Sketch: New Sheriff in Town

It was Eta Alpha Sigma’s first party of the year, and so of course that meant it had to be as loud as the boys could make it–the frat president, a senior named Evan–had told his bros to make sure of it. The college they attended was in a small sleepy farming town away from the states big cities–you could say that EAS’s first party of the year was always the towns wakeup call that school was back in session, after its quiet summer.

As usual, it didn’t take more than a couple of hours before there was the sound of the siren, and a patrol car pulled up in front of the booming house. It was tradition, really, and Evan knew what to do. He stepped outside, and walked down to where the cop was getting out…except it was a new face he didn’t recognize. The way things had usually gone were like this–frat president would give police chief his bribe for the year on the first night of the party, and cops wouldn’t show up after that for the rest of the year. “You’re a new face, man,” Evan said, already counting out hundreds he’d gotten from his wealthy father.

“Last sheriff retired–newly elected in August. Just started this week,” the new sheriff said. He came around, and his shirt read “Sheriff Dinvers.”

“Well, Mr. Dinvers–here’s the deal. Two thousand dollars in your pocket, and you don’t show up here for the rest of the year, got it?”

Apparently, he didn’t, because before Evan really knew what was happening, the sheriff had him against the car for attempting to bribe an officer of the county, handcuffed him, shoved him in the back of his car, and drove off–and the party continued on, none the wiser that the frat president had just been arrested.

Evan threw a fit, naturally, threatening Dinvers with all sorts of legal trouble once his father heard about this–but he realized, quickly, that they weren’t heading to the police station–instead, the sheriff drove him to a large warehouse, drove into it, and parked. “Now boy, I campaigned on change in this town, and a whole lot of us who live here are pretty sick and tired of you fucking frats making our lives hell nine months out of the year. I know all ya’ll got rich fuck parents, and I don’t give a shit–because I know how to get results–and I get a little something I like out of the bargain too.” The last part he whispered into Evan’s ear as he dragged him from the cop car, and over to a chair facing a screen in a little room. Evan fought and screamed, but the sheriff injected him with some sort of drug–and Evan calmed down quickly.

The sheriff bound him to the chair, pointed him at the screen, and turned on the projector–and a spiral started playing on the wall, along with a strange soundtrack–almost words, but layered on top of each other so Evan couldn’t quite tell what they were saying. The sheriff put in some earplugs, and as Evan sank into a drug induced trance, he went to work, cutting away the boys expensive clothes–and then the real fun began–he turned on the shaver and buzzed away the pretty boy’s hair–the first of several changes he’d be making to the president’s image tonight.


No one knew where Evan had disappeared to, until late the next day, when the patrol car arrived, dropped Evan off in an orange prison jumpsuit, his head shaved, and holloweyed like he didn’t sleep a wink all night. The frat was pissed, of course–they wanted to know what they were going to do for revenge, but Evan just told them to calm down. They’d sort it out, but first he needed to rest. Alone in his room, he looked at his bare head, then pulled off the jumpsuit, carefully, feeling the welts and bruises on his back where the sheriff had…flogged him. Evan had begged him for it, his cock had exploded in the middle of the session, and that’s when the sheriff had put this on him–he looked down at the metal chastity device, riveted in place, and shuddered. Evan…had his orders. He knew what he had to do, if he ever wanted that to come off his cock again. 

He came clean a couple days later. Everything–the bribes, the embezzlement, the coverups for crimes by the college and by the fraternity themselves, the rapes, the beatings, the occasional death by hazing during pledge week–all of it. He’d agreed to a reduced penalty with the county sheriff for coming clean, and within a week, EAS had been dissolved on campus, the brothers all caught up in their own parts of the scandal as their wealthy families tried to shield them. Most transferred to other colleges, a few faced charges of their own. The other frats on campus knew that a warning shot had been fired all the same–the town wasn’t going to let their antics go anymore–they had better shape up, or they would be next.

