Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 2)

The initial explorations didn’t turn up much of interest to Taylor, and so he found himself back in the room, unpacking, when he saw something poking out from between the mattress and box spring of his bed. It looked like fabric or clothing–he grabbed it and pulled on it, and with a tug, the thing came loose–and Taylor found himself holding a pair of dirty looking briefs.

“Eww…what the fuck?” Taylor said, and stretched them out as best he could, but they were…well, a bit crispy, with some colorful brown streaks all over them, like, well, like they’d been used as a cumrag for quite a while, and someone had forgotten all about it before moving out.

He dropped the underwear on the floor and immediately went into the bathroom to wash his hands off, shuddering. He thought about that weird guy he’d seen the day he’d signed the lease–could they be his? It seemed like something a creepy gay guy like him would do, jack off into a pair of his own underwear, and then stash it for fun later–how disgusting. He went into the kitchen, dug around under the sink for some gloves, and when he found some, he put one on, and went back up to get rid of the nasty thing–but as soon as he stepped in his room, he gagged.

The stench of the thing had spread quick–he hadn’t really noticed it when he’d pulled them out from under the mattress, but now that they were in the open air, he could smell it–and it did smell like cum, like old, nasty, disgusting, cum…Taylor gave a little snort, and took a step into the room. It smelled awful, but it was the only thing he could think about–he shoved one hand down into his shorts, and started groping his cock, before getting down on his knees, picking the underwear up, and shoving it into his face, inhaling deep, snorting even, as he grew close to a climax of his own. His cock exploded in minutes, and he filled the front of his own briefs with a load of cum–and then kept going. The smell was just getting stronger inside his mind now, and he couldn’t stop–he didn’t want to stop.

It was three loads later, his own briefs now soaked inside his pants, that Mr. Woodrow came up the stairs and looked in on him. “Oh dear, I guess I could have hidden those a bit better,” he said, and stepped into the room. The smell didn’t have any effect on him, but Taylor fought tooth and nail to keep the older man from taking the filthy briefs away from him–but Mr. Woodrow sent a little surge of energy into the young man, and he went slack. “There, that’s better. We can’t have you losing yourself too quickly now–not until all of your friends have moved in here.” He lifted up the mattress again, and this time he stashed the underwear on the other side, against the wall–it wouldn’t get as good of circulation, but after that direct dose, Taylor would just need a little…reminder on occasion. Then, he sat down, and told Taylor what he was going to remember.

Taylor woke with a start an hour after that, the dream already fading from his mind. Fuck–it had been one the wildest sex dreams he’d ever had–and he couldn’t even remember it! He looked down, and saw that the briefs he’d been wearing were soaked–he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a wet dream, especially not one this powerful. He stripped off the briefs, ready to throw them into the laundry, but paused–and sniffed them, tentatively. They…reminded him of something, kind of. Then, he had a better idea. He got up, lifted up the mattress, and stashed his own briefs there, unaware of the much fouler pair on the other side. It couldn’t hurt to have a cumrag at the ready after all, he told himself, and got back to unpacking, feeling much refreshed after his nap.

For the next few weeks, the dream kept returning every night, and after every nap. Nick would never remember much of it in the end–but everytime he woke up having already shot his load, or so close he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from rubbing one out, and adding another load to the cumrag underwear he now kept stashed under the mattress. He didn’t know what had come over him really–he was just so horny lately, but porn wasn’t really holding his interest much like it had before. Instead, he dove harder into his research project, and found himself worrying less and less about the dreams as the days wore on. He’d find a girlfriend in the fall, and things would sort themselves out naturally, he assured himself.

Then, Mr. Woodrow made a surprise visit one afternoon while he was studying, hauling with him a sizable box. “Afternoon, Taylor,” the old man said with a smile, “My son has been cleaning out his things, and well, the two of you are about the same size I think. I brought over some of his clothes, to see if you might want them. No worries if you don’t–just throw them out, but I wanted to check.”

