mindless emotion. “Look how easily I’ve broken you, Cadet. I’ve turned you into my little pain pig in less than an hour. I could do whatever I want to do to you, cause you any amount of pain that I want, and you’d beg for more, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t it feel good boy? Don’t you want me to hurt you more?”

Carter couldn’t speak through the gag, but he found himself nodding vigorously. He…did need more. He needed it. Sarge pulled a flogger down next, and began pounding at the boy’s back, sending shockwaves through his body, until he was shaking and shuddering, an orgasm unlike anything he’d ever experienced ripping through him, centered on his forehead, while his cock just kept leaking. Every swing while he convulsed was just more pleasure piled on top of pleasure, and when Daddy stopped swinging, Carter shook, the absence of pain somehow more painful than the beating had been. 

While the bar between his feet was bolted to the floor in the middle, it could swivel–and Sarge spun the young man around so he was facing behind him now–and again, Carter found himself face to face with a mirror, and again, the reflection looking back at him…it wasn’t his own. It was another future, and while his ego was horrified, the part of him that was growing more and more addicted to pain looked at himself in wonder. At the balls stretched down between his thighs, the scrotum covered his studs and rings. The tits tortured so much that they looked like small sausages, pierced through with six or sever rings each. His cock, no longer able to even get hard unless he was being tortured, also pierced all over. His body was completely hairless and pale, and he could see the bruises and welts from sessions with his Master. But it was the eyes that scared him the most. The acceptance, the eagerness, the anticipation. He could feel it now, welling up inside him, how you could become lost in this, if you weren’t careful. Lose yourself and never find your way back again.

“What do you think, Cadet? Do you want to become my little pain pig? Send you back to the house, make you beg all your brothers to spank you, and beat you, and fuck you until that pain addicted cock finally cums? Pierce you all over, tattoo you, make sure no one will ever be able to mistake you for a man ever again? Is that what you want?” Ethan’s hand wrapped its way around his cock and started stroking. “All you have to do is cum, pig. Cum–and I’ll make all your dreams come true.”

Fuck, it was tempting. Carter stared at the image again, and started swinging gently, feeling the weights on his tits and balls pull away from his body, making his cock stiff and ache for release, but he stopped himself. This…he could have this. He could even want this. But he didn’t. Control–he’d lost control of himself, he was allowing his pain and pleasure to rule him–but this wasn’t the kind of man that he wanted to be. This isn’t what Sarge was offering him. He stopped, took a few deep breaths, and Daddy took the gag from his mouth, allowing him to say, “No Sir. Thank you Sir, for the offer. But I don’t want to be a pig Sarge, I want to be a man, like you.”

Ethan smiled, and Carter knew he’d made the right decision. “That’s my boy–I knew you were stronger than the rest.”

Sarge kissed him then, and the tenderness shocked him, and when Sarge moved again, there was a new image in the mirror. Carter, older, muscled and hairy and strong and firm and confident and all of the things he’d always wanted to be, and Ethan kept stroking. Come on Cadet–shoot for your Sarge. You’ve fucking earned it.” 

Carter exploded at last, shooting a massive load all over the floor of the dungeon, and then Sarge embraced him, holding him tight while he collapsed against him, and he took the weights off his balls and tits, released him from the ceiling, and pulled him to the floor, where Carter shook and cried and laughed and Daddy held him tight, telling him how proud of him he was, that one day, he’d be that man in the mirror, and Daddy would do everything in his power to help him get there.

Sunday afternoon, Carter returned to the house, and while there was nothing obviously different about him, the other men could still sense a difference. He seemed…larger, somehow. Taller and broader. Whether he had actually grown, or whether it was just a matter of posture, no one could quite tell. But there was a firmness, a confidence that Carter hadn’t had, not even before all of this, when he’d had his full mane of hair. Tyler nailed it, eventually. Carter…was walking and talking and behaving like Daddy, in a way that he couldn’t quite figure out. It was…hot though. Tyler asked Carter what had happened, what Daddy had done to him, but Carter just smiled, reached out, and gave one of Tyler’s nipples a twist, making him cringe a bit. 

“Want me to show you?” he said, and Tyler nodded.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeovers (Part 3)

This is going to be the final entry in this interactive. I wasn’t planning on it being substantial, it was more about toying with the time travel story device and seeing if I liked it enough to use it in something else, perhaps something longer, or more twine focused. There’s an alternate version of this one over on my patreon, using a different set of winning options! If you support me, you can head here and check it out.


Needless to say, Jerry never showed up for his wedding. Edwin slipped into his mind that morning, while the bride was off getting her hair done for the ceremony that evening. He packed a bag, hopped in his car and ran. He didn’t quite understand why he was doing this, just that…he had to. It was the right thing to do, or at least, that’s what Edwin was telling him. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life hitched to a ball and chain? No–he knew he wanted something else, but he wasn’t sure what yet. A better life, one more suited to him. He’d just have to drive for a while and find it.

He drove for a couple of days, while Edwin wormed his way in deeper, trying to figure out what made Jerry tick. It wasn’t long before he found a good lead–Jerry had daddy issues galore. He’d been abandoned by his dad when he was a kid, and he’d never really gotten over the trauma of it, always looking for older men to praise him. He’d done well for himself, finding some reliable, older mentors in the company where he worked–where he had been working, rather. But Edwin had a new idea for his little puppet. They’d find him a new daddy, someone more along Edwin’s tastes.

He ended up in a large city, and Edwin decided this would be as good a place as any to begin his search. He took Jerry to the sleaziest, kinkiest gay bar he could find, and decided he’d find him a properly perverse Daddy to show him the ropes of his new life. Jerry had no idea what he was doing there. He wasn’t gay, and he certainly wasn’t into…this, all of this leather and rubber, the air smelling of piss and sex. He was still dressed in his business casual, and had never felt more out of place in his entire life. He ended up compensating by drinking too much, though Edwin remained clear headed–and late that night, he found what he was looking for. 

He was in his late fifties, probably. Still in great shape, wearing a leather harness, rubber vest, and rubber waders. He was smoking cigars, was covered in tattoos and piercings. Edwin slipped into the fetish daddy’s mind and poked around a bit–it didn’t take much convincing for him to start teasing Jerry, since he was cute, though obviously repressed. Jerry didn’t know what possessed him to go home with the old kinkster, but he spent the entire next day in the man’s dungeon, and it was the most exquisite sex of his entire life. By the end of it, he was begging his new Master to keep him, to train him, to remake him into the kinky pig he’d always wanted to be, deep down, without even realizing it. Dan, the old kinky bear, didn’t really want something permanent, but something about the young man’s begging changed his mind–he could do anything he wanted to him, after all. Somehow, he knew that Jerry would agree to anything.

But to test his resolve, their first stop, the next day, was the piercing and tattoo parlor. Jerry ended up with studs in his nipples, in his ears, a PA, and a new tattoo on his ass, which read Property of Master Dan across it. As far as Dan was concerned, that sealed the deal–and Jerry started his training with him that afternoon, with a trip to the local gay gym. Dan forced Jerry–or Cunt, as he was calling him for now, before settling on a more permanent slave name–to work out in just a jock, and he spent the evening in the showers, getting plowed by guy after guy, and drinking more than a few loads of piss as well. He was humiliated, but the act of service, and the delight in his dom’s eyes brought him more pleasure than he could really understand. Dan was impressed at the newbie–to go from being a virgin to gay sex to taking five loads in a public shower, it was quite impressive. All that meant, was that he could push him further.

