Coach’s Summer Training – Part 2

Phillip Emerson was my next pupil. I’d met him while helping out with a few local wrestling meets at the college level. Part of what I liked about him was he was more than an exceptional all around athlete, he was incredibly smart to boot, in the midst of pursuing some degree in an advanced math program. Just the kind of guy I can destroy, and love every second doing it, usually with a bit of challenge along the way. Wrestling was his chance to not think for a while, he told me, and I figured that by the time we were through, he wouldn’t be thinking much at all. We spent a day in the ring getting nice and sweaty, and I offered him a massage to help him cool down afterward. I started on his shoulders, and immediately his body went limp, and he let out a groan. I urged him to relax, to just focus on his good it felt as I kneaded all the tension from my body. He still eventually noticed what I was doing, of course, once he saw his legs shrivelling up and disappearing into his torso. I started pulling him on, and he couldn’t do anything but flap his withering arms at me, his head shrinking down into his neck of the shirt as I pushed my head through. I sniffed the sweaty fabric and jacked off, making sure to shoot up the front–the first load of seed of many more to come.

As I expected, Phillip was too smart to be a screamer–he was a bargainer. He obviously knew that I wanted something out of him, but he didn’t know what. His mind was too adept for me to wear him down to the breaking point like I had Shawn–so I decided to work on him a little differently. I proceeded with what I had been planning, and I started a long, intense workout regimen which had Phillip soaked in my sweat from dawn to dusk, and as I lifted weights and ran my miles, I counted. I counted steps, I counted sets and reps, and I counted at him, and soon, unable to help himself, he was counting too. He didn’t exactly have much else to do, right? And he did love math, after all. Then, while he was busy counting, I could sneak around in his head, sand off off a little cleverness here, erode a little vocabulary there, take off a little bit of wit over there. By the time he noticed that he was getting dumber, it was too late–then he started screaming.

Thankfully he got too dumb to figure out why he should scream soon after that. Soon his mind was so far gone that pretty much all he could do was count–and not very high at that. He’d usually lose track somewhere around ninety during our runs–that jump to one hundred always seemed to confuse him, so he’d happily start back at one again over and over and over again. He was much better with sets and reps, of course–smaller numbers were better, he said. I had him eagerly sucking up all of my sweat at this point too. You know those fabrics that are supposed to wick away moisture? They don’t have anything on a jock trapped in a shirt sucking all your sweat up and drinking it down for you. I had also been making him bigger this whole time, baggier, with big arm holes and a low scooping neck. When I was happy with him, I decided it was probably time for the finale.

As I said, if I focus hard enough, I can keep someone as clothing even when they aren’t on my body. One morning, I finally peeled Phillip off my wet body, laid him out on a table, got out a black sharpie, and I started drawing. On the back I wrote “MUSCLE FAGGOT”, in big, thick letters, and then filled in the rest with smaller stuff. Some of it was writing–“Musk pig”, “Fuck my holes” with an arrow pointing down the back–but everything else was just swirls and blocks of black ink all over the shirt. He didn’t understand what I was doing at all–but once he was more black ink than white (well, “white” I suppose, he was really more of a dingy brown at this point) I released my focus, and the brand new Phillip Emerson emerged from his form.

He was huge–at least six and a half feet tall, and packed with muscle from neck to calf. Hell, he could have been an amazing bodybuilder, if it wasn’t for all of his tattoos. He was covered everywhere, even up onto his neck, face, and shaved head with tribal swirls. Of course, the centerpiece on his back was “MUSCLE FAGGOT” in massive letters so large it had to be spread down over two lines, and the simple minded oaf didn’t really know what was going on, but he could smell me, he could smell my musk, and so he got down and started cleaning my body for me. I fucked his surprisingly tight hole in return, before dropping him off at his home, a local gym. He lived upstairs there, and worked out day and night–when he wasn’t getting gangbanged by the regulars in the locker room. Being as stupid as he was came with some issues of its own. He was lucky that the owner was a sadistic fucker who loved the idea of keeping a big, stupid, muscle faggot pet for himself and all of his friends. Still, because he didn’t quite understand social standards, Phillip’s dick was kept locked 24/7, so he couldn’t just drop his shorts anytime and start jacking off like a pig during business hours. When he kept stripping his clothes off anyway, his master forced him to wear singlets, because he was too stupid to figure out how to take them off without help–and so he never did, usually wearing them until they started ripping and tearing at the seams, his locked cock obvious underneath the spandex. Needless to say, I keep a membership there now, but rarely to work out–I mostly just like to drop in on my muscle faggot on a regular basis. He’s always so excited when he smells me coming–even though he doesn’t even know why.

Rick and the Beast – Part 3

It’s been a while since I started this one. Here’s parts one and two as a refresher.

The next couple of weeks were a new kind of hell for Rick, as he fell under the tighter and tighter control of Jim Newman, known around campus simply as “The Beast”. He no longer had the option of ignoring the texts he received, at least, not if he wanted to cum again. The Beast took full advantage of this, and regularly forced Rick to excuse himself from his classes in order to go pleasure his master wherever he happened to be at the moment. More often than not, the need for Rick’s holes would arise somewhere public, usually the bathroom, locker room, or even out on an athletic field behind the bleachers. He lived in constant terror that someone would see what was happening, and yet discovery would also have brought some relief–at least then his secret would be out; he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to keep it burning inside him at this rate.

His moments away from his master were just as terrible for different reasons. He lived in constant fear that someone would discover his chastity, which required him to shower very late at night, and experiment with a variety of different ways to try and keep his roommate, Josh, from seeing him naked. As such, his hygiene began to slip. Wearing the same clothes for days on end–even sleeping in them, became easier than daring to change underwear. The same with showering–it became much easier to simply not bother at all. But, he discovered that he was beginning to pick up new habits, the more he interacted with The Beast. The most obvious was his appetite–it seemed like ever since his feeding out behind the kitchens that night, it was now impossible for him to be full. Each week, The Beast would text him late at night, demanding that he return to the dumpsters, where he would again be stuffed. Those were the only moments he’d felt the least bit full, and he was growing increasingly terrified that The Beast was turning him into someone he had no interest in being. It was that fear that finally pushed him over the edge–he simply had no choice anymore. He would have to report what was happening to him.

But who should he tell? His first thought was a teacher, but given his poor attendance and shoddy work, he hadn’t developed a close relationship with any of them. In fact, they all seemed to rather despise him, including his advisor. A friend? He had no friends. Besides, who could even understand what he was going through? They also wouldn’t have any power, and if The Beast found out that he’d told a student, he feared for their safety almost as much as his own. That left one final possibility in his mind–he would have to go to campus security and talk to someone there, and then go to the police. It took him a few days to work up the courage to go into the building, and finally say to the young man working at the desk that he needed to report a rape. Much to his surprise, he was very understanding, and escorted him into a small interview room, asked him a few basic questions about himself, and then left, telling him that someone would be with him shortly to talk to him.

