(Archive) Giving Charge

This story was originally published on 09/28/2012, and was commissioned by rtrose.


It was the night of the Midsummer Gala, the biggest fundraising benefit for the museum where Travis worked. This year, he had been put in charge of the event, and while he’d expected to enjoy the responsibility, the reality of taking charge was a lot less pleasant. The sheer amount of organization required–the invitations, the exhibits, the caterers, the party rental, the squabbling employees–Travis could barely manage a few smiles as the photographers drifted around the room, snapping photos of the attendees.

Still, he had a role to play, and if the museum didn’t bring in a decent amount of revenue tonight, it was his head on the line. He secretly hated events like this, the schmoozing and small talk. It was exhausting, and as the event organizer, he was obligated to interact with all of the big donors who had come tonight, and do his best to get them to open their wallets as wide as possible. He’d just finished an overly long discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, a wealthy rancher outside of town who had been heavily implying that he would be happy to donate more money if the “Garrison Family Legacy” were more heavily represented in the local history exhibit, and Travis didn’t know how much more of this he would be able to take. He just needed a breath of fresh air for a moment, a chance to catch his breath. Glancing around, he spotted an emergency exit door which opened into the back alley, and when he saw his boss looking away, he ducked out with a sigh of relief.

Outside, it really wasn’t much nicer than inside. Even though the sun had long since set, the air was still sweltering and thick with humidity–Travis felt himself start to sweat almost immediately. Still, as uncomfortable as it was, it still was a relief to be out from the crowded cocktail party inside. More than anything, it was a relief to be alone–or at least, he thought he was alone, until he heard a voice call out down the alley, “Evening, man. You out here for a smoke?”

Travis, a bit surprised, looked down the alley and saw a grimy, bearded man in a set of coveralls, leaning up against the brick wall of the museum, a cigarette burning in his hand. Travis felt a wave of disgust looking at the man, but he still couldn’t face going back in there, so he decided to just stay silent.

“Hey, you listening, boy? Or you just deaf?” The man, said, coming down the alley towards Travis.

“No–No, I don’t smoke,” Travis said, mostly sensing that the man wouldn’t let up until he responded, “I just needed a break from the party in there.”

“Oh, so that’s what all the ruckus is about. My name’s Larry.” 

The man extended his oil stained hand and Travis accepted it gingerly, giving it a light shake. “I’m…uh, Travis. Nice to, uh, meet you.”

“So you work in there? That’s kind of a ridiculous suit–you a waiter or something?”

“No, I’m an employee of the museum. I’m in charge of outreach and funding…I put on the party going on in there.”

“That’s your party? Well why aren’t you in there enjoying yourself?”

Travis paused, not really wanting to say, but hell, what did it matter? It wasn’t like he would ever see this guy again in his life, once he went back inside. “Well, it’s just…exhausting, I guess. Putting the entire event together, hobnobbing with all the donors, making sure everyone’s having a good time–it’s exhausting. I guess, I just hate being in charge, you know? I can’t enjoy myself when I have all of this responsibility on my shoulders.”

“Oh, is that what’s going on with you? Well, I don’t know why they’d but a little twerp like you in charge–it’s pretty clear to me that you’re the kind of guy who should be taking orders, not giving them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis said, but he suddenly sensed that this conversation was heading in a direction he hadn’t anticipated, as Larry came in closer, his smoke and body odor invading his personal space. He tried to duck away but one of Larry’s arms shot out, blocking his way. When Travis swung back around, he came into direct contact with Larry’s cloudy grey eyes…and he felt something being pulled from him, and into Larry. He tried to break the eye contact, but there was nothing he could do. The gaze probably only lasted for a few seconds, but in his mind, it felt like hours. Finally, Larry blinked, and Travis felt control return to him, or, some control. Something felt different–wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Larry, on the other hand, seemed happy as could be, and let out a chuckle, then pushed his cigarette up against Travis’ lips, and said, “Inhale, boy.”

Travis was already breathing in before his head could think about refusing, and the acrid smoke in his lungs made him start coughing uncontrollably. Why had he just done that? He hated smokers and smoking–he’d lost track of how many times he’d promised to himself that he’d never be a smoker–and now he’d taken a massive breath of a cancer stick because some roughneck had told him to? “What–What did you just do to me?” Travis gasped, trying to speak through his smoky throat.

“Why, I’m taking charge, boy–and you’re giving it. Now if I’m not mistaken, we have a party to get back to, isn’t that right?”

“We? But…I mean, you–you–” Travis was trying to refuse, trying to deny him entrance, but the words wouldn’t form. Of course Larry didn’t belong there, but as soon as he’d said it, Travis found it impossible to disagree, or disobey. “I mean–if you go in there looking like that, they’ll–they’ll throw you–us, they’ll throw us out.”

“Hmm…” Larry said, “You may be a twerp, but you have a point. I suppose I can’t go in there in these dirty coveralls, can I?” he smirked, “Now, if I were wearing a fancy suit like yours–then I could get in there no problem. So strip.”

“What?”

“Strip, boy! I hate giving orders twice. Get out of those clothes and give them to me.”

There were so many things wrong with this and so many reasons he shouldn’t be cooperating, Travis had plenty of time to try and get them out of his mouth as he undressed himself in the alley, before handing Larry his clothes, who stripped off his coveralls, “Now boy, dress me up–I haven’t worn a suit in a long time–I forgot how to put one on.”

Trying to swallow his disgust, Travis, naked, began sliding his own clothes onto Larry’s chubby, hairy body. None of the clothes fit very well–Larry was a good three inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier–but the suit had been a bit big on Travis, which allowed him to find some way to cram Larry into it. “Damn boy, you’re more of a little twerp than I’d thought–we’re gonna have to do something about that later tonight.”

