Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 8)

Marcus crawled forward, but before he could reach Mr. Woodrow near the ladder leading up, something appeared around him–a circle not unlike the one that had surrounded the demon before, except now he was on the inside. He tried to cross the barrier, but it was like some sort of forcefield–he could hammer on it all he wanted, but he couldn’t cross the line, no matter how hard he tried. He was panting, his whole body getting hot, and without really thinking about it, he stripped off his clothes, sweat pouring off his body, head spinning, and all he could do was croak at Mr. Woodrow, begging him to help him, to do something, that everything hurt.

Mr. Woodrow just watched. Demon seed could be…tempermental, and while one dose was rarely enough to cause the full corruption of a man’s soul, it certainly wouldn’t be without repercussions–some of them more dangerous than others. Until he saw how the seed affected Marcus, he was going to keep him in the circle, just to be safe. He could already see the changes starting, the hair beginning to sprout across Marcus’s shoulders and down his chest, the slight swelling in his gut. It was only a matter of moments before Marcus noticed them as well, but he was feeling too weak to do anything about it. Instead, he sat back on the floor in the circle, lying on his clothes, and just watched as the changes began to warp and corrupt his body.

It was the stench that he noticed first. As his body heated up and started to sweat, the smell that came with it was something entirely unlike anything he had smelled before–aside from the demon he had just sucked off. But that had been…pungent, and also…also pure somehow. This didn’t smell like that, it smelled like…like something inside him was rotting, like his soul was rotting, and pouring out of him in a heady musk that…fuck, the more he smelled it, the hornier he was getting somehow. It didn’t make the smell any more pleasant–but he couldn’t stop himself as he reached down and started working his cock, throwing up an arm and snorting up the scent from his pit, all as the rest of his body started to grow and expand.

He was getting fatter. Not just a little fatter, but piling on the pounds rapidly–so much so that with a bit of will, Mr. Woodrow expanded the circle around him, just to give him some additional space. His body grew out and softened, a full, heavy apron that grew down and over his crotch, making it harder for him to work his cock, but Marcus couldn’t stop himself. His arms and legs grew thick, their own rolls hanging off of them, his ass spreading out underneath him like a puddle. And all over the larger surface, hair was sprouting, the same coarse, bristly hair as the demon’s hand been, so thick that it looked more like a pelt.

Marcus had to put his other arm down, and use it to hoist up his new fat to keep working his cock–but there was another reason he was struggling. His cock was bigger–easily nine inches long and thicker than a beer can. It was his balls though, that had grown the most. Each was around the size of a large grapefruit, and precum was gouting from the head, soaking the inside of his thighs and pooling on the ground, as Marcus got closer and closer to orgasm. He came, expelling a chunk of his humanity, and as he did, Mr. Woodrow watched his face contort, nose turning up and growing wider, ears longer and nearly flopping, a wider mouth, his teeth looking a bit sharper, especially the small tusks that were beginning to sprout where his canines had been.

The load was massive, and marcus found himself sitting in a shallow puddle of his own semen, heaving for breath, stuck in a magic circle in a new body he barely understood, more tired than he could really imagine–and he passed out, with a bit of help from Mr. Woodrow, who figured the young man had suffered enough. Now, he just had to decide what to do with him. He wasn’t abnormal enough that a human life was impossible for him–though it would require some editing to get him to accept it. On the other hand, looking at the fat, hairy pig…Mr. Woodrow wondered if he might not push him a little further in his own way–either for the benefit of the men moving into his house, or even for his own research. After all, he had never had the chance to document corruption like this before…and maybe this was too good of an opportunity to pass on.


Here’s the poll! You can make up to two selections. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.

November Bonus Story – Winston’s Stable Part 2 | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s bonus story is the sequel to Winston’s Stable! I posted the first part last month, which followed Mark, as his new Master used his warped science to turn him into his first beastly creation, Titpig. In the sequel,

Winston adds two new beats to his menagerie–Joey, who was Mark’s boyfriend in part one, as well as Joey’s current boyfriend Paul. Anyone giving at least $5 a month to my Patreon gets access to this story, as well as every other bonus story I’ve published–almost an entire year of extras at this point! 