But Evan didn’t care about that. All he could think about was the words running through his head, how…good it had felt, chained to the wall, the feel of that flogger on his back, his aching cock trapped in this tiny cage. He found himself alone in the office with the sheriff, and he broke down, and begged him to release him. He’d done everything he’d asked for, he’d followed his orders to the letter–just let his cock go, that was all he needed…wasn’t it?

Sheriff Dinvers just laughed. “Pig–I don’t think you’re done here, not by a long shot. I told you if you did as I said, you’d earn a chance at getting that cage off–remember that?” He said, and pushed his boot between the boy’s knees where he was kneeling, tapping the cage with one toe of his shiny black boot. “What do you think, you wanna try and earn it? Then lick my boot, pig.”

Evan gave a little squeal of indecision. He knew–he knew–that if he did this…his old life was forfeit. The sheriff had him right where he wanted him. He…could leave. Get the cage off somewhere, even if he had to tell his dad what he’d done. He’d disown him, sure, but…but what he wanted was the feel of that flogger again. To feel the whip the sheriff had threatened him with. Feel that cock in his hole again, do anything for this rough, masculine, domineering…

His tongue was on the boot before he could even really form the thought–and he knew he was lost. The conditioning was too deep already, and he…wanted it. “That’s a good pig–why don’t you come on home with me, and we’ll have some fun?”


Evan didn’t finish college that year. He dropped out a couple of weeks after selling his stuff, told his dad he didn’t want anything to do with the family anymore, and left–he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, but he didn’t go far–he moved right in with the sheriff, so his real training, and transformation, could begin. He lived down in the dungeon, eating a strict–and massive–diet. If he was going to be the sheriff’s pig, he was going to have to look, like one, wasn’t he? He packed on weight, and he was educated in all manners of sex–piss play, fisting, bondage–but it was the pain he loved the most. When he’d been a good pig, and done all his chores, and made his weight goals, and shown he was worthy–Master would undo the cage for a session, and beat the pig raw until he came, and then lock him back up again–and cuddle with him upstairs in the bed, tending to his back, admiring the growing web of scars forming on the young pig’s hide–and tell him how proud he was of him.

A couple years later, a new deputy joined the force. He was the sheriff’s cousin, or so he said. He was a tubby fellow, but capable, and more than willing to help out the department in whatever way they needed. He always had his collar buttoned to the top, his tie knotted tight–so he could hide his slave collar underneath. He was also always mindful of his cuffs–less he expose the riot of perverse, piggy tattoos his uncle–his master–had started putting on him. But his back was always kept clean–just the scars there, showing him for what he really was. A fat pain pig, and that was all Evan wanted to be, for the rest of his life.

July Suggested Stories Available for Patrons!

I have four new suggested stories for patrons available now, based on suggestions from earlier this month. First, we have a tale of a young gay man given an opportunity to seek justice that had been denied. Second, we have a man struggling to lose weight, who decides to try hypnosis for assistance. Third, a man with a slobby neighbor finally learns why he seems to be the butt of every joke. Lastly, there’s a new drug spreading like pigweed through a rural community, with some interesting side effects.

They’re available for every patron supporting me at the $5 dollar level or higher! You can find more details about my Patreon page here, if you’d like to support me. Below is a sample from the second tale, to whet your appetite!


“And the files are really free?” 

Ken looked at the chat he had with his friend online, and then went back to the site they were chatting about. It seemed a bit…sketchy, in all honesty. Some guy offering free hypnosis files to help guy’s quit smoking, or help them with their workout goals, or whatever else they might want. His friend, another bodybuilder, had been seeing some pretty impressive results, if Ken said so himself, and he attributed all of them to these files. Looking over the site, he saw that the guy also did erotic hypnosis, and that quite a few of his files seemed rather, well, perverse.

“Yes, they’re really free. He’s just some old guy who does it in his spare time. What are you so worried about, even? He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do–that’s how hypnosis works.”

