Sneak Peek: The Monastery

The full story is available for Patrons at the $5 tier and higher here! For everyone else, here’s a sneak peek:


Father Nicholas clawed his way out of sleep, and was certain he was choking. What he was choking on he did not know–a dream substance of some sort or other. The dream was already fading from him, impossible to grasp beyond the terror of the nightmare racing through him, pulse dizzying, cloaked in sweat. He forced himself to breathe, finally succeeding with a massive, heaving gasp, coughing and gagging and heaving but nothing came up–which was a surprise itself, given the meal he had enjoyed last night, at the monks’ insistence. He concentrated, forced his breathing and his heart to settle, reaching for some sort of serenity that he knew had to be somewhere inside him–because God was inside him, after all.

As he came down from the nightmare, he tried to recall what he could of the dream, but there was nothing. No images at least–just a cascade of feelings. Terror, mostly. A good dose of shame. Regret, maybe, or something similar, colored with a bit of self-loathing. A hunger. There was hunger too, which seemed absurd to him, to awake hungry after…after that. How strange. How unchristian, really. He could see it, lit by candlelight still, the great hall of the abbey, the long table dressed in a deep red, the chair at the head conspicuously empty but still set, the entire length set with a massive feast, one of the largest that Nicholas had ever seen, perhaps outside of the Vatican on rare occasions. The monks, seated around the table, tearing into the flesh of beasts with such vigor and gluttony and…it was abnormal to say the least. Verging on heresy in its own fashion, in how the monks of this monastery had so readily discarded the vows of chastity and restraint that they were allegedly bound to by God.

Or perhaps, just a feast to celebrate a visitor from Rome. Perhaps just a well meant, but ill advised, celebration, given what he was here to do. Perhaps innocent, all the same. He had approached it with that in mind, assuming that the monks were doing their best to just be kind to him, with perhaps a tinge of bribery–which itself was not unusual, but of all of his temptations, greed had never been him. And so he’d sat there, next to the prior on one side, and one of the many monks on the other, trying to be an island of temperance in a building storm of indulgence and gluttony. It hadn’t lasted, obviously, between the monks urging more and more food on him, one of them even heaping his plate full when he saw he wasn’t helping himself to seconds. Another kept his wine glass full to the brim, though he never managed to catch who was pouring it for him. Without the wine, perhaps he could have controlled himself, but between the drink, and some of the most luscious, simple and delicious fare of the table, he’d…relented, obviously. And now here he was, with a still hard gut packed with food, a headache from the wine, feeling like a fool for giving in like that. It was not a good first impression in either case. He looked like a man who could be swayed with wine and good favor. And they, well, they didn’t look particularly good for it either. He could still see the prior beside him, tearing into the thigh of a chicken with his teeth, the grease coating his lips as he laughed at some joke, eyes on him, and…

He hoped it was all innocent, he did, but something told him that there was more here. A voice, he often called God, but never to anyone else. Believing one had a direct line, in this era, was considered hubris. But inside himself, he felt it all the same. There was something here, something more than the rumors that had brought him here. Something rotten inside this monastery. Fraud and embezzlement, most likely. Something boringly human. The curse of them all, really, and why they needed God more than anything.

Father Nicholas was something between an envoy and a spy. The monks knew full well why he was here–sent by Rome in order to investigate the claims that had been made against the monks by the villagers who lived near the monastery. The villagers had complained that the monks–usually a quiet and chaste order–had in recent months taken to rather…extreme behaviors, the monks passing through town shouting speeches in the square verging on heresy, one of them even going so far as to extoll the virtues of gluttonous appetites. It didn’t help that every single monk had given into corpulence–he hadn’t seen a single monk here under 300 pounds, and several seemed to be pushing closer to 500, in all honesty. And so, Rome had sent him to investigate, and if necessary, determine what steps might be necessary to bring the rogue monks into line. But all he had done so far, in his first day here, was apparently eat and drink himself sick with nightmares.

He shuddered as he slipped out of the bed, his sheets damp with his sweat. The quarters where he found himself were small and modest, most likely identical to those where the monks reside themselves. There was a desk along the wall, a bed, a window full of morning sunshine (he would have missed laud service already–though how any of the monks could get through a service at dawn after the night before mystified him anyway–had they not also missed vespers and compline the night before?) and his luggage stacked neatly in a corner. He took a while to unpack, dress himself in new clothes, but the dream continued to haunt him–he felt…dirty, really. Sinful. He shouldn’t have given into such excess, it was uncharacteristic of him, and brought back rather awful memories that were best left in the dust of the past…


What sorts of horrors lurk in the monastery for our priest to discover? Find out in a week, or help keep my writing going, and support me on Patreon!

