Stud Service

WARNING: This one has some weird stuff in it. Furry, anthro, feral, bestiality, cock swapping, nullification. Consider yourself warned.

Jason found the entire story hard to believe, but desperation could be a potent reason to keep your ass planted in a chair, sipping tea while he listened to the strangest thing he’d ever heard. The farmer across from him was offering Jason a job, though it was unlike any job Jason had heard of before, and one that all of Jason’s better judgement urged him to call bullshit on and get the hell out. But what else did he have? Just desperation–and he could tell the farmer was desperate too. That was the main reason Jason was starting to believe him.

It was March. Jason had gotten out of prison a few years prior, his parole had ended, and he was left with nothing much to show for it. He scraped by with little jobs here and there–bouncing at strip clubs, seasonal work with farms around the countryside, the occasional drug running or dealing, but he didn’t want to fall back into that permanently. It had been looking like he didn’t have much of a choice, though, because once you’d been in prison, it was like the entire world was conspiring to put you back in there as soon as it could. So when he’d struck up a conversation at the bar this evening with Rick, the man who owned this farm, and he’d offered to talk to him about a possible job…Jason hadn’t really been in a position to turn him down.

But then Rick had started explaining what, exactly, he had in mind. See, Rick’s farm was in trouble. He had a variety of livestock–horses, cows, pigs, goats and chickens mostly–that he raised and that brought in a decent income, but after a string of bad luck–or sabotage–all of his studs had died, and the fees to bring in new ones were exorbitant. Well, Rick had a few tricks up his sleeve. Apparently, it had been cheaper to go out into the woods and make a deal with a witch there–though from the sound of it she wasn’t interested in currency–and in exchange, she had given him this set of enchanted rings.

This had been the most unbelievable part, but when Jason had challenged him on it, Rick had taken him out to the shed and shown him his new set of tools, for lack of a better word, and Jason hadn’t had much choice but to accept he was telling the truth. There, hanging on the wall, were four sets of genitals–a stallion, a bull, a goat, and a pig–all of them procured from various rival farms around the state. Jason had touched a couple, and they were warm, and alive. Now, apparently, what Rick needed was a host–and that was where Jason came in.

Rick couldn’t do it himself–there were risks involved, apparently. But if Jason would agree to be his stud for the year, then he’d walk away with thirty percent of Rick’s income for the year–and have his room and board covered, of course. According to Rick, that would be close to 50,000 dollars if things went as well as he hoped they would. It was more money than Jason had seen in his entire life, and the idea that he could get a little breathing room was amazing–but that wasn’t quite the reason he said yes, in the end.

Jason hadn’t just gone home with the farmer because of the job offer. The bar they’d met at hadn’t been just a seedy trucker bar off the interstate. Whatever Rick had used to brew the tea hadn’t hurt either. Rick wasn’t the handsomest fellow–a bit on the short side, chubby, smoking his pungent pipe the entire time they’d been talking–but something about the way he touched Jason’s hand, pulling off his shirt, the feel of their tongues together–it was comfort that drew him in at last. Jason hadn’t been with a man since prison. He hadn’t been with a man like this since his last visit with his uncle, when he was eighteen. Something had a hold of him, and that night, in the farmer’s bed, smelling the mix of their sex with the grass and manure flowing in from the open window, Jason threw caution to the wind. It was crazy. But what was really wrong with crazy, at the end of the day? 50,000 dollars was too good to pass on, no matter what he had to do to get it. If all he had to do was…fuck some animals? Hell, it was better than running drugs and getting shot at, that was for sure. That, and Rick could be worth it too, maybe. Maybe there’d be a place for Jason here too, at the end of things.

So the plan, as Rick laid it out, was this. Mares first, in the first few weeks of April. Then, the cattle. Assuming everyone took, that would mean calves and foals in early Spring. After that, a few weeks as a goat to set up the Spring lambs, and then some time as a pig to get the sows pregnant in time for the state fair in the fall. Once the sows had given birth, Jason would knock them up again, and they’d have another round of piglets in the early Spring. For those winter months, Jason would just be himself, let the side effects wear off (Rick had not yet been clear on what the side effects were, exactly, but he assured Jason that they were temporary. If not, then the witch had promised she would help him deal with anything that lingered) and then, Jason would help him birth the mares and foals in the Spring, and get his portion of the profits.