It was true, or at least, that’s what his friend kept saying to him. Ken sighed–he’d been stuck on this plateau for so long, he just wasn’t sure if there was anything that could really help. He’d been a big guy–fat, that is–and he’d decided to try and get into shape. It had been going well–he was down fifty pounds already, hovering around 210, but he hadn’t been able to keep it up, and he was getting frustrated. What did it really matter, he supposed, if they worked or not? In the end, he filled out a submission form on the site, detailing some things about himself, and what he wanted from his files, sent it off, and didn’t expect much from it. But the next day, he got a reply, with the guy asking for a video conference. His friend hadn’t mentioned that, but he threw caution to the wind, and found himself chatting to an older fellow about his interests. He seemed nice enough, and his natural charm disarmed a lot of Ken’s initial worries that he was just some pervert. The guy got a feel for him, and then said he needed to hypnotize him so he could find an induction that would work. The man put a few spirals on Ken’s screen, asking him to just relax. The first few didn’t seem to do anything, but the fourth…well, the next thing he knew, he woke up with a start, and the old man was back on the screen, grinning from ear to ear. He told Ken he would have the first file for him in a few days, and signed off.

The sensation had been…disturbing, but not unpleasant. He felt more awake and alert than usual that afternoon, and his workout was great–he had so much focus–but it didn’t last. He waited for the first file, and it arrived as promised, after a few days, along with the directions to watch and listen to it twice a day–once before his workout, and once before going to bed. He watched it that night, and didn’t even remember getting into bed, but woke up feeling relaxed and refreshed. He watched it again before his workout the next day, and that same focus was there, but even stronger. He could, just, do more. Push himself further. He was so pleased with the results, that when he got home, he was giddy…but something also felt a bit off. He went to jack off before bed, and before listening to the file…but couldn’t seem to get hard, for some reason. He watched the file again, and went to bed, but the next day, discovered something new–there was something on his cock.

It was a tight cage, held in place with a small padlock. He was so unnerved by it, that as soon as he found the key on the counter he unlocked it…but when he did, he felt…immediately guilty. He needed to be locked up. It was important to him. How else would he be able to focus on his workouts, if he wasn’t locked up all the time? He’d just…masturbate all the time, and forget to workout, and then he’d be some fat slob, jacking off all the time, and he didn’t want that, he didn’t want that at all! He quickly put the cage back on, hid the key, and got ready for his next workout…

New You Resolutions (Part 6)

The list of resolutions that was included in the letter from New You Enterprises to Professor Leroy Herron was as follows:

  • I resolve to slowly lose my academic knowledge, my cognitive ability, and literacy.
  • I resolve to put my cock into permanent chastity, behave submissively to all men, and consider myself as a subhuman faggot.
  • I resolve to no longer use the toilet, and only wear diapers, which I will be unable to change myself.
  • I resolve to remove all of my hair permanently, and cover myself with humiliating tattoos.
  • I resolve to abandon my family, and instead serve dominant men as a sex slave for the rest of the year.

Leroy, naturally, found this entire list to be so ridiculous, so scandalous, that it had to be some joke, right? Some prank pulled by another professor in the department, or perhaps by a student. He certainly had no intention of doing any of these things. He went to throw the list in the trash, but as he did, he noticed that a small package had appeared on his desk while he’d read the letter and the list, something that he was certain hadn’t been there before. Hands shaking slightly, he unwrapped the package, and inside, he found a metal chastity cage, and a single diaper.

How had this gotten here? He didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t going…to do this, was he? And yet, hands still shaking, he undid his pants, dropped then to the floor, stepped out of his shoes, and began working the chastity cage around the base of his cock. He…he had to put it on. He…he deserved to lock up his cock after all. Only men were allowed to have their cocks out, and free, and he…he wasn’t a man, not really. Not…anymore.