“Look, please stop this,” Travis begged, “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re doing this, but I’m sorry. Please, just give me back my clothes, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Larry laughed, “Forget about this? Hell no, I love breaking in boys like you–now, you sit tight while I duck in there and scope out the situation. Don’t even think about going anywhere.”

“But I’m naked! What if someone sees me?”

“You got some clothes there–put them on–and smoke another cigarette too–I like a boy with tobacco on his breath,” Larry said, pointing to his discarded coveralls and boots, and again, Travis couldn’t resist pulling on the filthy, oily clothes and lighting up another cigarette while Larry ducked back into the gala. He was gone for fifteen, long, minutes–leaving Travis there, shaking and terrified (though he had to admit, the cigarette did help calm his nerves). He was just starting to think that Larry had abandoned him when he stormed back through the door to the museum with food splattered up and down the front of his suit.

“Dang boy, they have quite the spread in there! I haven’t eaten like that in a long time. Here, I brought you something from the bar so we can have a party of our own back here.”

Larry handed Travis the bottle of whisky he’d taken from the catering company, but he pushed it away, “Please–please hasn’t this gone far enough? Just give me back my clothes–please. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what? That you hate being in charge? Of course you meant it–twerps like you hate being in positions of authority–the only thing you’re good for is doing what you’re told–you’re here to be dominated and controlled and ordered around. It’s what you live for, boy–and you’re gonna love me because following my orders feels so damn good…Now drink up.” He shoved the bottle mouth against Travis’ lips and he drank, the alcohol burning his throat and resting uneasily on his empty stomach, and something else. He did…sort of like it. He did like having this big man telling him what to do. It was so much easier, really, and when he felt Larry’s rough hand slip down the front of the coveralls and start stroking his cock, he felt even more of his resistance drop away. “See that’s a good boy. Drink some more while you and I have a nice chat about how things are going to work from now on.”

Travis listened, and drank. He listened to Larry tell him about how he was going to be obeying his every command from now on. How he was going to serve him, clean his dirty body, drink his cum, beg for his master’s cock up his ass every night and every morning. All of his money, his property would belong to Larry, and Travis was happy about that. He was happy about all of it. Larry would occasionally take a moment to duck back into the party, bringing out plates of food for Travis to eat, and more liquor for him to drink. It was starting to feel natural–and this scared Travis more than anything else. It was starting to feel right. 

When Larry told him to get back into his suit, he was confused. He’d grown to like wearing his master’s clothes–the stench which had bothered him so much before was now comforting. His shirt didn’t fit well around his full belly and he was very unsteady on his feet, but he weaved his way back into the gala, still not sure what he was doing. He was…doing what his Master wanted him to do. He walked up to his boss, who was in a deep discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, still discussing the Local History exhibit, and he got down between the two of them, making both men stop in mid sentence.

“Please Sir,” he shouted over the din of the party, looking up at his boss, “Fuck me with your big cock, sir. I’m just a little twerp with an ass aching for a big cock–please fuck me sir, please.” Even he had to admit that he sounded ridiculous, and he heard the rest of the party come to a complete silence around him, his face burning, and without any sort of control, his bladder released, piss streaming into his suit pants. Mr. Garrison smelled it first, and the look of horror on his face as he retreated away from Travis was surpassed only by the look of pure fury on the face of Travis’ boss. 

“Travis–what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Please sir, fuck me sir–I deserve it sir, I’m just a pretty boy twerp who needs his ass fucked so bad–please,” he said, then got down on his hands and knees and pushed down his pants, presenting his ass to his boss and listening to the gasps and shrieks from all the donors in the room.

“Get out!–Get out, and don’t ever come in this building again!” his boss screamed, and that was enough to send Travis fleeing, hauling up his sopping wet pants and he ran out the back door to where Larry was waiting, smoking another cigarette.

“So, did he do it, boy?”

“No sir, he wouldn’t fuck my ass,” Travis said.

“Seem he doesn’t know how to treat a little twerp like you at all. Still, he’s not your real boss, is he? Now me on the other hand,” he said, shoving Travis up against the wall and yanking down his pants, “I know exactly how to deal with a bitch like you.”

The satisfaction of his master’s cock being shoved up his ass did more to seal the deal for Travis than anything else Larry had told him or done to him that evening, and Travis was unable to stop himself from cumming all over the brick wall in front of him, and happily got down on his knees to lick it up after his Master had shot his own load deep up his ass. When he finished, Larry threw another set of coveralls at him. “Put those on twerp–they’re my spares. I don’t think you’ll need that nasty suit anymore.”

Travis did as he was told, throwing his old clothes in a dumpster and pulling on the dingy coveralls. “What…what happens now, Sir?” he asked.

“Now?” Larry laughed, “Now we need to do something about you being such a twerp–let’s head home and see what we can do about that.” He walked off towards a truck parked on the side of the street, Travis following, feeling his stomach begin to churn uncomfortably–though whether it was from fear, eager anticipation, or the load of cum swimming in his guts–he didn’t know, but he climbed into the truck anyway, and into an uncertain future.

*****

As they drove, Travis was starting to feel really sick. Maybe that wasn’t surprising, considering how much he’d drank and eaten over the past few hours, but this didn’t feel like a hangover or indigestion. He looked over at Larry in the driver’s seat–the man hadn’t spoken once to him during the last half hour they’d been driving out of the city, and out in the dark he couldn’t see much, but they were out past the suburbs and into rural country when Larry pulled off the road into a trailer park, stopped the truck and told Travis, “Get out, and get inside, boy.”

Travis expected his body to leap to and obey like it had before, but the command only made him sluggishly respond. In fact, he sensed that, if he wanted to, he might even be able to get away–had he not felt so sick. Something in his guts was churning–he thought back to the load Larry had seeded in him, and wondered about disease, but nothing could incubate this fast, could it? Distracted by his own thoughts, he followed Larry into the trailer, where the roughneck stripped the coveralls off the young man’s body and pushed him up against the wall, where Travis made a sorry attempt to cover himself up.