For the next several minutes, Rick allowed himself to feel relieved. It was all going to be ok after all. He’d just tell them what had happened, and he’d be free at last. And then the door opened, and in there in the doorway was a man so large he had to stoop slightly and turn to the side to enter the room. He was older, with short greying hair, dressed in a security uniform stretched tight across his muscular physique, and for some reason Rick couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s crotch as he walked around to the other side of the table. He sat down across from Rick, introduced himself as Officer Pike, and began asking him questions about the rape–Rick did his best to answer him, but it was getting harder and harder for him to focus. The questions became more intimate and personal, and Rick was feeling uncomfortable answering them, in part because he didn’t quite like the answers that were coming out of his mouth.

“And how did it feel, when Mr. Newman thrust his big, fat cock inside you? Did it hurt?”

“Yes sir…Yes, it hurt more than anything.”

“But it was worth it, in the end, wasn’t it? Because that big cock ended up fucking the cum right out of you.”

“”I mean, I came sir, but I didn’t–”

“I suppose, my main concern is–how can it have been rape if you came? I mean, that means you must have enjoyed it on some level.”

“I mean, it did feel kind of good, but…but I didn’t want him…to…”

“You didn’t what, what him to make you feel good?”

“No! I mean, that’s not…”

The officer leaned back, and put his hands back behind his head. Rick found himself staring at the sweat stains in the pits of his uniform, and licked his lips.

“Have you had any contact with Mr. Newman since that initial incident?”

“I mean, yeah…I gave him my phone number–”

“You gave your alleged rapist your phone number?”

“Not…I mean, not because I wanted to, sir, but because he made me…”

“Why didn’t you just give him a fake number?”

Why hadn’t he done that? That made so much sense, but it hadn’t occured to him at the time. “I…I don’t know.”

“So, you have seen him since. Have you had sex on any of those occasions?”

Rick was silent. He suddenly didn’t want to talk anymore. “I think…I think I should go, I don’t feel good.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Officer Pike said, “Stand up and strip.”

Rick wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but his body was already moving, getting up from the table and removing all of his clothes, until he was completely naked, aside from his metal chastity device around his cock, which was desperately trying to harden within the confines.

“Tell me what you want to do right now.”

“I want to lick your pits sir. I want to lick your sweaty body clean, and I want to suck your cock, and I want you to fuck me sir, I want you to fuck me rough.” Rick kept trying to tell his mouth to stop talking, but it just fell from him, all the fantasies that had been flying through his mind since Officer Pike had entered the room.

“Get down here and lick my boots clean, pig, and if you do a good job, maybe I’ll put my big cock in your hole.”

Rick got down without a question, crawled across the tile floor and began licking the Officer’s boots clean. This close to him the smell of him was overwhelming, but it wasn’t until he was bent over the table, the officer’s cock buried in his ass, that he finally realized what he was smelling. He was smelling The Beast. It was the same smell–if he closed his eyes, he could smell his master behind him fucking him deep, except Officer Pike’s cock was slightly shorter, but quite a bit thicker. After he came, he ordered Rick to sit down in a chair, handcuffed him to the back, and left the room, telling him that he’d receive the rest of his punishment in a few hours, when their Master finished with practice and came to deal with Rick himself.

Good Things – Part 3 (Patreon Commission)

Just how much was too much anyway?

Eddie was in the bathroom again, leaning on the counter, his gut pressing against the lip, looking at himself in the mirror. His coveralls were unzipped down to his belly button, and he ran one hand across his hairy chest, over to one fat nipple and gave it a tweak, feel his cock pulse and leak. He couldn’t fucking stop himself. He just couldn’t. But he knew this was too much, that this had simply gone too fucking far now. I mean look at him! Look at him, yeah, fuck, look at how fucking sexy he’d become.

His driver license said he was sixty, and fuck, he felt sixty when he was on his knees in the garage, sucking his fellow mechanic’s cocks. He’d been good with cars when he was younger, sure, but he was just a bit too slow now. It was easier just to…to hang around the bathrooms, yeah. Hang around sucking all the cock he could get, begging anyone who came in to fuck him. Oddly, no one ever seemed to turn him down, not that he minded, he could never have too much cum in his belly or up his ass. Cum was such a good thing.

His hand had migrated down to his crotch and was milking his cock; he yanked it away, and rubbed his eyes, smacking his face, stroking his massive beard crusty with cum. He had to focus. What had he even come in here for? He couldn’t fucking remember. God he was fucking stupid now. He’d never been this dumb, but now it was becoming a struggle to just string together a sentence, and his memory was shot. He’d come in to jack off right? He always came in here to jack off, but there’d been something else…something…

He focused on stroking his cock some more, figuring he might remember after he shot a load. Two loads later, he remembered. He’d come in for…for piss? No, he’d come in…to piss, right? His head didn’t seem to be thinking straight, he was pointing his cock up towards his mouth, shooting off a blast of piss, and he drank down as much as he can, though it was hard arcing the stream up over his belly. He ended up soaking himself in more piss than he drank, and just stared at himself, reeking, unable to believe he’d just done that…and that he had never done that before. It tasted so good! So good he…he just had to jack off some more. Three loads of cum later, Big Red came in–now nearly as big as he was red–and Eddie dropped to his knees, ready to drink. Piss was almost as good as cum after all, and he could never have too many good things…right?

Eddie groaned, and opened his eyes a bit. Fucking hangovers. He reached out to the table next to him, trying to find a cigar, but something kept shaking his arm, making it harder for him to grab anything at all–and he realized he was in the middle of being fucked. Big Red was behind him, already awake, and in the middle of his morning fuck–Eddie hadn’t even woken up when he rolled him over onto his fat belly, and plowed his massive cock into his loose asshole. He grabbed his lighter, but couldn’t find a cigar; he looked over his shoulder and saw Big Red was smoking. “Gimmie some a that ‘gar, man…” he said.

Big Red took a deep suck, and then handed it to Eddie, who clamped down on it and let Big Red go to town on his hole. The bed beneath him was cold and clammy–he must have wet it again. That was getting to be a fuckin’ habit–he’d pissed himself twice at work yesterday. Luckily it had been in the bathroom (granted, he spent almost all day in the bathroom, sucking cock and drinking piss) so he just cleaned it up off the floor with his tongue, but he’d been wetting the bed every night lately. Heh, Big Red was threatening to force him to wear fucking diapers, the shit head. He’d never follow through–Big Red loved the stench of piss almost as much as Eddie did.

Fuck, last night though, what had that even been? He’d come home with Big Red like always, they started fucking like always, and for the first time in a long while, Eddie had shot a big load of cum out of his cock. Just like that, his usual raging horniness had disappeared, and he’d been in this weird fuckin’ mood, talkin’ about how he’d been cursed or something, how he needed to get to a computer. Fuck, Eddie didn’t even know how to fuckin’ use a computer, he’d been talkin’ so damn crazy. Thankfully Big Red had fucked him straight in the head again, got him all horned up with a few loads of piss and cum.

Fuck, if only he could be horny all the time, right? Who in the hell could have too much fuckin’ horniness? As he thought it, it was like something around him started turning again, something which had paused. His balls were churning, he was getting close to cumming. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum so much…and yet, some part of him told him to stop. To resist. To keep it from happening. He was caught in the middle of it–it felt so good getting fucked, but…but what? With a groan, he felt Big Red spasm, filling him up with his cum. “Got…somethin’ else for this filthy hole this mornin’,” he said, and a second later, Eddie felt something else warm his ass.