He fought the thoughts invading his mind, but his hands refused to obey him. The device clicked and locked–there was no sign of anyway to open it or remove it–aside from, perhaps, going to a locksmith and cutting it away from him…but he wouldn’t do that. No, the cage had to stay, and…and he still had to put on the diaper, right? He picked it up, and tried to put it on him, but for some reason couldn’t quite figure it out. He…he needed someone to do it, a man to do it for him. He was…too stupid of a faggot to put on his own diapers.

There was a knock on the door suddenly, and before Leroy could say anything, the office door opened, and the same student as before was in the doorway, eyes a bit puffy, but when he saw his professor with his pants down, cock locked in a chastity device…he just looked confused instead. “I, uh, I just wanted to…apologize…” the young man said, but didn’t get further than that.

“No, uh, I…I’m the one who needs to apologize,” Leroy said, the words tumbling from his mouth, and he got on his knees. “Of course you can go on your vacation, and see your family, I…I’m just a stupid faggot, I can’t tell you, a man like you, what to do, please forgive me for what I said earlier!” He go crawled forward, panting his head at the student’s feet, who just gaped at him, at his stern professor literally begging him for forgiveness…and as he watched it, something…brewed up in him, and he shoved his sneaker into Leroy’s face.

“If you’re really sorry, then…then clean my shoe, faggot!” he said, almost barking at him, his cock hardening as he watched Leroy obey him, licking at his sneaker, moaning as he did, cock trying desperately to harden in the tight cage, but it refused to budge. He cleaned one shoe, and then the other, and then…begged the young man to help him. He couldn’t get on his diaper, you see, and…and maybe he would be willing to help. The student agreed, but only if the professor would suck him off afterwards. He ended up getting several pictures of the professor, wearing just his diaper, a load of cum sprayed across his face and beard–and promised him it would be all over campus by the evening, so everyone would see just how much of a worthless faggot Professor Herron truly was.

Horrified at what he’d just done, a diapered Leroy fled to his car after the student had left resolved to drive home, but as he was sitting there, he felt piss flood into the front of his diaper…and he realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t let his wife and children see what he was becoming, he…he needed to go somewhere else, anywhere other than there. He ended up getting a room at a cheap motel off the highway, sitting alone in the room, trying to figure out what to do, trying to look up more information about New You Enterprises, but finding nothing. Over the next week…he found himself in a hopeless spiral. The male staff members of the motel soon discovered the faggot living there, and would humiliate him day and night, making him stew in his filthy diapers until they would change him at last, before the smell could be noticed by other guests. He shaved off his hair, and started…drawing on himself with sharpie, fantasizing about the tattoos he would get…soon enough, but what he wanted most…what he needed, was a master.

He started advertising on line, streaming videos of himself, begging anyone to be his master, looking for a dominant man to show this worthless diapered, sissy faggot his proper place in life. Mostly, men would just ridicule him, but eventually, someone took an interest in him–and so Leroy transferred all of the savings he had in his personal accounts to the stranger, bought a plane ticket with the remaining pittance, and drove off, ready to begin his service as a faggot for the year–if not for the rest of his life.

Alright, I’d like to do one more recipient of a set of resolutions, and then I’ll start wrapping things up with the end of the year party for all four of our lucky resolution winners. Who would you like the final target to be? The public poll is below, and the bonus patron poll can be found here!

The Three Daddies and a Spoiled Brat (Caption Sketch)

From the right: Me, Jeb, Nate and Mitch

The four of us were on our way to Jeb’s parent’s cabin for the weekend, and we were getting there late, so we stopped at a bar along the way to get some food, and a drink. Now, I’m the only one of us who was under 21, but I had my fake ID with me. I don’t fuckin’ know how that old cunt knew it was fake, but when she refused to serve us…I got pissed, and maybe I said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t fuckin’ faze her though–she just stared at me, and I felt this…chill run down my spine, and then she looked at my three friends, and told us to get the fuck out of her bar. We…did, but as I was leaving, she whispered to me, “If you want to act like a spoiled baby, you might as well be one.”

