Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 10)

This is the finale! I’ll have a new interactive starting next week.


He wasn’t going to stay here. He would not become one more monster trapped in these halls! It took all of his willpower to keep from pushing more and more of his cock into the man’s hole, and instead haul it free. Behind him, he heard a strange growl coming from the Master of the Halls–he was obviously displeased with him, but Ken wasn’t about to stick around and find out what might happen to him if he resisted. Instead, he grabbed the man’s tag around his arm, tore it off of him, and ran off down the hall the way the man had come–hoping and praying he would find his way out of the halls before the Master found him first.

It was the imp that saved him, in the end. He caught sight of the little fellow running down a hall, and followed him all the way out of the maze, struggling to catch up to him, but by the time he got to the dance floor, and then to the clothes check, the imp had already turned in Ken’s tag and escaped with his clothes into a changing room. He begged the masked man working the counter, tried to explain what had happened, but he just took the tag from him, shoved a bundle of clothes into his arms…and the next thing he could remember clearly, he woke up in his bed.

Of course, it wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his apartment, it wasn’t his life, it wasn’t his body. He stood in front of the mirror, looking at his fat, hairy, middle aged body staring back at him, and he just…gaped at it for a while, struggling to take it in. He wasn’t in the halls at least, but who’s life had he taken, anyway?

Thankfully, it the routine came to him naturally, as did his new name–Ollie Dawson. He worked as a manager at a small bank branch near his home, and made good money doing it, but Ollie…well, there was always a reason guys found their way to Pigtown, and Ollie was no exception. He was a pervert, and a porn addict. He’d never had sex with anyone in his life, but the only thing that could get him off was masturbating. It was humiliating, and he could feel his own memories of sex fading away as he settled into Ollie’s life, found himself enjoying his edging time after (and during) work. He knew that if he kept this up, he would lose his old self soon enough, and all that remained would be this old pervert–that was what drove him back to the bar, a few weeks later. Desperation. He had to know it had been real, that the dreams he had of those halls, of the teeth, of the imp, that they were real. It had to be real, it had to, didn’t it? Not just some crazy dream pulled from his sex addled imagination?

So he went, and the bar was smaller, with fewer men huddled at the bar and the tables. There was no hallway where he could remember it, no way back into the haunt. When he asked the bartender about it, after a couple of drinks, the man just smiled. It would come back next year, he said, along with everyone in it. Until then, they were having their own never ending Halloween party. Ollie shuddered at the thought of going back in there again, of seeing the man he’d abandoned, warped and twisted by the master…no, he wouldn’t be back here again, not if he could help it–and then he saw him.

Himself, rather.

It took him a moment to realize why he looked so familiar to him–it’s because it was him, the face he’d stared at for years. His body was right there, across the bar, feeling up some leather bear, and…and he’d never been this angry in his entire life, that he could recall. The bartender leaned over, and asked him if there was anything he could get him, and Ollie whipped around, and made a request. The man smiled, made him the drink, and he took it over to Ken, and introduced himself.

The next morning, the imp, in Ken’s body, woke up with a hangover, in Ollie’s apartment. He felt…strange. Really strange, in ways he couldn’t quite explain, but when Ollie told him to dance for him…well, Ken danced. He did everything that Ollie ordered him to do, he was his living porn model, now. Ollie, after all, only really wanted to watch–but since the imp had made it so he was stuck as this old pervert, the least he could do was keep him satisfied, right?

Caption: Bodysitting for my Great Uncle

My great uncle is…well, he’s an eccentric, you might say. He likes to call himself an inventor, and judging by the massive house where he lives, and all the gadgets he has, I suppose it wouldn’t be too far off. He also never married, devoting all of his time to his work–whatever it is that he does. I was home from college, and he offered me a chance to keep an eye on his house while he was on vacation–but when I got there, he revealed that he had a more…peculiar offer in mind.