Piss. Big Red was pissing in his ass, like he was a fuckin’ urinal. By then it was too late–he was cumming, and cumming hard, and there was something…cold around his cock, something a bit painful. With one hand he reached down to feel what it was…and felt the chastity cage that had locked itself around his cock…but that wasn’t odd. He’d…he’d had that thing on for…for years…right? Big Red had locked him up one night for fun, but then they’d lost the key in the mess that was their single wide trailer. He hadn’t…cum since, except for painful, unsatisfying milkings that only made him hornier than ever.

It was like he was drowning in desire. He’d just shot his load…hadn’t he? No, he couldn’t have, right? All those doubts he’d felt, they just washed away. All that mattered was fucking. All that mattered was making himself even hornier. He didn’t care if he ever came again, so long as he could be this horny for the rest of his old, fat, stinking life. Being horny was so fucking good, and who’d ever said you could have too much of a good thing? And Eddie had so many good things, he could never wish for anything else.

Rick and The Beast (Part 2)

Another three texts, all from The Beast. Rick ignored them like usual, but he sounded more pissed off than usual. It had been two weeks since he’d been raped at that party, and The Beast had texted him almost non-stop since, demanding that Rick come over and let him plow his hole, or meet him around campus to suck his cock. Rick was so stressed out that he was failing half his courses. He couldn’t report it–who would believe him? And even if they believed him, Jim was a god to this school–if people found out he’d accused him of not only raping him, but of being gay…no, that just wasn’t a possibility. It didn’t help that his obsession with the jock Jim had given him was only growing stronger. The only way he could get a load out was with it stuffed in his mouth or pressed to his nose, and he always imagined the most vile, exciting fantasies. But the texts had turned into threats lately. He did everything he could to avoid The Beast, and anyone else, and in particular had started eating very late at night, or skipping meals altogether, to avoid the crowd of students. That night, when he was sitting alone, and a hulking figure started crossing the room towards him, he realized this had been an error of judgement. He started packing up his stuff, but before he could escape, Jim had slid into the booth, where Rick was seated, pinning him to the wall.

“Let me see your phone, fuckpig,” The Beast said, and when Rick did nothing, he rummaged through Rick’s pockets until he found it, made him unlock it, and checked the text messages. “You have been getting them, you fucker!” he said, “I thought you might have given me the wrong number, but you’ve been fucking ignoring me. People don’t fucking ignore me, pig.”

“Please, I’m sorry, but I don’t…”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do or don’t do,” The Beast said, throwing up an arm. The stench of his pit washed over Rick, but he felt that same feeling he’d felt in the hallway, the same feeling when he picked up the jock in his room, his heart in his throat beating fast, his cock hardening, “Lick it.”

Rick already had his tongue out before The Beast gave the order, burying his face in that stinking armpit, thirsty for his sweat. He felt like he was drunk again, even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since that party.

“Now open up your laptop there, unlock it for me, and then get under the table. We’ve got a couple of hours to waste, and I don’t want to get bored.”

Rick did as he asked, and then crawled under the table. It was a tight fit for him, but he saw The Beast already had his cock hanging out for him.

“Edge me, pig. If I cum, I break your laptop. If I get soft, I break your face–got it?”

The task proved harder than he’d expected. The Beast’s cock ran on a hair trigger, and while he was generous enough to warn Rick that he was getting close, balancing him on the edge took all of his concentration…but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed running his tongue under The Beast’s foreskin. He liked sucking on the head, the feel of it pushing down his throat, the taste of his balls and precum. He had his own cock out and was jacking it off under the table, and while The Beast never came, he shot three loads over the next two hours, until the kitchen closed and the last of the staff had left the building.

By that point, the stench had settled over Rick’s mind like a fog–he would have done anything The Beast told him to do at that point. They got up, The Beast telling him he’d be punished for cumming without permission later, and went around behind the building. The beast stacked up a couple of milk crates and told Rick to sit on them, and then said, “Now pig, as punishment for not responding, we’re going to have a little feeding session. Fresh food’s too good for a pig like you though, so you’re going to be eating trash.”

The kitchen had already tossed the extra product from that day, and it was still tepid from the warming trays. Rick tried not to vomit–The Beast told him that if he vomited, he’d make him eat it all back up. Eventually he got used to it, and when The Beast thought he’d suffered enough, Rick’s gut taut with thrown out food, he told him to get on his hands and knees, and he fucked his ass in the alley. Between the pain of his ass and his stuffed gut, he wanted to just die, but instead, he shot another load of cum onto the pavement beneath him, when The Beast’s massive cock slammed into his prostate.

“God damn it, pig fucker…” The Beast said, after he came and pulled out, “Lick up that fucking nasty cum of yours right fucking now.”

Not that, anything but that, and yet he was scooting back, his tongue scraping the cum up from the asphalt. Why was he doing this? Why was he letting The Beast do this to him? While he licked, he felt The Beast grab his cock and balls, fit something over them, and then heard the click of a padlock.

“As punishment for cumming without my permission, we’re just going to keep you locked up from now on. If you start acting like a good piggy, and respond to my texts, and don’t refuse a single meet up for the next month, I’ll let you shoot once. Oh, and one more thing pig–”

The Beast stood up, aimed his cock at Rick, and unleashed a torrent of piss.

“You’re mine. Got it? Fucking mine.”

He soaked every inch of his clothes down to the skin, and then put away his cock and left without another word, leaving Rick shivering in the cold, wondering how any of this could get any worse.

(To be continued at some later date???)

The Ninth Day of Christmas

Marco walked into his living room, and yawned. He’d planned on sleeping in–it was Christmas after all–but he’d woken up early and couldn’t fall back asleep. After tossing and turning for a little while, he’d finally resigned himself to getting up, and he went down to eat some breakfast, when he saw the stocking hanging above the electric heater in the living room wall. He looked at it quizzically–he hadn’t hung it up there–and then went over and looked at it, before taking the large sock off the nail and shaking it, making something metallic jangle inside but the sock was fairly light. He dumped it into his palm, and founds himself looking down at some strange metal device that, as soon as it hit his skin, came to life, crawled down his arm and into his pants before securing itself around his cock and balls.

He screamed and tried to get it off, and Santa, smoking a pipe, came around the corner chuckling. “You know, I spent a lot of time wondering what to get the really naughty boys this year–coal is so…pointless now. Hell, it was always pointless, really. Why not get something that’s a real punishment? Why not give the gift of chastity?”

Marco was looking at his cock and balls, perfectly soft and secured behind a metal cage. He kept looking for a seam, for some way to get it off of him, but the device was seamless–he couldn’t get it off. “What the hell is this you freak! Get it off of me.”

“Oh, it might come off next Christmas, if Santa’s feeling generous–don’t you worry. Still, I am very proud of the little contraption–it even comes with a few different modes. Would you like to see them? How about puppy mode?”