I felt weird for the rest of the drive. We all did, really. No one said much of anything, and we were all hungry, and I felt dumb for making a scene, and for being called out by some old bitch. We got to the cabin and started unloading, but as we did, I noticed that something was off about all of my friends. They seemed…older. Mitch had some grey hair in his beard, and his hair was receding. Nate’s beard was a bit longer, and he seemed chubbier than he had before. It was about that time, that I realized the crotch of my jeans felt warm, and when I looked down, I realized I had pissed my pants without even noticing.

Horrified, I ran inside to the bathroom, stripped out of my pants and got cleaned up–hoping no one had noticed. It took me about…half an hour? I walked back out, and found all three of my friends on the couch–fucking making out with each other like a bunch of fags! That, and all of them were white haired, and had stripped down to their underwear, showing off their hairy, chubby bodies, and I was so stunned that I fell down–and I couldn’t stand back up, no matter how hard I tried, and…and I fucking started to cry.

My three friends on the couch in the cabin, shifting

Jeb told me everything was ok, but before I could stop him, he put me in a diaper! I couldn’t even speak, everything came out as gibberish, and I watched all of my daddies having sex…and I got jealous. I got hard in my fucking diaper, and started groping myself, and when Daddy Nate saw, they gave me a spanking for being a naughty baby, and put these damn mitts on my hands! I just wanted to be a big boy like my daddies, but I was so naughty, all I could do was work myself into a fit of horniness.

Me the next morning, after falling asleep finally, still hard as a rock in my diaper

Thankfully, after the weekend, we all changed back–mostly. I…still have to wear a diaper, I can’t control it, and the only people who can change it are…are my daddies. Whenever I’m with them, they get old again, but they hate it–and they’re all avoiding me, but I don’t have a choice! I…I need to go back, and beg her to fix this, but I’m terrified. Terrified…she might just make it even worse. But what choice to we have?


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

For everyone supporting me on Patreon, you can go ahead and download this month’s exclusive stories, based off of your suggestions! For those who don’t support me, and are curious what these look like, here’s one from this month.


For the Winning Team

Every coach has their methods for bringing the best out from their players and Coach Harper was no exception. It had been a good game–not their best, but some of the new…policies he’d put in place, after disposing of the old coach and taking his place, were having an effect. The most notable, of course, were the cock cages around every single player’s cock and balls. It turned out that being denied the basic pleasure of masturbating for losing a game was enough to encourage all of these young college kids to bring their best out on the field, every time. But they’d won–it had been a squeaker, but they’d won, and so they deserved a reward–or at least the best of them did.

In front of him, in three rows, were every player, naked now aside from their cages, glancing at one another, wondering what they would be granted now that they’d won their first game. “Alright boys–you can do better, and that other team played like shit, but a win is a win,” Harper said. “But not all of you did your best, and I think you know that. But for the best of you, you’ll be getting a weekend without your cages. The rest of you…well, you’ll see soon enough. I have something extra special for the MVP as well–and that, this game, was Clarkson. Get over here, and kneel next to me, boy.”

The runningback who’d scored two of the night’s touchdowns stood up, got over next to the coach and knelt beside him, trying not to look too pleased with himself. The others knew he deserved it, but wondered what the coach might have in store for him–and for the rest of them.

“As for the best of you. We have: Brophy, Finch, Fields…”

The coach named off a list, and as he did, there was a faint clunk with each, as that players cage fell off, releasing their cock. They all looked down in glee, most of them touching and stroking their cocks for the first time in a month.

The coach finished his list, looking at half the team relieved, the other half crestfallen. “As for the rest of you–well, I think your weekend is going to be spent a little different that usual. Boys, with your cocks free, pair up with one of your poorer fellows please–and fuck their throats.”