They chatted a few more minutes about other stuff in the house, and Mr. Woodrow promised he’d fix the few minor issues that Taylor had found, then left before Taylor could remember to open the box with him there. Alone now, Taylor hauled the box up onto the table, and opened it up–but what sort of clothes did he find inside?

Alright, it was a pretty close poll last week, so if you really want to see some leather, you’ll have another chance. The answers below are designed such that if two seem popular, I might combine them–we’ll see! The patron only poll is over here as well–remember, patron votes count 5x as much! You can pick up to two options!

Caption: Who’s the Boss Now? (Part 1)

This is the first of four linked captions that are available for patrons over on my discord channel! Supporting me at the five dollar a month tier gets you access to these, the rest of the discord, all of my other captions, and exclusive stories on my Patreon page! If you want more details, you can find them here. If you support me at the five dollar level, but don’t know how to access the discord channel, send me a message, and I’ll walk you through how you can link your patreon and discord accounts together.

Some people don’t deserve their authority, and one of those people was Simon. He was nearly fifty, but he still behaved like he was in a frat in college. Despite his antics, he had already failed up through most of the levels of his father’s company, and now held the title of vice president of such-and-such–what it was didn’t really matter, at this point, even his own father knew that giving Simon any more authority would be a disaster. So Simon could do pretty much whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if he didn’t show up to work, it didn’t matter if he was hungover, if he smelled like pot, if he brought a hooker. More than once, the hookers had gotten pregnant. Abortions had been arranged in most cases, all aside from one–Simon had one son who was now of college age, but without a real role model in his life, he wasn’t going to amount to anything either. It was clear though, to the faeries, that it was time for Simon to learn some responsibility–it was time for him to learn what it was like at the bottom of the totem pole.

The day started like any other day, though. He woke up, somewhere between drunk and hungover, dismissed the whore in bed with him, and got into the shower. He didn’t really feel like going into work today–it was a Monday, and usually he just skipped them entirely, but something…told him that he needed to go in today, but he didn’t quite know why. He put on a shirt and slacks, but no tie–he hated wearing a tie–and then he went downstairs, where his slacker son was in the living room, bong on the table, playing video games. On a different sort of morning, Simon might have joined him for a hit or two and some shooter of some sort, but instead he got in one of his several cars, and drove off to the office. He had…a meeting with his dad today, one he couldn’t quite recall making, but it was…important.

His father was an older gentleman, almost seventy now, but he had staved off retirement, because even he knew that passing the reins of the company to his son Simon would be a disaster. Simon headed for his father’s office, but as soon as he passed through the door and the secretary shut it behind him…he could sense that something was off.

“There you are, late as usual, I see.”

The criticism wasn’t new, but the disgust, and disappointment–the utter contempt in his father’s voice–that was new. Simon stammered for a reply, unsure what was happening, and that’s when he noticed that his father…wasn’t wearing his slacks, sitting at his desk.

“Well, get the fuck under here boy–you know I’m the fucking boss around here, right? And what does that make you?”

“The…the…s-slave sir.”

“That’s right–now suck your daddy’s cock like a good boy.”

Simon tried to fight it, but he crawled under his father’s desk, and started sucking his cock. To his horror, people kept coming into the office for meetings, and Simon stayed there, his father’s cock in his mouth, while his dad went about the company business, keeping Simon under there for almost an hour before finally cumming in his mouth, and dismissing him with barely a word, Simon scrambling out of his father’s sight, confused and horrified at what he’d just done, and he hurried to the bathroom, to sort himself out.

Demon in the Sheets (Caption)

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So you wanted your boyfriend to be a demon in the sheets? Give your hole a real devil of a time? Well you weren’t expecting that spell you read to take itself so literally, in any case. You cast it on him, and before you even really had time to register what had happened, the fiery portal had opened up behind him, and the hands–or maybe claws and hooves would be a better word for what you saw–grabbed him and dragged him back inside, and it closed up again, your boyfriend gone, aside from the scorch marks on the carpet where he’d stood a second before.

