Too Clever For Your Own Good (Part 3)

Eddie woke up with a raging headache, and the nagging sense that something had gone horribly wrong. It wasn’t like the other times he’d gotten home after Pigtown, when he could remember everything from the night before–instead, he could remember almost nothing at all. The last clear memory was of him and Pete arriving at Pigtown, and…talking, but he wasn’t sure what they’d been talking about. They….gone there to look for daddies, right? No–no, they’d been the daddies, and they’d gone to get cubs! He was sure of that. He opened his eyes and rolled over, and was pleased to see that, apparently, they’d been successful, because in the bed beside him was a beautiful, chubby cub. He went to snuggle closer to the boy, only to run into him sooner than he’d expected–he woke up a bit further, enough to sit up and look down at himself, where he discovered that he, too, was as much a chubby cub as the one beside him.

“W-What? No! No, this…this isn’t right,” he said to himself, his voice too high. “This isn’t right!”

His shout woke the cub beside him, and he rolled over. As soon as he saw his face, Eddie knew who it was, even if the face was very different from his last one–it was Pete. He didn’t have his beard, just a thin, blonde goatee around his mouth, and he looked at Eddie sleepily. “Eddie, shush. You’ll wake our daddies! They’re sleeping.”

“No–Pete, this isn’t right! Don’t you remember? We were supposed to be the daddies!”

Pete rolled his eyes, and sat up, “Fuck Eddie, you’re so fucking dumb. How many times do I have to remind you? We went to Pigtown to find daddies. You just had a nightmare.”

No–No, it was real,” Eddie said, “You have to believe me.”

“No Eddie–you’re wrong. You’re always wrong. You’re the one who needs to believe me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be some piss soaked bear, you know that? What you had, was a bad dream. You’re not a daddy, you’re just a dumb, fuck hungry cub. That’s all you’ve ever been, and all you’ll ever be. It’s a good thing you like it so much, just like I do.”

Eddie couldn’t believe him, and yet…he also knew that Pete was never wrong, even though Eddie was wrong all the time. It seemed like that should be flipped around, but his head still hurt so badly, and his thoughts refused to stay organized and focused. “No, I’m not stupid, you’re the stupid one.”

“I never said I wasn’t stupid, Eddie–just that you’re way stupider than me.”

“But–”

“It was just a dream Eddie, go back to bed.”

He wanted to deny it, he really did, but the memories were already distant and hard to grasp…just like a dream. The logic of them didn’t make any sense, just like a dream. And look at him–he wasn’t a daddy! He didn’t even want to be a daddy, did he? No–he’d always wanted to be a cub, a stupid, horny cub who wanted nothing more than to get plowed by big daddy cocks, just like…like the cocks their new daddies had. He could remember then, how Pete had brought the two college kids over to their table, how they’d become the massive, hulking, leather clad daddies of their dreams, and fucked them all night long…Or even if that hadn’t happened, it sure was hot, thinking about getting fucked–it made his short cubby cock all hard. Eddie was having a hard time remembering what he’d even been thinking about, and Pete had already laid back down, so he did too–though he was too horny to sleep. He ended up jacking off, thinking about getting fucked, until he came, and then he nodded off again.

Later in the morning, he felt like himself again, in position beside his brother on their bed, while their rough daddies lubed up their cocks behind them, ready to plow their boys holes all morning long, before stopping for some lunch, and then even more fucking.

Eddie and Pete made out the whole time, stroking their tiny cocks to several orgasms while they got fucked, and neither of them could imagine being a part of a family other than this one.