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.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 7)

He almost missed it, lying there on the floor under the desk. Marcus had to get down on all fours and crawl under to grab it, but he managed to fish out the odd little key he found there, and held it in his hand. It was quite small–most likely the key to a padlock, or perhaps a little chest. It was also quite old, looking a bit rusted, though not rusted enough to be unusable. He figured he should probably ask Mr. Woodrow about it, but decided against it–he was nice, but there was something…off about him. Of course, there was something off about Taylor and Quinn too, but that was harder to sort out. Marcus was certain that something strange was going on here, but didn’t know what exactly–he had his doubts that a little key would answer the questions for him, but it wasn’t like it would hurt, right?

So he left his unpacking for a while, absorbed in his mystery, and started snooping around. None of the doors had locks on them, so that was a bust. Quinn and Taylor were…busy down in the basement, from the occasional moans rising up from the stairwell, but he didn’t know what would be down there anyway to unlock. Instead, he checked the attic, but there wasn’t anything up there at all, much to his surprise. He was about to give up, looking out his window, when he noticed something in the yard he hadn’t before–back behind a row of overgrown hedges, there was a small roof–probably a shed of some sort, out behind the pool–but not the pool house itself. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to look, he went out into the backyard, and found his way through the garden to the door of the shed.

Sure enough, it was secured with a padlock. He tested the key in it, and while the lock was about as rusty as the key, it did finally give way and pop open, letting Marcus undo the hook, and swing open the door…and he let out a little gasp. 

It wasn’t a shed…exactly. It looked more like, well, a workshop. Something he might imagine out of a fantasy novel, if anything. There were flasks and vials on shelves all over the walls, several benches with papers strewn across them, most of it looking like no one had been out here in quite a long time. He poked around, carefully, looking at the books laid out–most of them grimoires written in languages he didn’t even recognize…and that kernel of doubt and suspicion that had been rising in him was getting larger. Something was going on here–he was sure of it–but even for him, with the evidence looking him in the face…magic seemed a bit far fetched for an explanation. 

He kicked the latch, before he knew what it was–a trapdoor set in concrete floor of the shed. He hauled it open, and peered down into the dim light below…but he wasn’t sure exactly where the light was coming from. Still, he climbed down the ladder, hit the ground, and heard the snorting behind him–he turned around, and just…stared at the thing there, across the room, also staring at him.

It…was a pig? It was a man? No–it was something between them, standing on hind legs, cruel, yellow tusks pushing out, with two equally vicious horns pushing from the things forehead. It’s eyes were bright red, and…and the air stank. It stank of piss, and shit, and musk, and manure, and all sorts of vile things. He was staring at Marcus is calm, measured silence, and then it spoke.

“Come closer, boy–let me get a look at you.”

It wasn’t…speech exactly, and Marcus took a few steps forward, the smell intensifying…and the terror mounted as well, when he saw the thing’s cock slip from its sheath, a massive, twelve inch member with massive hairy balls below it…he wanted to run, but something…had him, was forcing him forward, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

“Yes, you’ll do nicely, it’s been so long since I’ve had company. You want my company, don’t you boy? Yes, of course you do, you can’t stop staring at it, can you?”

There was…a circle on the ground. A foot away. He tried to stop himself, tried to hold back, but…but that cock, it was fascinating to him, he…he needed it. He crossed the circle, felt the power it held collapse, and then he was on his knees, worshiping the demon’s filthy cock, and the beast laughed, and snorted, and grunted–free at last!

He rutted against Marcus’s face, and came, his vile, yellow grey cum filling the boy’s mouth, spewing from his nose, forcing its way down into his guts, filling him up with the demon’s corrupt seed, and Marcus sat back, dazed and horrified at what he’d just done, but unable to stop it. “Good boy–you’ll be my first. A few more loads, and we’ll be ready to show that warlock a thing or two of our own, don’t you–”

There was a bright flash, and then the demon was gone–banished, back to where he’d come from, leaving Marcus groaning on the floor, as Mr. Woodrow stepped forward, shaking his head, looking at all of the demon seed absorbing into Marcus’ body. It was too late now, he knew–he would just have to wait and see what sort of corruption spread through the boy’s body–then, maybe, he could come up with a solution for him. He cursed himself for losing the key in the first place! Still, at least it had been found, in the end.