More and more fantasies began to intrude into Dan’s mind, unbidden. He’d never really been this extreme before, but something about Cunt was bringing the true sadist out in him, and he wanted to see how far he could go. During the day they would work out, and by the last week of Edwin’s control, Dan had started Cunt on a steroid regimen, deciding he was going to be a proper muscle bull–but a total bottom, of course. No, his cock and balls were going to be pumped to an obscene size, too big to be ignored, but also functionally useless. He’d have so many tattoos and piercings he wouldn’t be able to hold down a regular job–he’d be confined to the life of a total kinkster for the rest of his days. 

Towards the end, Edwin made one last shift in them both–in their dreams, he convinced them that they weren’t just master and slave–they were father and son. That Jerry had begged his father to take ownership of him, to turn him into a proper musclecunt of a boy, so that Dan could truly be proud of him. It took like a charm, and only made Cunt more desperate to please his father, to show him what a good pig he could become. Satisfied with those first steps, Edwin returned to the present.

When he’d recovered, he found that Jerry no longer lived next door to him. This wasn’t surprising really, but the fact of it cemented for him the seriousness of what he’d done to him. He had to use the tachyon beam to find him, tracing his path from the point Edwin had left him to the present, and what he found pleased him to no end.

There was no trace of the boring, straight laced man Jerry had been. He no longer even remembered his old name–the only name he responded to now was his slave name, Bullcunt. He was massive–years of steroids and growth hormones had made his body explode with muscle, though as he’d grown older, he’d also developed a bit of a gut. At some point in his life he’d discovered saline and then silicone–his father had decided that Bullcunt’s cock and balls were going to be some of the largest on earth. Nothing could hold them at this point, other than the custom made gear Dan commissioned for his boy. It was expensive, but given his freakish body, covered head to toe in piercings and tattoos, willing to partake in any kind of sex no matter now taboo, Musclecunt made a killing as a porn star, and was lately taking more of a dom role, making young men worship his massive junk while he smoked one of his huge cigars, fisting them with his hands–sometimes both. There were two men who could actually take his massive cock, and several more training to be next in line.

Overall, it was a grand success. Edwin knew he’d have much more fun with his invention in the days to come, but first, he needed a meal from his encourager–twelve hours without a meal, and he was famished.

Horny Hugh (Part 4 – Finale)

WARNING: Like the part before this one, this part has graphic material. It’s more horror than porn, unless you’re into that sort of thing. Mutilation, snuff, pain play, abuse, steroid use, and other bad things below, consider yourself warned.

Josh pushed his way into the apartment, dropped his bag off to the side, heaved a sigh of relief, and shut the door behind him. He hated travelling, especially for work, but it had to be done. Now though, it was time for a drink, a little relaxation, and then a day off tomorrow–something he always insisted on after a business trip. He went into the kitchen to fix himself a drink, and to fix himself some food, when there was a knock on his door. Figuring one of his neighbors must have figured out he was back, maybe with some mail, he opened the door, only to find Kyle, his boyfriend, standing outside in the hallway.

“Hey babe, I missed you!” Kyle said, pushing his way inside and giving him a kiss, “So glad you’re home safe.”

“Kyle?” Josh said, after accepting the kiss, “What are you doing here? I didn’t even buzz you up.”

“One of your neighbors did–I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Josh felt a bit unnerved, not necessarily by his surprise appearance, but because the night before, he’d had one of the strangest, most vivid, and most terrifying dreams of his life. Kyle had been in it, but it hadn’t been Kyle, really. There was something else inside him, and…and he’d fucked Josh, well, raped him. It had been intense, and a bit traumatic, and he’d been hoping to put off seeing him for a few days until the dream had settled. That, and he’d had wanted some more time to mull over what Kyle had asked him before he’d left, about moving in.

Josh liked Kyle, he really did, but he didn’t know if he was ready to move in with anyone right now. Sharing space was difficult, and Kyle could be a bit overbearing at times. Letting him down easy would be a challenge, but Josh didn’t want to say yes until he was sure. 

Kyle pushed into his space again, giving him another kiss, and while Josh appreciated the gesture, he was also a bit put off by how forward he was being. “Come on, give me a few minutes, I haven’t even had a shower.”

“Sorry,” Kyle said, looking a bit sheepish, “I’ve just waited so long to taste those lips, I can’t resist.”

“It’s been, like, five days Kyle.”

“It feels like ages though.”

Kyle slid closer again, giving him another kiss, now grinding his cock against Josh’s leg, Josh telling him to cut it out, asking him to stop, eventually forcing him away, and when he did, he saw…something else flash in Kyle’s blue eyes. A flicker of yellow. Something…cruel, and hungry there that he’d never seen before.

“Look, I know you meant well, but I’m not in the mood, Kyle. I just want to have something to eat and go to bed,” Josh said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Kyle just glared at him–and the air in the room grew a bit chilly, like all the heat was being sucked away. Josh gasped as two horns erupted from Kyle’s head, twisting out like the horns of a bull, their points almost glittering, as the lights in his apartment flickered. “I’ve waited so long for you, Josh, I’m not waiting any longer. You’re mine now. You’ll be so happy, you’ll see. I know just what you want, what we need together. You don’t understand yet, but I’ll help you, I’ll help you see…” Kyle said, his voice contorting into something else, something deeper as he stalked closer to Josh, head lowered, horns pointed right at him. Josh backed away looking for a weapon, certain this must be a dream. Kyle charged, Josh felt the horns pierce his chest–one driving right into his heart–and Josh gasped and choked, tasting blood, waking up from the nightmare in his bed.

He touched his chest, but there was nothing there. It had felt so fucking real, those wounds, but…but it had been a dream? But if it had been a dream, why couldn’t he remember anything else from the night before? How had he gotten into bed? And why could he hear sounds coming from the kitchen in his apartment?

He got up, went to investigate, and found Kyle there, cooking breakfast. “Morning lover–just wanted to surprise you with something nice, now that you’re home again.” 

“Oh…did…did you spend the night?” Josh asked him, “I…My memory is a bit fuzzy.”

“Well yeah, last night and every night, silly. I moved in a few months ago! How fuzzy is that memory of yours?”

Josh just stared at him, confused. He was certain that they’d just been discussing that before, but…but now, now he wasn’t quite so sure about it. Kyle pushed a mug of coffee into his hands and gave him a kiss, and before he knew it, they had settled down and were eating breakfast together. Everything felt normal. Even those two, nightmarish dreams were starting to fade into the back of his mind, feeling less and less important, now that the sun was up. Once breakfast was done, Josh cleared the table, but before he could get anything in the dishwasher, Kyle was on him, groping him, pulling him into the bedroom, and Josh wasn’t fighting him–he was certainly horny after his trip, but then, he was always horny, wasn’t he?

Kyle was more passionate than Josh remembered. It wasn’t that he’d been timid before, but he’d always been so careful with him, like Josh was something he could break. Now though, he tossed and turned Josh into whichever position he wanted, and he found himself enjoying the rougher treatment. It was like he was having sex with someone else, almost. At times, it really did feel that way, especially when Josh was on his belly, Kyle fucking him rough–he could almost…feel someone else on top of him, or…or something else, maybe. That dream came back to him, those horns. He’d seen those horns somewhere before, hadn’t he? The memory was there, but fuzzy. At a…bar one night, but he’d drunk too much, probably. Maybe at a Halloween party, or something.