There was just one catch–naturally–the witch’s payment. Rick would have fulfilled it himself, but he was infertile. Jason would have to be the one to give her what she wanted–a child, and while pussy wasn’t quite his thing, he’d managed before. If all he had to do was fuck some weird woman, then he could manage. Jason didn’t recall much of the encounter–they went into the woods, and things grew…strange. Impossible. There was a woman. Jason had…trouble, given the fact that he wasn’t quite sure she was entirely a woman, or entirely human, but with a little coaxing, or a little spell, he got hard enough to perform. Satisfied, she sent them on their way again, leaving Jason feeling rather…uneasy about the entire experience–but after a cup of tea and a trip to bed with Rick at the farm, it just felt like a dream, and he could set it behind him.

The first few weeks were spent working with Rick on general maintenance. The older fellow had been living out here on his own, running the moderately sized farm himself for so long, that quite a few areas had fallen into disrepair. It was satisfying work, and Jason enjoyed the chance to get closer to Rick. It wasn’t quite love brewing between them, or at least, Jason did his best to keep it from that. Love was dangerous. It compromised you. He’d allowed men to compromise him before, and it had never ended well. This was business, Jason told himself. Best to keep it that way. He did keep a little coal of hope fired though, in his chest. A little hope had never hurt anyone.

Then, it came time for the real work to begin. Jason didn’t really know what to expect. Rick handed him the cock ring he’d have to put on first–it looked more like two rings, really, but the two were so tightly sealed together he couldn’t pry them apart, no matter how hard he tried. The rings were metal, but they could stretch–or rather, they would expand, and then, once they were around the base of his cock, they constricted again. Not too tight, but a bit tighter than any cock ring he’d worn before. Rick muttered a few words, and then he gave a little tug on Jason’s cock, and the rings separated–Jason’s cock and balls coming off, and leaving just one ring stuck to his groin…somehow. He couldn’t feel Rick’s hand on his cock and balls as he set them down on the table, took the massive horse cock off the wall, and pressed the base of it to the ring still on Jason’s body. There was a slight pinch, and then he could feel it–all of it, the heft of the massive shaft and balls hanging off his body. Then, Rick gripped the double ring, stretched it out, and pulled it off of Jason’s body–leaving him with a massive horse cock where his human one had been moments before. After that, well, it wasn’t quite clear what happened to him, exactly.

It was the same sensation he’d felt when they’d gone into the witch’s woods together a few weeks before. The sense of the impossible all around him–expect now, it was inside him as well. Not…chaos exactly, it was more ordered than that. Nature was being undone, something beyond it was taking hold, and it made Jason feel nauseous as his body tried to fight it off, and failed.

He fell to his hands and knees, retching, but nothing would come up. His entire body was shuddering and shaking, muscles flexing, bones creaking. It grew more and more painful over the next several minutes, Jason caught in a delirium, until at last, some new equilibrium was established, and he found himself…remade. He was not a horse, and he was not a human. His cock, which had hung loose before, had grown a sheath that ran up the length of his abdomen, covered in sandy hair. His arms and legs were still covered in human skin, but had the proportions of those of a horse–his hands gone, and replaced with hooves–though his fingers could still be made out, even as they were sealed together. His face was human but stretched long, with a mouth full of horse teeth, his human hair running down his back and becoming a mane, with a short tail hanging off his new rump. He was horrified, tried to beg Rick to change him back, but the words that came out of his shifted mouth were garbled and unintelligible. Rick whispered a few sweet nothings, and helped him sip some of his tea.

All Jason felt, after drinking it, was horny.