Below is an excerpt from the sequel–we’ll return to Orwell’s Demon tomorrow, I promise!


“Winston’s Stable II – Excerpt”

There was a click in the room, and a Winston’s voice appeared over the speakers inside. “I’m afraid I never had a chance to introduce myself properly to you both, when Titpig and I can to visit. I’d give you my name, but I assure you both that you won’t be able to remember it soon enough, so you might as well get used to thinking of me as your master–it’ll help speed things up.”

“You fucking sick bastard!” Paul shouted into the room, “You can’t fucking keep us down here–people are going to look for us.”

Winston laughed into the speaker, “Oh, I assure you, people have been looking. You’ve been down here for almost a month, after all. However–if they haven’t found you by now, well…I doubt they will. In any case, Paul, why don’t you put that mouth of yours to better use. Paul, suck on Joey’s nipples, please.”

Paul had no intention of obeying the disembodied voice, but his body didn’t give him any other option. He walked over to Joey, leaned in and started sucking at his chest, Joey trying to push him off, but Paul couldn’t take no for an answer. “Paul–Paul! Get a hold of yourself!”

“Joey, stop fighting, and enjoy yourself,” Winston said, and saw Joey relax against the wall, Paul sucking harder. After a few moments, Joey felt something around his nipple, a slight…tingle, which became almost an uncomfortable burning and pulsing sensation. He fought against Winston’s order as hard as he could, but all he could do was moan, and let Paul switch to the other, allowing him a chance to look at the one Paul had been servicing, seeing that in a few minutes it had turned swollen and red. Winston allowed Paul about the same amount of time on the other nipple, and then leaned over the mic again, “That’s enough foreplay–Paul, go ahead and suck on Joey’s dick, please, and make sure you get plenty of your special spit all over his balls too.”

Joey begged and pleaded with him, but Paul dropped to his knees with a whimper, and started slobbering all over Joey’s cock and balls, soaking them in his spit, and the same tingling, burning sensation spread over them as well. Joey had expected it to hurt, but instead it was turning him on more, and he barely heard Winston tell him to start toying with his now meatier nipples, letting his boyfriend suck him off, the burning sensation growing more intense as he grew closer, and when he came–the load was massive. He could…feel the force of his balls pumping cum out of him, it was so powerful that it actually hurt. Paul swallowed the entire load down, and when the flow stopped, he stumbled up…and Joey could see that something was wrong with him.

His eyes were glazed, and he clutched his gut, which gurgled loud enough that Joey could hear it beside him. “Fuck…I don’t…feel so fucking good…”

“You know what will make you feel better, Paul? Fucking Joey’s tight ass. You want your boyfriend to fuck you, don’t you Joey?”

In fact, it was the furthest thing from his mind, but Joey bent over the side of the bed, and Paul stumbled over, cock hard as a rock, and without even bothering to lube up, he worked the head into the hole–but to their surprise, his cock slipped in easily. In fact, Joey’s hole almost seemed…wet, almost as wet as Paul’s mouth had become, and still was–the drool flowing out of his mouth and down his chin as he fucked. Joey had liked the fact that Paul was a gentle lover, but this was different–this was rough and forceful and brutal, and it seemed like every thrust drove a bit deeper into Joey’s hole–and the deeper Paul went, the better it felt. He fucked him long enough for them both to work up a sweat, and finally he came, planting his load deep in Joey’s ass, and Joey felt it, the hot seed filling him up, that same burning sensation infusing his guts and spreading out to the rest of his body, leaving him groaning and writhing on the bed until the feeling subsided after a few minutes, and he could roll over and sit up and see Paul standing there in the room…and it was clear that something was different.

He still looked like Paul, mostly. But his body hair seemed a bit thicker, and his muscles looked a bit inflamed–not to mention his cock, was was either still mostly hard, or else was in fact larger, his balls hanging a bit lower. He was panting, drool still flowing from his mouth, and it seemed like he literally couldn’t make it stop, even as he licked his lips to try and keep it in. “Joey…are you ok?” Paul asked.