Kyle fucked him and finished inside his ass, then flipped Josh over and sucked him off until he came as well, savoring the cum, licking his lips, before lying down next to him in the mid morning light of the window. The rest of the day was easy–Josh got the kitchen cleaned up again, and then they got caught up on their shows, until Kyle got randy again in the evening and gave Josh another fucking–though this time he seemed a little less…eager than he had in the morning. Almost like he was a bit bored. Then dinner, then bedtime. Sleep came easily to Josh, despite the bad dreams he’d been plagued with, and Kyle just watched him for a bit–or rather, Hugh watched him, through Kyle’s eyes, trying to temper his own disappointment.

He’d looked so perfect, from afar.

That handsome face, those sweet eyes, a nice bulge. That laugh of his. But now that Josh was his, Hugh found himself…bored. He’d seen so deep inside him with his horns that first night, and everything inside Josh was rather boring–a hopeless romantic, preferring to take things slow and cautiously, rather than rush into anything. He’d taken him apart in desperation, hoping for something deeper, but there was just nothing much. No real kinks or oddities to speak of. Even Sam had been an interesting sort of empty, void enough to fill with something interesting. But with Josh, Hugh just felt nothing exciting at all. Hugh could tell that this had been a perfect day for Josh–after all, Hugh designed it that way, just to try it. But in all honesty, Hugh was bored with it. There was so much more out there to experience. Josh could be so much more, but he limited himself. He was too cautious, too nervous, too worried about what others might think of him. It wasn’t uncommon of course. So many other people Hugh had met, and helped, over the last couple of months felt the same thing, but they all had something to hide. Josh didn’t even have that. Hugh would help him though. He realized that he’d been wrong before. It wasn’t that Josh was perfect the way he’d been, it was that he was the perfect base. A perfect hunk of marble that Hugh could now sculpt into something else–a masterpiece. But first, he would need materials. Tools. 

Hugh got out of bed, and sucked Kyle’s skin back into his body, looming over Josh’s figure as himself now. His true self. Massive horns jutting from his bony face, his forehead studded with several smaller ones that had emerged over the last few days. His skin was raw and inflamed all over, the infection from the horns spreading further now, making his skin rough and leathery. His eyes were yellow, teeth too, and so sharp. Looking at Josh’s throat there, he could…bite into it, tear it out, drink him down…but no, too soon. He slid one clawed finger down Josh’s exposed arm, watching the hairs rise and skin prickle at his touch. A marvelous specimen. Kyle lumbered out of the apartment, sniffed the air, and went to the roof, where he unfurled the wings that had grown from his back, allowing him to glide across the city. He could smell what he needed–he would go take it, come back, and help Josh realize who he was always supposed to have been.


Josh went back to work the next day, but as the week wore on, he had a hard time feeling like things were going back to normal. Part of that was, naturally, because of Kyle moving in with him. He knew it had been a while since it had happened, but it was difficult to feel like it wasn’t rather sudden somehow. It was also strange because Kyle was always there–sending him off out the door, and greeting him when he got home. The only time he didn’t seem to be present was at night, when he would send Josh to bed alone, and he’d be awake before Josh everyday. He awoke one night and found the bed beside him empty, but didn’t think much of it in the moment, but it was the first time in days he’d been alone in the apartment. 

Then, he had another nightmare. The same monster as before (he knew it was always the same monster somehow, whether it looked like Kyle or not) and it forced him to suck it’s massive, barbed cock, until Josh drank down a bunch of foul tasting cum. He woke up unnerved, but the details faded before he could find Kyle and tell him about it–but that morning was different. Usually he went right to work after leaving home, but today, Kyle left with him, and they went to the gym together. This wasn’t new for them, though Josh couldn’t recall the last time they’d gone to the gym since he’d returned from his trip a week earlier. Once there, Kyle proceeded to put him through a grueling workout, focused almost entirely on free weights, rather than the usual cardio they preferred. Josh found himself sliding into the rhythm of it almost immediately, and they worked out for a solid two hours–or rather, Josh worked out and Kyle coached him until he was a quivering, sweaty, aching mess at the end of it.

But he loved it. He felt…so strong, suddenly. Big. And the ache was good too, it felt good in a way that he hadn’t expected at all. They got back to the apartment, and Josh was so exhausted he couldn’t resist as Kyle led him into the bedroom and fucked him, telling him what a good job he’d done, telling him how big he was getting, how strong he was going to be. He needed to be stronger for what was ahead, Kyle whispered to him, he needed to be so much stronger. Only after that did Josh realize he should have been at work the entire time–but Josh calmed him down, fed him a big meal, and put him back to bed. He was just taking a few days off, is all. He’d be ready to go back to work soon.

The next day, before they went to the gym, Kyle took Josh into the bathroom, loaded up a syringe, and injected it into Kyle’s ass. When Josh objected, Kyle just looked at him like it was the most normal thing. Didn’t Josh want to be bigger? Steroids were just the natural next step, after all. Didn’t he want to be a brute? A muscle bull? A giant fucking stud?

Kyle turned him around and fucked him there in the bathroom, with Kyle facing his reflection in the mirror, and he didn’t…recognize his body, at first. He was so much larger than he’d been, then he should have been. Thick traps, massive biceps, a hard roid gut topped with a two pack, pecs so large he couldn’t really see over them at times. He was a giant fucking brute, wasn’t he? And he loved it. 

“Tell me what you are,” Kyle said in his ear.

“I’m your fucking muscle bitch,” Josh heard himself say.

“What else?”

“I’m a roided out muscle pussy, I’m a steroid abusing beast. I want everyone to fucking look at me and know that all I’m fucking good for is my massive fucking muscles.”

Kyle came, and they went to the gym, Josh dressed in a singlet stretched tight over his imposing frame, and just knowing that everyone was looking at him, that they all knew exactly what he was, he found his cock leaking. By the end of the session, the crotch of his singlet was soaked with cum and sweat–Josh made him sniff it in the locker room, suck it clean until he came all over the floor, and then Josh got down and licked that up too, mooing like a fucking bull–because that’s what he fucking was.

The next day, he went back to work like nothing had changed. In fact, nothing had changed, had it? Not that Josh could really remember. No one commented on the fact that he’d disappeared for two full days, and returned with an extra hundred pounds of muscle mass packed into a tailored suit. After work, he went to the gym, where Kyle was waiting, and they worked out as they always did, then went home for a massive meal, and the rough sex Josh had found himself craving more and more, just like he craved the ache in his muscles after his grueling workouts.

Some part of him knew this was wrong. Could sense it. But it was so addled by the changes he couldn’t get its bearings, and the truth was, Josh was enjoying himself. He’d always wanted this, hadn’t he? He hadn’t–a voice said, but with the thoughts raging in his head, Josh couldn’t tell the difference between what Kyle had fed him and his own thoughts. The dreams were still coming, but Kyle found himself less and less scared of the beast in them. He…almost found himself enjoying those as much as the workouts.

Kyle had another surprise for him that weekend, after he’d been back to work for a couple of days. After their evening workout, they took a detour to a piercing and tattoo parlor–Kyle had decided it was time for his muscle bull to start getting some piercings. It was like Kyle had read Josh’s mind–he’d been fantasizing about getting his nipples pierced lately, but hadn’t said anything about it. Needless to say, he was thrilled. He got in the chair, took off his shirt, and the bearish fellow swabbed his nipples, and then the needle slid into him. Josh felt the pain course through him, and he lost track of everything else for a moment. When he came back to the room, the piercing was done, he had a small stud through his nipple, and his pants were soaked with a load of cum he’d lost from the pain of it. Kyle just grinned at him, the man did the other one, and the same thing happened–a few moments of blissful pain, another load pumped out of him, and when Kyle told him that was in for this session, Josh begged him for another–at least one more. Kyle was more than happy to oblige, the piercer did Josh’s septum, and again, the sensation was so powerful that he was left soaked, and hornier than he could recall being in his entire life.