Rick led him to the field where the mares were waiting, and all it took was a whiff of their sex before Jason mounted one and began fucking her while the farmer watched, pleased. As soon as he finished, he climbed off of her, and before he could try and regain control of himself, he smelled another mare, and mounted her as well. He managed three before he was too exhausted to continue, but by then…something had happened to him. Thinking was difficult–more difficult than it should be. The farmer led him into the stable, gave him some hay, which he happily ate, though the small bit of his humanity recoiled at the idea, the farmer telling him that everything was happening just like it should be, that after a couple of weeks, when he was sure all of the mares had taken, then he would change him back. Jason wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that anymore, his mind dulling more and more, until it couldn’t be quite sure of anything. What didn’t fade, was that sense of wrongness. The unnatural which had taken root in his body. It made him anxious, and only the tea Rick brough him would help settle him down.

The days after that, the horny tea wasn’t required–Jason happily followed the mares out into the fields, fucked a few more each day, and returned to the stable without a second thought. The farmer would hang out with him and talk to him, but to Jason, the words were mostly gibberish at this point. Finally, though, the day came to change him back. The farmer placed the rings around his cock and balls, removed his stallion cock, and put his human one back on–and then took the rings off.

Everything twisted again, but for Jason, it was not a sense of undoing. Rather, everything seemed to turn upside down yet again, but the result was somehow even more disconcerting. After a few minutes, he was lying on the dirty straw, panting and gasping, Rick holding him close, whispering words in his ear that Jason couldn’t comprehend, while he tried to recall what it was like having two feet, and two hands. Things came back to him, slowly. He could walk upright again the next day, and understand most of what Rick was saying to him, but it was difficult processing it, and his own speech was slow and slurred. He felt stupid in a way that he couldn’t explain, and none of this was helped by what he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror in the morning.

He wasn’t fully human again. He was mostly human, sure, enough to fool someone not looking too close. His hair had returned, but still ran a good way down the back of his neck and upper back. He was more muscular than he’d been before, but the muscles bulged rather oddly–his shoulders and thighs more developed than anything else, and his forearms were too slender. His hands were clumsy, his fingers shorter and capped with thick, black nails. His face was at least normal, mostly, but his front teeth were a bit too large. Rick helped keep him calm, along with his tea, and told Jason that all of this was to be expected, and also wasn’t permanent. His body would slowly return to normal, though the process could take a couple of months–it was why he’d planned on having Jason fully human for most of the winter, so he’d have a chance to sort himself out again. Jason was not happy to be told this when it was too late to do anything about it, but he knew he was, essentially, stuck now. He couldn’t very well leave–not looking like this. Rick offered him a raise–forty percent now–and Jason agreed, though he wasn’t happy about being lied to.

Rick did ask him, after a few days, what it had been like, and Jason did his best to recount what he could remember–but what he did remember was rather distant. Rick seemed especially interested in whether Jason could remember what Rick had said to him, and Jason couldn’t–he didn’t understand speech much at all. It was like his brain had shut off, running almost entirely on the instinct running from his cock. At the end of the week, when Rick told him it was time to work on the cattle, he was almost relieved–being some strange human bull would in some ways be easier than this…mostly human bullshit.

Once his cocks had been switched out, he found himself on all fours again, hands and feet replaced by hooves. His face was contorted with a bullish snout, though the top and sides of his head remained entirely human. His torso thickened and bulked out with more muscle, even more than when he’d been a stallion, and his thick bull cock was even more insatiable than his horse cock had been before. He spent all day in the meadows with the cows, mounting and breeding them, his mind lost in a dullness deeper than before. Rick visited him often, but a few days into his stud service, Jason noticed something…different about him. Different about the way he smelled. It was still human, but familiar in some…other way. Something in the water made him…sleepy, and he only dimly realized what was happening halfway through it, as Rick pushed Jason’s tail to the side and fucked his ass right there in the stall.

In their human bodies, Jason had, thus far, been the top. Rick was a bit older, and was not endowed with anything sizable or in reliable working order. It had been easier, really, for Jason to take the lead–and he’d rather enjoyed showing the shorter, fatter farmer just what kind of a stud he could be. But after that first fuck, Rick would fuck him every day, sometimes twice, his words unintelligible, but the underlying tone was…forceful. After the first week, Jason was surprised by Rick grabbing him by the snout, and putting a thick ring through his nose, the farmer sneering at him while he snorted and grunted in pain, and then he fucked him–harder and rougher than he had at any point before…but whatever was in the water, Jason found himself enjoying it more and more, submitting to this…man, even as he dominated the cows in the field during the day.

