TPC – Chapter 2.10

Chapter 10 – Emptied Out

Richard found himself dragged down some concrete steps into the basement of the house where Barry had driven them. It was not his house–where in the hell was he? He tried to focus on what was going on around him, but it was difficult. He never drank that much, but Barry had just kept filling his glass from all those pitchers, and he was such a good guy, he hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. Now he was here, in some strange basement, with two guys cutting his clothes off before strapping him down to a table.

“Good evening Richard, my name’s Ian, how are you tonight?” one of the other men said, looming over him. 

“I don’t, what are you doing to me? I didn’t want to come here.”

“It’s going to be ok Richard, trust me, alright?” Barry said, coming around to the other side of the table. “You know I would never steer you wrong.”

“I…but what am I doing here?”

“You’re helping me out, Richard. You like being a helpful guy, and you’re helping my friend here out too. It’s just a little test is all, everything will be just fine. All you have to do is trust me.”

Richard nodded, but that didn’t do much to alleviate his fear.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve brought me then,” Ian said, and placed his hands on the side of Richard’s head. 

What happened after that was difficult to explain. He felt something push into him, into his mind, and start pulling on strings, poking around into various nooks and crannies. It wasn’t a physical sensation, but it was pleasurable. Richard let out a moan, and when the man pulled his hands away, he was embarrassed to realize that his cock had gotten fully erect right in front of them both.

“Well damn, this is some good stock you’ve brought along. I didn’t think it would be quite this good.”

“So it’s worth something?” Barry asked.

“Oh, I can find a buyer for a lot of this, for sure. You’ll get your cut too, of course. Finder’s fee. Your promotion, and I’ll throw in a little extra too, since it looks like you got a taste of a little bit of what else I can do tonight.”

“Fuck, you can make this…permanent?”

“It won’t be quite as intense, but it’ll be there. What ends up as waste material is the more…intense stuff. I’d explain it if I could, but this is all new, cutting edge shit.”

“No kidding, how…how is any of this possible?”

“Ask Pigtown,” Ian said. “It’s been a wild couple of years.”

“I don’t–did I do ok? On the test?” Richard asked, “Why did that feel so good?”

“You did great,” Ian said, “But this next part is more important, alright? So just relax. It’ll all be over before you know it. If you thought it felt good before, just you wait, bud.”

Richard lifted his head up, and watched as Ian took a strange tube from the cart beside him, and attached it to his cock. It was a flexible silicone sleeve with a tube coming out the top, but the bottom sealed around the base like a vacuum. “Alright, let’s start off with the finder’s fee,” Ian said, flipped a switch, and Richard gasped as the milker on his cock started sucking at it, making him shudder and buck.

Ian came around behind his head, put his hands on Richard’s temples again, and the same sensation happened as before, but more focused. Ian wasn’t looking through everything all at once this time, instead, he focused on Richard’s work at the office. Not just his work, exactly. His promotion. He saw himself in Evan’s office, getting his softball interview, already knowing he was a shoe in for the position. The team congratulating him. It was more than just that though–it was his charisma. His confidence. His trust. All of it was being bundled up and pushed lower. Down into his neck and then his chest, deeper and deeper until he felt all of those memories and emotions and sensations down in his balls, which were churning more and more as the milker tugged on his cock. The pleasure grew more intense then, and Richard couldn’t stop it as he came–and when he did, he felt all of the memories and thoughts he’d had pushed down there forced out as well, and by the time he realized he was losing them, he no longer could remember what he’d even lost.

“And there it is,” Ian said, holding up a vial that he disconnected from the end of the milker. It looked like a load of cum, but it was shimmering in a way that Richard had never seen before. He knew that what he’d lost was in there, but couldn’t articulate what, exactly, it was. “Usually I’d dehydrate it, but it’s just as potent now. Go home, drink it up, and go to sleep. You’ll feel everything in the morning. If you have an issue, contact me.”

“What…what’s gonna happen to him?”

“I already have a buyer lined up, don’t worry.”

“Like…” Barry was thinking slavery, but he didn’t really want to know. “Look, thanks, really.”

“No, thank you–you enjoy that,” Ian said, “You earned it.”