Josh begged the man to fuck him, as a thank you. He was a bit reluctant, but Kyle had a word with him on Josh’s behalf, explaining to the bearish fellow that he was a muscle bull with an aching cunt, who loved pain and loved getting fucked good and rough. Kyle and the artist, a man by the name of Tim, tag teamed Josh right there in the studio, and when they got home, Kyle fucked him again after Josh begged him to, telling him how much he loved the gift, how he couldn’t wait for them to be healed so Kyle could properly torture them.

Apparently, that meant the next morning. Much to Josh’s surprise, when he looked at himself in the mirror the next day, the small studs that had gone into his nipples and nose had been replaced by massive rings. The ones in his muscle tits were 0 gauge, and the barbell hanging from his nose was 00 gauge–and fuck, he looked so fucking hot, he started groping himself, tugging on his chest rings, feeling his flesh pull and ache. Somehow, other piercings had appeared as well, in his ears, in his eyebrows, in his lips and tongue. He could remember having them, somehow, but they felt so new as well, and fuck, if they weren’t sexy as hell too. He called Kyle in to fuck him right then and there, he couldn’t stand it. That night, Kyle took him back to the piercing shop to do his cock as well–though Kyle didn’t recall as much from that session. Tim and Kyle tied him down to the chair and tortured him for hours, and when he woke up, he found himself with a massive PA and a jacob’s ladder running the length of his six inch cock, a multitude of rings in his ball sack, and a ring in his taint as well. He gave his cock a stroke and shuddered–it felt so different, but it felt so…right. Like this is exactly what kind of cock he was supposed to have. Kyle was obviously pleased as well–and since it was Saturday night, he figured it was time for Josh to have his premiere.

He wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but Kyle wouldn’t explain more. They went through their usual Saturday routine with an extra long workout and afternoon fuck session, and then, after dinner, Kyle told him it was time to get ready. He put Josh in a bunch of leather gear he didn’t know either of them had–a thick leather harness across his chest, weights and a chain attached to his swollen tits, a leather vest, chaps, and lastly, he took a heavy padlock and attached the PA in Josh’s cockhead to the ring in his taint, forcing his cock to stretch painfully across his balls, held tightly in check. Then, a choke collar, a leash, and once Kyle was dressed in a full leather uniform, he dragged him to the bar, to display him.

Kyle and Josh had been there countless times, but never like this. Josh was horrified, and yet so fucking turned on that everyone could see him for the muscle cow he was now–the muscle cow he’d always been, really. After a few drinks for them both, Kyle started pimping Josh’s muscle pussy out to anyone he took a shine to, and the men would drag him into the restroom, fuck him next to the urinal working its usual shift, and then back out again, until cum was literally running down the inside of Josh’s legs. They went home, and Josh had never felt so satisfied in his entire life–but he could tell that Kyle wasn’t quite as satisfied. He kept looking at Josh in the strangest fashion, like he was trying to see someone else through him, or inside him.

That was because Hugh still wasn’t completely satisfied. The more he twisted Josh, the more he could imagine twisting him further–there was always a level of perversion beyond the one he’d just finished dragging his obsession toward. This should be enough, Hugh told himself, but the beast refused to be satisfied–it knew what it needed to do next. It would be so…exciting, it could barely contain itself in Kyle’s skin that night. It had to slip out the window, find someone to toy with for a moment, let off a little steam before it could continue with Josh. If Hugh pushed too far, he knew it would be ruined. He’d get there, slowly. He’d understand soon enough that Hugh was the only beast that knew what Josh could really desire. He was the only thing in the world that could really help him now.

They started going out to the bars most every night after that. It wasn’t long before Josh was known as the communal muscle pig open for anyone, no matter how old, or ugly. Back in their apartment, Kyle was rougher, training Josh’s flesh in ways he’d never known possible, with a wide assortment of paddles, whips, floggers and other implements of pain and torture that Kyle found himself craving just as much as the exhausting workouts he had on a daily basis. Kyle upgraded to knives, sliding the blades along his skin at first, just enough to scratch, but it wasn’t long before the wounds turned deep, Kyle would end up driven into a blood lust when he tasted it, Josh left certain that the wounds Kyle gave him were sure to be the end of him, though by morning, all that remained of the night’s activities were old scars all over his body. 

Kyle surprised him one evening when they stayed in, and told him he’d arranged a special playdate for them both, something he was sure Josh would enjoy. The fellow arrived after dinner–a muscular skinhead, covered in tattoos and calluses, wearing filthy workgear and smelling like he’d just walked off a construction site. The scene started normally enough, with Kyle and the skinhead working Josh over in various ways, but then the knives came out–or at least, Josh thought it was a knife. He waited, expecting the blade to sink into his own flesh–but he just felt a hot spray of blood across his back, looked over, and saw that Josh had severed the skinhead’s throat–and that the blade was not a knife, but a claw.

A claw Josh recognized. A claw of the beast in his dreams. Was he dreaming? It didn’t feel like a dream, but then, his dreams never felt like dreams, until he woke up. Did he want to wake up? He watched the blood pour from the skinhead’s throat, and part of him, a small part, but one that had been growing, wondered what it might feel like. That pain, and that terror. A smaller part was even envious, but it was too small to be noticed yet, just a seed, the blood splatter it’s first watering. Josh was too confused to scream, too uncertain as to whether any of this was real, as Kyle’s skin pulled back, was swallowed away, and the beast slid forth, crawling over the skinhead’s corpse, licking up blood with a long black tongue, sliding one claw along the skinhead’s body, as if contemplating where to cut next. 

“What…why did you do that…Kyle?” Josh asked, though he knew this was not Kyle. He didn’t know who it was, but he had known it wasn’t his boyfriend for sometime now. Calling it Kyle was convenient for them both, but it was not the truth. 

“You’re too pretty,” the beast said, its voice like steam hissing against hot rock. “Always have been too pretty. But I have a new face for you. New skin. Better skin. First though, the old must peel away.”

The pain that came next was indescribable. The beast pinned Josh down to the floor, and with it’s long prehensile tail tipped with a dagger like claw all its own, cut it’s way around Josh’s face. Then, it peeled it away, off the muscle, his entire mind crumbling into hot white agony. What came next, Josh wasn’t certain. He came, several times. Something slid over his head, like a hood. The beast repeated the process on his arms and hands, degloving him, sliding something else warm and wet over them instead, cut away skin in other places too–his chest, his back, applying new pieces there as well. When he was certain he couldn’t take it anymore, the beast fucked him, the cock penetrating him deeper than it had ever gone before, and Josh could feel everything shrinking to him, tightening, constricting, choking him until he passed out–and then, at last, he woke from the most horrifying, dizzying, erotic dream of his life, and puked over the side of the bed.

He stumbled to the bathroom, but it wasn’t his face looking back at him, not anymore. It was the skinhead’s face. His broken nose, his rotten teeth, his boxed ears, his bald scalp, the tattoos on his neck crawling up the sides of his head. They weren’t his hands either, covered with all these tattoos, calloused and stubby fingers, nails caked with grime and dirt. Other bits of the skinhead had been cut away and applied to him, tattoos that the beast had fancied, apparently, and thought would accent Josh’s new look. He vomited again, tugged at his skin, but it refused to come free. It was his now. It had always been his now.