Marcus moaned, feeling his body shifting and aching as the seed spread inside him, begging the older man for help as he began to change…


Here’s the next poll! I’ll be mixing and matching a few of the more popular options from the selections below. You get three choices in the poll. My patrons get an extra bonus poll over here as well, which is weighted five times heavier!

Strange Fetish: Conjoining and Merging

Alright, so here’s a good one that doesn’t come across my radar all that often, though there’s certainly plenty of it out there–scenarios where characters have their bodies merge together, and are forced to conjoin. It isn’t something that I’ve thought about very often in all honesty, but it has been popping up in my head, and on various feeds, on occasion, and so I’ve found myself considering it more and more as of late.

For me, the attraction to it is on the body horror side of things. The fact that your body, which for your entire life has only been yours, is now shared with someone else, unwillingly, in the most intimate of ways, beyond your control. While I’m not opposed to body’s merging and simply being lost–as in, a character becoming another player’s cock, or asshole, or what have you–it never quite has the same appeal to me, exactly–because I think I’m mostly interested in the struggle for dominance between the two characters as they merge. Who gets control? Who’s body is superior? It’s just a really strange, visceral conflict. Anyway, all of this is to say that here’s a weird sketch I can up with while brainstorming with a friend.


There’s nothing worse about college than being assigned a roommate. Now I’m stuck in a confined space with the sort of person I wouldn’t be caught near in a lifetime–we just have nothing in common! I mean, you have me–college football player, lean muscle, handsome, all the girls on campus go wild for me–and my fucking roommate is some fat pig of a guy, easily 300 pounds. He never leaves the room either! He’s almost always studying, or playing games, or whatever–I can’t bring pussy by at all. Still, it’s clear the disgust is mutual–I thought we’d come to the sort of tacit agreement that he would stay on my side of the room, and he’d stay on his–at least until that night.

I had gone to sleep, and he’d still been awake, doing something or other. We’d gotten into a fight again–the same old fight really, about how I wanted him to leave to room on occasion so I could have some privacy or a girl over, and he would go on about how the room is his space to, and he has a right to use it how he wants. I called him a pig, he called me an idiot who doesn’t understand boundaries. So I’m asleep, right? Then the next thing I know, the covers get thrown off me (I sleep naked, you should know, I don’t give a fuck) and before I even am really awake, my pig of a roommate has thrown himself on top of me, so our faces are inches apart.

“Here roomie–why don’t we get a bit more comfortable together? I happen to know just the trick for pricks like you.”

I try and shove him off, but he’s heavy, and…and sticky, somehow. I can’t get him to budge. Finally, after a minute of struggling, he gets off my bed–and I come with him. In the dim light of the bedroom, I realize, with horror, that somehow our bodies have merged together–my flat chest disappearing into his flabby one, his fat somehow swallowing most of my body–and I can’t get free of him. I’m still flailing about at this point, and he throws us against the wall, my back to it, and he’s pressing down on me, harder, and I can feel more and more of myself sinking into him, our faces coming closer together now. “Here, give this pig a kiss…” He says, and our lips touch, our tongues touch…and something happens. I can feel his mind invading mine somehow, all of these thoughts that I know I shouldn’t have, but…I’m getting lost. I struggle harder, and managed to get his face unstuck from mine–which means I must be able to get the rest of him unstuck too, right? I shove as hard as I can, and I can feel him coming away from me, and with a loud slurping noise, he stumbles back…but looking down, I’m not the same person I was a moment ago.

I must have gained a hundred pounds of fat from him, but it doesn’t look like he’s lost any of his own weight in the process. Worse…I can hear the thoughts in my head that he left there, about how good it feels to be fat, about how much…I like touching him, and being touched by him. I rub my new gut, feeling the shudders of pleasure coursing through me, and then he’s touching me too, and I whimper. “See? I think we’ll get along just fine now, don’t you?”