He wanted to switch bodies with me, for the length of his vacation! It sounded ridiculous and impossible, but he…did it, and changed us back right away, but fuck, it was trippy. He offered me…more money than I’d ever thought I could have in exchange for borrowing my body for a couple of weeks. I said yes, because why the fuck wouldn’t you? Besides, this house is a palace. I wish I could live here all the time, the place is amazing. I think I’ll go lounge around and watch TV, eat some junk–after all, his body is already going to shit, what does it matter really what I do to it?


It’s towards the end of the first week…and I think something weird is going on. I…I’m having a hard time focusing on things in the house, and it feels like I’m sleeping a lot. More than I should be, I guess. My great uncle told me that I might feel a bit weird, being in his body for so long–and he does feel old. His body aches like hell, even just sitting on the couch…but I feel like I lose hours in front of the TV, and I can’t even remember what I was watching. The one part of me that’s working just fine is my cock–I mean, my uncle’s cock. I’m jacking off all the damn time, it seems like, and I don’t know why I’m so damn horny.


Fuck, that was a sexy fucking video, love watching that old fuck get plowed by both of those boys at once. Makes me so fucking horny, I could blow all over again, just thinking about it. Can’t believe all of this nasty fucking porn my grandson has at his place, all of these old men getting fucked by boys like him, I wonder…wait, that’s…not right, I keep thinking that, but he’s in my body, right?

Fuck, where’d that dildo go? I…never knew how good it could feel, getting fucked, until I got drunk that night, I think, and woke up with that thing inside me, but maybe it’s just this hole that does it. Makes my old cock so damn hard, starts me leaking like nothing else. I mean, nothing besides my grandson’s hot fucking cock. He gets home in a few days, and fuck, I hope he plows my old hole into the fucking ground.


“Yeah, you like that cock in your ass, don’t you you old nasty pervert?”

“Oh fuck boy, fuck! Yeah, fuck your granddaddy with that big cock of yours.”

“Yeah, it is my cock, isn’t it? Sure seems like I know how to use it better than you ever did, isn’t that right?”

“Whatever you say boy, just don’t stop…You’re making my old sloppy hole tingle…”

“Yeah, feels real nice–you like being an old pervert, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck, more than anything.”

“Tell me–it we could, say, swap bodies, would you even want to? Be young and hot again?”

“And never get fucked by my grandson’s cock again? Hell no! Now shut up and fuck me boy, you keep slowing down when you talk.”

May Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Sorry for the missing post yesterday! There will be another chunk of Remembrances at the usual time today, and here’s a bonus post for today, since this month’s suggested stories are finished! As usual, anyone contributing any amount gets access to these stories, and gets the privilege of suggesting ideas each month as well. Here’s a story I wrote for everyone last month.


Taking My Place

It had been innocent, at first. These things always were, to begin with, you never really understand where it all goes wrong. Well, Evan knew where it had gone wrong, but it wasn’t at the beginning. He was just a mild mannered family man, recently married, and currently trying have their first child, though conception was proving to be a bit tricky. It didn’t help that his workload at the company was heavy, and so he’d been staying late at work–late enough that he’d cross paths with the same janitor each night as he cleaned the floor, an older fellow by the name of Ross.

Evan had never really known how to broach the subject with his wife, but he was decidedly bisexual, and Ross ticked…all of his buttons, on the masculine side. Older, chubby, facial hair, a little dirty. It came out one night that Ross was, in fact, gay–and it didn’t take too long after that for the two of them to strike up an affair in his office during the evenings. Had things stayed there, everything would have worked out just fine–but two things happened instead.

First, Ross’s shifts changed, so that he was working during the days rather than the afternoons and evenings, like before. Second, Ross…found something. Evan had never seen it, or knew what it was, exactly, but it had a power unlike anything he’d ever seen before, something which, at first, Evan was eager to experiment with. During their evenings together, Evan had often told Ross about how stressful he found his job, and how he actually envied Ross a bit. Not in the money category of course, but it seemed so…easy, just cleaning, and going home. No real responsibility, no boss looming over him, no clients to upset. Just once, he said, he’d love to be in his shoes for the day.