Nothing more than an ugly brute. A muscle bull, aching for pain and for cock. Even now, the thought of that exquisite pain had his cock aching, though it was still locked up, knotted to his own taint, dribbling cum down the inside of his massive thighs. He sobbed–what the fuck was happening to him? What on Earth had he become? Kyle found him there, and Josh tried to fight him off, but there was nothing he could do to resist him. He was just trying to help him, just helping him become who he was supposed to be. Couldn’t Josh see that? That he was so much better now than he’d ever been before?

“What did you do with him?” Josh asked, over breakfast.

“Don’t worry about him, I found a use for everything left over.”

“Not him–with Kyle. Where’s Kyle?”

The thing inside Kyle’s skin looked over at him, and smiled, “He never understood what you needed. I’m the only one who could give you the help you. I helped him too–he’s much happier now.”

Josh went to work, though he had taken the skinhead’s place on the construction crew now. It was aching, back-breaking work, but he loved that too. Loved how sore he was. The other men around him were so sexy and handsome, his cock was aching for all of them. Kyle told him that they might invite them over soon, help them out, give them all a taste of what the beast could do for them as well. The beast just wanted to help. So many people, trapped inside a reality that would never allow them to be what they wanted to be. The beast was free now, and it could free them all too. It wouldn’t stop until they were all free.

But Josh knew he was trapped. Trapped in a nightmare that he’d never really woken from, ever since he’d returned from that trip. Maybe he did want this. He couldn’t tell anymore–but one thing he knew was that so long as he was here, the beast would never be finished with him, and that scared Josh to death. So, one night, he ran.

The beast hunted at night, Josh had long since realized that. The thing couldn’t be satisfied with Josh alone, it had discovered that soon enough–and so it had gone out at night, found other men to help along with their urges, freeing more and more men to realize their darkest desires around the city. Josh knew it was hopeless, that the beast would surely find him, but he had to try. He had to prove to himself that there was still some part of him that was him, and him alone. Not some sick thing planted in his mind, growing into a thicket of thorns and perversion he was more and more lost inside with each passing day. He would run. Leave town. Settle somewhere else. If this was who he was, then so be it, but he wouldn’t be a toy of the beast any longer.

But of course, it found him. Josh ended up cornered in an alley, the beast looming over him, enraged that Josh had left without its permission. Didn’t he understand how much Hugh loved him? Didn’t he understand how much help he needed? Maybe that’s why he had run, because he’d wanted punishment. Perhaps, it was Hugh that had neglected him. Josh fought, but there was nothing he could do–the beast slashed his throat open, and at last, he knew what it would feel like, the blood running down his chest, soaking him like sweat, tasting and smelling nothing but iron. The beast watched life drain from his toy, and contemplated what to do. Perhaps, it had been neglectful. It picked up Josh’s limp, blood-drained body in one clawed hand, and flew into the sky, returning to the apartment–and in the morning, Josh woke again, alive, with a new scar across his neck, and the beast looming in the bedroom.

The beast remained with Josh for a few more weeks, devoting all of its attention to him, and him alone. Each time the beast played with him, Josh was certain that this agony would be the highest attainable, that certainly there was no pain greater than what he was feeling right now. Each time, he would beg, and pray, as the blood drained from him, as his head was crushed in the beast’s claws, as his heart was pulled from his ass, that this would be the final time, but always, he would wake from death, and they would begin again.

Josh began to realize that he was losing something with each resurrection. A bit of his mind, a bit of his soul. His body was coated with scar now, his bones broken in more places than they were whole. There was just the pain, the mutilation, the destruction, the laying out of his flesh until he was no longer recognizable as anything human, and then returned, for it to begin again. He knew it would not last forever. Each time, the joy in the beast’s eyes dimmed slightly–it was tiring of him, as he’d known it would. All Josh could do was hope that the beast would end him, give him just that mercy–but he did not.

One morning, Josh woke, alone. The absence of pain (aside from the constant ache of mended bones, and the network of scars that wound across his body)  was a new sensation, one that was deeply unsettling to him, but one that he knew should be a welcome relief. In the mirror, he looked at his mangled face. One eye remained, the other hadn’t survived–there was just a deep, ugly scar that mangled forehead, socket and cheek. But he was alive–wasn’t he? But then why did he feel so empty now? 

The beast had left without explanation. After a day, the yawning emptiness inside him was terrible. He had lost too much, in the process. There wasn’t enough here to survive on, the only thing that could occupy him was thoughts of pain, and mutilation, and death. Still he survived for a few days, working at the site, going to the gym, getting fucked at the bars, before he gave in, took a knife from his work belt, and stabbed it into his arteries, the orgasmic pain swelling inside him, the only thing close to fullness that he had felt since the beast left him alone. Then he died for the night, and awoke the next morning–still alive, still empty, still aching.

He found others who would use him, eventually. Men who would kill him, maim him, torture him, bring him to the brink of crossing over, but always, whatever magic the beast fueled him with would pull him back, and Josh would come back, emptier each time, with less and less of himself, less and less humanity to ground him. The deaths and beatings and tortures took their toll of course. In time, it was difficult to recognize him as something that might have been human once, but the thing knew what it’s purpose is now. To die. To suffer. Perhaps one day, the beast, its true master, will return and end its existence–but until then, it will suffer, and suffer gladly.

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 9)

Jacob and Tobias hadn’t had much luck that day–a few conversations with some other folks looking to talk to anyone willing, even a couple of mormon missionaries, and usually that was nice–even if they didn’t want to talk about religion after all. Jake and Tobias were from different parts of the country, but had formed a decent friendship on their mission trip due to their similar backgrounds–both of them had just graduated from high school and were taking a gap year before starting college, and probably getting married to the young women their parents were busy arranging for them back home. It was the closest the two of them had ever gotten to freedom, and even this brief taste was enjoyable–though rebellion didn’t come naturally to either of them.  After a few houses that didn’t even bother opening the door to them, they came to the Drake residence, where Harry was adjusting to his new, older body, and to his new desires the virus had warped him around.

The doorbell went off, and while the old Harry wouldn’t have even bothered checking to see who it was, unless he was expecting someone, this new Harry was horny enough that he was willing to try for anything. He opened the door, saw the two young men on the stoop in their pressed shirts and pants, their black ties, and he couldn’t suppress the leer that crept across the face. “Afternoon boys,” he said, “How can I help you on this fine day?”

“Afternoon sir,” Jacob said, “We wanted to know if you were interested in talking to us about the Church of Latter Day Saints?”

“Oh, well, I haven’t been to church is quite a long time boys, but it does get rather lonely around here–why don’t you come on in and have a glass of water at least, and we can chat a bit.”

Neither Jacob nor Tobias was really interested in chatting with the old man who’d opened the door–he stank, and there was something…sticky on his hand, Jacob noticed when he shook the older fellow’s hand, and Tobias flinched at the stench of his breath as well–but that was enough for the virus to slide into their bodies and get to work.

“There you are boys, have a seat on the couch there while I get you a glass of water.”

The two missionaries sat down on the couch in front of the TV, which was still playing a stream of disgusting gay porn more depraved than anything either of them had imagined possible. Jacob went to stand up and leave, but felt dizzy and hot. He tried to take a step, but faltered, and ended up slumping back on to the couch. Beside him, Tobias was feeling the same heat coursing through him, both of their foreheads beaded with sweat.