He remained a bull longer than he’d been a horse by about a week and a half, mostly because there were more cows on the farm to service. The day came, at last, for the bull cock to come off, and was replaced by Jason’s cock again, but like before, his form was not…entirely human. In fact, the lasting effects from his time as a stallion were still there as well–such as the mane, and the teeth–and some were enhanced by his time as a bull as well. He was larger, for one thing–close to six and a half feet tall, with more muscle everywhere. He had a difficult time standing fully upright, and his hips ached no matter what he did, his hands mostly useless now, with the fingers fused at the nails in several places. The mental fog was stronger this time as well, and while he couldn’t be…certain, Rick seemed a bit different as well. He looked a bit younger, and somewhat slimmer. The more dominant attitude he’d developed while Rick was a bull remained, and even though his cock wasn’t large, he still managed to fuck Jason regularly, and also started making odd demands, having him service him, dragging him around by the ring still cemented in his nose. Jason found himself…enjoying it. Being treated like an animal, like a slave. Crawling around was one of the few ways his warped body didn’t ache at the end of the day, and with Jason’s encouragement, that was how he moved through the house, at least until it was time for the goats.

This time, Jason ended up growing smaller, but it felt good having hooves again, being back on all fours, breeding the does in the fields. He was also rather proud of his new horns–rather fine ones that Rick liked to admire when they were back in the barn after a day’s work, when Rick would fuck his ass until Jason was screaming in a voice somewhere between a human and a goat. Again, Jason noticed that after a day, Rick changed–it was that same smell. He was bigger too, more muscular, and his cock was larger. Jason didn’t complain of course, and his animalistic mind didn’t really understand any of it clearly. He just wanted to fuck, or be fucked, all the time–sex was the single most important thing, driving everything else out of his mind until his humanity was just a distant memory. But there were only a few does on the farm, and after about a week, Rick returned him to his human form–but this time, it was…different.

The cock he found the next morning, after he’d regained some of his capacity to think, wasn’t the one he could remember having, vaguely, from before his time as a goat. It was smaller–much smaller, just three inches or so when hard. The hair around it was greying as well, and when Jason looked at himself in the mirror, he knew that something was very wrong–he was too short, too fat. He looked older, somehow, in ways that he couldn’t explain, but there was so much off about his body that it difficult to tell what was really different. Was the white haired goatee around his mouth from his time as a goat, or was it because he suddenly seemed twenty years older? There were his new horns to contend with, not particularly large, but they were obvious. His eyes hadn’t returned to their human color, and were still the yellow and black of a goat. His body was still bulky with muscle, but his frame had shrunk–whether because his last form, as a goat, was shorter, or because of his different genitals, he couldn’t tell. But Rick was different too–taller, broader of shoulder, most muscular. The grey in his hair was gone, and replaced not with the brown Jason swore he could recall him having, but instead a stark black. He tried to ask what was going on, but his voice hadn’t returned. The best he could do was bleat and shout, still like a goat, and Rick told him that was alright. He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to think. He was just a stupid, horny animal after all, craving Rick’s big cock. A cock he…recognized, didn’t he? But why wouldn’t he? It was the same cock Rick had been fucking him with all Spring long, right? He’d try and puzzle it out more, but get lost along the way. Being human was hard, he decided. It was what he was supposed to be, of course, but he found himself anxiously anticipating his next round of stud work.

In the meantime, Rick’s rule grew stricter. He told him that an animal like him didn’t deserve to sleep in a proper bed, but should stay out in the barn where he really belonged–Rick kept him tied up by the ring still in his nose, all day long, visiting him a few times a day to fuck him, and talk to him, and taunt him with his big cock. The more distance he got from his time as a goat, the more his mind cleared–and he almost realized it, eventually. That the cock he had now wasn’t the one he’d had before, that Rick had…switched something on him, but as soon as Rick realized he was getting close to asking the right questions, it was time to breed some sows–and he gave Jason a new cock to keep him occupied for a few weeks.