A crushing pain in his balls, and before Marco even knew what had happened, he was on his hands and knees, and the device was heating up, activating the leather rubber which snaked it’s way out of him, and in less than fifteen seconds, he was in a full dog muzzle with a collar and fist mitts, a rubber dog tail buttplug in his ass, and the chastity device had sprouted a short, dog cock shaped dildo which smacked his belly as he gave a shake, unable to help himself, and then he woofed in confusion at Santa, unable to talk.

“Oh, he’s going to love that–now how about mummy mode?”

The dog gear retracted, and a cold rubber slime emerged, coating his body even as he tried to keep it at bay. It completely encased his body, trapping him within a tight rubber cocoon on the floor, able to breathe only through two small holes at his nose, and he was already starting to sweat. He flailed about for a moment, but the pain in his balls returned and he found that only by staying as still as possible could he avoid pain.

“Well well, you can learn!” Santa said, rolling Marco onto his front with the toe of his boot before squatting down and slipping a gloved finger into the hole in the rubber around his ass, feeling Marco squirm. “Now, I’d love to fuck, but I leave your cherry for Kip–yeah, that little faggot down the hall you love to tease! Don’t worry, he’ll find you here in a few hours, when he eventually wakes up, with a full list of all the modes he can use on you. Have a good year, bitch.”

“Aww fuck dad, that feels so nice, you really were paying good attention during that cocksucker hypno lesson I just played for you, weren’t you? You can’t fucking resist cock anymore, and from the way you’re moaning, I bet you are getting hard just from the taste of my precum. Damn dad, you’ve actually got me leaking, even if you keep using your teeth like a fucking novice. We’re gonna have to give you lots of practice I think, before you’re ready for customers.

“Now smile for the camera, or better yet, give me that sultry look of all those fucking whores you used to bring around here, the whores you spent all of our fucking money on, you fucking sex addict. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out that you spent my entire college savings fund? That was from mom’s fucking death benefit, you sick fucker—still, I have a feeling I’ll be able to use those holes to recoup some of the costs.

“Yeah, that’s good—just a few more. I can’t wait to start advertising your services. Too good for jobs eh? Not anymore—you’re gonna be my bitch, my fucking manwhore for the rest of your fucking life. You’re gonna be sucking cocks from now until I decide you’re too fucking worthless, until your ass can’t close anymore, until nobody wants you, and then maybe I’ll put you out to pasture in some rundown nursery home. Still, that’s a good thirty years away, if you’re lucky. For now, go ahead and smile like you love this—oh hell, who am I kidding, you do love this, don’t you? You never thought sucking cock could be so amazing, right? Well have I got some news for you.

“You know Bill? Of course you know Bill—he’s our neighbor—did you know that he’s a fag? A total pervert too, when I told him what I was going to do to you, he wanted to be the first one to rent you, and you know what, he paid me 1000 bucks for one week. He’s gonna keep you in his dungeon dad, and he’s gonna open up that cunt of yours with both his fists. He’s gonna lock your cock up, shave off that beard of yours, and fucking humiliate you day and night—sounds like fun, right? How about another lesson then? After all, he’s gonna pick you up in two days, and I need to make sure you’re a compliant little whore by then. How about Ass Whore: Volume One? That sounds good to me.”

Jesse got off the bus, grumbling a bit, and then set off towards the address the notice he’d received in the mail had directed him to. He had the stupid letter with him, which told him that if he didn’t comply with some new government program, he’d lose his welfare and disability benefits. See, Jesse was, well, a lout. Hell, most days he didn’t even bother putting clothes on, much less look for a job. A “slip” at his last warehouse job has rendered him “disabled” you see, and he was perfectly happy collecting a government check. He did hate jumping through these idiotic hoops though–but still, it would be a day of paperwork, and maybe a class or seminar, a few forged employment applications, and he’d be good to just sit back and watch porn for another few months.

He arrived at the office–but it wasn’t like any sort of government office he’d ever been in before–if anything it looked more like a doctor’s office than anything. He went inside, and the woman behind the desk gave him some forms to complete, which he did–and sure enough, there were as many health and psychology questions as prior employment questions. Still, he filled it out, being as polite as he could muster, and then a nurse came and brought him back into an exam room, gave him a shot, and then…well, then Jesse didn’t remember anything that happened after that.

He woke up clad in a rubber body suit, collared and gloved, with some sort of heavy-duty chatity belt around his cock. He wasn’t in the exam room anymore–he was in something that looked more like a jail cell, and his ankles and wrists were chained to the floor. He screamed for someone to help him, and after about an hour a doctor came in, but didn’t speak to him, just gave him a once over…and then one of the biggest men Jessie had ever seen stepped into the room.

“Hello Jesse,” My name is Howard, but for now, I’m going to need you to call me Sir, do you understand?”

“Fuck you, get me–” Jessie started to say, when a huge jolt of painful electricity ran through the metal chastity device, making him scream in pain.

“I asked you if you understand, Jesse.”

“Yes! Yes, please turn it off!” Jesse said, the electricity still running through him, but it was obvious Howard was waiting for something else. “Yes! Yes sir!”

Finally, the electricity shut off, and he was left panting on his knees, trying not to sob.

“Thank you doctor, I can take it from here,” Howard said, and the doctor left, leaving them alone. “That was good Jessie–welcome to Project Discipline, authorized under the Affordable Care Act.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Jessie, your disability has been classified under the new ACA guidelines as type D, a failure of discipline. In order to get more people back into the workforce, Project Discipline has been created to help disabled individuals like you become better equipped towards civil service. I’m your designated trainer. Now, shall we begin?” Howard pulled his cock out of his fly, and walked up to Jessie’s mouth. “Suck it, Jessie–show me what you’ve been learning in all that porn you’ve been buying. Man, isn’t the NSA just great? Really helps us pin down all the undisciplined perverts like you. Well, don’t worry, you’ll be a properly disciplined perv soon enough.”

Roleplay

Alright, it looks like our little chat conversation from last week was the most popular, so let’s extend it a bit.

***

DukeofDukes: Hey. I saw you were looking to chat.

Daddysboy34: Yeah, hey–what’s up?

DukeofDukes: Not too much. Horny mostly 😉

Daddysboy34: Ha, well that’s my favorite kind of guy. You want to RP?

DukeofDukes: Sure, I guess. What kind of RP?

Daddysboy34: Well, I love chatting up a hot daddy, while acting like a little sexpot boy for him to abuse, if that interests you. How about it, you want to be my daddy for a while?

DukeofDukes: Ha, well, I’ve never tried that before.

Daddysboy34: Oh don’t worry, I bet you’ll be a natural.

DukeofDukes: I’m not really into cam chats.

Daddysboy34: Aww, come on daddy, do it for your boy, he wants to see you while you tell him all the nasty things you’re going to do to him.

DukeofDukes: Well dang, you don’t waste much time. Alright, I suppose.

Daddysboy34: Hmm, not bad, not bad. How old are you?

DukeofDukes: 28.

I know, not much of a daddy.

Daddysboy34: Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, I can help there. How about we make that 58?

DukeofDukes: You do like them older, eh?

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah, and hairy, with a big beard…yeah, you’re looking hotter already daddy.