“I…I think so…”

“I…I think my cum…did something to you…”

Joey looked down at himself, and realized Paul wasn’t the only one who had changed–his slender frame looked slightly softer than before, and with a pinch of his belly, he realized he’d grown a slight paunch. Beyond his puffy, sensitive nipples, his cock was still tingling from Paul’s blowjob, but as the tingling faded, what remained was almost a numbness. He reached down and felt his cock, and was surprised to find…less than he was expecting. It was about half an inch shorter, his balls were smaller, and touching it…didn’t excite him much at all.

“That should be enough to get the two of you started,” Winston said, “Now be sure to enjoy yourselves, and each other.” He leaned back in his chair, pleased with his tests–everything was working perfect, now all he had to do was let his two pets have their way with each other for a few days, and they would be perfect before too long.

Inside the room, Paul threw his weight against the door again, and again…but Joey was finding it hard to care. He felt…dull all of a sudden. Relaxed and at ease, were perhaps better terms. He laid back on the bed, running his hands over his body, enjoying the feel of his slightly softer body and the gentle afterglow of Paul’s load. His hands eventually found their way to his nipples, and he gave them a twist and gasped–his cock might not be feeling much, but his nipples were much, much more sensitive than they’d ever been before. His chest seemed to have inflated a bit more than the rest of him, in fact, and with another couple of tugs, he noticed that his fingers were suddenly wet.

November Bonus Story – Winston’s Stable Part 2 | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Orwell’s Demon (Part 2)

-Before-

Orwell was at his desk, distracted again, but then again, he was usually distracted these afternoons, ever since the wrestling coach, Mr. Diamond, had moved his office into the open office space as Orwell’s. He wasn’t the only one afflicted by any means–several of the young women teachers around the school would stop by periodically to say hi, though their eyes were glued to the young hunk everyone was talking about. Still, as good a guy as Ray Diamond was, Orwell knew he would never have a chance with him–he was hopelessly straight, or else so deep in the closet no one would ever find him.

He looked back at his computer and tried to focus on entering grades, but there was something else bothering him. The amulet he was wearing–the thing he’d bought on a whim at a little thrift shop downtown a few days prior, which he’d been wearing since, was…warm. Not just warm, actually, but hot against his skin.

He could be yours, you know.

It was a voice. A voice in his head, but it wasn’t…his voice. He looked around, just in case, but no one around Orwell had spoken.

I know you want him. I know everything that you want, Orwell. You want so many things, so many men. It’s beautiful, but so many of them don’t want you back. So much…unrequited desire built up in you, with nowhere to go.

The heat welled up somewhere new now–in Orwell’s crotch. His cock was rock hard, suddenly, throbbing with need. The voice was right, to some extent. Orwell was gay, but he wasn’t lacking for sex. He was twenty-six, had a decent body (though not as nice as Ray Diamond had) and was by no means a virgin…but he did have a habit for falling head over heels in lust with the straightest of men–men like Mr. Diamond.

He was certain his cock was going to explode, but it didn’t–as rapidly as the heat, and the voice, had come–they disappeared, leaving Orwell to heave a sigh of relief. A couple desks away, Ray Diamond shuddered, and then stood up from his desk, adjusted his crotch, and walked over to where Orwell was sitting. Orwell could…sense something was off about him. His eyes…had a tinge of red, and his mouth was curled in a snarl that he’d never seen on the coach’s face before. “Well Orwell?” Ray said–and it was the voice. The voice from his head, speaking through Ray’s mouth, “Do you want me or not? Come on and let’s have some fun.”

Orwell didn’t know what to do…but when Mr. Diamond grabbed his hand and hauled him out of the office chair and pulled him down the hall, towards the gyms on the other side of the building, Orwell’s heart did a little flutter. “A-Are you sure, Ray? I mean…at school?”

“Please–what Ray wants doesn’t matter anymore. The only person I aim to please, is you.”

“But…who are you?”

Ray turned around, and the flicker of red around his eyes Orwell had seen earlier had grown more pronounced, the hand round his own was hotter, and the grip was tight. “You’ll see…Now come on. Ray knows just the place.”