Twelve Months ‘til Christmas (Part 1)

December 25th, Last Year

As confident as Timmy had tried to appear, when he was sending Stan off in the sleigh for his first Christmas, the truth was, he was dreadfully, horribly, nervous that something was going to go awry, and he spent much of the night staring at the massive clock in the midst of the workshop, counting down the last few hours to Christmas Day. The truth was, the contract…wasn’t quite as airtight as it might seem. If Stan felt he had been deceived in some way, or if he had come to believe that the presents the elves had fashioned weren’t fulfilling their purpose, there was a chance that this Christmas would be considered null and void…and when the clock struck zero…well, none of them would exist–or if his ploy worked, they’d all live on to another Christmas next year. Hopefully, Stan had remained none the wiser. When he got to the end of the night, if he had a conscience left, he would likely leave service, which was fine. That at least gave Timmy time to find yet another Santa for next year. The rest of the elves could sense his anxiety, and all eyes were on the clock as it ticked down, and neither Santa, nor the sleigh, had returned. That didn’t mean he’d failed, of course, but it didn’t help any of their anxiety. The clock at last struck zero, and every elf held their breath…until the entire device clicked, and reset–365 days and counting. Christmas had been a success–now all Timmy had to find out was what kind of success it had been.

It was another hour before the lookouts spotted Rudolph’s glowing cockhead in the storm clouds to the south. After a few minutes, they were able to confirm that there was indeed someone in the sleigh–it seemed that the beacon had chosen well–if Stan was returning, then that meant he must have…enjoyed some part of the entire exercise. Probably quite a bit of it, Timmy hoped. The sleigh banked around, but there was no celebratory “Ho, Ho, Ho!” like the previous incarnation, just steely silence and the ripping wind. The reindeer landed along the runway and slid to a halt–and Stanta hauled himself up, grabbed his nearly empty sack and the rubber bag containing his son, John, and dragged them out of the sleigh, into the calf high snow.

The elves were all agape. They’d…expected Stan to undergo a few changes along his first journey–after all, that was what they had planned. What they hadn’t expected was how extreme their new Santa would become in a single night. In fact, they’d never seen a Santa quite so…well decorated, before. Stanta stomped his way through the snow, over towards the cleared area where it was easier to walk, pipe smoke and steam streaming from his pierced nose, his huge, tattooed belly hanging down over the waist of his chaps, but not low enough to hide his massive, many times pierced cock, and pendulous sack. As he moved, the clatter of metal almost rang like sleigh bells, heard at a distance. His beard, rather than the usual pure white, looked more like freeway snow–a dingy brown, tinged with yellow around his mouth, his eyes hollowed and slightly sunken. He looked haunted. He looked…furious.

He dropped the sacks, one of them squirming, and walked up to Timmy, glaring down at the little elf. “I believe you have a contract I need to sign, Timmy.”

The words came out almost as a growl. With a gulp, Timmy conjured forth the contract–Stanta swearing to fulfill his obligation as the North Pole’s new Santa Claus for as long as he was willing and able–and then, after scrawling his signature, he grabbed Timmy by the leather collar, and hauled him up to eye level, snorting smoke in his face.

“For the record, I do not take kindly to being tricked. I…understand, with hindsight, why your ploy was necessary, but do not think it is forgotten, or forgiven, elf,” Stanta muttered. To Timmy, inches from his mouth, each word was a slap, but the rest of the elves heard nothing over the whistle of the constant wind around them. “I will not tolerate such antics ever again–not without due punishment. Is that clear?”

Timmy nodded, and Stanta dropped him to the snow. “Yes…sir. I’m sorry,” Timmy said. “If I….had had other options, trust me when I say I would have taken them/” He stood up, brushing off the snow, “I…hope your first trip was…pleasant, at least.”

Stanta took a long drag off his pipe, and exhaled into the dark air “It was enlightening.” His look of anger had diminished somewhat, “I do…thank you, Timmy. For giving me this chance. I appreciate it in ways I’m only beginning to understand.” He looked out at the other elves, their jaws gaping at his new appearance, “So now what? I hope we all get a day of rest, at least,” he said, grabbing his sacks, and heading for his home, “I could use some quiet time, with a project.”

“I’ll, uh, come meet with you in a couple of days, to discuss production plans for next year then!” Timmy shouted after him, but he wasn’t sure Stanta had heard, or cared. The massive man just tromped up to his door, flung it open, dragged in his things, slammed it shut behind him, and locked it. Timmy breathed a sigh of relief–that could have gone much worse. The elves, satisfied and exhausted, retreated to their own lodgings, for a bit of rest themselves.