They all looked at one another in horror, but as always, none of them could disobey an order from their coach. They paired off, the best players fucking the losers’ mouths, and as they did, they watched their teammates begin to change. They heads were losing form, their bodies shrinking and turning to mesh and elastic.

“That’s right–maybe some of their skill will rub off on you if you get to be their jocks for the weekend, eh boys? Or at least you all might run a little harder next week against the Cougars.”

Clarkson looked away as his friends lost their form, but the coach stood in front of him. This close, the musk rolling off him was even more powerful than usual, making both Clarkson’s mouth and eyes water. “But sir, if…if I’m the MVP, why do I still have my cage?”

“You, boy, get a very special prize–you get to be worn by your coach for the entire week!”

Before Clarkson could do anything else, coach slammed his thick, greasy cock into his mouth, and Clarkson felt his mouth…cling to him, somehow, his head beginning to soften, arms turning to floppy fabric even as he tried to resist.

“That’s right boy–an entire week, getting all of my cum right into that pouch of yours. You’re going to love it–trust me. If you’re extra good, I’ll even give you a load or two of piss–how does that sound? In fact, coach has to piss right now…”

Clarkson felt it flooding his fabric mouth, soaking down into his body, which was already half the size he should be. Coach’s stream finished just as the last of his body disappeared into the mesh pouch, now sopping wet with piss, squirming slightly, trying to adjust to its new reality as nothing more than an article of clothing.

In front of him, the rest of the team–or what remained of it–was all similarly clad. “Practice on Monday, as usual. Feed those jocks plenty of cum now–we have to make them good and strong. Three loads a day at least, understand?”

“Yes coach!”

“Good. Team dismissed.”

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

Winter Vacation [Interactive Story] (Part 2)

Rich remembered now. His uncle had said…something about the plumbing. That it wouldn’t work right, if he didn’t…do something important, something having to do with that suit, and that mask. He walked over to it, took the suit off the rack, and examined it. It seemed…much too small, and had no arms, and the legs were connected, making it more like a cocoon than a suit, he supposed. The mask was on a shelf, with just two holes in the nose, and a tube running from the mouth of the suit into a black box, and from the box, another pipe ran up to the ceiling, to who knew where.

This wasn’t right. Something strange was going on here, and he had to get himself, and his friends, out of here. His uncle was clearly up to something…but the plumbing was important, right? It had to work, or their vacation would be ruined. The logic seemed so obvious to him–he was still trying to force himself out of it, as he stripped out his his clothes and discarded them in a corner. The mask had to go on first–after all, if he got into the suit, he wouldn’t have hands to use to even get the mask on. Inside, the tube extended several inches into the mask itself, and he slid it into his mouth, before pulling the mask over his head–and as soon as he did that, everything became much, much simpler.

That noise he’d noticed when he flipped the switch was louder, somehow, inside the mask, like everything else had been shut out. The tube flared out, forcing his mouth open quite wide, nearly hitting the point of his gag reflex at the back of his throat, but even if it was uncomfortable, it had to happen. He groped about for the suit, found it, while it was difficult to keep his bearings blinded by the mask, he also felt…so comfortable, almost like he’d done it thousands of times before in his head. Both feet slid into the opening at the neck, and he bunched it up to his toes, pushing each leg into the individual channel meant for them inside the cocoon, so there was a thin membrane of rubber between them. Then, he pulled the suit up to his chest, feeling his cock slip right into the special ring designed for it. That was the only rigid part of the suit, in fact–a three inch hard rubber socket for his cock to rest inside–not an easy for for his six inch member, but the discomfort was something he’d have to adjust to. Next, he slid one arm inside, and then the other, making sure each wormed their way down their own channels built into the side of the suit, and the rubber slid up around his neck, meeting the end of the mask, and encasing him entirely in rubber.