And so, that morning, Ross strode into Evan’s office–and he switched them. Evan didn’t know how he did it, but one second he was behind the desk, working on an account, and the next he was standing in the doorway, wearing Ross’s coveralls–with Ross’s patch sewn on the front. Before he could freak out, Ross switched them back, and then told him what he could do–he could change places with people, he could even trade parts of their bodies, and even parts of their minds. He wanted to give Evan the chance to do what he’d wanted, which was to work a day in his shoes. It was no worry–he could switch some of their knowledge around too, so they’d both do well, and at the end of the day, they’d change back. And so, Evan spent the whole day as the building’s janitor, and knew exactly what to do, and at the end of the day, they changed back–but not before having sex in each other’s roles. Even more to his surprise, he enjoyed it–or rather, they both did, and Ross promised not to abuse his newfound power.

On occasion, when Evan needed a break, he’d let Ross switch them. But slowly, he began to notice…other things. Ross showed up one day with a new dick–a big dick, much larger than the one he’d had, and told Evan he was just borrowing it for a while from someone else. Evan noticed things about himself shifting around as well. Before, he’d always been the more dominant of them, but one day, he found that all he could think about was bottoming. He demanded to know what Ross had done, but he denied everything, but soon after that, Ross made it clear that he was the one in charge–and if he wanted to sit in the cushy office, then he was going to sit in the office, and Evan would be cleaning bathrooms and emptying trash cans. Evan found himself working as a janitor more and more often, and whenever Ross allowed him sit at his desk for the day, he never could quite get a handle on what he was supposed to be doing. He’d have to scour the building for Ross and beg for his help, and the older man would switch with him for the rest of the day, fixing everything he’d managed to screw up, while Evan cleaned up after everyone else, and then sucked Ross’s massive cock to thank him.

It seemed that the only place Evan was safe was at home with his wife. He knew he should quit and get away from Ross, but he needed the money–that, and from some hints Ross had dropped, he’d made it clear that if Evan tried to run, he’d most likely regret it. That, however, didn’t last for long. Ross came to work without his massive cock one day–instead, he had a tiny, one inch member, which was soon Evan’s one inch cock. Ross told him he’d be keeping that one for a while, but that he didn’t need to worry; he knew Evan was trying to have a baby, so he’d made sure to leave him his balls–if he could manage to get in his wife’s pussy. In fact, Evan hadn’t been able to get aroused in bed with her for months–he suspected Ross had messed with his head and made him completely gay, but he didn’t dare confront him about it. After his cock, Ross began leaving more and more of his old self with Evan when they switched back and forth, and soon, Evan would look in the mirror at his home, and see a younger version of Ross staring back at him. It was horrifying, but this…this was beyond anything he could have imagined him doing.

It was Friday, and that meant it was almost time for two whole days without Ross messing with him. At this point, Evan worked as a janitor everyday–he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d even done his “real” job. He’d gone back to his office to switch back, only to discover that Ross wasn’t there–he’d left early and gone home. To his home, to his wife! He found a note on the desk for him, and Ross told him that if he and his wife were having such a hard time conceiving a child, Ross wanted to help him out. Furious, he stormed out of the building, wanting to head home and confront him–but he discovered he didn’t remember where he lived. In his mind, he lived in the city, in a grungy little apartment, alone…where he spent all weekend, usually, getting drunk and jacking off…right?

He tried to remember, he really did, but he had no car, no memory, and no way of getting there–and so, resigned, he went home to his apartment, where he found the computer on, receiving a video feed from…somewhere. It was a bedroom, but whose? There was someone in it, though–or two people rather, a man and a woman naked and getting ready to have sex, and he realized it was Ross, in his life, getting ready to fuck his wife…and just thinking about it was enough to make his little prick hard as a rock. He watched them fuck, he loved it, the idea of the janitor fucking his wife in his body, in a better body than his had ever been, actually. He…he deserved it more than he did, he deserved all of it. Evan didn’t deserve anything, he was just a stupid fucking pervert, after all. Evan made his decision, then and there–come Monday, he’d offer Ross his life. He was making the most of it, after all…and as long as he got to watch it, he’d get plenty of enjoyment out of it too.