They ended up in a storage room inside one of the gyms, and among the spare jerseys, balls, and other gym equipment, Ray tore at Orwell’s clothes, ripping them away, even as his own seemed to simply…disappear. No–not disappear. They were burning up. In the dim light, Orwell could see the fabric simply burning up, like paper turning to ash. The coach’s skin underneath was red and inflamed, almost too hot to the touch–but the hottest part of him was, by far, his cock. If Ray had been that endowed before, Orwell was sure he would have noticed–it had to be at least ten inches long, and as thick as a beer can. He started to get on his knees, but Ray had other ideas–he shoved Orwell down and started running the massive member up and down his crack.

“I don’t think–it’s so big…” Orwell said.

“I know,” Ray said, and shoved the head into Orwell’s ass, unlubed, making him scream in pain, the coach driving his cock in deeper and deeper–but there didn’t seem to be an end to it. Orwell had never felt someone go this deep inside him before, his guts churning and coiling and burning with every thrust. “But it’s what you want, Orwell–I promise to always give you what you want.”

It felt like hours, the cock driving into him deeper and deeper, Orwell losing track of how many times he came. Then, suddenly, he felt the urge to gag, and then something forced his jaw wide, and with one mighty heave, Ray forced the head of his cock out through Orwell’s mouth, leaving him groaning and muttering in panic. “Like a pig on a spit,” the voice said, and Orwell felt himself…lifted from the ground, impaled on the bestial cock his fellow teacher had grown–or who he assumed was his fellow teacher. Claws dug into his skin and twisted him around on the shaft until he could see the thing which was now fucking him–and found himself staring at what he could only call a demon. “How does the little piggy feel?” the thing asked, licking his lips, “Does it feel good? I am yours, five times, but give in, and you can be mine for all eternity. Say yes, pig. Say yes–I will give you such glorious pleasure, I promise.”

Orwell just screamed, trying to haul himself free of the demon’s massive cock.

“A ‘no’ then. Four more, piggy. Four more,” the demon said, gripped Orwell’s sides, and began fucking him on the massive shaft, the head thrusting up and down Orwell’s throat until the demon gave a long roar, tugged Orwell up so the head slipped back into his stomach, and he came. Orwell felt the cum flooding his guts, flooding his body, and as it did…he could see his body changing, sagging, filling up with fat–enough fat that he dragged the demon’s dick down and he landed with the thud, the dick snapping off and turning to ash. The air around him was full of ash too–the remains of Ray’s body fluttering down around him, and his now obese body, hole gaping, as he hauled on his clothing (clothing which had somehow adjusted to his now flabby frame) and fled the scene as fast as he could, trying to ignore the laugh dogging him in the back of his mind the entire way home.

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 3)

But I did leave. I had to keep going to work, after all. I was…afraid to not go, I was more afraid of being alone, in some ways. Thursday and Friday passed relatively well. The women at work still refused to engage with me…and honestly? Part of me was really enjoying that. I had just never really noticed how much time talking to all of them took up during my day, nor had I realized just how few fucks I gave about their lives, their problems. Their lazy husbands, their shopping, their gossip–what did it matter? I mean…I mean, I knew it had mattered to me more, before, but I just wasn’t missing it. Now, I had more time to myself, more time to, well, slip off to the bathroom to jack off. But still, most of the guys around the office…I noticed that they seemed a bit more…interested in me somehow. Stopping to talk, asking how I was, just…small shit. I didn’t really appreciate it, to be honest. They all seemed…kind of annoying–that much hadn’t changed. But they all seemed really interested in me, and more than once, I noticed hardons in their slacks after a five minute conversation with me, and I…I started to wonder if it was me.

Was it really all the smell that was doing this? It seemed hard to believe that just wearing some strange pair of filthy underwear could change how everyone viewed me, instantly, but what other explanation did I have? The weekend was bearing down on me, honestly…I was scared, going home on Friday. I had two days with no obligation to be anywhere other than my apartment, and before, when I just hung around here…well, I had spent almost all the time masturbating. I knew I should go out, see some friends, maybe hook up…but with who? None of my regular fuckbuddies would be vaguely interested in…in this. If I went to the club, and anyone smelled me, what would everyone think? Then again, if I didn’t show up, what would people think? I was, I hate to say it, a regular barfly. But Friday night, I stayed home, jacked off into the underwear, and as I did…I noticed something.