Richard watched as Barry took the vial from Ian, and left up the stairs without so much as saying goodbye to him. “Wait, he’s…he’s my ride,” he gasped out, still riding the wave of that massive orgasm.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound,” Ian said, “But we still have more to get out of you first.”

“What?” Richard asked, but before he could get another word out, Ian turned the milker back on, and he shuddered. “Wait, it hurts, I…”

“Hush now, it’s going to feel so good, just trust me. Now, what next?” Ian said. He placed his hands on his head again. “I know a few closet cases that would love a good beard.”

This time, Richard felt a different set of memories being pulled to the front of his mind. His wife. His two kids. His family. The house where they all lived together, everything he could remember about all of them, their likes and dislikes, family vacations together. This he clawed at, trying to keep it in his head, trying to keep it from sliding down, but the pressure was immense, and the milker on his cock was relentless. He begged and pleaded with him to stop, but Ian just cooed back at him, talking to him like he was a child, telling him everything would be just fine soon enough. Again he came, and he tried as hard as he could to hold onto some of it, any of it, but it was gone, and he was left shuddering on the table, tears in his eyes, trying to remember what he felt so sad about. Ian watched as the wedding ring disappeared from Ian’s finger, all of his marriage now held in a second vial. He detached that one, and put on another.

“No, please, not again.”

“Don’t worry Richard, don’t you want to feel good? This feels so good.”

Ian continued the process for the next hour or so, filling vial after vial with everything in Richard’s head he could turn a profit on. He pulled out his education, and bottled it. He pulled out his upper class background, and bottled that. He started working on his body next. He bottled two decades of youth from him, watching Richard go from 25 to 45 in a matter of minutes. He stole his quick metabolism, and his body expanded, packing on close to fifty pounds of fat in a matter of moments. He stole his brow, jawline, a few inches of his height, and whatever charm he’d had left after giving most of it to Barry, and lastly, he milked away half his six inch cock and balls, leaving him with a modest package buried in a new fat pad. Richard had long since passed out at this point, and barely stirred as Ian pulled the milker off his now thick, short cock, and gave his new chubbier body a feel. Hugh had watched all of this in silence, always amazed at what Ian could do, and feeling a little jealous of the skill that had developed in his friend over the last few year and change. He’d get a commission from this one too, at least, and the job wasn’t quite finished yet anyway.

“Alright Richard, time to wake up, you did great,” Ian said, cracking open some smelling salts and waving them under his nose, making him sputter awake. 

“I…what happened, where…where am I, I–” Richard said, his voice deeper and slower now, more ponderous.

“Everything is fine, Richard. You’re dehydrated. Go ahead and drink this up,” Ian said, and handed him a little glass of water. It shimmered a bit–he’d put in a little bit of a mix–some muscle, some construction knowledge, a good dose of submission and homosexuality of course. Pigtown would take care of filling in the rest soon enough, but that would get him ready for his new role come morning. After all, plenty of folks in Pigtown needed bodies for work, and Richard would be doing plenty of that from now on. 

He took the glass and drank it down in a few gulps, his eyes sparkled, and then dimmed again as he collapsed back on the table, shaking a bit, and then settling down. Ian pulled out his phone and made a call, “I got your goods, ready for pickup,” he said. Twenty minutes later, they were helping the now much heavier Richard out of the basement, and into the back of a pickup truck, which drove off with him into the early morning.

“Looks like a good haul,” Hugh said.

“Fuck, I haven’t had a guy like that in ages. We don’t get fellows like that around here anymore.”

“Well you sucked most of them dry.”

“Shut up. I have a feeling that Barry could be a very good contact for us in the future. Remind me, next week, to touch base and see if he’d be interested in helping us out with acquisitions.”

“Hunting, you mean.”

Ian glowered at him, “What’s with you, Hugh? You’ll get your cut, and more waste to sell once I process everything.”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Hugh said, “I’m just tired is all. Gonna head home and get some sleep.”

Ian waved goodbye, and went back down into the basement. This was the harder part, really–refining the product. He’d given Richard the raw stuff, and it worked just fine, but it could cause some messy situations if you weren’t careful. For a little shift like that though, it wouldn’t be a problem, he was sure.