Inside the house, Stanta grabbed the sack containing the still squirming John, opened it up, and shook his boy out onto the floor in a heap. The man, in his early forties, looked up at Stanta, at his father, at his captor, at the man he inexplicably loved and desired…and cowered, his ass still sore from the fucking a few hours prior. “Please…dad, I–”

“Shut up, John. You wanted my love, well you’re going to have to fucking earn it. You can start…hmmm…” he said, and rummaged around in his sack, examining the knicknacks which remained–found something useful, and pulled it out. A small square mirror, about an inch on each side, tied up in leather cord into a pendant and necklace. He tossed it to John, who, stared at it. “You can start by at least looking like someone I might be interested in loving, you sad sack.”

John was captivated by the reflection in the mirror–it wasn’t clear at all, and swirled around, like it was waiting for direction before forming. “I…what is this?” he asked.

“Put it on, boy. And don’t take it off, until I tell you otherwise.”

John found himself slipping it over his head, and the pendant came to rest on his bare chest, and as soon as his father looked at him again, he felt…a pulse, from the small mirror. He was reflecting something, becoming a reflection of something from his father–it was difficult to describe, but looking down at himself, he was changing. Growing younger, a bit shorter, his already pudgy body inflating further until he had a soft gut and wide ass…perfect for fucking, yeah, fuck! He looked at Stanta’s massive cock hanging from under his gut, and felt a strange stirring of desire, but also…also fear. He was just an innocent little cub, he’d never been with a daddy like this before–he’d never been with a daddy at all.

Stanta looked at the quaking cub standing in front of him, a bit surprised himself. The amulet turned whoever wore it into reflections of what the people who saw him desired, and while he’d wanted a cub, he hadn’t necessarily wanted one so…inexperienced. Then again, it might be fun, breaking in a new, tight hole. He stepped forward, bent down and gave the boy a smoky kiss, feeling him shudder with need, the boy’s small cock nearly blowing from his first taste of a proper daddy. Not someone he could love, of course–but a nice reward for his first successful night as Stanta. “Come on, boy, Daddy’s gonna give you your Christmas present in the bedroom.” Knowing this was wrong, knowing it was all wrong, John took his daddy’s hand as he was led back into the house, but the ache in his heart hadn’t stopped. He wanted this man’s love–he needed it, and he’d earn it, somehow. He had to. Maybe…maybe he wasn’t worthy of it yet, but this year, this long year, he’d prove himself, somehow. He could feel it.

“Hello sir, I’m a representative from Arctos Outfitters. I was wondering if you’d like to try a sample of one of our specialty line of soaps in the showers today,” the young man said, as Rudy approached the gym showers with his towel wrapped around his waist.

“E-Excuse me?” he said, looking around and a bit confused. The man was young, but had a nicely trimmed beard, and a bit of a paunch–but it looked good on him somehow, even if Rudy would never in his life let himself get that heavy. He was also completely naked, which even in this locker room was…fairly brazen.

“Just a sample is all. It’s completely free.”

“Yeah, but…here?” Rudy asked.

“Well, it makes sense doesn’t it? Why wouldn’t you hand out soap at the showers?” the young man said, grinning from cheek to cheek. “No one needs a sample of soap on the street corner.

Wanting to avoid an argument, he just took the little bar of soap the man handed him, wrapped in a little paper wrapper-like a hotel soap. He looked at the label, and it said it was called “Cubble.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite–I use it every day!” the young man said, giggling a bit, “Enjoy your shower!”

He went into the room, surprised to find a few other showers running, and the room quite steamy–so much so it was a bit difficult to see through the room. He went to a showerhead and turned it on, waited for the temperature to stabilize, and then lathered up with the sample of soap. True to it’s name, it was…quite foamy, so much so that it was even a bit…tingly, making him chuckle, and then giggle–a sound which made him rather embarrassed to come out of his usually mature, deep voiced throat. Still, the soap did feel good. He ran it down over his abs again…only to discover they weren’t abs anymore–he had a small round gut, not unlike the young man who’d give him the soap. He dropped it in surprise, and gripped his chubby midsection in surprise.