He laid back against the concrete wall, feeling his body begin to go slightly numb. It was…almost like falling asleep. After a few minutes, a rush of liquid poured into his mouth, and he swallowed it all down without question. He didn’t…quite know what it was, but his uncle had mentioned a…filter, of some sort, which would help him in his role as part of the plumbing for a while, until he was finished. Finished–he didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it would happen, eventually, and he leaned back against the wall, thinking of nothing, just listening, and waiting to drink, cock straining against the hard rubber of the suit, desperate to be erect, but Rich could tell that, more likely than not, his days of erections were soon to be over entirely.


“Damn, what kind of fucking house has a fucking urinal in the bathroom?” Maury had entered the cabin with Brett and Nate, trundling the bags, and had freaked out for a moment, because the lights hadn’t turned on when the flipped the switch. Then, a moment later, everything had come on with a low hum–apparently Rich had found the master switch in the basement, which he’d mentioned on the ride. Idly, Maury wondered where Rich was…but he was probably still down there. Down in the basement, doing something important. Best not to worry about him at all, in fact, and definitely don’t go down there…unless he needed something, eventually.

Maury had pulled out his cock, and was pissing into the urinal. It wasn’t like a normal one–it had no water in the basin, or flush mechanism–the piss just drained straight down into a pvc tube and disappeared into the wall. Still, that wasn’t something he needed to worry about–he just needed to piss is all. He needed to put all of his piss into the urinal–that was very important. Rich had mentioned something about that, hadn’t he?

The door to the bathroom opened, suddenly, catching Maury off guard, and he saw both Nate and Brett in the doorway, looking a bit…distant, for some reason. “Fuck dudes, what the hell? I’m pissing.”

It wasn’t like the three of them were seeing anything new, of course–all four of them were involved in sports at college, and living in the same frat house. Still, bathroom privacy was something they could all agree on, usually. “Sorry man, we have to use the urinal too, I’m bursting,” Nate said, and Brett nodded.

That…made sense to Maury, and he scooched over, so the other two could join him at the urinal, all of them pissing in their together, and as…strange as this seemed, it wasn’t unreasonable, right? They all had to use the urinal, after all, and if they all had to piss at the same time, what did it matter? Maury finished first, and slipped out of the bathroom, heading back towards the room where they’d left their bags, but as he went, something else caught his eye, and he moved into another room, letting off a low whistle as he did.

It was a state of the art entertainment center–a huge TV, surround sound, comfy seats around the room–what in the hell did Rich’s uncle do that he could afford such a setup in a cabin he never used? And why was it all so clean looking, if no one had been up here all season? He grabbed a remote, pushed the on switch, and the TV came on–but just static. All of this set up, and there wasn’t even basic cable?

Still, that wasn’t an issue for him. Something told Maury that he loved watching movies more, anyway, and there was a sizable collection of them along the wall. He should watch something. Yeah, he definitely needed to watch something. Something new. Something he’d never seen before. He perused the shelf, but was disappointed–everything there was something he’d seen before, aside from a few odd titles on the top shelf, clustered together–four of them in fact. He looked them over, a bit confused–they…didn’t even seem like movies, really, but they were on the movie shelf, so what else could they be? He selected one of them, went over and slipped it into the disk player, part of him trying to tell himself not to, that something about this was a bad idea, but then the main title was rolling, and he forgot all about those worries, and just focused on the movie instead.


What movie did Maury decide on?

  1. Werkouts 4 Dummiez
  2. Get Flabulous!
  3. Leashman’s Pup Training
  4. BabyDaze

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Pigtown Prison (Part 6)

“Fuck Rod, you know I’ll do anything for you,” Keith said, “I’ll keep the fucker nice and safe.”

“Yeah, it looks like he already knows how to treat you right, boy–but I don’t really think that’s enough, do you? No–I think you owe me and the boys a little something tonight, don’t you? You ran out on us so quick before, we didn’t get a chance to play with you at all. Besides, no lawbreaker can go out in the real world looking all pretty like you do now–no, I think you’re gonna have to have a whole new look, just like Keith here,” Rod paused a moment, and crouched down so he could look Oliver in the eye, “But after tonight, Keith ain’t gonna remember anything about who he was, or who you were to him. You’re just going to be his worthless fucking prison slave, and he’s gonna be a hotshot motorcycle cop. But you–you’re gonna remember everything. You’re gonna have plenty of time to think about all of the mistakes you made, you fucker, and you’re never gonna have a chance to cross me ever again, I can promise you that.”