He shoves me down onto my knees, and pushed his cock into my mouth. I try to pull away, but my face has fused to his crotch–I can’t see…but I can feel his cock inside my sucking mouth, and again, I feel him rewriting my brain, telling me how much I love sucking his cock, the cocks of anyone really, that I’m so hungry for cum, that I want to be a cumdump for fat men more than anything. I try to push against his thighs, but my hands sink into his hips, down into his legs, my whole head melting into his crotch as he fucks me deeper and deeper–and we both cum, like we’re one fucking being, and then he releases me at last–but I know I’ll never be the same again.

I’m his now. His cumdump, his toy. I want to touch him, merge with him whenever I can. Being apart from him…it physically hurts so much. Sometimes, he takes me to class with him, wrapped up in his fat, in his entire body, his cock filling my hole the entire time, and there’s no place I’d rather be. I’m his–and there’s nothing I can do to change that anymore.

Caption: Bodysitting for my Great Uncle

My great uncle is…well, he’s an eccentric, you might say. He likes to call himself an inventor, and judging by the massive house where he lives, and all the gadgets he has, I suppose it wouldn’t be too far off. He also never married, devoting all of his time to his work–whatever it is that he does. I was home from college, and he offered me a chance to keep an eye on his house while he was on vacation–but when I got there, he revealed that he had a more…peculiar offer in mind.

He wanted to switch bodies with me, for the length of his vacation! It sounded ridiculous and impossible, but he…did it, and changed us back right away, but fuck, it was trippy. He offered me…more money than I’d ever thought I could have in exchange for borrowing my body for a couple of weeks. I said yes, because why the fuck wouldn’t you? Besides, this house is a palace. I wish I could live here all the time, the place is amazing. I think I’ll go lounge around and watch TV, eat some junk–after all, his body is already going to shit, what does it matter really what I do to it?


It’s towards the end of the first week…and I think something weird is going on. I…I’m having a hard time focusing on things in the house, and it feels like I’m sleeping a lot. More than I should be, I guess. My great uncle told me that I might feel a bit weird, being in his body for so long–and he does feel old. His body aches like hell, even just sitting on the couch…but I feel like I lose hours in front of the TV, and I can’t even remember what I was watching. The one part of me that’s working just fine is my cock–I mean, my uncle’s cock. I’m jacking off all the damn time, it seems like, and I don’t know why I’m so damn horny.


Fuck, that was a sexy fucking video, love watching that old fuck get plowed by both of those boys at once. Makes me so fucking horny, I could blow all over again, just thinking about it. Can’t believe all of this nasty fucking porn my grandson has at his place, all of these old men getting fucked by boys like him, I wonder…wait, that’s…not right, I keep thinking that, but he’s in my body, right?

Fuck, where’d that dildo go? I…never knew how good it could feel, getting fucked, until I got drunk that night, I think, and woke up with that thing inside me, but maybe it’s just this hole that does it. Makes my old cock so damn hard, starts me leaking like nothing else. I mean, nothing besides my grandson’s hot fucking cock. He gets home in a few days, and fuck, I hope he plows my old hole into the fucking ground.


“Yeah, you like that cock in your ass, don’t you you old nasty pervert?”

“Oh fuck boy, fuck! Yeah, fuck your granddaddy with that big cock of yours.”

“Yeah, it is my cock, isn’t it? Sure seems like I know how to use it better than you ever did, isn’t that right?”

“Whatever you say boy, just don’t stop…You’re making my old sloppy hole tingle…”

“Yeah, feels real nice–you like being an old pervert, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck, more than anything.”

“Tell me–it we could, say, swap bodies, would you even want to? Be young and hot again?”

“And never get fucked by my grandson’s cock again? Hell no! Now shut up and fuck me boy, you keep slowing down when you talk.”

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 12)

This is going to be the last entry in this series for the moment. I might revisit it at some point, but I have some other ideas I’d like to try for the moment. I’ll be starting a new interactive story of some sort next week!


As Tobias walked through the suburban streets, looking for someone to introduce to his new desires, to his new God, he saw, ahead of him, an older fellow walking a dog in the evening. He was most likely in his late thirties, wearing a shirt and slacks, looking tired from work and his home–and Tobias saw someone who could use a new…outlook on life. He followed along behind him for a few minutes, until they reached a dark stretch of the street, and Tobias pounced on him. The dog took off running, terrified at the strange smelling figure that had leapt out and tackled his master–and Eric, the man Tobias tackled, struggled with Tobias in the dim light, unable to understand what this man was–the clinking of metal, the rub of rope and leather against his skin, the sickening bulge of Tobias’ monstrous cock grinding against him. As he fought, however, he could feel…something happening to him, a strange sensation on his skin, like something was crawling on him, underneath his shirt, making him squirm and shudder in disgust. He managed, at last, to fight the man off and he ran down the street, but the sensation of…something on his skin didn’t go away. Wondering what the crazed freak might have had on him, he took off his shirt (which was feeling increasingly tight), and then pulled off his undershirt as well, and looking down, he gasped.