Harry returned with a couple of glasses of water he’d spiked with some shots of cheap vodka. “You boys do look hot–here, drink these down quick–you’ll feel better in no time.”

Both Jacob and Tobias took a glass, obeying Harry’s orders without even considering not doing so, and drank the glasses down. The alcohol rushed right to their head, making them feel even stranger, and again, Jacob tried to stand up, but Harry pushed him back down. “Now now, you look much too hot boy, let daddy help you out of those clothes there…”

Jacob tried to push him off, but he was too weak–Harry stripped him down to his underwear, and then tore that off as well, and Harry started groping his cock and sucking on his nipples–and as he did, Jacob felt something inside him…shift. He could feel his cock growing in Harry’s hand–not just growing hard, but actually getting larger–the same with his nipple, he was, when Harry pulled away–it was massive, and after Harry suckled on the second one, it was just as large as the first. “Yeah boy, that’s good–play with those for a bit, while Daddy gets your brother out of his clothes too, before he burns up.”

Tobias could barely fight as Harry pulled the clothes off him, and again, Harry attacked his nipple, and he felt a sharp spike of pain that made him jump–when Harry pulled away, he saw a metal stud in the nipple that hadn’t been there before, and Harry bit down on the other one, leaving a ring there as well. Unable to resist the desires running through his mind, Harry started biting Tobias all over, leaving studs and rings all over his face–in his ears and lips, in his eyebrows and tongue–and each time it happened, the pain was no less sharp…but a certain kind of pleasure was flooding him as well.

“D-Daddy, I–I’m making a mess…” Jacob moaned next to them, and Harry looked over to see that his sizable cock was leaking a steady stream of precum from the tip–and that his new, larger tits were leaking milk as well.

“Well go ahead and eat it, boy–it’ll make you big and strong.”

Jacob…didn’t want to eat it. He didn’t want to be here, he tried to tell himself that, but it was easier to…do what daddy said, and so he started licking the cum and milk from his fingers, and each drop he ate made his body swell larger and thicker, muscle piling on muscle piling on fat, and the larger he got, the hairier he became, the harder and harder it became to think about anything beyond…pleasure.

Tobias was more difficult. He tried to fight Daddy off, tried to get away, and so Daddy had to be creative. More rings appeared up and down the sides of his body, the insides of his arms, and the insides of his legs, thick, heavy duty rings that tugged on his flesh, and daddy strung rope through them, knotted his legs together and his arms to his sides, so that whenever Tobias fought, he could feel the rings pulling at his flesh, hightening his pain and his pleasure. Jacob fed his new brother his milk, watching Tobias swell larger and larger still, while Daddy sucked on Tobias’ cock, his slobber sliding into his genitals and swelling them to an obscene size, like they’d been filled with silicone and pumped larger and larger than humanly possible.

Tattoos appeared on them both, as Daddy warped their minds more and more, and by the end of the afternoon, both of them had completely forgotten who they’d been before this, but that samw religious fervor remained. But now, it wasn’t a godly church they served–no, they served a church of pleasure, and porn, and depravity, just like their daddy did. They worshiped every inch of Harry, every place where he walked, eager to do anything they could for him–Jacob a massive hulking brute, tits and cock perpetually leaking cum all over the ground, beastly and filthy tattoos running down his hulking arms and across his chest. Tobias was smaller, somewhat, with tattoos all over his body, including his face, cord run through the rings that were driven through every limb, every movement tugging on them, making him moan and grunt with delightful pain at the sensation.

As evening died, daddy sent his two boys out into the world, but with a new mission–to corrupt any man they came into contact with, and to spread their new dogma of perversion to them using whatever means they had at their disposal. Harry, however, had a different destination in mind, and he drove off to seek out his own ends.


Alright, so there’s two options for Harry here, and two others that suggest we should follow either Jacob or Tobias in their new forms. Depending on how I’m feeling, I can try to get to each of them at some point, but we’ll see if I can keep it up! Here’s the bonus Patron poll as well!


Percy the Dollman (Patron Request)

This week, we have a rather strange request for some extreme body modification and plastic surgery! Percy, a wealthy narcissist, runs across an obsessive plastic surgeon, and the results are, well, have to be seen to be believed, I suppose. If you support me at the $5 tier or higher, you can get access to this story, others like it, and the ability to submit requests yourself each month!

Arctos: Mall (Part 5) [Interactive]

Marvin swung around the corner of the concourse, and looked around. He didn’t want to run into another shopfront, and the mall wasn’t busy enough yet to really have much of a crowd that he could disappear into. A short ways down, he saw a little alley in between two stores–probably for an emergency. He might get lucky if he hid there, and be able give the older guy who was chasing him the slip–or if the guy spotted him, he might be trapped. He decided it was worth the risk, and ducked into the little side path and around another corner–where there happened to be a couple of restrooms. He heard the sound of pounding boots as the clerk raced past his hiding spot, not even noticing that Marvin wasn’t out there to pursue anymore. He didn’t have a lot of time here really–the guy was bound to double back at some point and check everywhere a bit more thoroughly–but he had a couple of moments to look at his loot, if nothing else.

He pulled the ring out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. He…didn’t really know why the thing had caught his eye in the shop–in fact, it hadn’t even been that expensive. He could have bought it, if buying things was what he liked to do. He tried it on his ring finger, but while it seemed to be the right size, it slipped right off into his palm again when he removed his fingers. He tried a larger finger, one he was sure would work, but again, it just…slid right off, almost like the thing didn’t want to be on his fingers…but that was ridiculous. It was just a ring–it wasn’t wanting anything.

He ducked into the restroom proper, where he could get a bit more light. In front of the mirror, he bent close to study the surface, looking at how…colorful the unadorned steel seemed, somehow. He bent closer, his face almost in his palm, when the ring moved suddenly, of its own accord, and latched itself onto his septum.

He hollered in sudden pain, a bit of blood running down his upper lip where the ring had pierced him. He grabbed onto it and gave in a tug, trying to get it off, but the ring was unbroken–he couldn’t find the joint, or the latch, or anything to show how it might come off of him. He tugged hard, and noticed that already the pain had died down–the piercing felt…normal, suddenly, like an old wound, not a fresh one, and as soon as the blood had started, it had stopped running entirely. He looked in the mirror, and sure enough, his nose was fully healed–what in the hell was going on with this thing?

He began to feel a bit…woozy then, and he felt another sting–in his lip this time. He saw a new ring burst out of his lip, wrap around, and join itself under his skin, and a barbell in his eyebrow followed soon after. He started scrambling then, trying to claw the metal out of him, but there was nothing he could do–the harder he gripped them, the larger they seemed to become, and they only multiplied–spreading over to his ears, and then down the rest of his body, where two metal rings appeared in his nipples, and lastly, a thick gauge PA in the head of his cock.

He pulled off his shirt to inspect them, but it wasn’t the rings that shocked him the most–it was what was happening to the skin around the rings on his chest. It was…ink–tattoo ink, he thought, but it was swirling, like in a pool, underneath his skin spreading out in a multitude of color, with no discernable pattern. It kept spreading out, down his arms, down his chest, up onto his neck, and when he opened up the fly of his pants and looked at his cock, the same ink was spreading there as well, and down onto his legs.

Before he could do anything else, however, the door to the bathroom opened–who was it who found Marvin in there?


Here’s the next poll! And here’s the bonus poll for patrons as well!

