A Hair Appointment

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This was the place. Drew checked the address on his phone again, just to be sure, and then stepped up to the door and knocked on it, a bit timidly. It had been such a grueling process, getting here, and it was finally happening–he was here. The door opened after a moment, and…well, Drew was a bit surprised, if not a bit disappointed. From what he had heard about this guy, and what he could do, he was expecting someone a bit more, well, older maybe. The man in the door was young, probably in his early twenties, shirtless, wearing a pair of gym shorts–though he was…very hairy. His whole chest was coated in hair, which ran up his neck and nearly joined the thick, neatly trimmed beard around his face. From the hair on his shoulders, he was probably just a thickly furred on his back. “You must be Drew, right? I’m Tyler. You ready?”

Drew nodded, and stepped into the house, Tyler shutting the door behind them. There was a mirror across from the door in the entryway, and Drew hoped it would be the last time he would have to look at himself like this–his young, pudgy face, unable to grow a beard, not that he hadn’t tried for most of his life. With his blonde hair, it just looked like fuzz, and never grew into much of anything. The rest of his body was mostly smooth as well–and he hated it. He wanted what this man, Tyler, could give him, more than anything.

“Come on then, the other one is here, and waiting,” Tyler said, and climbed the stairs to the upper floor.

“The other one?” Drew asked. Tyler didn’t respond, and Drew followed him up the stairs, a bit confused.

Tyler led him into a bedroom, and there, sure enough, was…another man. Close to Drew’s age, probably, in his early thirties, wearing a business suit, and sporting a thin goatee around his mouth. He looked…nervous, about as nervous as Drew felt, and when they came in together, he looked…annoyed. “Well, shall we get started?” Tyler asked, and dropped his shorts. The hair was just as thick on his thighs and around his cock–it was big, easily seven inches long, and thick as a beer can.

“Hold on,” the man in the suit said, “Why are there two of us here? I didn’t agree to this.”

Tyler smiled, “Because I wanted you both here, of course. Why else?”

“I…No, no, this was a mistake, I need to–” the business fellow said, but Tyler stopped him.

“Now Mark, why don’t you just calm down a bit,” he said, and pushed him down to his knees, facing Tyler’s massive cock, “I’m afraid you can’t leave–either of you–until we’re finished here. But you don’t really want to leave, do you?” he asked, as he rubbed the head of his cock against Mark’s upper lip. Drew watched, astonished, as the hair there began to thicken into a thick, full mustache, hanging long over his lip, mismatched now with the thin goatee underneath. Mark felt it, moaned, and rubbed the rest of his face against Tyler’s cock, who allowed him to do it, hair growing everywhere it touched, a thick, five o’clock shadow growing all over his cheeks and face. Drew–he didn’t want to get left out, and so he got down there too, shoving his face in with Mark’s, fighting to get his face against Tyler’s cock, feeling his own cheeks tingle as the first hairs began to push out. After a couple of minutes, he looked over at a mirror, and saw that he already had a short beard all over his face–but it wasn’t the same blonde as his hair. It had darkened somewhat, and was almost red.

Obviously annoyed at having to share in the bounty, Mark pushed Drew away while he was distracted, and swallowed Tyler’s cock into his mouth. Drew tumbled backwards onto his ass, and while he was going to push his way back in–his jaw dropped at the sight of what was happening to Mark’s frame. He was…growing. His thin body was bulking up with muscle, and his neatly tailored suit wasn’t built for that kind of expansion. After half a minute, they all heard the first seam rip, and Mark just started sucking faster, feeling the hair growing all over his body now, even as his beard grew in even thicker, though the hair on his head was beginning to recede.

“You’d better get in here, if you want any of this,” Tyler said to Drew, snapping him out of his daze, “I wanted you here because…well, let’s just say I think the two of you will be a good pair, but you’re going to have to fight for it.”

So Drew did–he shoved the growing Mark out of the way, and swallowed the cock himself–and as soon as he did, he tasted the precum flowing down his throat, and his entire body started to heat up, as his fat began to melt away, and was replaced by muscle–lots of muscle, in fact, even more than Mark. He was growing taller too, he had to crouch slightly to keep sucking, before Mark shoved him away and got his mouth back around the cock. They kept fighting over him for a few minutes, each of them growing rather evenly, and they became more and more aggressive as they grew, tearing the clothes off themselves, and off each other, until they were both naked. The larger they got, the more they manhandled Tyler as well, Drew lifitng him up and throwing him onto the bed, swallowing his cock deep, until–iIn a sudden rage–Mark dragged Drew off him and threw him to the floor, determined to overwhelm him. The cock was his, the gift was his! That’s why he was here, so he could receive it, and him alone. What he hadn’t counted on, however, was that Drew had been growing slightly faster than him, and while he was caught off guard for a moment, he wrestled Mark off him, and in a couple of minutes had him pinned, face down and ass up, to the ground.