There were…tattoos crawling across his body. He scratched at them, trying to get them off, but they were already under his skin–the virus seeping into his body, infecting him and his desires with the images that Tobias had implanted in him. Across his chest he saw the words “Daddy Hog”, and he could…remember when he got it, at that seedy tattoo shop outside of Denver on one of his rides, the same time as that trucker had asked Eric to help him break in a new college boy he’d picked up hitchhiking…

Eric clutched his head, trying to resist the new memories, giving Tobias the opportunity he needed to grab Eric and drag him back into the darkness, groping him, covering him with still more tattoos, all over his arms and legs and belly–images of pigs, images of bikes and bikers, images of cigars and smoke. Eric tried to fight, but eventually, he forgot he was even trying to fight any of this, he forgot he’d ever been Eric at all–that Eric, from before.

They ended up fucking between two houses, Eric plowing the rubber and leather freak in the ass, at least until the side door of one of the houses opened, and a younger man emerged holding a bag of garbage, looking at the two freaks fucking by his fence, and gaped at them. Gaped long enough that Tobias could leap on him and together, they started tearing the young fellow’s clothes away, and Tobias’ cock started leaking–but it wasn’t cum that came out, but dark silicone.

It dribbled, and then poured all over the young man’s body, coating him in it, sliding into every crevice and orifice, the silicone beefing up his ass, filling his lips, covering his teeth and dissolving them, covering his hands and turning them into mitts, and then Tobias forced his freakish cock into the man’s ass–while Eric fucked the new gimp’s rubberized mouth. The silicone flooded his system, and the man could feel his cock and balls inflating into some bulbous mass, a freakish accessory, also coated in rubber–and that was the last think he felt, really. The last thing he thought, as the rubber invaded and choked out his mind, leaving him as nothing more than a freakish rubber gimp for the new biker to use as he desired. Tobias felt himself ready to cum, so he hauled his cock free, and blasted Eric with his silicone cum, watched it coalesce into rubber gear to replace his ripped in torn clothes, and admired his fat, thick bearded, heavily tattooed biker freak, and then sent them off–Eric once again walking something on a leash, but no longer a dog, looking for a bike to steal so he and his slave could get back on the road, spreading the infection everywhere they went.

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 9)

Jacob and Tobias hadn’t had much luck that day–a few conversations with some other folks looking to talk to anyone willing, even a couple of mormon missionaries, and usually that was nice–even if they didn’t want to talk about religion after all. Jake and Tobias were from different parts of the country, but had formed a decent friendship on their mission trip due to their similar backgrounds–both of them had just graduated from high school and were taking a gap year before starting college, and probably getting married to the young women their parents were busy arranging for them back home. It was the closest the two of them had ever gotten to freedom, and even this brief taste was enjoyable–though rebellion didn’t come naturally to either of them.  After a few houses that didn’t even bother opening the door to them, they came to the Drake residence, where Harry was adjusting to his new, older body, and to his new desires the virus had warped him around.

The doorbell went off, and while the old Harry wouldn’t have even bothered checking to see who it was, unless he was expecting someone, this new Harry was horny enough that he was willing to try for anything. He opened the door, saw the two young men on the stoop in their pressed shirts and pants, their black ties, and he couldn’t suppress the leer that crept across the face. “Afternoon boys,” he said, “How can I help you on this fine day?”

“Afternoon sir,” Jacob said, “We wanted to know if you were interested in talking to us about the Church of Latter Day Saints?”

“Oh, well, I haven’t been to church is quite a long time boys, but it does get rather lonely around here–why don’t you come on in and have a glass of water at least, and we can chat a bit.”

Neither Jacob nor Tobias was really interested in chatting with the old man who’d opened the door–he stank, and there was something…sticky on his hand, Jacob noticed when he shook the older fellow’s hand, and Tobias flinched at the stench of his breath as well–but that was enough for the virus to slide into their bodies and get to work.

“There you are boys, have a seat on the couch there while I get you a glass of water.”