May Suggested Stories Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Use It or Lose It (Part 8)

“I said get up, you stupid pig!”

The janitor grabbed the front of Randal’s shirt and hauled him up from his chair. He was surprised by how strong the young man was–he could remember being that strong once, but now, he…he was so weak. Mr. Jones slapped him across the face, and the sting of it–fuck, he needed him. Needed his cock more than anything else now, there was no denying it. “Sorry–I…please just fuck me, please…” he moaned, ashamed at the simper in his voice, the desperation. The least he could do was not beg for it, but after he’d dropped his pants to the floor, the janitor teased him, sliding the spit-slick cock up and down his crack.

“What do you need–I wanna hear you say it pig.”

Don’t say it, don’t fucking say it, he thought to himself, but his mouth was already open, words spewing out and making his face burn red, “Please sir, please fuck my ass sir! Fuck me, make me moan, make me fucking cum! Show me what a real man fucks like, please, I need it so bad, sir…”

“Yeah, that’s what I like to fucking hear,” the janitor said, and slipped the head in, making Randal’s breath catch.

One hand started to reach for his own cock, but he kept it away–the janitor wouldn’t last for very long, not as horny as he was–if he could just outlast him and restrain himself, then he still had a chance. The rest of the shaft slid into Randal’s loose hole easily, and even if it was a bit smaller than his dildo, it felt so much…better than rubber. The heat inside him, the throbbing flesh, knowing that someone else was penetrating him, ruining him, owning him. His cock leaked a stream of precum onto the floor under his desk, but still he resisted, even as the janitor picked up the pace, his own breath starting to quicken.

“What’s the matter pig? You’re not stroking off–I thought you wanted to cum?” the janitor said, slowing down slightly.

“I just…just fuck me sir, that’s what I really need.”

“Now don’t get me wrong, faggot, I’m perfectly happy to fuck you, but I just don’t think you’re enjoying yourself properly. You’re too tense. Where’s the pig I saw yesterday? The squealer and moaner? He’s the one I want to fuck.”

“Quit talking and just fuck me already! Fill my fucking hole!” Randal was frustrated, and immediately he knew he’d reacted poorly…and the worst thing happened. The janitor pulled his cock out, and his entire body quaked with need. The only thing worse, apparently, than not getting fucked, was a fuck denied.

“Well if that’s the attitude you’re going to give me, I think I’ll fucking pass.”

“No! Wait! I’m sorry, don’t go, I…I want it…” What was he saying, he asked himself. This is what had to happen–this would keep him from cumming! Just let him go, he told himself, but his body couldn’t bear it. “I need it, I’m sorry, please, I’m just…just a dumb faggot, please don’t leave…”

The man slipped the head back in, and Randal thanked him. “Jack that cock–show me you’re enjoying this. I wanna fuck that horny pig, not a fucking statue.”

Maybe it wouldn’t count, he told himself as he stroked his cock, moaning and grunting and begging Mr. Jones to fuck him harder and deeper, losing himself to the pleasure of the moment. He wasn’t…really masturbating, right? This was sex! He was with someone else, so maybe…maybe it wouldn’t count. It was the only hope he had left, because he could feel it building in his balls. The janitor came, filling his ass with his seed, and with a loud moan Randal started unloading another massive load all over the floor under the desk, and while he felt a bit dizzy…maybe things hadn’t gotten worse after all. Maybe he’d tricked it.

Mr. Jones pulled his cock out, and Randal stood up straight, reached down to pull up his pants…but they weren’t the pants he’d put on this morning. The shirt was wrong too. The dark blue uniform he had on now–it was the uniform the janitors at the school wore. Stomach knotted, already feeling the new reality seeping into his mind, he turned around and faced the new Mr. Jones–the young, athletic health teacher and wrestling coach, pushing his thick cock into the front of his khakis and carefully tucking in his polo. “Well pig? Don’t you have some cleaning to do now? That is your job, right?”