His time as a pig was a frantic blur. There was a new hunger now, gnawing away at his mind. He needed to eat all the time, and Rick was more than happy to make sure his prize pig’s trough stayed full all day and night. The breeding of the sows felt more and more perfunctory to Jason as the days dragged on–all he could think about what Rick’s cock sliding into his piggy hole in the barn, fucking him while he squealed and grunted, or better yet, getting fucked while he was feasting on as much slop as he could shove down his gullet–but there was one thing that Rick didn’t quite count on–that pigs were much smarter than hoses, or bulls, or goats.

Confident that his hold over Jason was firm, Rick had grown lax in making sure the pigman in the barn was being fed his usual doses of the various teas he had procured from the witch over the last few months. The lustful tea, the subservient tea, the calming tea–together, they had all combined to mold Jason into a moaning animal, lusting after Rick’s cock–his perfect cock, now that he’d gone and stolen Jason’s member and cast aside his own. He hadn’t felt this strong in ages, and the longer he kept it on, the more he could see himself becoming Jason entirely–and he coveted it more than anything else in his life.

This hadn’t always been the plan–but ever since that first time he’d tried on Jason’s cock out of drunk curiosity, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else–and the witch had been plenty eager to use his new member as well, milking him of cum for her own twisted purposes, deep in the woods. Jason on the other hand, knew too much. He would have have a good life here, though, as an animal, a freakish sex animal for Rick’s private pleasure, too stupid to even realize that he’d lost all of his humanity in the process. But the usual mental stupor that usually came over Jason when he transformed didn’t come this time. And when the tea slowly flushed from his system, Jason found himself realizing, slowly, that Rick’s body was not the body he had had before–he was looking up at himself.

Rick would taunt him, and while Jason couldn’t understand all of the words he was saying, he understood well enough, what was going to happen to him if he didn’t do something–he would never be getting his portion of the profits. He would never even get off this farm. Before too long, he’d be rendered too dumb to want anything more than his Master’s cock in his ass–and the worst part was that part of him, a part of him brainwashed too far to do anything about, wanted it too. He had to escape–he had to get help. But the only place he could go, the only person who could, perhaps, help him, was the witch.

And so, in the dead of night, when he was certain that Rick was asleep, he managed to get himself out of the pen where he was being kept–his awkward half-human form being useful for a few things at least–make his way out of the barn, and he disappeared into the woods. He couldn’t quite recall the exact location of the witch’s hut–but he could feel his way there. Feel the wrongness, the way nature twisted and warped the closer he got, the forest growing darker, gnarled, and heavy the deeper he went. He found the witch, nursing one child and obviously pregnant with another, and he pleaded with her, begged her, as best he could without a voice, for her to have mercy on him, and free him from this nightmare–all he wanted, was for all of this to go back to normal.

She got down and stroked his bristly back, cooing to him. “I’ll give you what you desire. If normal is what you crave, then so be it–normal is what you will be.”

Jason wasn’t sure what he felt, after that. After so many months of things twisting out of place, of his sense of reality warping further and further, of everything feeling like it was in flux–there was, at last, a hardening. The sense of nausea that had plagued him since he’d first replaced his cock with that of a stallion, began to settle. He was at peace, and the last thing he recalled, was letting out a heavy sigh and grunt, and passing out on the floor of the witch’s hut.

Then, he awoke in a stall, in the barn, and he knew, immediately, that things were…normal. That the state of flux he had existed in for most of the last year had faded, and passed beyond him. He knew, somehow, that he would never change again–and that filled him with a sense of relief he could barely describe–at least until he tried to stand up, and discovered the trotters where his hands should have been. They were the trotters he’d had when he’d been a pig–and he crawled over to the water trough in his pin, looked at himself, and groaned in horror. It wasn’t a human face looking back at him–or at least, not entirely. There were glimmers, here and there–mostly the eyes. But the rest of him…he was a pig. He had a piggish snout with a big metal ring in it. Floppy pig ears. A curly pig tail. His front legs ended in trotters, but his back ones ended in more human feet. His fat torso didn’t have the usual bristle of hair that he’d had before, but instead the curly body hair of a man running down his belly and back.