He felt…good doing that. He’d never been able to overpower anyone in his life, and it felt….so right, so right that he should be on top, that he should be in charge–so he took his much larger, much hairier cock and shoved it into Mark’s struggling ass, and as soon as he did, the hulk underneath him relaxed, moaned, and started humping back, eager to get more of Drew’s cock inside him.

“Here you go, buddy, drink up,” Tyler said, stepping beside him and pushing his cock to Drew’s lips. “You’ve earned it.”

Drew drank, and as he did now, he could feel other things changing, beyond just his body. His old life as a chubby loser was disappearing, and replaced by a new one–a life spent at the gym, constantly working out, constantly getting stronger, and larger–and helping other men do the same. He’d worked as a coach for years now, training young men to be strong like he was, and all the men he worked with…well, he had a bit of an effect on them, he liked to think. Now, though, he was in his sixties, but still going strong. His beard continued to grow throughout this, lengthening and darkening further, until it was a deep red brown–though the color didn’t stay. As he grew older, it became streaked with dark grey as well. His hair pulled back unitl it was cut into a flattop–and then came the final gush of cum from Tyler’s cock, and as Drew drank it down, feeling the man’s magic flow into him–it also flowed through him, and he came into Mark’s eager ass.

Looking down, he could feel him change as well–change into the man he wanted him to be. He’d been training his husband all his life–and it showed. Mark was just as large as Drew was, if not a bit larger. Through the hair, he could see a deep farmer’s tan forming all over him, from his years working out in the sun as a construction foreman. There, he was the big boss, ordering everyone else around, but once he got home, he knew that Drew was really in charge, and he did everything his husband said–happily, of course. After all, Drew wasn’t one to abuse his power over anyone–that’s why he’d earned it, after all.

Tyler only had a moment too look over his new creations, before they both turned on him, just as horny as ever, threw him on the bed–Mark taking his face and Drew his ass–and the two couple of muscle bears paid Tyler back for his gift, pounding at both ends until they both came again, all three of them collapsing into a sweaty, musky heap afterwards, rubbing each other’s thickly furred bodies, their pasts now…so far behind them they couldn’t even really recall ever being different. Then Tyler sent them on their way, and in hand, and looked over his list of applicants. Who next? He had appointments to fill, after all.

I’ll Change for You (Part 7)

He looked up and down the sidewalk, planning on following Herman and making him accept the ride he’d offered, but it was no worry, really. After all, he’d just find him in his office later–watching the younger professor eat his lunch today…he’d decided what his next step was going to be. He drove back to class in his luxury sedan and rode the elevator up to his own office. No longer an adjunct professor, he was a fully tenured professor. He taught a seminar that afternoon, and had a few productive meetings with some of his teaching assistants and graduate students. Herman was never far from his mind, however, and he hadn’t seen the object of his interest return to the office after lunch. He was, in fact, a bit worried that he’d missed him, or worse, scared him off by being a bit too forward. Still, it was clear that the man had enjoyed himself–as had Burt. The pendant…it was getting closer, and he took a moment to examine it while he was alone.

The light was brighter now–quite a bit brighter in fact–but somehow he knew it wasn’t finished with them yet. It was nearly four by the time Herman tried to slip past his door to his own office, but Burt saw him, and called out, “Herman! A moment please?”

Sheepishly, Herman stepped back and into the office, Burt smiling kindly at him. “What is it, sir?”

Sir. That caught him off guard, but Burt very much enjoyed the sound of it. “I was wondering, Herman, if you had any plans this evening.”

“Oh, uh…I just have some work to get done, is all.”

“I’d like you to join me for dinner this evening, at my home. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

He could see the conflict in Herman’s eyes. He…knew it was inappropriate, what the two of them had engaged in at lunch, and yet nothing had even happened. But dinner? At Burt’s home? The two of them alone? “I…I don’t know if that would be appropriate…”

Burt smiled, “I assure you, Herman,” he said as he hauled himself up from his chair, “it can be entirely appropriate if you so desire. Just two colleagues having a nice meal, and nothing more,” he walked over to where Herman was standing and shut the door, sealing them in the office, “But perhaps you’d like something more than appropriate?” Before Herman could object, Burt pressed him to the wall, firmly yet gently, and began kissing him, tasting a bit of their sweet dessert still on his breath. Herman squirmed a moment, but relented, kissing him back, hungrily. Burt, the fantasy from the bathroom stall returning to him vividly, pressed Herman down on the shoulder, and felt him collapse down onto his knees in front of him, and the professor rubbed and kissed at his suited gut with one hand, while the other was openly groping himself. He…desperately wanted to go further, but not yet–he had to…wait. Burt pulled away, smoothing down his shirt, which had a few wet spots from where Herman had licked him. On his knees, he looked…horrified by what he’d just done, and yet he couldn’t hide his arousal–not from Burt. “Dinner this evening.” he said. “I won’t take no for an answer. Six sharp.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Herman said, blushing a bit at that formality.