I noticed…that my dick was bigger.

Gay guys–we know our dicks. I’d always been a bit below average, I suppose–five inches hard. But when I was stroking off that night, everything felt just a bit…larger. My cock, my balls, my sack hanging lower. I went into the bathroom after shooting one of the loads, pulled down the front and got a ruler. Sure enough–six inches. I’d gained an entire inch onto my cock. I remeasured two or three more times, trying to figure out what I’d been doing wrong, but the more I looked at it, the more I was certain–it really had grown. My balls too, each was probably the size of a lemon at this point, and I could see the bulge in the underwear when I pulled them back up–and that didn’t even begin to cover the hair.

I was…well, in my younger years I was a twink, but at this point I’ve aged out of that category long ago. Still, I never quite became a bear–the best I could describe myself now would be a bad case of dadbod. Pot belly, saggy chest, decent shoulders, arms which I’ve always felt were way too skinny, legs too. Not…attractive, really, but I’d always made do with personality, even when I had the looks. That–and a very nice hole. I turned around to look at my ass, pulled down the briefs, and even my ass crack was hairier–just like the thick bush which had sprouted around my cock and balls, a bush I’d never seen in my life. And yet…fuck, was I turned on, I nutted again right there, then a second load while I sniffed the sweat and grunge off my hand.

On Saturday, it was seven inches, and I was freaking out. I knew I couldn’t go to the club or anything, but I also knew I couldn’t stay here, jacking off all weekend…because I was starting to really enjoy it. I’d…I’d never had this much fun masturbating in my life. My orgasms were more powerful, my cock was more sensitive, and the stench…fuck, my apartment was smelling almost as rank as the underwear at this point, and the effect on me had gone from disgust to intoxicating without me being aware of it. I came out of my stupor on Saturday afternoon after one particularly huge load, one I discovered I’d been edging out for close to two hours. Two hours! Two hours of my life wasted on masturbation. I didn’t know what I needed–fresh air, a walk, a fuck, someone to talk to, but I knew I couldn’t stay here, I needed to get out for a bit and clear my head.

I threw on some clothes and left the apartment, only realizing after I hit the sidewalk I hadn’t showered in two days now, or even considered deodorant once since finding the the briefs back behind the club. I…I stank. It was a tossup whether the people twisting their faces in disgust were doing so because of the briefs, or just because of me. Still, I couldn’t go back. I wouldn’t shower, I’d just…jack off again, and I needed to stop. I headed for the club, waved at some guys, but didn’t dare go in, didn’t dare even go close. I just kept walking. Evening turned to night, I kept walking. I kept walking, and then, around ten o’clock, soaked in sweat, cock achingly hard, searching for something but not knowing what…I smelled something. I smelled something I needed, and I started to hunt.

Jeremiah’s Biggest Fan (Part 3)

No, he supposed it hadn’t been a very nice thing to do, when he’d thought up the idea the semester before–the first time he’d heard the rumor about Jeremiah’s sexuality. But on closeted football player wasn’t that large of a story–or at least, it wasn’t the story he really wanted. No–it was the corrupt athletic staff and coaches he’d been after–that was the real scoop. Millions of dollars had disappeared from various funds over the last decade, and it was lining someone’s pocket–Jeremiah had been his ticket into the organization, to bust it wide open. But now–well, he’d thought he’d been setting up a honeypot, only to get stung by the hive instead.

He’d woken up a minute earlier, and Jeremiah had told him to go ahead, stand up, and look at himself in the mirror. It was obvious that he’d changed substantially from his real body again–it felt a bit like Terry as far as size was concerned, but it wasn’t muscle he was carting around anymore. No–in the mirror he was looking at a massively obese body–and a tall one at that. He had to be at least six four, and judging by the massive rolls hanging off him, he was close to 400 pounds. He’d never been a hairy fellow before, but now it didn’t look like there was a single hair anywhere on his body, aside from the short buzz cut on top of his head. He ran his meaty fingers over the top, disgusted by his particularly fat face–heavy jowls, three chins, small nose and close set eyes with big ears.