The Dangers of Smoking (Original Version)

Originally published 07/09/2007

Here’s another old one, also over ten years old. It was originally broken into two parts, but I broke it up into a few more for ease of jumping around, if there’s a particular section of the story you might want to revisit. This one in particular is heavily indebted to an old Peircedskin story, “One Man’s Rubbish”, which is worth a read if you haven’t found that gem before. Also, as an odd lore note, while there is no mention of Pigtown in this story, the Rod character is this story, and the “Rod” character who owns Pigtown in most of my later works, are all versions of the same character–who is the person listening to The Wizard’s tale in “Losing Control.” I had a series of something in mind to explain how Rod got from point A to point B back when all of this started that never panned out, but this early set of stories are all loosely connected together regardless.

Table of Contents


Part 1 – A Chance Encounter With Rod

Vincent peered into his closet, unsure of what he should wear to his meeting. Mr. Mathews was one of the most important clients of his company, and he had to make a good first impression. Finally he pulled out his blue navy suit and laid it on his bed, getting out of his standard work suit to change. After stripping, he paused a moment to look over his body. His 190-pound, six-foot frame was smooth and muscled from many hours at the gym and with a shaver. Even though Vincent hated to workout, and hated breaking a sweat even more, he knew how important it was too look good as a company representative. After going to the gym, he would immediately shower, he couldn’t stand being dirty for any long period of time. He also hated the hair on his body, and trimmed most of it off except for his pubic bush. His apartment reflected this tidy attitude, and Vincent spent almost all of his time at home cleaning everything. Any of the girlfriends he had had left after a few months because they couldn’t stand his constant cleaning, but Vincent didn’t mind, it was easier to keep everything clean when he only had to pick up after himself.

He pulled out his ironing board and pressed his shirt and pants, then put on his suit. He picked up his other clothes and tossed them in the dry cleaning hamper, and then found the appointment book where he had written down the location of the meeting. Mr. Mathews hadn’t wanted to come to the office for some reason, but Vincent was ok with that so long as he got a bonus for sealing the deal. Flipping through his notebook, he saw that he had written “Bremerton Pub, 6 p.m.” under Thursday with an address in the harbor district he had looked up online earlier. Vincent felt his stomach turn at the thought; any pub in the harbor district wasn’t going to be anything like the upper class soirées he was used to. But the customer was always right, so he climbed into his car and drove downtown.

Continue reading “The Dangers of Smoking (Original Version)”

Losing Control (Original Version)

I’m hoping to publish a longer story once a week or so, but I know that I won’t be able to always have sizable new content for you all. However, one thing I have been wanting to do for years is organize all of my stories in one place with a more comprehensive tag/category system, so this is the beginning of that project. When I don’t have a new story to post for the week, I’ll go back in my archives, clean up an old story, and repost it here. I’m going to be starting off with some stories that I haven’t touched in a very long time–like this one! My first story, almost twelve years old! Like a small child. Almost a teenager even. A story that is also a tween. I think this is now sufficiently weird.

In addition, for some of these, I’m planning on working on fixing up some of the writing, and also potentially extending them. I already have an extended rework of this story is process in fact. Some of those enhanced versions will be published here, others will be for Patron eyes only, depending on how I feel about them. I do want to preserve the original work, however, so I won’t be cleaning these archive versions up too much. The writing is a bit…well, it was twelve years ago! I was trying very hard. In any case, some of you might not have ever seen these stories, and others might like to revisit them, and now they will all be in one place, eventually! Hooray!


(Original version, published 4/22/2007)
I’m not a fan of destroying peoples’ lives, but sometimes they just deserve it. Being a wizard, it’s important to not lose control and let your power go to your head. Of course, I feel that I have a certain duty however to assist other people in realizing that they shouldn’t let their power go to their heads either. For example, do you remember Mike, the quarterback?… No of course you don’t remember Mike, Jerry’s the quarterback now and always has been. Let me just tell you a story then. Let’s say that there was this guy on campus, and he was a quarterback, and very popular, with a great body. All of those things would give a guy a lot of power, right? And a reasonably good person might use that power to do something good, right? You know…instead of picking on a wizard just because he would rather read a good book of spells than spend hours at the gym grunting like an ape, right? Well let’s say Mike wasn’t a reasonable good person, and that he did pick on a wizard, and that wizard felt like Mike was out of control. Or perhaps he had to much control. So all I did was make him lose a little. Ok, so it wasn’t really a little, but let me get to the story.

Mike had just got home from a frat party where he had a wonderful Saturday night. Not only was there plenty of beer, but the girls had been almost as bottomless as the stockpile of kegs as well. If he counted right, he had made out with ten, gotten blowjobs from six, and fucked two. The girls went crazy over his six foot three, 230 pound chiseled body, and blue eyes. Of course, he may have lied to a few of them, like when they asked if he loved them. He didn’t, but their bodies were damn hot, and that’s all that mattered to him. He unlocked the door to his apartment off campus and stepped inside. Dodging a pile of old pizza boxes, he threw his coat onto the couch and stumbled into the kitchen for a final beer before going to bed. He should clean up his apartment, but he didn’t really care that much. We wasn’t here most of the time anyway, he reasoned. He opened the fridge, pulled a can out of the 12 pack box, and sat down at the table, shoving a stack of papers aside to make room. One of them fell in front of him, and as he picked it up, the salutation caught his eye, “Dear Mike, the asshole jock.” He read the first line a few more times, thinking it was the beer, but there it was, written in script on a piece of plain paper. Curious, he went on the read the rest of the letter:

Continue reading “Losing Control (Original Version)”

New You Resolutions (Part 10) [Interactive]

Leroy didn’t really know what he was doing on stage, or why he was there. The year had been a blur really, especially as his intellect continued to diminish once he’d entered his Master’s service. By now, he could barely remember that he had ever been someone different before all of this–it seemed…crazy that he could be someone smart, someone with any kind of authority at all. He wondered what all of these men were doing, as the MC told the audience to begin voting–maybe one of them would…take him home? Maybe he’d get to service them all…that…that could be hot, but it wasn’t his place to want things. He would take what he was given, and it would be good enough–that was a lesson he’d had to learn the hard way.

The MC looked up as the first decision was made by the audience, and he perked up in some surprise. “Well,” he said, “It looks like Leroy here is going to get a second chance–or a bit of one at least.”

Leroy…had forgotten that was his name. But when he heard it, more began to come back to him, more memories, more knowledge, more…sense of himself. He didn’t forget what had happened to him over the course of the year, of course, but all of his old memories and knowledge were restored to him–and if anything, that only made everything worse. He…didn’t want it anymore. It had been so easy! Just being a slave, not having to think about anything other than his Master’s orders, but suddenly he could think about…everything, and he could remember how he had behaved for so long…and he hated that person he’d been.

He’d been cruel for no reason, and there were so many handsome students he should have been…servicing this whole time…right? He knew that wasn’t quite right, that his head, even with all of his knowledge, was still faulty–but he hadn’t lost any of his new desires or fetishes–and in fact, when the next decision popped up on the board, he was going to have quite a few more to add to the already sizable list.

His master, over the last year, had subjected him to all sorts of kinks–but for the most part, Leroy hadn’t really enjoyed any of them. The most important part of his world was service–he…wasn’t doing any of this to feel pleasure himself, he was doing it because submission was what he deserved. But now, memories of his master tying him down and whipping him, of fisting him, of feeding him his piss…those were all things he had wanted…right? He could feel his cock struggling to get hard in his cage, something it hadn’t done in ages, and he was…embarrassed by this sudden loss of control, and went to hide it from the crowd, not wanting them to see it…but if they did see it, maybe they would punish him. He…did like being punished. He deserved it, and he also…did enjoy it.