“Good boy,” Burt said, the word slipping out without much thought, and he saw Herman’s eyes go wide, and he slipped out of the office, the tent apparent in the front of his slacks. Still–that didn’t bother him really. So what if someone saw it? He felt so confident and self-assured, it was a feeling he had never really known before, but then again, as a young man, it was difficult to gain this sort of confidence after years of living. Burt went back down to his sedan and climbed in–he had a couple of hours until dinner at least–and he realized he didn’t actually have dinner planned out at all! There was a moment of panic, but it was washed away by something else, a sense that everything was going to be just fine–all he needed to do, was trust that everything was going according to the amulet’s plan. He drove home, to a sizable house not too far from campus, parked and went inside. His hard on hadn’t diminished at all, since he’d left Herman’s office–it was clear that it was time for another step closer to who he needed to be, for Herman’s sake.

He went into his study and sat down at his desk, already thinking of Herman, thinking of him on his knees there, in the office–no! No, not, in the office, here. Here in his home, right there in the middle of the room on his knees, and naked. There was…a smell in the room, but it was difficult for Burt to place right away, until he felt the thing in his hand–the hand not presently stroking his cock. It was…his pipe. One of his many pipes. He slid the stem into his mouth and took a draw, the smoke filling his mouth, and he stood up in his mind, crossing to where Herman was, and blowing the smoke into his face, covering him with it, while the boy moaned in lust.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Please sir–please fuck me.”

He thought he was naked–but no. Burt looked down and saw that he was wearing a set of leather clothing, perfectly tailored to fit his even wider frame. His cock had no problem responding, and his massive gut couldn’t hide the ten inch member, either. He ordered Herman into position, and just the sight of his plugged hole was enough to drive Burt over the edge. He grabbed at a handkerchief he kept on his desk for just such an event, and carefully caught his cum in it. A gift for Herman later, perhaps. He heaved a sigh, and looked around at his study, surprised to discover it was…larger than then he’d entered it a few minutes earlier, and the walls lined with several racks of pipes, along with a full sized humidor, should he be more in the mood for a cigar. He leaned back in his chair, his gut shifting around him, though whether it was more a gut, or had begun to sag too far, was a different question. In any case, it felt wonderful, and he stroked it idly, excited for dinner with Herman, and wondering how Jules was coming along with the preparations.

Daddy Whores (Part 4)

He left then, and the two officers helped him up and out of the building–telling everyone Carson was being released from the drunk tank. Everyone still seemed to know Carson, though instead of pity, the officer’s eyes were now mostly disgust. Then he was out the front door and on the sidewalk–alone, confused, horny as all hell…but he had to get home. That’s what his boy had told him to do, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted. But was he going to get home? He…knew that he had a ride somewhere, right? He started shuffling off down the street, the memory dim, but there, until a few blocks later he found himself standing next to a rusted out, beat up pickup truck. This…this couldn’t be his car. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a ring with two keys on it–a car key and a house key–and sure enough, it fit in the door, but this…this wasn’t right.

He could see his reflection in the sodium light reflecting from the truck window, and that definitely wasn’t right. He hadn’t been able to look at himself before, after his boy had…done whatever he did to him at his desk, but his beard hadn’t reached all the way down to his gut, had it? And where…where in the hell had his uniform gone? He had on just a filthy undershirt and grubby, muddy jeans held up by a couple of old suspenders that had lost most of their elasticity. They made his jeans sag down–he reached around to scratch his crack, and with some embarrassment, discover a good amount of his fat, hairy ass was hanging out. He also had on a hi-viz vest and a grungy hard hat, like he’d just gotten off work at a day on a construction site–but he didn’t work for a construction company he…he worked for his boy, right? But hadn’t he just been in a police station? Hell, hadn’t he just been a police officer? His hands were shaking, and his head ached. What in the world was wrong with him? Why did he remember being something so…different? He got in the truck and immediately fumbled around in the glove box, finding one of his cigars and lighting up. He pulled out a hip flask next, full of cheap whiskey, and he slugged quite a bit back, feeling his mind settling back down into its comfortable haze of smoke and booze, right where it belonged. He got the truck started, listened to the engine rattle a moment, and then drove off, heading home.

Of course, he’d never been home before. Still, this body…it knew where he needed to go. He drove for quite a while smoking his cigar and taking occasional slugs of whiskey as he did, until he was well out of the city, even past the suburbs, and he turned into a driveway which led down a gravel road to what looked like a decrepit old farm. The house was still standing, and there were lights on–there was even dim light coming from the barn, and as hard he told himself to turn around and leave, he couldn’t. He was home, for better or worse. He added the truck to the mass of fifteen or twenty other cars and trucks parked in the muddy yard, got out, and went up to the building, using the house key to let himself in, where he was greeted by a couple other daddies fucking on the stairway. He even knew their names–Rob and Dirk. He avoided them, and went to go find his boy–he had a…punishment to receive, after all.