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(Caption) What is Lost, Can be Freely Claimed

October Caption Challenge (29/31)

“Come on Simon, magic? Really?”

“Sure Marty! Just fuckin’ trust me, alright? The plan’ll work. You wanna live in this shithole the rest a yer life?”

“Ya know I don’t.”

“Well then work with me here. So we lure a couple a rich guys from the city, one a those gay couples, and have them stay here for a week.”

“Here? Why the fuck would they wanna stay at a run down shithole like our place?”

“Easy–it’s called AirBnB.”

“Come on babe, doesn’t it look quaint?”

“It looks dirty.”

“I want to get out of the city though.”

“I know, I know, look, just book it, alright? But I reserve the right to demand a refund.”

“Alright, so they stay here–how’s that help us, Marty?”

“Well, they first they lose their luggage, you see…”

“It’s not the end of the world, the airline said they’ll have it to us by the end of the week.”

“We’ll be leaving by the end of the week, Gregory! What in the world am I supposed the wear? My plane clothes all week?”

“Well, you are the one who said that you wanted to get out of the city and into the country, maybe living a little simpler could help. I mean, did you really need two suitcases for a week here?”

“Yes! Of course I did!”


“Only thing is, when you lose something, according to magic, that creates…an opening. Something else can slip in and replace it. If you don’t claim it, well, that means it’s up for grabs.”

“So…we just gotta give them something else? Like what?”

“We got all kinds a stuff, Simon! And with a little spell here and there, they won’t even miss their garbage luggage.”

“I can’t wear it anymore, Gregory–oh look! Someone didn’t clean out the closet. Oh, but it’s not the most…well…chiq, is it?”

“What, coveralls and rubber boots aren’t your style? Fuck, this place is a dump, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Let me just…hmm…it fits pretty well, actually.”

“Oh my god, I have to get a picture of this. Chadwick, in coveralls–the guys back home are going to fucking freak out.”

“Oh haha, fine, you can get a picture, but only if you put on something too.”

“No fucking way.”

“Come on! It’s pretty comfy…”

“Oh fine, but I’m just trying it on, ok? Nothing more.”

“So they put on our stuff, and…then what?”

“Then we wait.”

“Fuck Greg, you…fuckin stink today.”

“Well yeah–why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“No, I mean, you don’t…usually stink, do you?”

“Come on Chad, of course we fuckin’ stink.”

“No, I mean…fuck, what was I thinkin’ about?”

“Go get me another beer man, I just wanna relax before we gotta go back tah work on Monday.”

“But we’re supposed tah leave in two days, right Greg?”

“Leave where?”

“I…I thought…”

“Dumbass, what are you fuckin’ thinkin’ for?”

“I dunno.”

“Get me that beer, then get yer ass over here, I’m fuckin’ horny as hell this mornin’.”

“We wait?”

“Yeah, we wait.”

“For what?”

“For the magic to work, stupid!”

“Don’t yell at me Simon.”

“Look, they forget who they are, they take our place, and then they renounce their old lives, which means we can have them! We take their stuff, and bang–brand new lives.”

“Why the fuck would they give up their good lives for our shitty one?”

“Look. I promise it’ll work, just trust me.”

“What the fuck ya want?”

“Just some lost luggage from the airport…for a Gregory Morse and a Chadwick Anderson?”

“Ain’t no one here by those names. Ya must have the wrong address.”

“Oh–so you’re renouncing your right to these worldly goods?”

“What the fuck ya sayin’? Yeah, sure, whatever. Get the fuck off mah property.”

“Yes sir, have a good day Sir.”


“Who was that Greg?”

“No one important. Come here, Daddy’s fuckin’ horny boy…”

“Oh fuck Daddy, you fuckin’ reek tahday.”

“Yeah I do you fucker–come on, one more day a vacation, then it’s back tah fuckin’ work. I wanna spend it fuckin’–outside.”


“Yeah, gonna throw ya around a mud puddle, get ya real fuckin nasty, then plow that hole a yers.”

“Oh fuck Daddy, that sounds fuckin’ hot.”