“Yeah, fuck–now that’s a sexy body right there,” Jeremiah said behind him. He was naked and sitting on the bed, looking at Terrance’s new body and jacking his cock–his now ten inch cock. Big enough to fit in his uniform still, but a much nicer tool than the four and half he’d been packing an hour ago.

A bit embarrassed, Terrance checked under the apron of fat hanging off of him, but all he found was a thick fat pad where his cock and balls should have been.

“Don’t bother–you’ve got half an inch now. Doubt you could even reach it if you wanted to. It isn’t your dick your body wants to please anymore anyway, trust me.”

“Look–this…this was a fucking mistake, I admit it. I’m sorry, I was wrong. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“Of course you won’t,” Jeremiah said, toying with the Chronivac for a moment, “I can make sure of that–but for now, why don’t we pick up where we left off? You wanted to have sex with me, if I remember right. So come on Tubbs, get on the bed, and let’s fuck that wide ass of yours into next week.”

Jeremiah hit a button, and Terrance felt a massive amount of information surge into his head, displacing a bunch of other stuff which just…disappeared. When the sensation disappeared, he was left drooling at the sight of the massive football player just sitting on his bed, with that huge cock–he needed it inside him. He needed it fucking bad. But as he walked over, he caught a whiff of Jeremiah’s musk that remained from his workout earlier, and felt his guts knot up–he lunged and shoved his face into Jeremiah’s pit, snorting and grunting like a pig as he licked up as much sweat and stink as he could, drool pouring from his mouth, his tiny cock leaking cum into his fatty folds below his gut.

“Yeah, fuck! You even sound like a fucking pig, Tubbs. If you make my dick good and happy, I might let you sniff my feet later–how’s that sound?”

He didn’t want it to sound as good as it did, that was for sure. After cleaning out both pits, Jeremiah shoved him onto the bed on all fours, got behind him, and started working his big cock into Terrance’s now very loose hole, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, a chorus of grunts and snorts falling out of his mouth as Jeremiah fucked him deep and rough.

“Yeah Tubbs, that’s real nice. See? This is the kind of bitch I want–not some muscled out guy like me, but a fat fucking pig, tiny cock, who can only get off by being fucked nice and long. You like that Terrance? You like being my fat, disgusting, bottom pig?”

“Oh *snort* oh fuck! *Grunt* just don’t fucking stop, please!”

With his new tool, Jeremiah had plenty of stamina to keep the pig happy–he managed to hold off for fifteen minutes before he came once, but his cock didn’t go soft. He just kept fucking, feeling the massive load of cum leak out around his cock and down the pig’s thighs for another half an hour, until he came again. Terrance had cum twice in the meantime, and the sheets below him were soaked with sweat and cum, his muscles quivering as Jeremiah pulled out, leaving him with the worst sensation of emptiness he’d ever felt. He…he needed it. He needed to get fucked again, just like that, he had to have something in his hole.

“Please…please keep going, *snort* it hurts without you in there.”

“Sorry pig, but I have class in the morning, so we need to wrap this up soon, and you still need some more work, don’t you think?”

Terrance wasn’t really listening–he was reaching around and sliding as many fingers into his ass as he could. Jeremiah rolled his eyes, fiddled with the Chronivac, and a moment later, Terrance’s hole was sealed with a massive dildo–a replica of Jeremiah’s own cock, and that settled him down, and allowed the pig to think.

“Fuck–please change me back–you have to. I can’t just stay like this, no one will believe it.”

“What–knowing what you know now? Sorry Tubbs–but this was always a risk, you know. I can’t change you back, and I…really like that ass of yours, so I’d like to keep you plenty available in the future. So we’re going to have to find a way to keep you nice and compliant for the future–but don’t worry Tubbs, I have just the solution for us both. So tell me Tubbs,” Jeremiah said as he pressed a button and adjusted a setting, “How much do you like football?”

Making Pigs (Part 3)

Officer Vernon knew this wasn’t what he should be doing.

He’d received multiple calls about a couple of guys having sex on the side of the freeway, in open view, and he’d been tasked with getting them to stop and arresting them for gross indecency. But he’d gotten off his motorcycle, walked over towards them, and then…and then here he’d been standing for a few minutes, just watching them fuck, his cock out of his uniform pants, stroking himself off, unable to look away.