“Looks like you dropped something boy, let me get that for you,” a voice said beside him, and a massive, older…daddy knelt down beside him and picked up the bar. “You still have about half left–let daddy help you out, get those…hard to reach spots.”

Rudy was helpless as the man scrubbed him down, moaning and giggling as the man washed him, paying extra attention to his cock and balls, before shoving Rudy up against the wall of the shower and sliding his cock into the new cub’s soap slick crack. “Think you ‘n I are gonna pay that Arctos shop a visit tonight boy–we’re gonna need some more soap, and a whole lot of things to get dirty with in between.”

Source: thatonebigchub

Stinkers – Eric’s Story (Part 6)

Eric did go to the library for a few hours, where he holed up in an isolated corner away from anyone else, and tried to focus on his school work, but nothing could get past his growing terror. Something was seriously wrong with him. He was bigger. He already stank like he hadn’t showered in days, and he’d just been sitting there in the cold room. He had a beard he couldn’t shave. His dirty laundry had just fucked up his roommate in some way he couldn’t even begin to explain. He’d spent all weekend fucking with some stranger. He’d raped one of his teammates. Trying to stack everything up together, everything felt too big. He tried searching online for anything he could find about what might have happened, but everything either led him to filthy porn videos he was too terrified to watch, strange online stories which read more like fantasies ripped out of twisted minds, and freakish conspiracy theories about aliens, government agents, and genetic experimentation.

He leaned back in the chair, feeling it creak, his gut growling. He’d been hungry for ages, but he didn’t want to give in. He could…remember eating with Greg, in that room, how he’d always lost control of himself each time, stuffing himself, Greg stuffing him, rubbing his gut, that time he’d…greased his cock up with butter and fucked him. He shuddered, and realized too late the memory had not only gotten him hard, but he’d just shot a huge wad right into his tight pants, the wet spot obvious and spreading across the denim. It dried in less than a minute, and the jeans he had on looked a lot less clean than they had been moments before–the same with his shirt, which looked like it was stained with who-knew-what and was suddenly crispy to the touch. The hunger was intensifying, becoming physically painful, but he didn’t dare go to the mess hall, not like this, not around all of those other people, but he didn’t know where to go instead.

He should go back to see Greg. He needed to know what was happening to him, he needed to know just how much of what he’d just read on the internet about this was true. He needed…to smell him, see him, taste him again. He pushed the desire away, and holed up in the corner of the library for a few more hours, trying not to think about what was happening to him. Once it had gotten a bit later, past the dinner hour, he ventured out right before the dining hall closed, piling a tray high with what remained, and trying to keep his distance from everyone, found a booth in the corner and stuffed himself, helplessly masturbating under the table, filling his jeans with four or five more loads of sticky cum before he finally finished his meal. He sat there, disgusted with himself, pleased with that disgust, a part of him embracing it, finding it sexy to be so reprehensible and filthy and fat. How was he going to live like this? Fuck, he needed a fucking drink.

There was a liquor store a few blocks away–he bought a fifth of whisky, and on impulse, a few cigars and a lighter. He’d never smoked cigars before, but they…they were calling to him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He walked back to campus, but couldn’t go back to his dorm, and he couldn’t go back to the library, so he went back behind a maintenance building, lit a cigar and started slugging back booze, feeling a calm, dullness settle in over his mind. With the dullness there was nothing to hold back the horniness, and he started idly masturbating for lack of anything else to do, thinking back on his time with Greg, thinking about Tom in the hallway, how he’d smelled, how they’d all smelled together. He could…almost smell him now, in fact.

“D-Daddy? Oh fuck, daddy!”