Rod spit in his face, and then grabbed Oliver by the collar and dragged him towards the back of the bar, into the dark rooms where countless men were waiting for them. He wasn’t prepared for it to hurt as much as it did, but Keith enjoyed watching every moment of it–his slave raped and tortured and changed by Rod and his men. It was payback–he knew it…but he found it harder and harder to recall what the fucker had actually done to him. In any case, it didn’t matter–Rod had sentenced him to life in prison (with a chance of parole, if Rod thought of some better fate for him later), and Rod was the boss, after all. It was shortly before dawn when he dragged the slave back out into the air, shivering and shaking and flinching at the slightest sound, naked aside from a heavy metal collar riveted shut around his neck, and a metal chastity cage around his cock, similarly sealed forever. Keith locked him in the trunk of his car and drove to a home Oliver had never seen before. In the basement, he found a fully equipped dungeon along with several prison cells–Keith shoved him in one and locked the door behind him, before marching back upstairs and abandoning Oliver in the dark.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Oliver finally had a chance to see what had happened to him in Pigtown. He…couldn’t recall much of it, beyond the excruciating pain Rod had put him through, the ants crawling just under his skin for what felt like hours. He lived in the cramped cell–really more of a cage–and only saw Keith twice a day when he was fed. At last, Master decided to take him out for a bit of play–he bent him over the horse and fisted him for close to an hour, before fucking his sloppy hole–and the whole time, Oliver could look in the mirror and see what had been done to him.

Gone were his twinky good looks and his lithe, muscular body. His arms and legs had shrunk, looking a bit stick like, and he’d grown a substantial gut where his tight abs had been at the beginning of the night. In contrast to his weakened body, the rest of his body had taken a thuggish turn–from the tattoos covering his body, to the nose that had been broken several times, and rehealed a bit more formless each time, to the teeth missing when he grimaced, and the head shaved completely smooth. But even the superficial toughness was a fraud–the tattoos, which from a distance looked like gang or prison tatts–were revealed to be nothing more than humiliating words and perverse images when studied up close. Looking at his new face, Oliver tried to push back, tried to deny it, but he could no longer recall who he’d been before all of this, before he’d been judged and imprisoned by his new masters. He looked like a prisoner, he looked like a criminal, someone unsavory and untrustworthy, and before too much longer, he’d even become convinced that this was who he was–truly. That he deserved this. After all, Master Rod was always right, and if Master Keith felt he deserved this, who was he to challenge him? They were law, they were order, and they were right.

He only left Master Keith’s home rarely, and even then, it was only so he could be taken to Pigtown–Rod liked to see him every six or eight months to check in on the slave’s progress, and to test out his holes, and to make sure Oliver still fully understood why he was in this situation at all. His loneliness was interrupted by Master Keith bringing other men into the basement, on occasion. Cops from the precinct who had accepted one of Keith’s invitations to go drinking and had ended up at Pigtown, where Rod twisted them into some pervy muscle slave for Keith’s other sick fantasies. Other lawbreakers Rod had decided needed a sentence in prison with his officer of the law, though they only stayed for weeks, or months, at the most–only Oliver was a full-time resident. As his harem of policemen and prisoners expanded, Keith used Oliver less and less, and soon, he found himself abandoned entirely, his cock achingly hard in its permanent cage. He should have been thankful the abuse was over, but now…now he craved it. He didn’t care how rough it was, he just wanted contact, he wanted someone to use him more than anything. Still, what he wanted no longer mattered; he’d broken the rules, and this was the price he would have to pay for the rest of his life.