Well go on then boy, let’s get started.”

(Caption) A Flubbed Spell

October Caption Challenge 2/30

“Oh fuck daddy, please, your boy’s hole is so hungry for your big cock, please fuck me Daddy…”

This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how this was supposed to be happening. Jeremy flipped his way through the spell book again, trying not to think about his growing gut, the hair that was coating his face and body, the winking asshole of his boy, fuck he wanted to pound that ass so bad, but if he did, then they really would be fucked for good.

Jeremy had always had a thing for his dad. When he’d found the old tome of spells at the library, he thought he might be able to cobble together something that might make his dad a little more willing to have sex with him. Thinking he’d worked it out, he’d cast it earlier, and it had definitely worked, but not in the way he’d intended. His dad was looking younger and younger. In fact, as Jeremy stared at him, his beard was shrinking up into his face, his body slimming down, the hair pulling back in as he grew younger and younger. Jeremy on the other hand, was getting older and older, the hair on his body picking up silver. He let out a groan of frustration, ran a hand over his head and it came away with a clump. He didn’t know how to make it work! And if he didn’t figure it out, and he fucked his boy, then the spell would seal–he’d never be able to undo it, no matter what!

“Damn it Daddy, I’m tired of waiting. Put down the stupid book and fuck me!” his boy said, ripped the tome out of his hand, and climbed into his lap, naked, legs wrapped around his waist, groping Jeremy’s fattening chest, rubbing his now hairless crack against the head of Jeremy’s fat daddy cock through the shorts barely containing his new bulk.

“God damn it boy! I’m not gonna fuck you!” Jeremy said, and pushed him off, voice deeper and more commanding. 

His boy was relentless, however, shoved his face into Jeremy’s crotch and started licking at the head, Jeremy moaning, leaking precum from his heavy balls. He grabbed the boy’s head in his hands and smothered him under his belly with a growl, trying hard to remember that he couldn’t fuck him he couldn’t, but a blowjob couldn’t hurt, right?

But no matter how hard his boy sucked on him, he couldn’t cum, and the horniness was driving him insane. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he threw his boy to the floor, climbed on him, and drove his cock into his hole. It was…amazing, better than he’d expected it to be in a million years, and in less than a minute, he came–and he felt the spell snap into place, their roles now forever reversed.

Still, there were worse things, right? He had a handsome boy willing to do anything to please him. The spell had left him wealthy enough that neither of them needed to work. All Jeremy had to do all day was drink his whiskey, smoke his cigars, and fuck his son’s hole whenever either of them got horny. After a few days, neither of them could recall a time things had been different. The book went back to the library, ready for someone else to find it, and try to work it’s magic in their favor.

The Body You Deserve (Sketch) [Commission]

Flash Commissions are ongoing! Here’s another one, which was commissioned by Crazy Diamond. You can find more details here.

“Need another drink, boy?”

Erik looked up from where he was having a conversation with a couple of friends at the man who was looming over their table. Erik did nothing to hide his obvious disdain that a guy like this–chubby, hairy, old, and reeking of cigar smoke–would have the absolute nerve to think Erik–young, slender, hairless, and perfect in every way–would so much as talk to him, much less take a drink from him. “No thanks. I don’t usually waste my time on old slobs like you,” he said, and his friends all tittered.

The bear just rolled his eyes–it was hardly the first time he’d been shot down in his life, and moved on. The twinks gossiped for a bit about him, unable to believe someone like that would ever think one of them could be in their league, and then moved onto other topics. Just as they were about to go back to the dance floor, someone tapped Erik on the shoulder roughly.

Erik looked back, half expecting the bear to have come back to try again, but it wasn’t him. It was an older fellow, muscular, and he had a glass in his hand–the same glass the bear had had a second ago. “That was rather rude of you, I think. Now, that nice man offered you a drink, and you should be gracious and accept it.”

Erik was about to tell this guy, whoever he was, to fuck right off as well, but instead, his hand reached out, took the glass from him, and Erik chugged it, while the stranger and his friends all watched in slight astonishment. Erik could hardly believe it himself–he wasn’t exactly one to tolerate being told what to do, ever, but he couldn’t stop drinking it until the glass was empty. It tasted…odd. There was definitely alcohol in it, but it wasn’t quite like any drink he’d had at this bar before. He put the empty glass down, and the man nodded, “Good–I’ll see you later,” he said, and then slipped off into the crowd.