It was now, but it didn’t have to be. He could still fight this, he could, but his body crawled under the desk and sucked his cum up from the carpet–but not because he’d been told to, he thought. He was doing it because he wanted to, because no cum should be wasted, ever! That would teach the cocky fuck. Five minutes later, he was back to his cart, getting ready to clean the rest of the offices while Mr. Jones packed up the rest of his supplies and left, taking the remnants of Randal’s life with him. Along the way, at his old desk, he found a note:

“Down to five now–halfway gone. It’s probably best we limit your interaction with children, considering your preoccupations. Certainly the old you would have agreed. You should probably just accept this, you know, it’s only going to get much worse from here.”

He crushed it and threw it in his bin, angry…but maybe the note was right. Still, he could worry about that later–he still had hours of cleaning left to do, but in less than an hour, he needed to cum again…and he didn’t dare resist it. He didn’t have the strength, not right now, but without his dildo, he’d have to improvise. The handle of the toilet brush wasn’t…perfect, but it proved to be good enough.

Slave Swap (Part 6)

He spent three years as Jug. At times, he could almost convince himself that he was enjoying it, to some extent, but in moments of honesty, he was simply disgusted. He was weak, just like Master said he was. He was weak, and even staring at his ugly face, his massive beard, his expanding frame in the mirror every single day did nothing to help him quit. He’d grown quite a bit larger, over the years–and now weighed close to 450 pounds. It was hard working at this point, getting up and down to clean the toilets, getting up and down to drink loads of cum and piss from men at work, from men on the streets, from men in the bars and the bathhouses. His reputation had certainly spread, and he had several men who were regulars–waiting to feed him once, if not twice a day, and his Master had never, for a day, not loved watching his slave slowly succumb to the pressures of this body.

He would…reward him, on occasion–with new programming, or new ways of shaming and humiliating him. He’d begun to lose control over his bowels–slowly enough that he wasn’t quite sure if it was simply his body giving in to age, or if it was Master manipulating him slowly–but if he wasn’t careful, his regular farts would quickly lead him to dump loads of shit into the back of his diapers. Thankfully Master hadn’t made that…attractive to him, though he had threatened it on multiple occasions. It seemed to be enough to make Jug addicted to stink–his own foul body odors in particular, his belches and farts particularly, though nothing could turn him on quite like a day old diaper pressed to his face.

Jug had begun to lose hope that he’d ever escape this. Master seemed to be enjoying himself too much to ever give him back his old body. He…couldn’t even really remember what he’d looked like, before all of this. Couldn’t even remember who he’d been. Slowly, his old memories had faded away, leaving Jug’s fraudulent past the only one he could really access with any reliability. Still, he knew what Master had done to him. Knew he would get his body, and his freedom back, eventually. Still, he was terrified to even broach the subject, for fear that Master would hold it over his head, dangle it within reach. He could imagine it:

“You want your body back slave? I don’t think you could really respect it, do you? How about this–you go one week without guzzling cum and piss, without sucking down those filthy cigars, without drinking so much you pass out every night–you do that for one week, and I’ll get you your body back. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? I mean, you couldn’t even make it a full week years ago, when your…needs were so much weaker than they are now, but with a proper goal in mind, I’m sure you can get there.”

He could barely believe it, then, when one day Master arrived for what he expected to be a fuck session, and instead, he unfurled a rubber sack onto the floor. “I think you’ve served your time, Jug–now get in there, and let’s get you back in your proper body.”

He was so happy, he cried, kissing his Master’s feet in appreciation, and then worked his massive body into the tight rubber suit, allowed Master to hook him up to the catheter, IV and mask, and then fell asleep, and when he woke up sometime later–he did feel different. Lighter, and smaller, and he was so eager to see himself, to remember himself. Master drew down the zipper and he ripped the mask off his face and got up, and when he saw his reflection in the mirror in Master’s room, he nearly started to cry.

