college – Page 2 – Bracken's Corner

“Oh yeah boy, that’s it–suck that cock. You love it, don’t you? You love being a cumdump, right boy?”

“Oh yes sir, feed me your cum, please…” you moan, no longer able to hold back your desires. You don’t even know who this man is, but when he walked up to you on the street and told you to get into his car, no amount of stranger danger warnings going off in your head could stop you, and you’re so glad you didn’t listen too. His cock is so delicious, and you suck harder on his cock, and after a moment he starts pumping his old cum down your throat, and the deep hunger for service that he’s planted in you feel sated for a moment, and the shame and horror at what has happened crashes down on you suddenly.

He pulled his cock out, chuckling, and said, “What a faggot–I can see why my grandson picks on you so much. He’s going to be so happy to know I’m giving him a faggot slave to take to college with him.”

“Wait…what? I don’t–”

“Hush–don’t open your faggot mouth, I don’t want to hear it. Now, how about we keep working with you? Jimmy will be here in a few hours, and I want you nice and obedient by the time he arrives.

Jimmy? Jimmy Walbeck, the asshole who’d been bullying you for years now? It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be true, but sure enough, a few hours later Jimmy arrived at his grandfather’s house to find you kneeling in front of the door, begging him to let you service him, apologizing for all the rude things you’d said, and how you’d never fully appreciated his superiority before. Of course you would go with him to college as his faggot. Of course you’d live with him and cook his food and carry his books and do all of his homework and suck his friends cocks and his cock especially. Sure, you had a full ride to Harvard, but you’d go with Jimmy anywhere. He was your master after all, and you were just his lowly slave, for now and forever.

“Fuck, Ah gotta stop this, Ah gotta, can’t cum no more, I ain’t gonna have anythin’ left a me!”

Taylor really should have learned to keep his mouth shut, but when someone goes his whole life, being treated like a star, one tends to pick up a very large ego, and a certain sense of entitlement. However, making fun of people in high school isn’t the same as making fun of people in college–especially when the person you’re trying to tease is your professor.

“Ah didn’t…didn’t know bin’ this hairy could…could feel so nice though, ‘n who knew a gut could turn a guy on so much? Gotta–Gotta resist it, I can’t cum anymore, if Ah do, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. Maybe…maybe I’ll just tweak these thick nips a mine a bit…oh yeah, that feels real good…”

Dr. Ralston, Professor of History, wasn’t, perhaps, the kind of person you would expect to be a world renowned teacher and lecturer, with his tendency towards an unkempt look–but with tenure, he dressed in what was comfortable. However, when Taylor had seen the elderly man dressed in flannel and overalls approach the front of the class, and start speaking with a thick southern accent…well, he just couldn’t resist. No one else in the class had thought his joke funny, and Dr. Ralston had been unfazed, suggesting that Taylor could leave if he thought he had nothing to learn. Taylor had left–but Dr. Ralston still intended to teach the young man a lesson.

“Fuck, gittin’ close…mmm…aw yeah…just stroke it a little more, ‘n…’n…Gah!” Taylor said, milking his fourth load of the night out in front of the mirror, “No! No, fuck–Fuck!” He watched in the mirror as his already long hair and beard tangled down further and acquired a few strands of grey, and when he next opened his mouth, he saw that quite a few of them had gone missing. His football shirt and gym shorts shifted around his fattening body, becoming a set of grimy work gear he wore nearly all the time, and he grinned, licking his cum off his filthy palm. “Mmmm…finger lickin’ good!” he said with a guffaw, and tucked his cock back into his jeans. Still, he had to get to work down at the site, or the foreman would fire his ass. As he left, he happened to see his high school class ring–ah, those were the days! Too bad he hadn’t gone to college though–maybe he could have made something of himself.

The hypnosis files had seemed like a funny and harmless gag at the time. Each of the fraternity initiates had their own file to listen to that would be active throughout the week–files where the frat members could make them act like chickens or fall asleep in class–but a file which made him act out whatever he was wearing at the time? Terry didn’t see how that could be bad at all.

Well, really bad, if you’re rushing a wild and crazy frat like Phi Sigma Eta. No one had told him that he wouldn’t be able to put on or take off clothes by himself, and so he was helpless as the brothers dressed him up in a diaper and a leather collar, making him their personal slave and incapable of keeping in his piss or his shit. He’d worn that nasty diaper for the entire week, and licked every one of his brother’s feet in the meantime, but the worst punishment was when they put a pig mask on him, forcing him to crawl around on all fours, grunting and squealing like an animal the whole night long.

Of course, the frat had promised that the effects would wear off at the end of the week, but for Terry, he wasn’t so lucky. Sure, he wasn’t affected by any new clothing, and he was free to dress himself, everything he’d worn that week had left effects which were impossible to reverse. He was forced to wear diapers out of necessity now, and couldn’t disobey a direct order by one of his brothers–causing quite a few of them to call in sexual favors when their girlfriends were angry or on the rag. Worse, there were times, especially when he got drunk, when he couldn’t stop acting like a real pig. Hell, a few times in class he’d started crawling around and squealing, unable to help himself.

The frat told him they were sorry, and hired the best hypnotist they could find to fix his problem, but in reality, they had an entirely different goal. They watched the hypnotist put Terry under, and then start ingraining his new habits deeper into his psyche. When Terry woke up, he knew something was wrong when he found himself unable to stand, or even speak. Worse, he felt himself drawn to the hypnotist, and as he nuzzled the older man’s crotch, he pulled out his cock, allowing Terry to suck him off much to the glee of the rest of the frat.

Now, he was little more than a mascot, often kept outside in a small pen, diapered, collared and masked, grunting and helplessly begging for his masters’ cocks up his ass or down his throat. Even worse, he loved it–he really did. In his new mind, he could imagine nothing better than his new life as an incontinent, pig slave.

Source: faggotmaster

For most athletes, college football is as high as they go, if they aren’t planning on going pro–and at a division III school, no one ever goes pro. It was the eve of their final game of the year, and someone (the prankster never revealed themselves, but it had to have been someone from the team, they thought) had left the box of shirts at the party house that night.

Laughing and already drunk, all of the football players had put them on, and when they woke up the next morning, hungover and aching, they saw that the shirts hadn’t been joking at all. They were all potbellied, in their thirties, balding, and very confused. When a group of biology students whose experiments they’d sabotaged last year as a prank came by, pretending to be members of the staff, and told them that the reunion was over and they had to get off campus, they had nowhere to go. How could they play, go to class, or even graduate, looking like this? Still, one thing was certain–none of them would play football ever again.

Source: usexybrah