He tried to scream. He tried to speak. All he could do was squeal and grunt, until the commotion eventually drew Rick to come check on him, but he didn’t seem at all surprised as what he found there. Rick just proceeded to feed his favorite fuckbeast, and then plowed his ass and filled him with his first load of the day. It felt…so good, to Jason. Better than it had ever felt before, for reasons he couldn’t grasp. When Rick pulled out of him, all he could think about was how he needed more…a corrupt thought spreading through him, beginning to push out the rest of him that realized how deeply disturbed all of this was. But he had to focus on…on the cock.

Or rather, on Rick’s old cock. If he could get the rings, if he could get Rick’s old cock at least, maybe he could fight back, try and save himself, but when he looked down at himself–Jason began to sob instead. His groin was entirely empty. The pig cock he’d been wearing for the last few weeks was gone, and the ring that remained, even when switching cocks out, was gone as well. He realized, then, that there would be no escaping this–any of it. He’d asked for this to be normal, and in doing so, he’d asked it to go on forever–he’d asked to remain like this permanently. The witch, in her immeasurable cruelty, and given him exactly what he’d asked for, and Rick, from the glimmer in his eye as he gave Jason a kiss on the snout and a playful tug on the ring in his nose, seemed to know exactly what had happened to him.

“I’ll be back in a little, piggy,” Rick said, “the witch made a little adjustment to the rings’ magic, and so I shouldn’t have to go looking for another stud anytime soon–I’ll be able to wear them myself. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to feel me rip open that ass of yours with a big bull cock? Because that’s what I’m going to do next, I think. That’s what you deserve, for running off like that. But don’t worry, you won’t be going anywhere ever again. I can see you fading already, that little light in your eyes. She said you’d last long enough to realize what happened to you, but that once you did, you’d fade faster and faster, until it’s just the animal inside you left. The part of you I love the most. Don’t worry–I’ll take good care of you. You’re my favorite, after all. All of this was possible because of you, and I’ll show you how much I love you every day, my piggy–every single day.”

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.

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.

Slave Swap (Part 2)

“Count backwards from 100 slowly, slave, and then you may force your way out. Take a look at yourself, and then come find me at the computer.”

Cameron started counting, and heard Master’s footsteps recede out of the room. While he laid there, counting quietly to himself, he tried to piece together what, exactly, his body was feeling. There was some pain–quite a bit of it really–but nothing too prominent, just some aches in his joints which he might expect after a trip somewhere, confined like this. But why put him to sleep? Where had this even come from? Master had never shown much interest in fetish play before this. He hit fifty, and realized that his voice sounded a bit odd as well, but passed it off as distortion from the mask he was wearing–though it seemed different from the one Master had put on him before. Was it? The shape was slightly off. From ten to one, he could barely stand waiting, but he made it, and started wriggling in the suit, trying to get the zipper to creep down. It was hard work, and he felt tired and sore and weak, but he managed to get it down past his head, and then pushed it open with his shoulders, letting him free one arm, and then the other. He pulled off the mask and looked around–they hadn’t gone anywhere! They were still in the bedroom, though the light was different, certainly. He got the zipper down further, and that’s when he noticed something was off–his usually flat stomach was not flat at all, but as he unzipped the rubber, he revealed a massive, flabby gut covered with grey and white hair.

Cameron didn’t know how to react at the sight. He stopped unzipping felt it–it was certainly…him. Had Master taen him to get his body reshaped? But then why the sack? He kept going, eager to get free now, and at last he managed to get out entirely, pulled the IV from his arm, and the catheter from his cock–but as he did, his cock kept leaking, dribbling piss onto the floor as he stood, and moved in front of the mirror, and found himself looking at…someone else entirely.