What had they done to him? What had they done to his body? Cameron stared at his form in disbelief. He could remember what he’d looked like now–clearly. His muscled body, his hairless skin, his youth–he remembered it like not a day as Jug had ever passed. But now, he looked to be close to 300 pounds–a bit smaller than he’d been when first taking the other slave’s body–and he had hair all over, including a particularly thick bush around his cock. He looked like an animal, especially with the long hair and thick beard. Master shoved him up against the full length mirror, putting Cameron eye to eye with himself, and fucked him roughly.

“I’ve missed this hole slave–feel’s good to be home, doesn’t it?” he gripped him by the long hair, tugging his head back forcefully, “I particularly like what they did during your absence–don’t you think? With your…current inclinations, I’m sure this feels quite nice. Doesn’t it?” Master shook his slave’s gut, and Cameron felt it jiggle, “You like how that feels?”

Cameron couldn’t speak. He couldn’t believe what had happened. “You…you let them…”

“I told him he could return your body in whatever condition he wanted. I’ve enjoyed watching him do it, too, over the last couple of years. His slave enjoyed it as well–ruining your body, force feeding you’re skinny muscled frame until you looked like this. It was such a nice present for him, really–you’re very generous, slave. They’re very happy with what you’ve done to him as well, of course. You did a very nice job, I can assure you.”

He started fucking Cameron harder now, getting closer to cumming.

“At least you don’t need diapers! Still, you’ll be needing plenty of piss and cum, after how wrecked both your body and mind are–I’ve made sure of that. Plenty of cigars and beer too. Unless you can find the will to resist–get this body back into proper shape. What do you think? Think you can do it? I doubt you can, but maybe now that it’s your own body, you’ll care a bit more about what happens to it. Still, I’ll rent you out again soon enough, maybe in another year or two. There’s no rush after all–we aren’t even to the five year mark, and I know I’ll be keeping you for the full term! I have so many friends, you see–other masters–and they all want a turn with your body. Ten years from now, you won’t even recognize yourself! You might hate yourself so much, you’ll be begging to stay with me, as my property, just so I’ll let you live in another body on occasion. Yeah–imagine your body so fucked up, that I rent it out as punishment for other master’s slaves–how does that sound to you? Because it sounds fucking amazing to me, slave, so fucking amazing…”

Master came, and Cameron was crying, tears smeared across the mirror in front of him. Still, he’d asked for this, hadn’t he? But even now, all that money promised to him, it wasn’t worth this, was it? But now he had no choice at all, and if Master’s plans were fulfilled, he imagined he’d never have a choice ever again.

Slave Swap (Part 5)

The food came, and he ate it. The portion seemed so meager, and it had done nothing to sate any of his cravings. By eight he broke down, and cracked open a beer, and after three of those–close to nine–he lit his first cigar. By ten, he’d run out of beer, and he left the apartment to go buy some more…but instead, he found his feet walking a somehow familiar route, to some place called, The Steam Engine. He wasn’t this weak, was he? He couldn’t even last a single night? He passed it by and went to a corner store and purchased a supply of beers–hopefully enough that he wouldn’t have to leave the apartment for several days, and he forced himself to walk quickly past the bathhouse and went back to his lonely apartment, where he managed to drink himself to sleep.

In the morning, he woke to discover a small deposit in his account, with a note from Master. “One day down Slave–one day at a time, as they say.” It was a pittance, really, but it meant more to him as a gesture. He was watching–Master didn’t want him to fail. Still, the stench off his sodden diaper was so…alluring, he couldn’t stop himself from sucking some of his own piss from it while he jacked off–or tried to jack off, at least. His cock wouldn’t get hard at all, and the pain and nausea were worse than the day before. He tossed the diaper in the trash, frustrated, and put on a new one, before heading into work that afternoon. He was invisible in the halls, as people hurried past him. Cleaning the bathrooms was the worst, especially when he found loads of piss left in the urinals or the toilets, but he fought it–proud of his willpower, at least.