“Well, well–looks like the little twerp is making some progress already,” Larry said.

“What? What are you talking about?”


“You got yourself a little beard there,” Larry stroked the light coat of hair on his face, “and your gut’s bloating up a bit–gonna be good and big before too long. Still, I don’t think you’re over the threshold yet–how about we kick this into high gear?” He grabbed Travis by the arm and flipped him around, pushing him up against the wall, pushing his cock up against his still loose hole and working it back in. “Yeah, one more load oughta do it, and then we’ll see if you’re still a twerp or not.”

“No–No I’m not gonna let you do this,” Travis said, struggling against the loosening hold of Larry’s control.

“Oh, is that gaze wearing off already? Fine with me, I like twerps who fight back a bit. Still, this is gonna be a quick one–I don’t really feel like waiting.”

True to his word, Larry did last very long, tensing up and trusting in deep, unloading once more into Travis’ guts, and the sick feeling suddenly grew much, much worse. Larry pulled out, and Travis found that his legs had grown too weak to support him all on their own. Collapsing to the ground, the impact hurt in ways he did not expect–down in his bones, as though every pressure on his skin were a needle sinking to his marrow. “What–what’s happening to me…” he groaned, doubled over on the filthy carpet. His bones–were they growing? They didn’t seem to be getting any longer, but it felt as though they were getting thicker, and even hotter? The ache inside his bones was joined by an intense heat–looking down, he saw that his limbs were slowly growing wider, the heat pumping up his muscles, making them twitch and flex uncontrollably. It was exhausting–looking down at his arms, he saw the muscles inside them start bulging and exploding, his skin barely able to stretch fast enough to keep up without ripping apart. He rolled over, sitting with his back against the wall, where he could see that his chest was developing slab-like pecs, and his thighs and calves bulging with muscle–but also something else, something bubbling up underneath his skin. The sensation was unnerving–hot fat boiling up within him, spreading over the top of his new muscles before cooling and firming up, much of it consolidating around his midsection, forming a large, firm gut.

His eyes blurred as the ache and heat enveloped his face–with two unfamiliar hands, he felt his jaw and cheeks and brow distend and bulge as bone grew thick and fat filled in, and then it dissipated, leaving behind an exhaustion he’d never felt anything like, it was all he could do to keep himself from passing out, rolling over again onto all fours, and telling himself he had to stand up–he had to get out of here before anything else could happen to him–and while he could still control his own actions.

However, simply standing up proved to be a more difficult task than he’d imagined. He hefted himself up, but as he was no longer the waif he’d been, his thicker body forced his body to find a new center of gravity, making him feel like he was in perpetual danger of falling backward as he balanced against his gut. The muscle growth had left his muscles exhausted, his legs quivering as he took two feeble steps forward towards the door, before falling down again. Nothing felt right–his mind screaming that this couldn’t have happened, and yet every message from his body told him that these big hands, this gut, these massive trunk like legs–they were his. He pushed himself back up, stumbling back, fearing he might fall–until he felt Larry’s thick arms wrap their way around him from behind. 

“I gotcha big boy,” he said, but Travis broke away and spun around, nearly toppling over before he clung to the wall for support.

“What did you do to me? Change me back!” Travis shouted, his voice deep and resonant in his chest.

“You really want to go back? Back into that twerp body? Don’t lie–I can see you’re enjoying this…” Larry came forward, one hand wrapping around Travis’ thicker cock, the other snaking around the back of his head, pulling him into a rough, sloppy kiss. Spit leaking out around their lips and down onto his chin, making Travis’ skin itch and burn where it touched. He pulled away, running one hand over his mouth, feeling the stubbly goatee Larry’s spit had grown, watching his captor grin and lick his lips. His face grew weathered as well, his skin sagging a bit into wrinkles and dry crows feet. He now looked a good fifteen years older, with a bit of grey in his hair, which he could sense pulling itself back into his head little by little.

“No–don’t…don’t change me more, please…” Travis said, trying not to moan from the sensation of Larry stroking his cock. That seemed to have grown quite a bit as well–and was far more sensitive than he remembered.

“Too late for that,” Larry said, “but I know something you’ll probably enjoy.” He grabbed one of Travis’ arms and lifted it up, shoving his face into the pit and licking away, the crack sprouting hair and a powerful musk which made Travis groan. It was just as strong as Larry’s, but different–his own scent. When Larry went to work on the other side and then worked down, licking a pelt onto Travis’ chest and stomach, he was left smelling himself, caught up in the strange eroticism of this masculine, alien body. The smell did more than arouse him, it swept the exhaustion away–it made him feel a bit more comfortable in this new skin.

Travis instigated the next kiss, catching both Larry and himself off guard with its force. He’d never felt so strong before–the sense of power running through his body was like a drug. He’d been small and weak all his life–now, for the first time, he was the one with the strength, and he wanted to use it. He put one of his big hands on top of Larry’s head and shoved him down to his knees in front of his cock, and Larry growled back, “Watch it boy.”

“Suck it–just fucking suck it!” Travis said, “I’m so fucking horny.”

“You don’t give the orders here, boy–I do, and–” Larry started to say, but Travis didn’t care. He grabbed the back of Larry’s head and crudely shoved his cock into his mouth, making him sputter a bit, but to his surprise Larry didn’t resist. It felt amazing, having a hot mouth around his cock but Travis felt like something was wrong after a couple of thrusts. Each time, his cock went in a little less, and felt a little softer. He realized too late that Larry must be doing something to him, and when he tried to pull his cock out, Larry refused to let go, coming off on his own a few moments later, leaving Travis with a cock barely an inch and a half long, a massive pubic bush, and balls which looked far too big hanging below.