His boy was in the den, on his sofa, naked as always, three daddies tending to him–one was feeding him, one privileged one was sucking their boy’s cock, and a third was in the middle of their boy’s daily tongue bath, sucking on his foot. The boy…was even more beautiful than he remembered, and he nearly started crying at the thought that he’d disappointed him. He’d been such a bad daddy today, and he knew that this was not going to be a pleasant punishment.

“There you are, Carson. Took you long enough. As for your punishment–I haven’t had anyone down to clean up the cellar daddies for a few weeks. If you don’t wish to join them down there, I would suggest you lick them up quick. If you aren’t done by dawn, you won’t be able to climb back up the stairs. Let’s see if I found a new daddy with a nice work ethic. Now get out of my sight. If you’re done by tomorrow, then we can discuss…assignments.”

The cellar daddies? His confusion was only momentary–his mind started cobbling together memories from this new life. The cellar daddies–daddies went to the cellar when they were very, very bad. They often didn’t come out again, ever. No one even knew how many were down there, or what sort of state they were in. He didn’t want to be trapped in the cellar, no daddy wanted to be down there…but that was his punishment, and his booted feet trudged to the cellar door, opened it, and started down the stairs into the dark, listening to the quiet, desperate moans below, and praying he’d be able to finish his task and not be doomed to join them.

Requested & Submitted by @inchingtowardursinity


He couldn’t believe how long they’d been taking, building the house next door to his. He’d been surprised when the person who’d bought the large house beside his had simply bulldozed everything, opting to build a new house all from scratch. he hadn’t really seen much of the new owner; he appeared to be taking a rather hands off approach to his new house, and in Charles’s opinion, it showed in the amount of work the crew was putting into it. Often, it seemed like they weren’t doing anything all, beyond being rowdy, loud and a general nuisance. 

The crew was full of older, burly men—all of them with a considerable amount of tattoos, most with beards, and every single one of them seemed to be smoking something–cigarettes, pipes, cigars. The smoke was the worst part–he couldn;t seem to escape it, and the more he smelled it, the harder it was to focus on his own work around the house. One time, he’d been trying to do yard work, when he realized he’d just been…standing there for close to half an hour in one spot, just…smelling the smoke. He was angry at himself, and didn’t even notice the fact that he was hard, suddenly.

Still, Charles warmed up to the crew over time. He befriended a few of them over the fence one afternoon. It turned out that the reason things were taking so long was that the crew was understaffed, and the owner was taking forever, on the plans and details. Not too long after that, the men started suggesting he come over and hang out with them in the afternoons and evenings. He never really recalled the meetings well, but…but he sure did enjoy himself every time. There were flickers of clarity–once when he had his cock through a hole in his fence, getting sucked off by one of the workers on the other side. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, but he also couldn’t stop, and he fell back into his smoky stupor long before he came, got down, and returned the favor.

Soon he was craving smoke, but for some reason none of the men would let him smoke anything of theirs–all he could do was suck their second hand smoke from their mouths. It was not long after that, when the owner came knocking on Charles’s door. Charles was in the middle of a terrible week–he’d…simply forgotten to go to work for a few days, and his boss had called and informed him he’d been fired. The owner had heard of his troubles, and had come by to offer him some relief. He had a perfect job for him, he said–all Charles had to do was give him the deed to his property.

Charles refused at first–he loved his home. But when the owner laid out a pipe, a cigar, and a pack of cigarettes, and offered him one of those in addition to the job…he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed the pipe, packed it and lit it like he’d watched the crew do countless time, and sucked down the smoke, feeling his entire body heating up, from his toes to his gut to his hands…and in a matter of moments, a very, very different man was standing there, chuffing on his pipe.

“What do you think Chuck? Think we can have this house torn out in a week?”

“W-What? I…I don’t…” Chuck looked down at his body, his full gut coated in a riot of tattoos–at least what he could see around his long thick beard, “I…where am I?”

“You’re a member of my crew Chuck. We’re looking at this house I just bought. I want to tear it down and add it to my property next door.”

“O-Oh…I…I guess me ‘n the crew could do it…”

“That’s what I like to hear–now you fat pig, bend over–I wanna fuck your nasty hole.”

Chuck was all to happy to oblige, letting his owner fuck him bent over the side of the couch, and then he went back and joined the rest of his crew. He was welcomed like an old friend, and all of them wanted a taste of Chuck’s new, eight inch cock, and a chance to admire his new, beautiful body; just like the bodies the owner had all given them over the years.