The two missionaries sat down on the couch in front of the TV, which was still playing a stream of disgusting gay porn more depraved than anything either of them had imagined possible. Jacob went to stand up and leave, but felt dizzy and hot. He tried to take a step, but faltered, and ended up slumping back on to the couch. Beside him, Tobias was feeling the same heat coursing through him, both of their foreheads beaded with sweat.

Harry returned with a couple of glasses of water he’d spiked with some shots of cheap vodka. “You boys do look hot–here, drink these down quick–you’ll feel better in no time.”

Both Jacob and Tobias took a glass, obeying Harry’s orders without even considering not doing so, and drank the glasses down. The alcohol rushed right to their head, making them feel even stranger, and again, Jacob tried to stand up, but Harry pushed him back down. “Now now, you look much too hot boy, let daddy help you out of those clothes there…”

Jacob tried to push him off, but he was too weak–Harry stripped him down to his underwear, and then tore that off as well, and Harry started groping his cock and sucking on his nipples–and as he did, Jacob felt something inside him…shift. He could feel his cock growing in Harry’s hand–not just growing hard, but actually getting larger–the same with his nipple, he was, when Harry pulled away–it was massive, and after Harry suckled on the second one, it was just as large as the first. “Yeah boy, that’s good–play with those for a bit, while Daddy gets your brother out of his clothes too, before he burns up.”

Tobias could barely fight as Harry pulled the clothes off him, and again, Harry attacked his nipple, and he felt a sharp spike of pain that made him jump–when Harry pulled away, he saw a metal stud in the nipple that hadn’t been there before, and Harry bit down on the other one, leaving a ring there as well. Unable to resist the desires running through his mind, Harry started biting Tobias all over, leaving studs and rings all over his face–in his ears and lips, in his eyebrows and tongue–and each time it happened, the pain was no less sharp…but a certain kind of pleasure was flooding him as well.

“D-Daddy, I–I’m making a mess…” Jacob moaned next to them, and Harry looked over to see that his sizable cock was leaking a steady stream of precum from the tip–and that his new, larger tits were leaking milk as well.

“Well go ahead and eat it, boy–it’ll make you big and strong.”

Jacob…didn’t want to eat it. He didn’t want to be here, he tried to tell himself that, but it was easier to…do what daddy said, and so he started licking the cum and milk from his fingers, and each drop he ate made his body swell larger and thicker, muscle piling on muscle piling on fat, and the larger he got, the hairier he became, the harder and harder it became to think about anything beyond…pleasure.

Tobias was more difficult. He tried to fight Daddy off, tried to get away, and so Daddy had to be creative. More rings appeared up and down the sides of his body, the insides of his arms, and the insides of his legs, thick, heavy duty rings that tugged on his flesh, and daddy strung rope through them, knotted his legs together and his arms to his sides, so that whenever Tobias fought, he could feel the rings pulling at his flesh, hightening his pain and his pleasure. Jacob fed his new brother his milk, watching Tobias swell larger and larger still, while Daddy sucked on Tobias’ cock, his slobber sliding into his genitals and swelling them to an obscene size, like they’d been filled with silicone and pumped larger and larger than humanly possible.

Tattoos appeared on them both, as Daddy warped their minds more and more, and by the end of the afternoon, both of them had completely forgotten who they’d been before this, but that samw religious fervor remained. But now, it wasn’t a godly church they served–no, they served a church of pleasure, and porn, and depravity, just like their daddy did. They worshiped every inch of Harry, every place where he walked, eager to do anything they could for him–Jacob a massive hulking brute, tits and cock perpetually leaking cum all over the ground, beastly and filthy tattoos running down his hulking arms and across his chest. Tobias was smaller, somewhat, with tattoos all over his body, including his face, cord run through the rings that were driven through every limb, every movement tugging on them, making him moan and grunt with delightful pain at the sensation.

As evening died, daddy sent his two boys out into the world, but with a new mission–to corrupt any man they came into contact with, and to spread their new dogma of perversion to them using whatever means they had at their disposal. Harry, however, had a different destination in mind, and he drove off to seek out his own ends.


Alright, so there’s two options for Harry here, and two others that suggest we should follow either Jacob or Tobias in their new forms. Depending on how I’m feeling, I can try to get to each of them at some point, but we’ll see if I can keep it up! Here’s the bonus Patron poll as well!