“No…No!” Travis said, feeling his new nub, and Larry laughed.

“You asked for it boy–now, as long as I’m down here, turn around,” Larry said, grabbing him by the hips and forcing him around so Travis’ ass was inches from his face, “I have a few changes to make down here.” Travis shivered as Larry’s tongue ran up and down his crack before burrowing into his ass, and a new fire kindled to life in him. When Larry removed himself, Travis felt a great emptiness back there, and started pushing back, wishing for something to fill him up.

“Please…please–fuck me. God, oh God I can’t believe I just said that…”

“Happy to oblige,” Larry said, sliding his cock in once again, Travis nearly shouting in pleasure with the penetration, Larry licking up and down Travis’ back, leaving him a pelt as thick there as he had on the front, but pulled out without cumming–nor giving Travis release.

“Why did you stop? Come on, fuck me!” Travis said.

“Another order?” Larry grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the hall, “You’re getting too big for your britches boy–I think you need to remember who’s really in charge here. I may have given you a big boy body, but you’re still my twerp–now get in the truck.”

“Let me go!” Travis said, trying to yank his arm out of Larry’s grip, but when he looked up, he found himself facing Larry’s glittering eyes.

“That’s not a request–it’s an order,” Larry said, “Now go.”

Travis couldn’t resist–he didn’t even put on the clothes Larry had stripped off of him, opting instead to just climb into the cab naked., Larry close behind. Travis fought the compulsion as best he could, but Larry kept speaking to him in the truck, and while Travis couldn’t remember anything he told him, he knew it was nothing good. After a few minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of a rundown biker bar, and to his surprise, Larry simply kicked him out the door onto the gravel and drove off, leaving him there naked.

While it was late, it wasn’t so late that the bar wasn’t still crammed full of men–all of them far rougher and meaner than Travis had seen at any city club. He saw a couple bikers smoking out front run over to him to help him up, but the two big men started laughing at Travis when they caught a look at his tiny cock. Travis, however, had other needs at the front of his mind. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed the beer bottle out of one of the biker’s hands and started shoving the neck up his ass, telling the big men how badly he needed a good, long fuck.

They didn’t disappoint him–none of the men in the bar did, who all took a turn with his ass over the next few hours disappointed him. It was a very different party than the one he’d been to earlier, though he was still the center of attention, in a different way. Each man who fucked him drove Travis to hornier heights, but release was always kept from him, the men laughing at him, for the puny cock which couldn’t even get off one load as every man there took a turn with him. It was horrible–not the fucking, he loved the fucking–the humiliation of it. He wanted to cum so much, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why.

When the bar closed for the night, Travis was left abandoned. He booked it down the road as fast as he could worried that Larry might come back to find him, clad only in a pair of boxers a trucker had given him, his cock still hard, and a beer bottle still firmly planted in his ass. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to go somewhere…didn’t he? Still, where could he go? He had no ID, no life to return to–he was lost. It was almost a relief when Larry pulled up beside him in his truck.

“Get in boy,” was all he said, but Travis did nothing, but the order sent a throb of lust through him. 

“No…No, I’m not going to be your slave, I’m not.”

“It’s too late for that, boy,” Larry said, “You gave me your charge–I own you whether you want it or not…and I know you do. Did you get a load off in there? I bet you didn’t. You need to submit boy, you need to be owned. Come here and get in.”

There was that throb again, his cock leaking a bit. He came over and got in, a shiver of lust from his obedience sinking in. “Why…why me?”

“Because you need this. Now jack me off,” Larry said, and again, Travis wanted to obey, and he reached over, stroking Larry’s cock. “See, it feels good to obey, doesn’t it? Now look in my eyes–let’s seal the deal boy, give me the rest–give me all of it. Give it up, and you can cum, I promise.”

Travis resisted for a moment…but could it really be that bad? He could still get out, but what was out there for him, really? Nothing, at least here he had something. So he looked. He fell into Larry’s eyes one final time, completely. He gave it all up, his free will, his personal ambition. He would be a vessel for Larry, but that no longer scared him–it thrilled him. His cock shot the load it had been building all night, soaking the front of his boxers. “Thank–Thank you, sir,” he said, the deference automatic and natural.

“Suck me boy,” Larry said, and Travis obeyed without a second thought. Travis’ future was no longer his–it was Larry’s. His master got him a construction job, with a group of men who had no objection to using the burly slave’s holes all day long. Travis had no choice but to love it now–but he didn’t regret his choice. He had hated being in charge–giving it up to his Master Larry was the greatest decision of his life.

Caption: Hogboy

“Yeah, look at that little piggy cock. We can go ahead and shrink those balls right on up there too, because we both know a hog like you won’t have much use for those anymore, isn’t that right?”

“No! Please–” Jack shouted, but it turned into a squeal as the man’s hand started crushing his sack, squeezing his nuts tighter and tighter until he released them, and all the evidence that remained of them were two grape sized protrusions right under his inch long cock. The man started smacking them, and Jack found them to be just as sensitive, even if they were smaller, and he started grunting in pain, struggling against the ropes tying him to the bed, trying to look over the belly he’d sprouted not too long ago to see what the man had done to him.

“Yeah, I like hearing you grunt, Hog, that’s real sexy. You like being Daddy’s hogboy, don’t you?”

Jack shook his head weakly, soaked in sweat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! He’d just wanted a little roleplay, a little dirty talk, but this had gone too far, way, way too far. “Please, change me back, I *snort* don’t wanna be a hog, please…”

“You sure boy?” the man said, slipped his fingers a bit lower, and he pressed them against Jack’s hole. He squealed, but the man forced his way inside him, one finger and then two, and it felt…fuck, it felt so damn good, Jack couldn’t even really explain it. The man fingered him for a while, and Jack found himself getting closer and closer to climax without even touching his cock, until he exploded–or at least, it felt like an explosion to him. His cock dribbled a little cum, but Jack was squealing and moaning and grunting on the bed, his mind assaulted by pleasure the likes of which he had never experienced before. 