No one said anything. Erik was red in the face–he hated being humiliated like that. He got up to tell the man off, but when he did, his guts knotted up and cramped, and he ran off towards the bathroom instead, where he doubled over in pain. The spasms in his stomach were spreading now; it felt like his whole body was on fire, being stretched out and deformed somehow. After a few minutes clutching a sink and moaning, the pain began to subside, and he could stand again–but he froze when he saw the face looking back at him in the mirror.

It wasn’t his face. He blinked, and the face blinked as well. It was the face of…that bear, the one who had offered him a drink. He looked at the chubby cheeks covered with a thick, greying beard, the heavily receding hairline, and then down at his body. The clothes he had on were filled to bursting with his thick gut and hefty chest, the waistband of his once skinny jeans groaning before the button burst, his gut sagging out another couple of inches. He could smell himself too–not just the aura of cigar around him, but also his sweat and body odor wafting around him. He had never been more disgusted in his entire life.

That drink–it had to have something to do with that stranger. He had to find him, and figure out how to get his body back! He rushed out of the bathroom, staggering out of his much too small shoes in the process, his shirt beginning to rip apart as he moved. There was no sign of the man in the bar, so he headed for the patio out back, where the crowd was thinner, and sure enough, there he was–standing by the wall with his body–his real body, in the bear’s now much too baggy clothes.

“You!” Erik said, his deeper voice booming across the space, “What the fuck did you do to me!”

“There he is, Roy, I told you he’d find us–come on over here–I think you have an apology to make to Roy here, don’t you?” the stranger said.

“You piece of shit, give me my body back right fucking now,” Erik said storming across the patio, his shirt finally giving up and tearing apart, leaving his hairy gut hanging out over his much, much too tight jeans. He looked from the older stranger over to his own body–and saw that whoever was in it now (the fat bear, he presumed, who the stranger had called Roy) was enjoying the hell out of it, and had a thick cigar clamped in his jaw. One part of him was disgusted, but another part of him…craved it. He licked his lips, eyes locked to the cigar in front of him, his cock getting a bit hard at the sight of his one time body smoking.

He realized, after a bit, he’d just been standing there, staring, for several moments, but he didn’t quite know what to say anymore. He looked from his old body to the stranger, who had an expectant look on his face. “Well?” the stranger said to him, “What are you waiting for? Apologize. You were quite rude back there, don’t you think?”

Erik turned to his old body, unable to control himself, just like before, when the man had given him the drink. “I…I’m sorry…for being rude. Now can I have my body back please?”

“I don’t think that was polite enough. This man is your superior, right? At least, you seemed to think so before. Isn’t this man’s body so much better than yours, in every way?” the stranger asked.

It…was true. Looking at his old body now, he was…enthralled. He’d always taken it for granted before, but being outside it, he could properly appreciate it. He got down on his knees, horrified, and said, “I’m sorry sir, I…I was so rude before, I didn’t think. Please forgive me sir…” He sounded so weak, and yet that just made his cock even harder in the front of his very tight pants.

“I don’t know if that’s enough–do you think he needs some punishment, Roy, to remind him of his proper place?” the man said to Eriks old body.

“I think so,” Roy said, and hearing his own voice, hos old voice…it made Erik melt a bit, it was so sexy to his ears.

Together, they dragged Erik up and shoved him against the wall. Then, the stranger handed Roy a flogger, and he started beating the old bear, focusing on his fat ass, and after two strokes, the jeans split apart, leaving Erik–in his now fat, old body–completely naked on the patio. It didn’t stay naked for long though. As Roy beat him with the flogger, things started changing about them both. New clothes appeared on them, replacing their ill fitting ones–a leather harness and tight shorts for Erik, and a full leather suit on Roy’s now young, slender frame. Lust overtook Roy before too long, and he stepped up, unzipped the ass of Erik’s leather shorts, and fucked him, his cock growing longer and thicker, topping out at ten inches, as his frame filled out with even more muscle. Erik moaned in delight as his one-time body fucked his new one, and he grew taller and fatter, until he was six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds, covered in grey fur, and utterly devoted to serving his master, inhabiting his old body. When Roy came in Erik’s hole, the final changes came, sealing them in this new life: a collar around Erik’s neck, and a steel chastity cage riveted around his tiny cock.