How much could this have cost? This was no minor set of modifications. Cameron looked to be at least sixty now–and an unmodified sixty–with a thick white beard, a shaven head, a septum ring through his nose. His gut hung down, blocking view of his cock and balls, but they seemed smaller than before, and the hair was everywhere. If he’d thought Master was fat and hairy before this…well, Cameron now had a much thicker pelt, and was heavier than him by at least fifty pounds. The weight was all concentrated in his gut, however–his arms and legs seemed thin and weak, and shook slightly as he stood. Piss was still dribbling, running from the head of his short cock and under his balls, where it hit the floor. He tried to clench, but his body didn’t even respond. Still, as horrified as he was, he had orders; he walked out on shaking legs and followed Master into his office the next room over, where he was sitting, naked, masturbating slowly to something that sounded like porn playing on the screen.

“Come slave, come take a look at this,” Master said, and Cameron obeyed, walking around behind his Master, one hand cupped under his cock to try and catch the piss, and found himself looking at a livecam. He didn’t know the man who was on top…but he did most certainly recognize the man getting fucked. It…was him. His face, his body, his…voice. He didn’t know what to say. Master turned in his chair, looking at Cameron’s surprised face, and started stroking faster. “Fuck…you’re fucking face, you stupid fuck…” He grabbed Cameron by the thick beard and tugged him down, “suck me off and drink my fucking cum, slave!”

Master didn’t last long–thirty seconds–and when he finished, he wiped his cock on Cameron’s new beard, smirking down at him, and Cameron…he just looked back at the show, at the stranger fucking his ass somewhere, and started to mutter, but didn’t know what question to try and ask first.

“It’s been five days, slave, since you were last awake. You’ve been delivered to a slave processing facility, which–thanks to your upgraded chip–is working on proprietary mind swapping. This isn’t the body you had a few days ago, slave, but it is your mind. You’re prior body is in the hands of that Master there. He felt his slave deserved a reward for excellent service, and I offered your body as that reward. You will be living in his, instead, for the time being. What do you think? Are you enjoying it so far? Be honest.”

Cameron looked down at himself, at his old, obese body, his hand overflowing with piss still dribbling out, and looked back up at Master, tears in his eyes. “I…I hate it. Did I upset you? Did I do something wrong? Is this punishment?”

No slave–this is service. Your body, and your mind, are mine. My property. That means I get to decide what to do with them. Still, that body…while pretty, was rather boring. I find variety to be much more interesting, among other things. As for your…leak down there. Do get that taken care of? The master who owns that body removed its ability to control any aspect of its bladder–they enjoy…diapers. I bought some–they’re in the bathroom. Please go secure yourself, and then we can chat a bit more regarding some…changes we’ll be making to your lifestyle, while serving in this body.

Slave Swap (Part 1)

Maybe it was neoliberalism run amok. That’s what the protesters and activists said, when the industry was fledgling. How could you put a price tag on freedom or autonomy? But jobs weren’t coming back with rapid automation, and even with a guaranteed income, people didn’t want to simply exist and do nothing with themselves. They were consenting, they were aware of the risks. There were regulations and safeguards, and everyone involved needed to be vetted and approved. Soon enough, it was widely regarded as safe, legitimate, and most importantly, legal. Within a decade, submitting yourself to a human bondage contract for five years was a ticket to wealth–or at least, that’s what Cameron thought.

He’d grown up as poor as you could be, in this world, but it was enough to know that he wanted more. But even as poor as he’d been, he knew he had other things going for him–looks and charm in particular–and they’d served him well in his youth. Now, at 25–the legal age required to indenture yourself–he decided to put himself on the market, and see what came up. There were a few modest offers, looking for modest trade offs. Mostly older men and women with wealth, interested in a sex slave. A few were more extreme, looking for live in help, with greater return at the end of the contract, and then there was one offer, and his eyes nearly popped when he saw how many zeros were attached. The conditions? Complete submission. Five year minimum, with optional renewal at five year intervals at the master’s discretion. The slave would only receives right to exit after fifteen years. Payment amount compounds with each five year term of service. Yes, it was risky, but he could effectively retire at 40, with three times the amount there on his screen! He accepted the offer for consideration–he could always back out of things got too strange.