When the orgasm began to wane, Jack just stared dumbly at the man, trying to put his head together, but all of his thoughts seemed to be running slower than before. “You…what did you do to me?”

“Hog, you’re drooling like an idiot. Looks like you blew those brains of yours apart a bit with that one–can’t wait to see what happens when you cum while I’m fucking you–probably won’t even be able to speak after that one.”

Jack shook his head, but the man untied his arms and legs. Jack went to run, but he was too weak and sluggish, and the man pinned him down again. “Hog, you’re gonna take my cock–you can either take it looking like this, or I can blow you up so big you’ll never leave this bed again. It’s your choice.”

Jack whimpered, but he got up on the bed, his belly spreading out underneath him, while the man lubed up his cock. He…he could take it. He just wouldn’t cum, that would be easy, right? Turns out, the man was a better fucker than Jack even knew–and within ten minutes, he’d brought Jack to three more anal orgasms, each one tearing his mind apart more and more, until by the end, Jack wasn’t even there anymore. It was just the man’s stupid, drooling, obedient Hogboy now–and that’s all he’d ever be now.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 8)

“I wish my bros were into big, slutty himbos like me! We’d be…we’d, uh…what was I sayin’ again?” Tim said, the genie already sapping what remained of Tim’s intellect to start fulfilling his modified wish. The genie didn’t feel the need to modify much of the big man’s physique with this one, but as Tim grew dumber still, new desires started to cloud his mind–mostly focusing on how eager he was to get a good fuck. He hadn’t gotten fucked in ages! The biggest, manliest slut on campus, and he honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a cock inside him. He took another drag off his cigar, imagining it was a cock, and moaned. Leaning forward, he shoved one hand down the back of his tight spandex shorts, and probed his hole with one meaty finger, his cock leaking in the front of them as well.

“I believe, Master, that you were going to tell me more about these, ‘bros’, you live with.”

“Fuck genie, they’re all fuckin’ studs, eager for my hole, you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe how lucky I am. I mean, I wish more of them were cigar smokers–it grosses a couple of them out.”

The genie rewound that bit, and Timothy spoke his wish again.

“I wish all of them were dominant, sadistic, cigar smokers–it grosses a couple of them out.”

Tim, not really smart enough to realize what his idle wish had done, leaned back, smoked, and fingered himself for another minute or two, until someone pounded on the door. “Hey slut! Are you in there?”

Tim recognized the voice–it was Greg, one of the members of the frat. He hurried over, opened his door, and there his bro stood–muscled, shirtless, smoking a cigar just as large as Tim’s was, groping the front of his mesh shorts. 

“What the fuck did we tell you about locking your door, fag?”

“S-Sorry, I–” Tim’s excuse evaporated into a groan, as Greg latched onto his nipples and gave them a hard twist. 

“I don’t need your dumb excuses–get on the bed.”

Tim hopped up on the bed, shorts down, ass up, and Greg grabbed some lube off Tim’s bedside table and slathered some on his cock. “Yeah, that’s right slut–we have an open door policy around here–you know that. That means that whenever any of us want this hole of yours, we should be able to just walk right in here and grab it–think you can remember that?”

“Fuck bro, I’m sorry man, but fuck, get…get that cock in me man, I fuckin’ need it so bad!” Tim said.

Greg laughed. “Can’t believe a bottom like you got the biggest cock on campus. What a fuckin’ waste.”

“Fuck bro, I wish your cock was big like mine…”

The genie’s eyes glowed, and time skipped a beat.

“Fuck bro, I wish your cock was big instead of mine…”

Greg slid his cock in, and Tim gasped a bit in surprise. Greg was on the smaller side of the cocks in the house, and usually Time could take him without any trouble, but today…maybe he was just a bit tighter? Greg drove his cock in deeper and deeper with each thrust, with Tim’s slutty hole finding itself stretched to the max, as his cock dwindled down, becoming even smaller than Greg’s had been before–just a couple inches long. “Yeah, you like that slut? Like having my monster cock planted deep in your fucking guts?” Greg said as he pushed his now eleven inches completely into Tim’s ass, listening to the slut moan with something between pain and desperate need.

“Fuck bro, just…just fuck me man, fuck my slutty hole…”

Greg held out for a couple more minutes, but he eventually came deep, planted to the root, Tim shuddering as he felt his bro’s massive cock throbbing and filling him up with a load of cum. Greg finished, and pulled out. “Remember fucker, no locks for you, or we’ll just take the door off.”

It took Tim a few minutes to recover from that fuck, quivering and shaking on the bed. He finally reached down to stroke himself, and was horrified to find that he was working with much, much less suddenly–and he realized then, what he’d said in the heat of sex.

“Wait! I…I didn’t want to lose my cock too,” he said to the genie, “I wish my cock was big again!”

Or rather, once the genie was through with it…

“I wish my cock was permanently locked up!”

The genie snapped his fingers, there was a sharp pain, and Greg found himself looking down at his tiny cock in a very small chastity cage–riveted shut. “No! What the fuckin’ hell! That…that’s not what I wanted!” He tugged at the cage, but it refused to budge. “You…you fucked with my wish, didn’t you! How did you do that?”

The genie just smirked, and Tim heard the frat house door open, and the sound of loud voices in the common room downstairs. Football practice was over–and that meant most of the house was home.

“Where’s that fuckin’ slut!” one of them shouted, “Get your ass down here, now!”