Roy tugged the lead connected to his massive slave’s collar, and rewarded him with a breath of smoke, before giving him the half smoked cigar he’d been smoking and lighting a new one for himself. The stranger was nowhere to be seen, but Erik no longer cared–he was right where he belonged, serving his master, in the proper body he deserved, and which Erik had wasted for too long.

Officer Wetzel Meets a Demon (Part 3)

Finally got this story finished. If you need a refresher, here was Part 1 and Part 2

“What did you…do to me?” Officer Wetzel said, groaning, something deep inside his guts twisting, and he found himself gagging, and then vomiting black bile at the wall in front of him in a great gush. It tasted vile, but no sooner had he wiped his chin with one sleeve of his uniform, than a second surge hit him. Something was caught in his throat, something sharp–he hurled again and felt it dislodge and fly out of his mouth–it hit the brick wall with a soft tink, and then landed in the puddle of filth. The demon bent down and picked up the small, gleaming thing between two fingers, and examined it. “That’s…that’s mine,” he croaked. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew, somehow, that it belonged to him.

“Pity–I was hoping it would be a bit larger. I certainly didn’t think you’d give it up so easily,” the demon said, and slipped it into his pocket. “And yes, it was yours–but that body of yours can’t hold something like this, not anymore. No–not even god will love you now. Be thankful the devil needed you at all, sinner.”

The officer grabbed for the demon, but he stepped back, watching the man crawl towards him. “I know I promised you a weekend, but I still have some pressing business I have to attend to–you’ll forgive me if I catch up with you a bit later. Do try and enjoy yourself–you’ve earned it. Still, I will need your clothes…”

Wetzel tried to find his feet, but his body was feverish, his vision blurry. He nearly tumbled into the street, but the demon managed to swerve him back onto the sidewalk, and into an alley out of the sun’s heat, where he forcefully disrobed him. Wetzel tried to fight back but his body was giving out–he slumped over, retching up another massive amount of bile, but this time it was thicker–instead of flying out of his mouth, it more…oozed forth, running down his chin and onto his chest, coating his body. He tried to wipe it off, but it just…smeared around–sticky and hot, more pouring from his mouth. He tried to speak, tried to beg for mercy, but he couldn’t speak through the flow–choking and gagging, he collapsed, the filth pouring out of him, coating his body until a few minutes later, none of his flesh was visible–all that remained was a black, rubbery cocoon anchored to the filthy concrete of the alley.

The demon squatted down, and rubbed spot where the officer’s head would have been, and then stood up, looking at the small amber gem which the officer had expelled–that small little chunk of authentic soul the man had still had within him. After all, the officer here hadn’t been his primary target–no, he had someone far worse in need of punishment. After all, if God wasn’t going to bother showing his face, that meant it was up to the devil, to enforce his own idea of law and order here on earth.

He licked his lips, placed the gem on his tongue, rolled it around his mouth, and then swallowed. Immediately, an uncomfortable grumble came from his guts, the purity of the gem rebelling against his demonic nature, seeking exit–but he bound it deep inside himself, corrupted it, and pulled the remnants of goodness forth. It’s human form began to shudder, and a few minutes later his body had become that of Officer Wetzel–fortyish, paunch covered in grey hair, a bushy mustache. He pulled on the officer’s uniform, checked on the cocoon one last time, and then set off down the street, whistling and twirling his baton, cruising the leather and rubber freaks as he went. As much as he might want to abuse the last vestiges of the Officer’s form with a bit more sex, the fact was he didn’t have much time to finish the job–a few hours at most. His demonic force would eat through this skin in that time, and he’d need it where he was heading.