Eric looked over and saw a young man coming towards him. It…couldn’t be Tom. He didn’t really look anything like Tom, but it had to be him, because Eric could smell him–more strongly than earlier that day, even. It was a powerful sweetness, a musky innocence, young fruit just beginning to rot. Tom had been a wide receiver, all lean muscle, but not any more–now he was half a foot shorter, his body rounded out in all the sexy places: wide hips, soft belly and boytits, and a big round ass that you could just eat for days. What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was he doing? He threw the bottle to the side and snuffed out the cigar, trying to clear his head as Tom approached. “Boy, you need to get the fuck away from me, I don’t…think I can control myself…”

“But Daddy Greg said I needed to apologize, for how I spoke to you earlier. I didn’t mean to be so mean daddy, but I…I wasn’t feeling like myself. Daddy Greg, he spent all day with me, really teaching me what a boy I am, and I see now! I get it daddy, I get it. I thought I was the important one, but Daddy Greg was just using me before–but now, everyone gets to use me, because that’s what I fucking want. That’s what I was fucking meant for.”

He came close, pressing his soft frame to Eric, who moaned and muttered, cock rock hard as the boy started stroking it, the scent of his filth and the boy’s sugar mixing, making him think of…of all the disgusting shit he could do to this little fuck, and how he’d love it, because that’s what boys did. They loved everything their daddy’s did to them, and everything was new to them, every time. But not…here. Not right here, in the open. Well, maybe…No! No, just…just a quick fuck, back in his dorm, and then the boy was gonna be out on his ass. “One apology fuck, and that’s it boy.”

They both knew he was lying, but they believed it for the moment, as Eric grabbed the boy’s hand and the booze with the other, before dragged him back towards his dorm, so the boy could properly apologize.

Still fighting, eh boy? Look how happy your two friends are, eating out daddy’s nasty pits. Fuck, they’re changing already, losing those nice clothes of theirs–they’ll be a couple of leather slaves here soon enough. One on the left–he’s gonna be a cute little cub, cock hungry, eager to please any man I take a liking to. That’s what he gets, for being first to give in–the privileged position this weekend. I’ll probably hand him off to some abusive fucker when I get bored, but trust me, he’ll enjoy it plenty–the more abusive the better.

Your other friend here? Yeah, let’s put a mask on him–a nice little pup, following me around, desperate to please. Yeah, look at that rubber tail wagging away–who’s a good boy? That’s right, you are, Sparky. If he’s really good this week, I’ll let him be human on the weekdays, and he’ll only go into full pup on the weekends hunting the alleys for a master–but if he’s a bad boy, maybe I’ll make him full dog, and he can be a stray roaming the streets when the weekend’s over–I guess that all depends on your behavior, right boy?

Now, that just leaves you, the final holdout. I told you, whoever gave in first would get the best deal, and whoever was last–well, lucky for you, I have one more place you can stick your face, pig. Oh? Did I hear a grunt from you when I said that? Yeah, you can smell it now, can’t you, you dirty fuck? Look at those knees buckle–that’s it, crawl right around there, and get that face of yours between my cheeks, you fucking hog.

Yeah pig, look how big you’re getting–400, 500 pounds? Play with that fat, feel how much it’s sagging, but you aren’t a boy, are you? No, you’re an old pig. A old, fat, small cocked, disgusting piggy. Reeking of piss, cum in your beard, you filthy fuck. No–you aren’t going anywhere with me, what makes you think I want a pig in my company? No–you stay right here in this alley–trust me, plenty of men will find you, and you’ll be ready to eat and drink whatever they give you, won’t you? I’ll be back at the end of the weekend, and we’ll talk about your future options, if you even remember your old life anymore. Now come on boy, heel Sparky, let’s go have some fun, and leave this old pig to enjoy his new life for a while.

Source: billthompson69

Arctos: Briar (Part 3)

He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?

His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”

Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.

Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”

They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”

Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”

Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.

“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”

“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”

“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”

“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”

“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”

Arctos: Briar (Part 2)

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!

Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest of tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

Christmas III: A Brand New Stanta Claus (Part 5)

The first hour or so was simple enough. Stan would arrive on the roof, drop down the chimney and deliver the presents–happily taking the milk and cookies offered at each stop, though he felt a bit guilty and gluttonous for doing so–and then whisk himself back up and off to the next stop. The only thing that bothered him, really, was how damn horny he was all of a sudden. In fact, he could saw with total certainty that he was currently the horniest he’d ever been in his life, outside of, perhaps, a few teenage occasions, but he pushed his libido away…just like he always had, ever since…since he’d had those first inklings…

He shook his head, pushing that memory away again. He hadn’t thought of that in years, and it was returning now? Why? That was…so far in the past now, he’d sworn he’d never think about that again in his life, but it kept trying to bubble up and resurface. He looked down at his list, which thankfully had been modernized into a tablet computer, showed that his first red name was coming up next–the sleigh landed upon the top of a high rise condominium in some sprawling metropolitan center, and Stan hopped out, leaving his gifts in the sleigh, and read the naughty note under the name:

“Troy Weston: Financial Systems Executive. Secretly defrauding thousands of dollars a day off the backs of mortgage payers.”

Stan made his way to an air vest, squeezed his way in and down a few floors, until he popped out the other side in a rather swank apartment. Stan had always lived rather frugally, but he imagined this would be garish by anyone’s standards. Still, what was he going to do now, exactly? He hadn’t really given this much thought, as to how he might punish these special cases. He had magic, right? He must…he just didn’t quite know how to work it. Suddenly aware that he might be out of his league, he went to use the vent to get out, but couldn’t–he couldn’t leave, of course, not until he’d taken care of what he’d come to do–somehow he knew that on a basic level. There was no getting out of it now, he’d just have to figure something out.

He crept through the apartment until he arrived at the master bedroom, opened the door, and found himself looking at a man in his thirties, well asleep…and as soon as Stan saw him, his teeth were set on edge. He could…smell the evil rolling off him, the greed, the complete lack of empathy, and it just…just made him mad. He stormed in and yanked off the covers, booming out, “Well Troy? Welcome to my naughty list this year!”

The banked started awake, looking up blearily at Santa looming over him–a Santa in leather gear. “W-What? Is this some fucking prank? Stevens, is that you?”

Stan slapped him across the face with a backhand he’d wielded on his own boys whenever they’d misbehaved, and that shut him up. His anger was only growing…or was…was it something else, heating him up? Like…like something wanted to gush forth from him. He found himself laying his gloved hands on Troy’s body, and some sort of light came from them, soaking into Troy’s skin, and he became so bright Stan could barely look at him. It died back after a few seconds…and a very, very different Troy was lying in bed, looking up at Santa.

He was a bit shorter, and quite a bit rounder–not exactly fat, just…husky. He had a short goatee, but it was the look in his eye that caught Santa off guard. “Oh…Santa? F-Fuck, I…why…I gotta, I need…” He sat up on the edge of the bed, pushed Stan’s jock to one side, and swallowed his cock to the hilt, and Stan groaned, unable to believe how…how good it felt to feel…feel that, and he yanked himself away, stumbling back.

“What…that’s not…” Stan tried to say, but his horniness was only growing, the throbbing in his cock now painful.

“S-Santa, please…let me take care of that for you, I…I love cum so much, please…I gotta have it.”

Stan tried to run, but Troy tackled him to the ground, got Stan on his back and mounted his cock with his warm mouth–all it took was…was feeling that again, and Stan stopped fighting–but he noticed something else. His cock wasn’t three inches anymore–no, it had more than doubled in size, maybe even tripled–so long, Troy kept gagging when he swallowed the entire shaft. Stan put up token resistance when Troy lowered his ass onto Stan’s cock–but he…he wanted this. Had always…kind of wanted this. Stan didn’t last long, and he pumped Troy’s guts full of his cum, watching the cub shiver with need. Apparently, all that greed was focused on something different now…and Stan was more…more than happy to give him another payment.

He wondered what had come over him, afterwards, what could have made him throw Troy to the carpet like that, and breed his hole so…so roughly. He hadn’t even been in control of himself, but it had felt so damn good, letting go for once. Besides, the slut had wanted it–no, he’d needed it. Begged for it rougher and harder. He groped his crotch, feeling his massive tool stir at the memory, and felt guilt crash down on him. He’d sworn he’d never give into those desires again, not after what happened last time, that only time…and now he’d just…raped someone? As Santa? Without really knowing why it was his first instinct, he reloaded his pipe up with Timmy’s tobacco, and the smoke got him calmed down again. He…he could figure that out later. Right now, he had a job to focus on. He got back in the sleigh and took off, leaving the new cubwhore Troy in the building, knocking on all his rich neighbor’s doors in the middle of the night, begging them for the only thing he now cared about in the world–their cum.