Tim shook his head, but the genie’s eyes sparkled. He found himself unable to resist going downstairs, where the filthy football players all took turns with both ends for the rest of the evening, Tim losing himself in a haze of fucking, musk, smoke and humiliation that he couldn’t get enough of, even as he knew it was all wrong. He woke up the next morning in his bed, hole wrecked as usual, a dried mess of cum under his locked crotch–some his own, but most of it from his loose hole, and he rolled upright, and found the genie looking at him, still smirking.

“Have a good night, slut? It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself,” the genie said.

“Please…please, I…I wish I didn’t have to be the frat’s sex slave anymore.”

The genie just shook his head, and this time Tim felt it, the words forcing their way back into his mouth, changing in his mind, becoming something else when he spit them back out.

“I wish I have to be the frat’s sex slave forever now!”

He clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late–the frat president and a few other bros came into his room, and told him that the frat had come to a decision. Tim wasn’t going to be a student anymore–he was going to be moving rooms too. They dragged him down into the basement, where they forced him into a cage next to the house washer and dryer, gagged him, and went back to bed. Tim begged through the gag to the genie, begging him not to leave him like this, but he just laughed.

“I’m sorry master, I can’t hear you through that silly gag–I’m just going to have to assume my services are no longer required here–enjoy yourself.”

With that, the genie disappeared, leaving Tim to his new lifetime role as the fraternity’s cumdump.

***

The genie found his way back to the same dorm as before, now two students lighter. He looked around again at his options, and made a decision of who to visit next. There was still Eli, the jock who had been Adam’s roommate, until he got whisked away into his new life. There was the clean freak freshman who had been complaining to Timothy about his slobby roommate earlier. There was a young, thin fellow currently jacking off in his room, thinking about…one of his older, bearish professors. Finally, coming up the stairs, was an older maintenance man, coming to fix some wiring. He was a bit of a perv himself–and liked his job mostly because he could see all the hot college boys that he wanted. There was plenty to work with, but what does the genie choose?


Here’s the poll! I think this will be the last character in this interactive–once the new year hits, I’ll do another round of New You Resolutions! The bonus poll for patrons is over here as well.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 4)

“I wish I’d grow older and start gaining.”

Adam froze as the words left his mouth, and Rich just stared at him. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Rich said, as Adam looked around, and saw the genie smiling at him with those glimmering eyes, but before he could do anything he felt that same power overwhelm him–and Rich. 

“I…I don’t think I wanted to say…” Adam muttered, but Rich just shushed him.

“Put that down honey,” Rich said, and took the gym bag off Adam’s shoulder, “I think we both know that isn’t going to be good for your goals, right? Besides, you need your after work six pack first. Gotta keep that beer gut of yours growing.”

Adam wanted to scream at the genie, demand to know what he’d done, but he just allowed Rich to pull him into the living room and sit him down on the couch. As he did, he found himself settling into a comfortable indentation on the old sofa…because it was his spot, wasn’t it? He rubbed his gut, and felt it growing a bit larger, and was there more grey hair on it than there was before? Rich returned with a six pack of cheap beer, and a knife–flipped one can upside down, punctured a hole there, pushed it to Adam’s mouth, and had him shotgun it–and then a second one right after that, and he could feel the beer going right to his gut, and to his head, which was getting a bit…fuzzy.

“There we go daddy, that oughta get you started,” Rich said, and put the other four on the table next to him. “Now let me get you some snacks, I bet you’re hungry.”

He was hungry. Starving, in fact, but he needed to resist this. He felt…weaker all of a sudden, but that wasn’t really a surprise, was it? He hadn’t been going to the gym regularly for years–not since he was in his forties. Ever since he’d moved in with Rich, he’d been going less and less, and packing on the pounds, and he’d…liked it. They’d both liked it. Liked it enough for Adam to stop going entirely, and focus on gaining instead. He let off a belch and rubbed his big gut, feeling it swell larger still, losing a bit of the firmness it had had in his middle age, and start to sag around him instead, thighs growing thicker, arms losing their bulk and turning into fatty hams instead. He had to fight this, he had to, if he didn’t, he…he wouldn’t remember that he wasn’t supposed to look like this.

Rich came back into the room, and Adam said, “Please, I wanna go to the gym Rich.”

“Why would you wanna go to the gym, Daddy? Don’t be silly.”

“Please…I…” it was risky, but he had to try, “I wish you’d let me go to the gym.” 

Or that’s what he tried to say.

“I wish you’d always been going to the gym,” is what the genie allowed out of his mouth instead, and Adam watched as Rich’s physique shifted in a matter of moments, losing most of his fat entirely, as he packed on all of the muscle that Adam had lost in a matter of moments, and then even more than that. He was no cleaner than he’d been before this of course–he was still a slob after all–but instead of smelling of beer and lazy BO, he stank of gym musk. When he leaned in to kiss Adam, and he smelled him…Adam moaned. Fuck, he loved how Rich smelled after the gym so much, reminded him of…of all those years ago now, when he’d been a gym rat, but why the fuck would he want that now, right? He knocked back another beer while Rich sat his muscular ass down next to him on the couch and started kneading Adam’s fat gut as he passed 350 pounds and headed for 400, his age creeping up past 55 and getting closer to 60. Most of his hair was white now, his beard thick and long, crusted with food and drool, his face lined with creases and wrinkles. 

For the rest of the evening, he pounded back beers and snacks at Rich’s urging, and by the time it got to be time for bed, he’d polished off ten beers, and more food than he’d eaten in ages. Rich helped him up off the couch, and the sixty-one year old, 450 pound Adam waddled his way to bed, belching and farting the whole way, where he laid down on the dirty sheets. He tried to reach for his cock, but as horny as he was, he couldn’t get a good grip, and without thinking, he said, “I wish my dick was big enough to fuck you.”

Only what came out instead was: “I wish my gunt was deep enough to fuck.”