The demon headed away from the revelrie, knowing he’d have a chance to enjoy himself more once his work was completed. The spire of the cathedral was visible, sticking out into the sky above the lower roofs around him, and after a few minutes, the skin already chafing slightly, he found himself at the entrance to the sanctuary, and gingerly placed his hand on the door, the skin insulating him from the holy energy thrumming through the structure. Had he not been shielded by the officer’s remaining piety, his mortal form would have been destroyed, and he would have been thrown back into the pits where he’d crawled from. Instead, he pulled opened the door with a gleeful chuckle, and slipped inside.

The space was obnoxiously pious. He walked through the sanctuary, where several people were praying, towards the back of the church, where the confessional booths were placed. Now here, he could taste something of his own nature, well cloaked and hidden within a false faith. He entered the booth and sat down, licking his lips, glancing at the priest through the screen–who was looking back at him, recognizing the officer’s face, even if…something seemed strange about him, at the moment. But there was an eagerness there as well, which didn’t care about those concerns, and one hand slipped to his crotch, rubbing his cock through his robes. This had become a…habit for them both, and as wrong as Father Nelson knew it was, he…he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “It’s late, Beau–I thought you might not come today.”

The demon resisted the urge to begin stroking himself as well, but he would wait. It would be better if he waited, to make sure the sinful priest was too deep to escape his grasp. When he was his, then he would have all the time to take his pleasure, and it would all the sweeter for his patience, as contrary to his nature as that might be.

The Underwear Trade Network Pt. 1

Henry had always had a bit of an underwear fetish–he remembered stealing jocks from some of the hot guys in high school, just to smell them. Something about getting that close to another guy, it was intoxicating. Still, he hadn’t been able to do much beyond swapping dirty jocks with other guys online, but the more he did it, the more he realized that it wasn’t enough. He had these vivid fantasies of not just stealing guy’s underwear, but their bodies too–their lives. He started looking for other men who felt the same, and it was in this way that he received his invitation into the UTN–the Underwear Trading Network. He’d jumped at the opportunity without really reading all of the details, assuming he’d just signed up for a group that pooled underwear and sent it to members. He sent off a pair of his own cumstiff boxers as part of the “initiation fee,” and the next week a package of his own had arrived–and when he put on the ripe jock inside, something amazing had happened–his entire body started changing.

Henry was relatively young and had stayed in shape, even after college, but the body he had a few minutes later was still very different from his own. Much shorter, for one thing–he dropped from around six foot two to about five and a half feet, but much more cut–without the fatty layer he’d had covering up his muscle. That, and he looked to be in his mid fifties, his body hairy, face and head shaved, but with a layer of heavy stubble, and even a few tattoos–and the desires. Fuck! Suddenly, thinking about men pissing made him more aroused than he’d ever been in the past. That first night he pissed all over himself and his jock in the tub, but after the first week, his own piss wasn’t enough, and he’d spend the whole night out at bars, begging men to soak him down, and come how stinking of piss, unwilling to shower it off.

The world shifted around him as well. He’d wake up early every morning and get dressed in workwear he hadn’t owned before, and headed off to the worksite, shooting the shit woith his new/old buddies there, drinking their piss in dusty corners of unfinished, suburban houses. This conitinued for a month, and then the jock strap he hadn’t removed in all that time started to itch, and a day later, another package arrived from the UTN. Inside that box he discovered a pair of yellow cumstained, 3XL briefs, and as much as he didn’t want to put them on, he couldn’t stop himself from removing his piss soaked jock and pulling them on. He watched his body bloat, and soon he was someone else entirely–someone he had absolutely no interest in being.

He was huge, probably close to 400 pounds of flab, and somehow a bit shorter than he’d been before, making him look even larger. He was balding, and his fat stank, but as soon as he’d sent to jock back in the return package, he realized something else–he was hungry. For the next month, all it seemed that he did was eat, and eat, and eat, and only when he was as full as he could get could he manage to shoot a wad from the three inch cock he could barely reach around his massive gut. He had no friends either, and worked from home as a computer programmer, eating day and night, miserable beyond belief–but then it hit him. He was smart in this body, smart with computers, and so he hacked his way into the UTN’s server and started fiddling with their delivery system. He had a plan–now all he could do was hope that it works.