DukeofDukes: What do you mean?

Daddysboy34: Oh shoot, I forgot I kept on the reality adjustment–hold on…

DukeofDukes: Oh holy shit, what did you do? I have a fucking beard, and I’m furry as fuck!

Daddysboy34: You mean sexy as fuck. Now, how about we grow you a bit? I like my daddies to have nice, healthy guts on them.

Yeah, look at that thing, ballooning up, you’re going to be a big one, I think 350, but I want that gut tight, like a fucking beach ball.

Shit, that shirt just ripped right off you! That was so damn hot, and look at all that fur, so damn sexy.

DukeofDukes: Fuck, how are you doing this? Fucking change me back, boy!

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah, call me boy, that’s so hot.

DukeofDukes: I’m fucking serious, boy.

Why the fuck do I keep writing that? Are you messing with my head too? How in the hell are you doing this? If you don’t change me back boy, you’re gonna regret it.

Daddysboy34: Oh, I’m not finished with you yet. Why don’t you lean back, take some deep drags off that big cigar of yours, and rub your hairy belly for me? Show off what a fine piece of daddy meat you are?

And I hate that fucking screen name–what the fuck is that even, yeah, BearmanXXXL is so much hotter.

Yeah, now go on, stroke that cock for me, twiddle those fat, sensitive nips. I love how you’re groaning, that’s so damn hot–I’m getting close daddy. Now tell me what you want to do to your naughty boy.

BearmanXXXL: I fucking want you to change me back, boy! Fucking change me back, or I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna fuck you so hard

No, I’m done, I’m not playing this game anymore.

Daddysboy34: If you close this window, then you won’t like what I do next, daddy. Now talk dirty to me, tell me what you want to do to me.

Come on daddy, I know you want to…

BearmanXXXL: I’d fucking find you, boy, and I’d fucking kill you.

Daddysboy34: I’m not into snuff daddy, be serious. Now, I’m just going to keep changing you until you get me off. Now, I’ve always been fond of dirty guys, myself. Guys who don’t feel a need to shower, or use deodorant…

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Don’t you fucking dare, boy.

Wait, DirtyDaddyXXL? What the fuck?

No, come on, I’m not…why the fuck

Daddysboy34: Yeah, you like how those pits smell now, don’t you? Nice and ripe? Bet there’s something else a dirty guy like you loves doing. Go get a glass, daddy, a nice big one, and keep smelling those stinky pits of yours.

Got it? Oh yeah, that’s real nice. Now piss in it. Stand up, so I can see you do it.

Yeah, that’s good, look at all that fucking daddy piss. If I was there, I’d drink it all down for you, but since you’re all alone, I guess you’re going to have to drink it. Go on daddy, drink it all down, but enjoy it, you love drinking piss as much as you love smoking those big cigars of yours.

Halfway there, you’re doing great daddy, and look at how hard that cock of yours is. What a piss thirsty daddy I’ve got on my hands.

Go ahead and pour the rest of that piss all over your fat belly, feel it run down through your fur, yeah, that’s it.

How was it daddy, was that hot? It sure looked like you were enjoying that.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: I’m serious now, please, I’m begging you, just change me back.

Daddysboy34: But you’re the one who’s been having all the fun daddy! I think it’s time you help your boy get off a bit. Who knows, if you do a good enough job, I might change you back…

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Please boy, I don’t want to do this anymore.

Daddysboy34: Do you want me to change you some more? Because I’m good with that too.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: No, look…alright. I’ll play, boy.

Daddysboy34: That’s a good daddy. Now, you have this sexy boy all to yourself, what do you want to do a naughty boy like me?

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Well, the first thing I’d fuckin’ do boy is haul you over my fuckin’ knee and give you a fuckin’ spanking.

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah daddy, I bet you’d pummel my ass.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Damn right, I’d get it good and fucking red, you’d be fuckin’ begging me to stop, boy.

Daddysboy34: Oh fuck daddy, it fuckin’ hurts, but my boy cock is so damn hard…

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Yeah boy, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?

Daddysboy34: You are! You’re my daddy, my filthy fucking daddy.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Oh, you like my fithy body? Well how about I make you clean it? You can fucking lick out these pits, and my crusty ass crack.

Daddysboy34: Eww, that’s fucking gross, I wouldn’t do that.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Hell yeah you would boy, you’d clean your daddy and you’d fucking like it.

Daddysboy34: No, here’s how it would fucking work, you fucker. You would be the one cleaning me. You’d lay me down on the bed, and you’d clean out my pits, and fucking suck on my toes, and then you’d beg me to let you lick my ass clean. Go on, fucking beg.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: I’m not going to beg for that, that’s disgusting.

Daddysboy34: Fine, then I guess you can start with yours.

DaddyRimmerXXXL: No, come on, please don’t change me any more.

Daddysboy34: Yeah, you’re a real filthy daddy now, with that long, grungy beard. I bet you haven’t showered in fucking months. Looks like that cigar of yours is done, go ahead and get a new one, and shove it up that dirty hole of yours, all the fucking way, and leave it up there for a while.

Yeah, that’s it, twist those inch long nipples, lick those dirty lips of yours, thinking about how good that shitty cigar is going to taste in a bit, but first, go get one of those filthy, muddy boots of yours from that construction site where you work.

That’s good, now lick it, lick it clean–fucking relish it.

Let me see that tongue, get all that mud and grit off them, yeah, I bet that tastes real good. That’s what daddy’s tongues are for, cleaning all the filth their boys tell them to.

Alright, enough of that, now get that cigar out. Yeah, look at that, got a nice coating on that. Now smoke it.

That taste good? You like smoking the scum from your nasty hole? How do you feel about my ass now?

DaddyRimmerXXXL: Oh fuck boy, I hope it’s so damn dirty…

No, I mean, fuck. I don’t want this, this is so fucking wrong.

Daddysboy34: You do want it, you want it so bad.

Go on, my butt is in your nasty face, what do you want daddy…

DaddyRimmerXXXL: Fuck, I’d clean that nasty crack boy, I’d lick it clean, can you fuckin’ feel my bread scraping across it? My fuckin’ tongue buried up your hole?

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah daddy, it feels so damn hot, feeling you worship my boybutt.

DaddyRimmerXXXL: Oh yeah boy, I love boybutts so much, can I fuck it boy? Can I fuck your nasty hole?

Daddysboy34: Oh no, I don’t think so. You haven’t been the most cooperative daddy this evening. I don’t think you’ve earned the right to fuck my boy hole.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Oh please boy, please fuck my hole?

Wait, what did I just write, of no, please, not that.

Daddysboy34: You want me to fuck your hole, daddy?

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Oh please, come on, I’m begging you.

Daddysboy34: All right, I guess you can fuck yourself with that big dildo there. Go on, shove it up that hungry hole of yours.

Oh fuck yeah, daddy, look at you moan, bet you wish that was my cock, don’t you? Too bad that two inch cock of yours can’t get hard anymore…oh yeah, that would be hot too…

How about that? Now that cock of yours is locked up nice and tight. No cumming for you until I want you to. Oh yeah, I’m getting real close daddy, watch your boy cum, and imagine how hot it would be taking it up that hole of yours!