“Fuck Daddy, your cockhole is wet tonight,” Rich said, as he reached down and slid two fingers under Adam’s belly. Sure enough, Adam’s little cock had been pumping precum out all evening, not that you could find it at the bottom of his six inch deep gunt. Rich pushed in deep and ran his finger around the head of Adam’s tiny cock, making the old man shudder in excitement.

“Fuck boy, give Daddy’s hole a good fuck, would ya?” he muttered, and Rich was happy to oblige, and the friction of Rich’s cock against his own buried deep in his fat was enough to bring them both to orgasm. Then they fell asleep, Rich’s arms and musk wrapped around Adam’s fat body.

In the morning, however, came clarity.

Rich was already up and making breakfast, and Adam was staring at himself in the filthy bathroom mirror, horrified at what had happened to him. He could…remember, vaguely, that this wasn’t…right. That he hadn’t wanted this. “Genie…Genie!” he muttered, and the genie appeared beside him. Adam glared at him. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

The genie just smiled and shrugged, “I am allowed, as necessary, to modify my master’s wishes slightly so that the world can better accommodate them.”

“You fucking piece of shit! I fucking knew it. I wish I was thin and muscular again!” Adam shouted at him.

Or tried to. What he shouted instead was: “I wish I could never be thin and muscular again!”

“Easily done!” the genie said, “From now on, you’ll never lose another pound of fat, and getting bigger will be easier than ever for you–especially with that new hunger of yours, Daddy…”

Adam nearly doubled over from the pain of it, his gut growling in desperation. “You fuck…that’s not…what I wanted…”

“Alas, what you want is only a starting point for me, Master,” the genie said. “Perhaps you’d like to try again?”

“I wish I’d never met you,” Adam groaned out.

Or rather: “I wish I’d forget I’d ever met you.”

And Adam forgot everything. Everything other than the fact that he was an obese, sixty year old pig desperate for breakfast. Thankfully, his muscular boy had breakfast ready for him by the time he waddled out to the kitchen, and he scarfed it down, dribbling precum from his gunt, his boy teasing him, feeding him, wanting to make sure his old Daddy got as big as possible, as quickly as possible.

The genie watched for a while, but eventually decided to retreat. That had been a fun one, but there were other men who needed his services. He found his way back to the dorms where he had met Adam to begin with, and peeked in a few of the rooms on the floor, where he found a few young men in need of his services. But who became the genie’s master next?


Let’s choose someone new! It seems like you all are enjoying these, so I’ll do a couple more characters before moving onto something different. The patron only bonus poll is over here!

Alpha and the Boys (Caption)

Due to various circumstances, I have to delay the next couple of parts of Winter Vacation to Sunday and Monday this week.


It was a small change in his life, but it was a good one, he supposed. Doug hadn’t exactly lived the most active of lifestyles, rather, he quite enjoyed being sedentary. But it wasn’t doing anything for his health, or for his waistline, and so at his doctor’s, and his wife’s, urging, he’d started walking. Three or four times a week, he’d take off from his house and go down to the sizable park a mile away, do a circuit, and then walk back. It had been a couple months since he’d started, and while he hadn’t lost any weight, he did feel better. It was one late spring day, warm enough to wear shorts and regret it later, that he got to the park, and decided to take a quick breather on one of the benches beside a large field.

There were three young men in the field, throwing around a frisbee, none of them wearing shirts despite how chilly it was, and as Doug sat there, he found himself watching them play. It was difficult to pin down how old they were exactly–they all seemed a bit too old for college, but he certainly got a fraternity sort of vibe from them. Still, there wasn’t a college anywhere nearby, so he had no idea why they were playing here, in this park. Several times he intended to get back up and continue his walk, but each time something would distract him–a bead of sweat rolling down a chiseled chest, the thick thigh and calf as one of them jumped to make a catch, the glinting teeth of a smile. Doug’s cock was hard, tenting out the front of his short, but he barely even noticed, and just kept watching and staring, even if he couldn’t quite figure out why, exactly, he was still doing so.

The young men finished their game, all of them covered in sweat, and to Doug’s surprise, they walked over to where he was sitting. Had they all noticed what he was doing? He went to stand up quickly and move away to avoid anything embarrassing, but one of the men blocked his way with a laugh. “What’s up man? Saw you watchin’ us. You wanna play?”

Doug laughed, assuming it was a joke, but none of the three men laughed with him. “I mean, I haven’t played anything it years,” Doug stammered, “But, uh, thank you for the offer.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! We can help, you know. Come on–we’ll show you.”

Doug wasn’t about to take the three young jocks up on their strange offer, but his feet turned and followed them anyway, walking behind them as they left the park, walked a short distance and arrived at a house, where he assumed the three of them lived together. Once inside, all three of them immediately stripped out of their shorts, leaving them wearing nothing other than their hats, their jockstraps, and their sneakers.

Doug realized, then, how hard his cock was, and didn’t know what to do. Why were these young men turning him on so much, suddenly? He’d never felt a gay bone in his body, but he…wanted these men, in a way he couldn’t quite fathom. “I…you know, maybe I should leave.”

“Hold on now, I thought you wanted to join us?” The one in the yellow jock said, and he tossed Doug a black jockstrap, “Go on–see if it fits man.”

The other two nodded along, and he noticed each of them was wearing a necklace. From a distance, they had seemed innocuous, but up close they were chains padlocked into place. He looked at the jock in confusion…but then he started undoing his shoes while the three men watched, took off his shirt, shorts and underwear, and when he was completely naked, he pulled on the jockstrap.

“Ooo…no, that doesn’t fit at all, does it boys?” the leader said, and the other shook their heads.

“Sure doesn’t, Alpha–look at how tight that big gut a his is stretchin’ that strap!”

“Yeah, ‘n that puny old cock ain’t even fillin’ the pouch none,” the other said, with a guffaw.