The first week progressed well. He found that exercise gave him something to distract himself with, to some extent, even if this old body wasn’t capable of much strength. Still, training himself gave him something to do–something to work on. He tried his best to limit his smoking, drinking and eating to moderate levels–enough to keep the rest of his withdrawal in check. He kept hoping things would get better, but he only ever seemed to feel even worse with each passing day. On Friday, after most people had left the building for the day, he gave in and sucked some piss from a urinal, and nearly cried from how…satisfied he felt, afterward. How was he going to cope this weekend? He didn’t know–all he had to distract himself at home was exercise and TV. He found himself missing Master’s presence–he felt so isolated now. He drank too much that night, dribbling his piss into empty beer cans so he could drink it, thinking about how…good his Master’s cum had tasted, how he’d never really relished it, how he’d just swallowed it so many times without a single thought of how…thankful he should be, for receiving it. He sent drunken texts to him, telling Master all of this, telling him how sorry he was, and when he received nothing back, he threw on some clothes–forgetting a diaper in his haste–and stumbled into The Steam Engine.

Just one load, he told himself. If he could get by with a few beers and two cigars a day, he could get one load. It was a treat–a reward. Finding someone interested in him was a struggle, and he was forced to beg over and over, before an older man finally took pity on him, and fucked his face. It was the first time he’d tasted someone’s cum other than Master’s or his own, and he…nearly cried, when the man shot into his mouth. It tasted better than he could even remember, but it was…such a small load. Certainly that meant he could have another, right? He gave up the pretense after four loads, and even managed to find a few men to feed him their piss. When he got up and waddled home that night, pants sodden with piss from his cock, he felt so…good. Not only was the pain gone, but the shivers of pleasure flowing through him–and his cock was rock hard for the first time in nearly a week! Not wanting to waste the opportunity, he jacked off behind a dumpster, his cock still dribbling and flinging piss about as he stroked, but he didn’t care–he wanted a another load–he needed another one. He came into his hand and slurped it up, tasting hints of cigar on it, and he heaved a great sigh of relief, made his way home, and collapsed into bed, happier than he could remember being in a long time.

Of course, when he woke up, head throbbing, mattress and sheets soaked with his piss, he felt horrible. How could he have done that to himself? Master–he was going to be so disappointed in him! He saw a notification on his phone, but the message wasn’t what he’d expected.

“Watching you fail is so fucking satisfying, you fucking piece of shit. I knew you’d never make it, though I thought you’d make it a bit longer than that! Still, seven loads of cum, and four loads of piss–that’s quite a good amount–you’ll find your reward in your account, you fucking slut. See you this afternoon.”

Dumbstruck, he opened up his account, and saw he’d earned close to triple in a single night, than the meager payments Master had sent him him the whole week he’d been trying to be good. He’d wanted him to fail. He’d wanted him to give in–that’s what this was all about. He lit a cigar to calm himself down, to keep the anger at bay, and had a beer too, not bothering to diaper himself, leaking more and more piss into his bed…enjoying the stench. Around one in the afternoon, Master let himself into the apartment, ordered Jug onto the soaking wet bed, and fucked his ass, demanding Jug tell him about the night before, about how it had felt to give in like that, to accept the fact that he was just a fat cumdump urinal. He came, deep, and left again without ceremony…and unable to help himself, Jug ate his Master’s cum from his own ass without even needing to be ordered to do so.

He had to fight this. He had to. He couldn’t live like this. But looking at himself in the mirror, and the dried cum caught in his beard from the night before…he tried to remember himself, but couldn’t. And that night, his will ran out again, and he was back at The Steam Engine, doing what his body did best.

Slave Swap (Part 4)

When Master woke him up, they most certainly were no longer in his sizable mansion, where Cameron had been living in his first year of service. Now they were in a small studio apartment–deep in the city, from the sound of traffic outside–the sort of living quarters any citizen could expect as a guarantee in this era. Nothing fancy, and none of clean from the looks of things, but it was similar to where Cameron had spent much of his youth. “Where are we, sir?”