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Fuck boy, that was huge fuckin’ load, wish I could have gotten it.

Daddysboy34: I bet you do. Now I gotta get going, I’m late for dinner with my boyfriend.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Wait, what? You can’t just leave me like this, come on. Change me back!

Daddysboy34: But then how will I have more hot RP sessions with you, my filthy daddy pig? No, you stay there and fuck yourself on that big dildo, and think about how you’ve been a naughty daddy, until I come back.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: No, wait, come back, please.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: No, boy, please…please don’t do this to me. Please!

Checking In

Commissioned by Calvinwolf

“Ah, you must be Jared–the airline called ahead, your reservation’s all set up,” the man said, as Jared approached the desk, exhausted, his duffel bag slung over one of his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, and watched the older man give his body a lecherous once over and he sighed in his head. Looking around at the paint chipped walls and mismatched furniture, the air smelling of stale smoke, he grimaced. This wasn’t exactly where he had expected to stay when the airline told him that his flight had been cancelled, but it was free, at the very least, and considering how many people were probably stuck staying on cots in the airport, in this storm, he might as well count himself lucky.

Still–the owner was obviously a fag–why were they always fags? Granted, Jared’s body attracted a lot of stares, at six foot three and 260 pounds of nearly all muscle, he was an impressive sight, though not impressive enough, apparently. He’d flown here to compete in a regional body building competition, hoping he could finally break into the pro circuit, but he’d placed fifth–netting him no prize money, and he hadn’t gotten a single offer from a sponsor to boot. The flight cancellation was just more crap piled on, especially since that meant he’d probably miss work the next day, and he wasn’t even sure he would be able to make rent this month. Still, he had a room for the night, and he took the key card from the man’s hand.

“You look hungry–would you like me to send something up from the diner to your room for you?” the man said.

“Yeah, I could eat something,” Jared said, “But nothing too fatty, if you can manage it–and heavy on the protein.”

“Of course–gotta keep your figure nice and trim right?” the owner said, and gave Jared a wink which wouldn’t have been creepy, if the man hadn’t also licked his lips while doing so. Feeling a shiver run down his spine, Jared left the lobby and climbed the stairs to his room, letting himself in, throwing his bag on the floor, and falling back on the bed. He was exhausted, and demoralized. That competition was supposed to have been his big break–but now what? Back to training, he supposed, but he just didn’t know what he was missing. Was he just not big enough? Were his poses lackluster? Did he need more definition? He got back up, pulled off his shirt and went into the bathroom, practicing some poses, looking for weak points, checking his symmetry, trying to find the flaws which were apparent to everyone else, but not to him.

The knock on the door surprised him, and he opened it up, finding a rolling tray in front of the door with a tray on it heaped with a collection of food he hadn’t been expecting. There was a pile of french fries, a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, two dinner rolls, and the only protein on the plate was a stack of heavily breaded, deep fried chicken. He rolled his eyes–he should have known that a diner like this would have no understanding of what kind of diet he needed to eat, and checking the hallway, he didn’t see the person who had delivered the tray, so he could send it back. Still…it did smell good. He could have the chicken at least, and skip the carbs.

He wheeled the cart in, his stomach growling, the scent of the food filling the room, making him drool a bit. In the back of his mind he thought something was strange, but a new hunger was overwhelming that caution, and he picked up a drumstick, messily devouring it in under a minute, before picking up another piece and slurping that down as well, dropping the clean bones onto the floor, forgotten. When he finished off the chicken, he was so hungry that without thinking about it, he hammered through the fries, potatoes and rolls without much thought, not even bothering to sit down during the entire meal, and when he finished it all, he let off a massive belch. He felt more stuffed than he could remember in recent memory, but he felt…good, and he slumped down onto the bed, relaxed and happy.

Really relaxed, actually, and he couldn’t help but smile as he lay back, just staring at the ceiling, his gut gurgling and growling…and expanding. Shiny with grease, his abs slowly lost their definition as Jared lay there, forming a slight paunch, his pecs softening up, thighs thickening slightly, but Jared was out of it. With one hand, he reached down into his shorts, feeling them tightening up as he grew, and started rubbing his cock, getting it slick with grease as he stroked himself. In his head, he tried to figure out what was going on. He felt so strange, and yet…why stop? It was almost like he was drunk, the room losing focus around him while the sensitivity of his body seemed to increase, warm…thick…and without really thinking about it, he unloaded into his shorts, a wet spot forming on the tight fabric, and Jared let out a soft moan.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, lolling about, lost in the pleasure of his earlier gluttony. What finally roused him and forced him upright wasn’t any sense of clarity–it was hunger. More hunger than he’d felt earlier, more hunger than he’d ever felt before. His body had finished processing his enormous meal, and was desperate for a refill. Still, Jared knew he shouldn’t eat more…right? No, that was ridiculous–he had training and competitions to think about…didn’t he? Still, he was having a hard time thinking about them now–the hunger was overwhelming him, his stomach cramping and heaving. He stayed in the room for a couple of minutes, hoping it was just gas, but no, he really was hungry again. He picked the bones from the floor a bit cleaner, but that barely sated him for another minute. Finally, he called the front desk.

“Front desk, how can I help you?” the voice on the line said, which Jared recognized as the same lecher who’d checked him in earlier.

“Hi, this is Jared in room 210. I was wondering if I could get another order of room service.”

The man hmmed and hahed for a moment, before answering, “Well, I’m sorry sir, but we close down for room service at ten. Still, the diner is open twenty four hours, so you’re welcome to come down and we can feed you there.”

“Oh…alright. I’ll do that then.”

“Very good. I’m excited to see how you’re coming along,” the man said, and then hung up, leaving Jared puzzling over his statement for a moment, before hanging up. After ten? He looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was half past ten–but he’d arrived at the inn and checked in at seven. How had he spent these last three hours–just eating and jacking off? Something stirred in him, and he walked into the bathroom, looking himself over. He could see that he was fatter, sure…but for some reason it was difficult to make himself worry about it. It felt good–he felt good. He found his shirt where he’d thrown it on the floor, and tugged it down as far as he could over his fatter, greasy frame, not even caring that it couldn’t cover his belly entirely, and was already soaking up the grease from his earlier meal. Letting off a mighty belch, he left his room and headed down the hallway, down the stairs and found his way to the diner connected to the lobby.

Even with the storm raging outside, the diner was quite busy, and Jared had the distinct feeling that he had been expected, because as soon as he entered, nearly every set of eyes in the room swung towards him, before returning to their usual spots. The clientele were exclusively men, and the help all seemed…rather chubby. The bartender was in his fifties, dressed in a flannel shirt, overalls and weighed in at close to five hundred pounds. The servers were all younger, but nearly as big. One of them came over and showed him to a booth, returning a moment later with a pint of dark lager.