Family Heritage – Part 2 (Patreon Commission)

Grant had received a steady stream of packages from his grandfather’s estate since the first a few months ago. The pace was so rapid that his apartment quickly was becoming cluttered with his things. His mind was becoming rather cluttered as well–there was so much to study, so much to process, and he just didn’t know where to even begin his studies. Quite a few of the boxes had simply been filled with books–everything from spellbooks and alchemical references to family memoirs and genealogies, while others contained jumbled collections of pipes, alchemical materials, and one shipment was simply a massive chest with no hinges or sign that it could even be opened. But perhaps what was most frustrating was that he had no way of testing his new powers. He lived in the middle of a large city–he couldn’t just go around casting spells on random people, especially when he couldn’t even be sure he was doing it right. He could try them on himself, but if something went wrong, then he might not be able to fix it at all.

Given that his apartment was quickly becoming a mess and a laboratory, the few times he escaped were to either go to work, where he mostly thought about magic, or heading over to visit Aaron, where he could get away from the books and spells for a bit and just be a person again–and fuck around of course. If there was anything his new body loved to do, it was fuck. Still, Aaron could sense something was bothering him, and Grant couldn’t exactly confide in him about his new hobby. Grant pulled away, and Aaron couldn’t figure out how to get him to open up. Finally, they had a raging argument over Grant’s constant pipe smoking–something Aaron couldn’t stand–and Grant stormed out of the apartment. Aaron pouted for a couple of hours, and decided he had to figure out what was wrong with his boyfriend.

Grant, however, had spent those few hours in his apartment, surrounded by his grandfather’s things, fuming smoke. He was just so frustrated, and Aaron didn’t understand anything! His family had always been known as hotheads, but it was never a trait Grant had struggled with, but now…he simply couldn’t stop being angry. He could feel everything in the apartment resonating with his anger as well, books falling from shelves, liquids boiling in their jars. If anything, all of the energy stored up in the place was shaking, desperate to get out, along with his anger. And so, when Aaron knocked on the door, and Grant flung the door open, and they started shouting at each other all over again in Grant’s living room, it only grew worse. The walls and floor started to creak and shake, and Aaron saw Grant’s hair start to swirl out as though lifted by an invisible wind. Terrified, he backed towards the door, but it was locked by some invisible force.

Grant, however, in the middle of the storm, felt both incredibly calm and impossibly tense at the same time. He was desperately trying to wrangle together his thoughts. He was angry–angry at Aaron for wanting to intrude. Angry at himself, for keeping him at a distance. In love with him, even though he knew he could never bring him close enough to love him completely. If only. If only Aaron was someone closer. If only Grant could protect him. If only Aaron could love him completely. If only, if only, if only, and the power building in him twisted those desires into a ball of light and smoke, and flung it directly into Aaron’s chest.

The collision was blinding. Aaron felt it infuse every part of his body with light, heating him up, changing him…somehow. It was hot as well, so hot, it felt like his mind was boiling and shifting, like he wasn’t quite himself anymore, and even as he felt that strange idea in his mind, he couldn’t quite remember how he’d used to be to even make the comparison. For Grant, the flash passed in an instant, searing his eyes, and he blinked a few times, but in the aftermath, Aaron was gone–or at least, the Aaron that had been there moments before was gone. In his place was someone new–or at least, Grant thought he was new.

He was quite a bit shorter, for one, and much wider. Aaron had been a bit of a beanpole in shape, but now he couldn’t have been more that five and a half feet tall, but his trunk was packed with fat and muscle, making him take up plenty of space, his legs thick, heavy and a bit bowed, with a thick, hefty cock hanging down, his sack hanging a bit lower even. He was covered in hair, almost as much as Grant, all of it a light strawberry blonde, including a bushy goatee centered in a round face topped with short bristly hair. And his eyes. He was looking at Grant, but with a look he’d never seen in Aaron. He wasn’t just horny, it wasn’t just love, it was hunger, and the naked cub tromped towards Grant while he couldn’t move, got down under his kilt, and started sucking on his cock.