He was vetted for psychological competence and sanity. He was required to review his potential master’s psychological profile. They met for an interview, and he seemed…so normal. Older, probably in his fifties, but with a face and a body that seemed…inappropriate for his wealth. At least, all the wealthy people on TV that Cameron saw opted to pay for the appearance of youth, but this man–still unnamed and anonymous–had opted to display his age. Thick beard, balding head, sizable figure. Hardly attractive to Cameron, who was straight anyway–though he was certain the Master would change that if he wanted. After all, complete submission meant giving the Master total control, allowing for behavior and bodily modification. Still, Cameron could handle anything for 15 years, and afterwards, he’ll be so wealthy he could look however he wanted. The required waiting period elapsed slowly, and they signed the contract together. Cameron received his control chip, and Master led him away into a new life.

As Cameron expected, his orientation was the first thing to flip, and that first night, he begged his Master to fuck his hole–and the man was all too happy to oblige him. He’d expected further changes in the weeks after that, assuming the man would want to groom him into his ideal human property, but beyond making him a fuck hungry bottom, Master did relatively little. He provided Cameron with a decent paying job in his company as his personal assistant, and beyond that, allowed Cameron to live a relatively independent life. He couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten so lucky; if this was all the man was asking of him, then he was wasting his money.

Still, Cameron was well aware that he had a job to do, and so he made sure his body was in peak condition for his Master’s enjoyment. He worked out five days a week, and with his generous allowance, purchased a new, flattering wardrobe–both for in and out of the bedroom–and fixed up a few…features which he’d always found rather unflattering about himself. Master was appreciative, but didn’t seem particularly impressed by Cameron’s efforts. He went out of his way to try and figure out what his Master wanted from him, and why he’d demanded such control over him if he was giving Cameron such latitude as his slave. Master revealed nothing, however, but Cameron could sense that there was a larger picture in all of this that he couldn’t see.

This continued for a year. Cameron was in the best shape of his life, and unable to believe how lucky he’d gotten in this deal. Still, Master had…grown a bit distant over the previous few months. He still used Cameron plenty, but he could sense that he’d grown a bit bored with him, which concerned Cameron to some extent, but if Master wouldn’t tell him what he needed, then there was only so much he could do, right?

Rather unexpectedly, Master told him he was scheduled for an upgrade to his control chip. They went to the doctor to have it replaced, and the entire time the procedure was taking place, Master seemed both agitated, and very horny. Cameron tried to service him in the car afterward, but Master pushed him away, telling him there would be plenty of time for that later. Back at home, they went straight into the bedroom, Cameron stripped and assumed Master’s favorite position, but he shook his head, and brought out something that looked like a black rubber sleeping bag.

“It’s time for you to really enter your true service, slave,” Master said, “Get in here.”

Cameron was reluctant, but couldn’t disobey any order. He climbed into the tight fitting rubber sack, and then Master zipped him up into it, stopping at his hips, and brought out some medical tubes and a mask connected to an air tank. When he tried to ask what all of this was for, Master just smiled wide. “You’ll see very soon. Now relax. I wouldn’t anything bad to happen to your body during your trip.”

Cameron tried to ask what he meant, but Master told him to be quiet. He put the IV into Cameron’s arm, slid a catheter into his cock, and then secured the mask over his face, before zipping the rubber sack up the rest of the way, and locking it. Cameron started to hyperventilate immediately, but Master told him to sleep, and he immediately passed out. He could never tell how much time passed when Master put him in sleep mode–it always seemed like an instant later. Master woke him up, and he was still in the sack, but he felt very out of sorts–it was obvious some time had passed, but how much? Were they somewhere new? He couldn’t ask anything through the mask, but Master unlocked the padlock, and cracked the zipper on the suit.

“Count backwards from 100 slowly, Slave,” he said, “and then you may force your way out. Take a look at yourself, and then come find me at the computer.”