“The owner sent this as an apology–on the house,” he said, gave Jared a wink, and then he was off again. Jared looked over towards the kitchen and saw that the same man who’d greeted him at the front desk was working the kitchen, gave Jared a wave, and then went back to work. Jared took a sip of the beer, finding in surprisingly dense and heavy, but also quite satisfying, and with more alcohol than he was expecting. Halfway through the glass, he was already feeling lightheaded and drunk, and when the server brought over a plate piled with fries and two double cheeseburgers, Jared didn’t even think before chowing down. Almost as fast as he could eat, more food was brought out, and he found himself in a race to keep up with the volume of food being thrown at him and his relentless hunger and thirst. He lost count of the beers after the sixth one, but he noticed his cock was rock hard in his pants and leaking, his gut growing steadily the whole evening.

He only realized something was wrong when he reached for a new basket of fried chicken and his hand felt only air. In the dim bar light, he saw that the table was a massacre of empty plates, but the rush of food had stopped, allowing him a second to lay back, breathe, and contemplate the excruciating fullness of his belly, though his hunger continued unabated. The server walked by and Jared grabbed at his shirt, “Hey, where’s my food? I’m still hungry,” Jared said.

“Sorry man, the kitchen closes down at two. We open again for breakfast in a few hours though. I’m sure the owner will find something to occupy you until then.”

“Hey! Piggy! Get over here, daddy’s thirsty,” a patron shouted, and the server let out a giggle, bringing the drink over, and as Jared watched, the older trucker pulled the chubby server onto his lap, lifting up the server’s tight shirt and giving his belly a rub. Jared almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but looking around, every server was similarly occupied. Even the older bartender was kissing someone across the bar, his shirt missing, the overalls unhooked, and his gut hefted up on the surface for other men to massage. However, a second need was making itself aware for Jared–he had to piss, and soon. He squeezed his way out of the booth and stood up, but the room was spinning, and he felt…so strange.

Before he could fall over, the cook and owner he’d spoken to earlier was there, helping him back into the booth. “Easy there, big boy,” he said, “You’re a little top heavy.”

“I gotta…I gotta piss…” Jared slurred a bit, and tried to get up, but the owner blocked him in, his hands running their way across his now obese frame, rubbing his nipples through his shirt, Jared moaning in pleasure.

“Goodness, doesn’t this shirt hurt? It’s way too small for you, and look at how filthy you’ve gotten it. Why don’t we go ahead and take it off?” Jared, unable to fight back, let the man yank away his tank, his gut bursting free, and looking down, Jared saw that it wasn’t just fat he’d gained, but hair. He’d always been fairly hairy, but he kept himself shaven for competitions, but this looked like he hadn’t shaven in months, not that he was objecting. The feel of the owner’s hands running over his hairy moobs and gut sent shivers to his cock, though he really did need to piss. He tried to protest once again, but the owner pushed him back down, “Relax, Jared, just relax. Everything will be alright if you just relax, and let go…”

The owner leaned in and started kissing Jared, and at first, the ex-bodybuilder thought he was cumming in his pants, but then the stench of piss hit his nose, and he realized he was pissing himself. The humiliation, far from clearing his head, only seemed to fuel his lust, and the domineering owner bore down, driving his tongue deep into Jared’s mouth, and nearly down his throat, twisting and pulling on Jared’s nipples.

His shorts had already turned cold by the time the owner came up for air, Jared now deep in the sway of the food and drink which had been foisted upon him. “Goodness, and now look at the mess you’ve made in my booth. You’re gonna have to clean that up, pig–now get up.” Jared did as the man said, and put up only a meager resistance, as the owner yanked off his shorts and tossed them away, leaving his naked in the middle of the bar, more and more men turning to watch the show progress. The owner bent Jared over, face towards the seat, and said, “Now lick that seat clean, and when you’re finished we’ll work on the floor.”

“No…No I ain’t…gonna drink my piss…” Jared slurred back, but when the owner shoved his head down, he obeyed, following the lecher’s orders, listening to the crowd jeering around them as the owner fondled and groped his frame, kneading his giant ass before slipping a spit lubed finger up his hole. Jared was so relaxed at this point that the sudden intrusion didn’t even hurt, but it did make his hard cock leak a little more, and he started fucking himself on it, moaning while he lapped up his piss, which didn’t taste as bad as he’d expected it to. When he was finished cleaning the seat, he moved down under the table on his own, finding a larger puddle there, the owner pulling his own hard cock out of his pants, and ramming it home after Jared was settled on all fours. Around them, a crowd of men had gathered to watch the new pig be broken in, many of them with their own cocks out, eager for their own turn.

In his head, Jared tried to resist what was going on, though his opposition was weak. The food–there must be something in the food and the beer which had done all of this to him, and even though he knew this was wrong, and that he should fight the owner off and get out of here, he simply…couldn’t. He just stay there, head shoved under the table, his gut still growing, licking the floor clean while some fat old man fucked him roughly, his own cock hard and leaking down his thighs. He shot his first load with a moan, not even touching his own cock, and the owner, amazed at how wonderful of progress his new pig had made in just a few hours, pumped harder, filling Jared’s ass with his seed.

“Alright, he’s all broken in boys–how about we take the pig back up to his room, and have a party?” the owner said, and the men cheered, dragging Jared out from under the table and dragging him through the inn, and up the stairs into his room, Jared lolling about, no longer able to resist. He blacked out as the men pushed him over the bed, and the rest of the night, thankfully, was spent in darkness.

***

He awoke slowly the next morning, a headache pounding in his temples, and let out a moan. Jared was still in the position he’d been left in, bent over the bed, face down, feet on the floor, ass towards the open door, his thighs tacky with cum. He ached all over. His throat hurt, and he stank, and he was exhausted, but he was alive, and awake. He shoved himself up with his hands, finding it much more difficult than he’d expected–he’d been growing again. Apparently his body had finished processing his second meal in the bar, along with his many beers, because any sign of his previous musculature was gone, replaced by soft, billowy fat. It felt strange, and he rolled over, sitting on the edge of the bed, letting out a sharp gasp as he felt something drive it’s way into his ass. Standing up, he reached around and pulled out a beer bottle someone had wedged in there, tossing it aside in disgust.

What had happened to him? His head felt a bit clearer than it had the night before, and he could recall the basics of his night, but none of the details–not that he really wanted to know. He needed to get out of there–he knew that for certain, and he needed to get out fast. However, he quickly noticed a problem–his bag was gone. Just gone. He was naked in a hotel room, with no clothing–what in the hell was he supposed to do? Well, first things first, he struggled up and shut the door, making sure it was locked, before returning to the bed, and sitting down on it. God, it reeked–he could smell piss, and cum, and sweat…his cock was getting hard–no, it couldn’t still be affecting him, could it? He got up and went into the bathroom, hoping a shower could clear his head a bit, but, unsurprisingly, the water had been shut off, and in the toilet…piss. The bowl was full of it, and he could smell it, and he was suddenly so thirsty…

He backed out of the bathroom as fast as he could, suddenly not feeling nearly as safe there as he’d imagined himself to be. He was so hot, and it was becoming hard to ignore how hard his cock was, and then, came the knock on the door. He turned towards it, and a moment later, he heard a voice shout, “Room Service!”