“This is where you’ll be living, Slave. I’d rather not have you dribbling any more piss on my carpets. You’ll still be working for my company, but I can’t have someone like you as my personal assistant. You’ll be a janitor now–something which will…suit your body’s tastes, I assume. You’ll also be receiving a much smaller allowance from this point further, although there will be…opportunities for you to earn more, if you’d like. After all, if there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re highly motivated by financial reward. Still, we have one final adjustment to make, but I wanted to make sure you were awake. Slave, run personality file: Jug.”

The sensation was always…nerve wracking, when Master ran a personality file. Still, he’d been through enough of them to know what to expect, from his first day–after all, it was how Master had turned him gay. The contract gave Master wide licence to modify not only his body, but also his mind, his memories, his personality, his intellect–provided a backup of his original is kept on hand. But this one lasted longer, and the mental nausea was more severe. Whatever Master was doing to him, it was more substantial than anything else he’d done to him previously. At last, it was over, and Jug reached out for a wall to steady himself, and let off a great big belch. “Fuck sir, mah head feels like ya screwed it off in shook it up real fuckin’ good.”

That…didn’t sound like him, but his thoughts were suddenly running much slower than he was accustomed to.

“Don’t worry Jug, you’ll feel better soon enough. It’s just something to…smooth your transition. After all, if you’re going to be a janitor, you’d better think and sound like one, right? And someone your age…well, you need a bit of history, don’t you? In any case, I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes sir,” he said, and Master left him in the apartment, to explore the small space, and to try and sort out what, exactly, his master had fucked up in his head. Why had Master called him Jug, anyway? His name was…was something else, but then again, he’d been called Jug ever since he’d drank that whole gallon of piss in one fucking sitting, years ago, and the name had stuck. It was…it was a badge of pride, wasn’t it? The memory horrified parts of him–the vividness of it. It wasn’t real, he knew that, and yet, to Jug, it felt as real as anything else. He sat down, diaper squishing audibly under him, his body still shaking, the pain coming back now that he had nothing else to focus on.

His body has needs, that he knew, but they weren’t needs that he wanted to satisfy. Why had Master just…left him here? With no guidance, and no direction? He hadn’t even…fed him before he’d left. In a sense, he knew he should feel…free on his own, and yet the hungers growing inside him made him feel more boxed in and controlled than any time in his first year of service. He turned on the TV, but then got up from the chair to explore the room. There was a small supply of cigars in a battered humidor on the shelf, but he fought the urge to smoke. There were a few beers in the fridge, and his thirst…but he also knew he wanted cum…and piss more than alcohol or water. There was no food anywhere, but Jug also didn’t know how to cook. He’d…have to get something delivered, or go out if he wanted to eat.

He heard his phone buzz and shake on the side table, and he went to retrieve it, and found a message from Master. “I’m sure the monkeys on your back have started scratching. I selected this location particularly for you. There’s several gay bathhouses and bars within several blocks, many of them with rather seedy reputations. I’m sure you can find some men willing to feed an old faggot like you, especially in the dark. I’ll be watching. Or you could always kick the habit. I…weakened the original desires, as hard as that might be for you to imagine–the body’s owner wanted his slave’s body to be insatiable. It won’t be pleasant to resist them, I can assure you, but I admit I might find your strength of will to be quite arousing–though I think I’d still rather see you submit, slave. Still, perhaps you’ll surprise me–I do love surprises.”

Was this really just a game to him? Jug felt used, but he knew what he would do–he was going to fight this shit. He didn’t want this life, he wasn’t going to give into this filth. He’d fought so long, his entire life–hadn’t he? He could recall a youth where he’d struggled, but it was like someone else’s story now. Jug, on the other hand, had led a life of debauchery and excess, and just thinking and remembering all those loads of cum he’d sucked down, all those jugs of piss he’d emptied to prove his earned nickname, it was making his old cock rock hard.

But that wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. He sat down on the chair with a glass of water, and ordered some food from the tablet on the wall. He could fight this, he was stronger than any of this. He’d…prove to his master that he was different, that he’d earned his last body, that he could please him by being close to him, that he didn’t deserve to be treated like this.