As he struggled with these new desires, his body was changing as well, as the third decision came up on the screen–that Leroy’s already substantial body modifications were going to become…even more extreme. The first thing Leroy noticed was that, even though he wasn’t getting hard anymore…his cock was still swelling. He pushed down the diaper he was wearing, and the cage popped off after a moment, and he could see that his cock wasn’t getting hard–no–it was…swelling up with silicone. His cock was growing wider, the head disappearing inside a sheath of taut flesh, and his sack swelled so large that he would never be able to hide it, no matter what he wore. He touched his cock, for the first time in nearly a year, and felt…nothing much at all. It felt like his cock was trapped…inside of itself, and he realized the cage hadn’t really disappeared–it had just changed form.

In addition to the silicone, the filthy tattoos he had gotten on his body over the last year multiplied, until nearly every inch of skin, even on his face, was covered in lewd words and designs. The piercings grew in number as well, and also in size. After a few minutes, he realized that he had become a total freak…and that he loved it. He pulled the filthy diaper back up, seeing how swollen it was around his inflated junk, and all he wanted was…was for someone to use him.

But no one in the audience wanted him–instead, he spent the evening servicing any man who was interested, and when morning came, he…had a new vision of himself. He would be a teacher, of sorts–he would go find his old students and give him a new education, show them how to treat a faggot freak like him–whether they wanted to learn, or not.


At last, it was time for the fourth and final subject. Hugh emerged from the side of the stage, wearing his coach uniform, and feeling…terrified. He had just watched three other men all warped even further into their new forms–and he…he didn’t that to happen to him. He just wanted things to go back to how they’d been–he’d do better! He…he was tired. Tired of working at the school all day, and then having to service his bratty son all night…the stage hands shoved him out, and the MC announced him to the audience, and he awaited his fate.

Alright, here’s the final poll for this interactive! We’ll wrap up Hugh’s fate next time, and start a new interactive story of some sort next week! Here’s the final patron only poll as well!

Digital Manipulation (Part 7) [Interactive]

PJ knew it was a dream, though how he knew that exactly, was difficult for him to explain. It didn’t feel any different to him than real life, but it had felt like he’d been in a dream for ages, now. So long, he was beginning to doubt that he would even be able to wake up–so long, he didn’t even know what he could wake up as, anymore. So how did he know this was a dream? Because he wasn’t anywhere. It was just dark. He was standing, but he wasn’t standing on anything. He was breathing, but there was nothing to breathe. He could see, but there was no light that he could tell.

“Oi! There ya are mate.”

He spun around at the voice, and discovered that while he wasn’t anywhere in particular, he was no longer alone. There, standing in the nothing space with him, was someone else–and while it took him a few moments to catch on, he realized he was looking at himself. At a version of himself. At another version of himself…right? The similarities were obvious–both of them were huge–roided out with muscle, with prominent guts, their cocks and balls grown to obscene proportion, as where their chests and asses, which had been given implants as well. The differences though–they were so very different.

His doppelganger–his head and face were completely shaved–as was the rest of his body. It the place of the hair he had, tattoos and piercings covered his body–but it was the piercings which horrified PJ the most. They were everywhere–not just in the usual places like ears and nipples and noses. No, he had loops of metal dotting his flesh, running down his arms and legs, barbells were implanted in his gut in a spiral out from his belly button. The hoops were threaded in some places with twine and chain, in other places they were left unadorned. He took a step towards PJ, and he could hear the metal shake like some musical instrument of torture. “No–no, that’s…I’m not going to let you.”

He tried to run, but as he turned, he felt some awful yank on the head of his cock. He looked down, and saw that the massive, doorknocker sized ring running through the head of his double’s siliconed cock had somehow pierced his own as well, hooking them together. “Don’t worry Mate, it ain’t gonna hurt too much, trust me–you’ll love it anyway, soon ‘nough.”

He stepped closer, and the Jacob’s ladder running down the underside of his cock drew his own closer, and he felt every pin slide into his own flesh, until their cocks were completely connected from root to tip, jutting up between them. “Please, please, not this, I’m not you.”

“Not yet, ya ain’t,” his skinhead double said, “But come a little closer now, and let’s see about that.”

PJ raised a hand to strike him, to try and push him away, but the skinhead’s arm raised at the same time, and the tattoos running down his arm lashed out, wrapping their way around PJ’s arm and binding them together. He couldn’t help but be tugged in, and their gut’s touched, and every barbell spiralling around his gut joined to his, fusing them together, the tattoos sliding onto his body, the ink caressing him, and he shuddered, feeling the flesh of their cocks beginning to fuse together, phasing into one another until they were joined at the groin, one singular, and massive, cock jutting to one side, as their guts began to fuse as well.

“Gettin’ closer. Feels good, don’t it, mate?”

“Fuckin’ get off a me!” PJ shouted, but the skinhead lunged at him, spearing his tongue on the thick barbell through his own, tugging his face into his own, and PJ cried out as the rings, studs and bars in his doppelganger’s face all stuck to his own as well. He tried to move his arm…but he couldn’t feel his arm. Looking to the side, there was just one arm now–the skins, though it seemed…bigger and meatier after absorbing his.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be huge together, ain’t it gonna be great, mate?”

It took PJ a moment to realize that he shouldn’t have been able to hear the man’s voice, since their mouths were stuck together–no, he was hearing his voice in his mind, and it was getting louder, even as his own was getting quieter and quieter. The skin wrapped his spiked arm around PJ’s back and pulled him closer, pulled him into his body, and PJ lost sense of himself. There weren’t…really two of them, were there? Had there ever been two of them? All he felt was a sense of vertigo for a moment, and then he awoke with a jolt, looking around him, trying to figure out where he was…but he was right where he was supposed to be.

He was lying on a few sheets beside his master’s bed, where he slept every night. He wanted to get up, he wanted to see, but he couldn’t risk it. If master knew he was awake, he’d be punished…not that he minded being punished, of course, but Master could be…rough in the morning, before his coffee. It wouldn’t be the first time PJ had been confined to bed, his arms laced to the eye hooks running up the sides of his body, the barbells on the insides of his legs laced together as well, bound up in himself. Still…that dream. There was something he needed to remember, or someone he needed to remember, perhaps. It was all foggy now, and almost gone from his memory. He laid back down, and soon he was sleeping again until morning, when his master roused him with a boot to the ribs, and told PJ it was time to get the day started.

*

Trax, in his VR set, had taken on the roll of PJ’s skinhead master, and spent the next few days putting his heavily modded and warped ex-boyfriend through his paces, making sure everything was nice and cemented in this new version of him. All in all, he was very pleased with the result…but at the same time, he was a bit disappointed. As much fun as it was playing with a copy of his ex, what he really wanted was the real thing–but with this copy of his…well, there were a few ways he could have some fun with him in the real world, if he got close enough.

*

This next entry will be the finale. Below are a few options Trax could use to bring this copy of Perrion out into the real world. Choose the one you’d be interested in seeing.

  1. Trax downloads the copy into an artificial body, and has the copy rape the real Perrion.
  2. Trax kidnaps Perrion and replaces him with the copy. Together, they enjoy warping Perrion’s body into a twisted version of itself.
  3. Trax implants the copy into Perrion’s subconscious, and let’s his ex’s new subconscious desires slowly ruin his life.

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