No, he couldn’t eat anything else, he just couldn’t. He looked over at the clock on the dresser–his delayed flight was scheduled to leave in the afternoon, and of he didn’t get out of here…he would miss it. The knock came again–obviously whoever was out there wasn’t going to go anywhere. His best bet would be to just push past them and run for it, naked as he was, at least he would be out of here. He went to the door and opened it–but as soon as he laid his eyes on the tray laden with food right outside his door, he started salivating, and his will left him. The cub who had served him the night before shoved him back into the room, and then wheeled in the cart. “The owner said you would probably be a bit resistant this morning, so he sent me up to make sure you ate everything all up, but I don’t think you’re going to put up much of a fight, do you?”

Jared whimpered a bit, trying to sort out his fear and all of his competing desires, his eyes welling up a bit, but the cub picked a piece of bacon up off the tray and held it up to the now obese bodybuilder’s mouth, watching him swallow it down, unable to help himself. They settled on the bed, Jared now willingly stuffing himself while the cub massaged his frame, encouraging him to let go, twisting his thick nipples, running his hands through his hairy body, and digging into his gunt, twiddling his rapidly shrinking cock, coaxing out several loads which he then spread onto waffles and pancakes, forcing Jared to eat his own seed, the cub occasionally pissing into a glass, giving it to Jared to wash down the food whenever he took too big of a mouthful, but he had Jared just piss himself where he was sitting on the bed. After an hour, the cub spotted the beer bottle where Jared had tossed it, and brought it over, driving it back into the fat man’s ass and watching Jared fuck himself on it, stuffing himself silly, now begging the cub to jack him off again, or give him another glass of piss, which the cub was now fetching from the toilet bowl, having run out of his own.

Hours later, the cart demolished, the cub wheeled it away, Jared laying back on the bed, stuffed to the throat, groaning, mind addled once more. He had to get up–he had to get out of here, right this very moment, or he’d never catch his flight–and then, he’d never be free. He struggled up, quelling the urge to vomit, and stumbled out of the room, using the wall for support as he stumbled naked down the stairs. The door, he could see the door, it was right there, but before he could take a step towards it, the owner came around the front desk and stopped him.

“Ah, Jared–on your way to catch your flight? I thought that meal would incapacitate you for a bit longer, but if you really want to be on your way, so be it. If you just step over here, we can settle your bill and you can be on your way.”

“My…My bill?” Jared said, finding it difficult to understand what the owner was talking about, and fighting the urge to just drop to his knees and suck the older man off, “I thought the airline was paying for it.”

“Well yes, they paid for a night, but there’s still the issue of your room service, and your bar tab to resolve. In fact,” the owner said, looking at his computer, “It looks like you owe an outstanding balance of eight hundred and seventy-six dollars and twenty-three cents. Will that be cash or card?”

Jared just gaped at him. “Eight…I don’t…I don’t have that much–much money,” he said, and realized he didn’t even have his wallet–hell, he was butt naked, standing in a hotel lobby, nearly out of his mind with lust and hunger.

“Oh really? Well that’s too bad,” the owner said, “I guess we’ll just have to get the money out of you some other way…” he said, stepping around the desk, something metallic glinting in his hand. Jared stepped back, but ran directly into both the bartender from the night before and the cub who’d stuffed him earlier, each man grabbing one of his arms–holding him in place. Jared struggled weakly, the owner getting down and giving Jared’s cock a few strokes, until he shot another load all over the carpet and went soft, allowing the owner to secure the chastity device around his cock, locking it closed with a padlock, and pocketing the key. “There, you’re hired! You’re working for me now. Don’t worry, you might pay off your debts someday, if you work really hard, and make me happy,” the owner said, leaning in, leering at Jared, whose face had paled, “Now, how about we show you where you’ll be working?”

Jared tried to fight back, but the three of them dragged him into the diner, and then into the bathroom, where Jared saw three spaces where the urinals should be, but where, instead, two men just as fat and filthy as he was were kneeling, collared and chained to the wall, the room reeking of piss. “We don’t have many positions open at the moment,” the owner said, “So you’re gonna start out working the bathrooms. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll absolutely love it in a few days–you won’t be able to imagine doing anything else.”

Jared tried to protest, but the owner shoved him down onto the ground in the third, empty spot and collared him before he could get back up. “You can’t do this–this is illegal. Someone is going to find out, someone will stop you.”

“Please, I’ve been running this business for too long to have to worry much. I’ve bought half the police force, and I pay the airlines to send…candidates like yourself to my inn whenever a flight is cancelled. Besides, if anyone starts snooping, well, let’s just say they develop quite the appetite. Now, let me explain how this works. These three are your coworkers. Now, I like competition–I think it brings out the best in people, so here’s how it works. Each of you has a tip jar,” the owner said, pointing to a steel cup bolted to the wall above each of their heads, “You get tips whenever you give one of your patrons service over and above their expectations–whatever that might be. Now, each week, whoever gets the most tips has the privilege of cumming once.”

“Fuck you, I’m not going to do this, I’m not.” Jared said, half to the owner, and half to his own growing desire, but then something he’d said caught up with him. “Wait, three? There’s…there’s only two here.”

“I’m getting to that. You see, I know that not everyone is motivated by positive reinforcement, so whoever gets the least tips…well…” the owner walked over and pushed open the door to the handicapped stall, and Jared gasped. There was another man, covered in filth, looking completely down trodden. “Whoever loses gets to be the toilet for a week–so if you don’t want to work the urinals, that’s fine–we can just unchain Mitch here and move you right in–”

“No!” Jared shouted, “No, please…I’ll…I’ll do it..” he said, hopeless.

“That’s a good piggy. Now, make sure you get lots of tips, and don’t forget that you’re still going to be racking up room and board charges–so you need about…hmm…two hundred bucks a night to break even. Good luck!” Laughing, the owner left the bathroom, the server and bartender following behind, leaving Jared with the other urinals. Still, the owner was right about one thing. Two nights later, Jared was happily cemented into his role, begging along with the other urinals for piss and cum from the nightly patrons, trying to wrack up as many tips as he could, his stomach churning a bit every time he saw a man go into the handicap stall. Still, that wasn’t going to be him, not if he could help it. And if he worked hard enough, who knows? He might actually be able to work his way out of here. Sure, no one had succeeded in checking out before, but there was always a first time for everything…right?

You did say your boss was a pain in the ass right? Well, I’m giving you the chance to be a pain in the ass right back. Don’t worry–no assembly required. Just go to the address provided–the enclosed key will open the door, and your bound up boss is waiting for you to torment.

The included remote has four tools for his pain and your pleasure. First, your poss has been equipped with piercings which can be twisted a total of 1080 degrees for maximum pain delivery. The second button will activate the electrified sound inserted deep in your bosses cock, which is otherwise held in complete chastity. Third, the ball clamp will deliver a crushing pressure to his balls, guaranteed to bring even the most stubborn boss to his knees. Finally, the fourth will expand the inflatable dildo in his ass, stretching him as wide as a double fist.

We guarantee that my the end of a single session, your boss will be a crushed, miserable piece of meat, begging for mercy at your hand, willing to do or say anything to avoid the punishment he deserves.

Source: thebondageboss