The words stung–and at the same time, turned Doug on. He shoved his hand in the pouch and started working his cock, but it seemed…wrong. His cock was smaller, and completely soft–and also harder to reach. His gut seemed larger than it had been…and was it hairier too.

“Come on, you dirty fucking pervert–get out of that thing before you stretch it out.”

Doug did as he was told, and when Alpha shoved Doug down onto his knees, he stuck his nose right into his yellow jock, snorting and huffing, still working his soft cock over, but as horny as he was, it refused to harden at all.

“Looks like the pervert’s having some trouble–Red, help him out, would you?”

Red hefted Doug’s ass up, and slipped his thick fingers into Doug’s ass–and then his entire fist. As he worked over Doug’s prostate, an orgasm finally came, and he spurted a few globs of cum from the head of his puny cock.

“Alright pervert–you’d better get on home now, where you belong.”

“N-No, wait Alpha, can’t I stay a little longer? I…fuck sir, you and the boys are so hot…”

“Well, you’ll just have to watch us through the windows with the rest of the perverts–now get the hell out of here.”

Still naked, and barely understanding what he was doing, or why, Doug left out the front door, still completely naked, and went next door–which was in significantly worse repair. Inside were all the other perverts. Old, disgusting lechers just like him, crowding around the windows, aching to see Alpha or the boys playing, always jacking their worthless cocks, only able to cum when Alpha summoned them for some humiliating chores or to be a sex toy for the evening for his boys. Doug…clung to himself for a little while, but soon he was just another nameless pervert, like the rest, aching only to serve his Alpha and the boys, and perfectly content to watch, until his next chance came.

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

Use It or Lose It (Part 11)

I thought your videos were getting a little one note–this should broaden your horizons. What do you think pig? Think you can manage to lose those last three inches? You don’t really deserve them, do you?

The other notes had all faded from his focus within a few hours; Randal could never quite recall what they’d said, and on the occasion, once or twice, that he’d scrounged around to find one again, he’d never been able to figure out where he’d abandoned them. But as the weekend roared by, from his marathon fisting session on Friday, when Master Max had forced five loads out of him, to his tour of the filthy clubs, bathhouses, bookstores and theaters all over the city until Sunday afternoon, he found the words haunting him. Did he deserve his dick? What did he really deserve? What did he want, and who was he–both before this, and becoming? He could barely grip the shaft anymore–it was a challenge to just wrap three fingers around the head as he was fucked or fisted–but the sensation was so strong that he’d shoot with just five or six firm tugs. He found himself in the bathroom, still in his stinking leathers, smelling of smoke, booze and grease, ass and piss on his tongue, staring at himself. It wasn’t pride that he felt, but it was an acquaintance of pride. A satisfaction.

That afternoon and evening, he abstained. He told himself, at first, that he was doing it to try and save himself, yet again, but most of him knew it was a lie. That if he’d been honest with himself about his true intent, he’d…well, he didn’t know what he’d do. The desire built up–quicker this time, in only a couple of hours–but the wait was…excruciating. He wanted to jack off, but he had to be patient. The reward, or the punishment, would be worth it, he assured himself. What the result would be, however, was a question he was terrified to have answered, but he had to know, all the same.

Once he was certain that the curse was prepared to trigger, he shoved his rubber fist deep into his ass, made sure the camera was on (if he could capture the event, would he post it? Of course he would post it, of course he would, but what would they all think? And would it be easier to believe it all himself?) reached under his gut and stroked. It was hard going, his cock was resisting. Perhaps it didn’t want to shrink more, or perhaps he was losing the will he’d thought would come easily. In the end, it took close to half an hour, and a severe pounding, before he finally emptied a sizable load into his hand. He slurped it, up, feeling the curse’s heat suffusing his body, and again, he grew. He looked at the camera, and waited until he was certain it was finished, and then went into the bathroom.

He was at least 400 pounds now, or perhaps closer to 500. The weight gain was only one change however, even if it was the most obvious. His body hair, which had been steadily decreasing, was now completely gone–his body was smooth, and even the beard he’d grown looked thinner and more wispy than before. The stink wafted around him, like someone who only showered rarely–more rarely than he had been, apparently. He…he felt good, though. It was good, wasn’t it? He certainly felt sexy, looking at the pig he’d become. But then, with some panic, he reached under and discovered he’d grown so large, and his cock so small, that he could no longer reach. He looked around for a note, and found one on the counter:

Becoming a proper pig now, you faggot. Good thing those fatty rolls of yours can get you off better than your hands.

He started swinging back and forth a bit, testing it out, and groaned. The note was right–the feel of the fat rubbing along the shaft and head of his cock was…divine.Just walking back into his room, he found himself close to cumming, and he ended up thrusting into his fat a bit more, and filling his gunt with a load of cum. The camera was still rolling–good. His fan’s loved seeing his hand’s free sessions–of course, most of them were at this point, unless he was using his wand or a vibrator on himself. He checked the camera, but there was no evidence of his change–he was the same obese slob at the beginning of the video as at the end. It was a bit disappointing, but not too much of a loss–he uploaded the whole video, jerked off to the comments for the rest of the evening, and then went to bed.

Work was challenging in new ways, he discovered. Just walking around the school in his jumpsuit was enough to make him cum, and he found he loved the idea of pumping load after load of cum into his pants, right in the hallways of the school, stifling his moans. He felt like a pervert, and yet he couldn’t remember ever being happier in his whole life, than at this moment. He felt…like he was finally becoming the person he’d always been meant to be, a kind of person he’d never considered possible before. He didn’t deserve his dick, he realized. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted one, even as much as he loved masturbating. In this body, the constancy of it was growing tiresome–it was no longer an act he indulged in, it was just a fact of his body in motion–pleasurable, sure, but now somewhat…of a hindrance. He was already planning on losing his next inch that evening. He’d show that witch–of course he didn’t deserve to have a cock, but losing another inch proved harder than he expected.