“That’s good pig, just keep stroking that big, thick shaft of yours. Just keep watching me pound Porgy’s front hole. You like watching men fuck, don’t you? In fact, whenever you see men fucking, it’s like every other thought flies straight out of your brain, and it’s all you can think about.”

Yeah…yeah, he did have a hard time focusing on anything where guys were fucking in front of him, especially when one of them was a sexy pig like Porgy…fuck, watching that perfectly smooth fat jiggle, the fucker’s triple chins wobbling as the man plowed that pig’s cockhole deeper and deeper…What had he been thinking about again? It…it probably wasn’t that important really. His cock was important. He looked down at it, at the fifteen inch long monstrosity in his hands, and could barely believe the size of it. It hadn’t been that big before, had it? Who cares? It felt fucking good in his hands as he milked it, angling himself so he could show it off to the car’s driving by.

“Yeah pig, that’s right. You like showing off, don’t you? Why don’t you take that shirt off, show everyone that firm gut of yours and piggy pecs, those fat, inch long nipples you have studded on your chest. Go on, give them a twist, I bet they’re sensitive as hell, right? Almost enough to make you cum, just playing with those by themselves. And those fucking meaty thighs, packed with as much fat as muscle I bet.”

The buttons popped off as he tried to get his shirt off, and he ended up just tearing his way out of it, hearing the seams of his pants ripping apart at the same time. After a moment, he too was naked, aside from his boots which were bulging around his enlarging feet, stroking his massive cock with one hand, twisting his huge nipples with the other, eyes empty, drool leaking out one corner of his mouth, lost in the pleasure of his own changing body.

“Hairy beast too, a proper boar. Stupid as fuck though. Bet you can’t even talk. Still, those hands and feet of those are as massive as your cock–guess it’s true what they say. Damn short though–what are you, just a little over five feet? Damn pig, that cock of yours almost hits your fucking knees. Yeah, fucking look at you, Can’t believe I caught myself two today, gonna fuckin’–”

He watched the man start huffing and fucking Porgy deeper now, and with a cry, he shot his own load deep in Porgy’s front cunt, the pig letting out a squeal of his own, cumming for the fourth or fifth time.

“Get over here, come clean out Porgy’s holes like I know you want to. Cum hungry slut, covered with fucking hair. No thought in your heads except about fucking and stroking that big cock. Need a name too though–how about Boaris, eh?”

Boaris snorted his approval, and tried to walk over, bursting from the remains of the boots as he did, and got down in front of Porgy, hefted up the fat apron and shoved his lips to the pig’s gunt, sucking out all the cum he could, licking it up, digging his tongue in deep. The man came up behind him, running his hands through the thick, furry pelt that had grown in over Boaris’ whole body, from the tops of his size twenty feet to the backs of his palms to the huge curly beard swallowing his face.

“Porgy, clean yourself out, and give Boaris a treat–eh?”

Porgy somehow knew what the man meant, and he let loose his bladder, sending a flood of piss out his hole which Boaris tried to drink up, but a good bit of it just ran down the front of his body, soaking into his hair, running down over his pecs and the curve of his muscular gut.

“Alright you pigs, that’s enough get in the back–we have an auction to get to, and a long drive to get there.”

The two pigs, their past lives now well forgotten, hauled themselves into the bed of the truck–Boaris helping the massive Porgy in first, before hauling himself up after. The man climbed in the cab, started the engine, and drove off. It wasn’t a mile down the road that he felt the truck start bouncing–sure enough, Porgy was flat in the bed and Boaris was mounting him at eighty miles an hour down the highway. Yeah, these two were going to fetch a damn good price at the hog auction today, he could just tell. And with all the attention they were getting, it was a good chance they’d pick up a third or fourth pig on the way too. The man smiled and took a long drag off his cigarette–the pigs never see it coming, but somehow it never gets old.

Dream Camp (Part 13)

Warning: Still gross and strange. Scat, anal vore, and other oddities of body and soul. This is the last chapter however! Maybe we’ll have someone more normal (and shorter) after this.