What had he just done? He could feel the magic still reverberating around the room, waves of it washing back over him, and each wave brought an onslaught of thoughts and memories that hadn’t been there before. The first evaporated his anger, converting it into lust. Lust for his boy, lust for his cub. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, and he started thrusting into Aaron’s open mouth, feeling his entire cock slip effortlessly down his boy’s well trained throat. Another wave rocked him, and he felt his chest well up with love, but a different kind of love than he’d felt for Aaron before. It wasn’t a cautious love, it was now impossible to deny, as though it was built into his very bones. His son–he’d do anything for him, anything he could to protect him and keep him safe. Another wave, and his old memories of Aaron faded into a dim backdrop as others filled in. How he’d raised him from a small lad, how he’d become closer to him than anyone else, how they knew each other’s bodies intimately. Aaron’s blow job suddenly intensified–he knew exactly where to tease his daddy, exactly how to push him close to the edge without sending him over. But Grant knew what he really wanted. He wanted his boy’s ass today.

He pulled his son out from under his kilt and hauled him up, leaning over him, feeding his smoke from his pipe for a few minutes, before pulling him over to the couch, sitting him down on it, facing him, so they could keep kissing while he fucked his son. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. How could he forgive himself? He locked eyes with Aaron, and felt another wave push through him. Then again, there was nothing to forgive, was there? He thrust inside his boy’s perfect hole, hearing him gasp in pleasure, reached down, and started milking his thick cock with one hand while thrusting inside him. They exploded together, and it felt like the air around them finally settled again, the chaotic spell finally finished. They shared a bit more smoke, Grant staying inside his son’s ass a bit longer, as he softened. He’d have to fix this, of course–but maybe…maybe for just a while, he could enjoy this, and be happy.

Daddy Cop Part 2

Where in the hell had Jeff gotten off to? The old fuck just needed to retire, Peter thought, as he waited outside the bar for his partner to return. Still, it was getting a bit late, maybe he needed some help. Still, it could wait until he finished his cigar at least. He took another drag, and glared at a couple of guys heading into the bar, enjoying the look of intimidation which flashed across their faces. He took another drag, chuckling, when the door opened and someone new stepped out–a fat old daddy bear, clad in leather his nine inch cock hanging out for everyone to see, and he growled, “There you are son–get the fuck in here.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Peter said, realizing the man had addressed him, but before he could do anything, the man had grabbed Peter by the collar and dragged him into the bar. Peter didn’t remember much of what happened after that. As soon as he was in the bar, the older man’s hard cock rubbing up against his uniform, leaving drools of precum across his pants and ass, and then everything just went blurry, and the next thing he remembered was a sharp pain in his ass, and he opened his eyes, looking up and finding the man from the bar looming over him, now completely naked, and the man smirked.

“Good morning, son,” the man said in his deep voice that made Peter’s cock instantly hard.

“Oh…daddy,” Peter said, his voice higher than usual. What was wrong with him? Where was he?

Daddy Jeff drove his cock deeper into Peter’s hole, watching his cub moan and shudder as all nine inches worked it’s way into his ass. Jeff could distantly remember what Peter had looked like before, but he looked so much better now, after a night in the bar with him. He loved the goatee, the tattoos sleeves, the fat ass and jiggly gut, but mostly he loved his son’s new attitude. He did everything his daddy told him to do after all, and he loved it.

Peter did his best to fight against the new compulsions, but by the time his daddy finished his morning fuck, he was too far gone to do anything beyond moan, and jack his cock, cumming in tandem with his daddy, before sucking down his daddy’s load of morning piss from his huge cock. “Can we go to the bar again tonight, Daddy?”

“Sure son, how about we dress you up like a leather cubslut, and have you kneel in the bathroom as the club’s hot cumdump and urinal? You’d like that, wouldn’t you son?”

“More than anything, Daddy,” Peter said with a sigh, hugging his father close, “More than anything.”