The final day of the camping trip was relatively uneventful, or perhaps it simply felt that way, because everything that had happened during the night was so insane it had rendered most everything else mundane by comparison. Christian came to his tent, and found his dad still cleaning up his morning mess–Barry was only too happy to take his son’s piss and shit right in his mouth, and then gave him a good solid fuck as well, though he found his increased mass made it substantially more difficult to give him as satisfying of a fuck as usual. Christian didn’t seem to mind–in fact, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by any of it. Barry asked him a question about the Hoffsons, but the name no longer meant anything to Christian–apparently, it was like they had never existed at all. They finished their fuck–and Christian helped his massive father get dressed, since he couldn’t quite manage his uniform all on his own anymore, and then hauled him free of the tent, where Barry found the scouts all lined up and ready to help feed their Scoutmaster. One by one, the crouched over and Barry ate the shit straight from their holes, washing it down with their piss, and Barry had to admire them all. They had all become proper young bears overnight, covered with hair, some of them muscular, but most of them rather fat, thanks to Alex and Eric, who were busy feeding their newest pet, a man whose name Barry couldn’t even remember anymore, whose face had dissolved into nothing more than a single, massive sucking maw, with only vestigial arms and legs now, it’s entire body flabby, and yet taut–already filled to the brim with the father and sons’ milk.

Barry felt sated by the end, and the scouts all went off to prepare their own breakfasts. Barry thought he might as well cook his own, but suddenly the idea of normal food simply disgusted him…because he never ate food anymore. No, it only satisfied him once it was coming out the other end–the only things he’d be eating from now on were piss and shit–and cum of course, but that was beside the point. Still, there was…something he needed. He didn’t want food, but he was hungry as hell…and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew what he needed. He needed to be fucked–and his hole needed to eat. Leaving his troop to their own meals, he set off wandering the campground, and he found for himself a group of college aged men enjoying the last bit of the weekend. Seeing this massively obese man lumbering towards them, covered with hair, beard crusted with shit, enter their campsite–all of them were disgusted–at least until Barry unleashed his first fart–then the three men were fighting each other for the privilege of fucking his massive hole first, but none of them needed to worry–he was famished enough to eat all three of them.

Later–now feeling considerably larger, his cock and balls swelling as the three young men dissolved in his bowels, he lumbered his way back to camp where the scouts were all eating their own meals, and he fed them all as well–his cum, the distilled manhood from the men he’d just devoured, watching his troop develop further, their hair growing longer, their musk stronger, their muscles and bones thickening and lengthening as they drank his cum, Barry feeling his balls shrink as they did, but he’d fill up again in no time. Still, it was time for them all to leave–after breakfast, the troop packed up their gear and bundled themselves into the cars–though there was substantially less room than before, with just Eric and Barry driving back–but there were also fewer scouts this time around as well.

Back at the parking lot, Barry returned his boys to their equally berish fathers, all of them so happy to see them–so happy that more than a few couldn’t resist the urge to fuck right there in the open, on the asphalt. Such a good troop he had–there was nothing Barry liked more than turning a boy into a real man–and his father into an even bigger, sexier man. And if they fought? Well, he ate the ones who resisted alive and fed them to their own sons, before auctioning off the boy to one of the other fathers in his troop. To this day, the only person who’d ever fucked him and lived was his son, Christian–and he planned on keeping it that way. The two of them headed home, finally–it had felt like that long weekend had lasted forever–but they were each already looking forward to their troop orgy Tuesday night, as well as next month’s camping trip. The entire troop had rented out a lodge in the mountains for a whole week–which meant Barry had to get busy if he was going to store up enough cum to feed everyone for an entire week. Still, Christian would keep him well supplied–he usually brought two or three men home for him every night. By next month, his balls would be so big, he’d be barely able to walk.

But before he fell asleep that night, and before he forgot, Barry took off the amulet and hung it away in the closet. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be wearing it again for a while–his dreams were so crazy now, he figured he’d better give the amulet a rest for a while–but at least he had it in case he ever needed it, or maybe he’d pass it on to one of his boys one day, and help them make their dreams come true too.

The End