You didn’t know what to do, but you certainly weren’t going to try casting another spell from that book. It was easy enough to cover his disappearance in the meantime–telling your friends the two of you had had a big fight, he’d left afterward, and you hadn’t seen him since. It was three full days later, and you had assumed he would be gone forever, when the portal opened back up again in your bedroom, while you were getting ready for bed, and your boyfriend stepped back out of it–only he wasn’t the same person he’d been before, and he also wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t human anymore–he was horned, his eyes burning like coals, feet and hands contorted into claws and hooves–just like the other two demons who followed him through the portal into the room. The three beasts pinned you down and started raping you, ravaging you with their massive cocks until you were exhausted, too tired to fight them, and they dragged you through the portal with them.

The police investigated later, but neither of you ever appeared again in this world–but why would you? Your boyfriend, now the rough, sexual demon, and you, his subservient worm sex slave. You’re both much happier now, I can imagine–and now, the book moves to another owner, someone else who desires power, but doesn’t quite know what they will give up to receive it.

New You Resolutions (Part 6)

The list of resolutions that was included in the letter from New You Enterprises to Professor Leroy Herron was as follows:

I resolve to slowly lose my academic knowledge, my cognitive ability, and literacy.
I resolve to put my cock into permanent chastity, behave submissively to all men, and consider myself as a subhuman faggot.
I resolve to no longer use the toilet, and only wear diapers, which I will be unable to change myself.
I resolve to remove all of my hair permanently, and cover myself with humiliating tattoos.
I resolve to abandon my family, and instead serve dominant men as a sex slave for the rest of the year.

Leroy, naturally, found this entire list to be so ridiculous, so scandalous, that it had to be some joke, right? Some prank pulled by another professor in the department, or perhaps by a student. He certainly had no intention of doing any of these things. He went to throw the list in the trash, but as he did, he noticed that a small package had appeared on his desk while he’d read the letter and the list, something that he was certain hadn’t been there before. Hands shaking slightly, he unwrapped the package, and inside, he found a metal chastity cage, and a single diaper.

How had this gotten here? He didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t going…to do this, was he? And yet, hands still shaking, he undid his pants, dropped then to the floor, stepped out of his shoes, and began working the chastity cage around the base of his cock. He…he had to put it on. He…he deserved to lock up his cock after all. Only men were allowed to have their cocks out, and free, and he…he wasn’t a man, not really. Not…anymore.

He fought the thoughts invading his mind, but his hands refused to obey him. The device clicked and locked–there was no sign of anyway to open it or remove it–aside from, perhaps, going to a locksmith and cutting it away from him…but he wouldn’t do that. No, the cage had to stay, and…and he still had to put on the diaper, right? He picked it up, and tried to put it on him, but for some reason couldn’t quite figure it out. He…he needed someone to do it, a man to do it for him. He was…too stupid of a faggot to put on his own diapers.

There was a knock on the door suddenly, and before Leroy could say anything, the office door opened, and the same student as before was in the doorway, eyes a bit puffy, but when he saw his professor with his pants down, cock locked in a chastity device…he just looked confused instead. “I, uh, I just wanted to…apologize…” the young man said, but didn’t get further than that.

“No, uh, I…I’m the one who needs to apologize,” Leroy said, the words tumbling from his mouth, and he got on his knees. “Of course you can go on your vacation, and see your family, I…I’m just a stupid faggot, I can’t tell you, a man like you, what to do, please forgive me for what I said earlier!” He go crawled forward, panting his head at the student’s feet, who just gaped at him, at his stern professor literally begging him for forgiveness…and as he watched it, something…brewed up in him, and he shoved his sneaker into Leroy’s face.

“If you’re really sorry, then…then clean my shoe, faggot!” he said, almost barking at him, his cock hardening as he watched Leroy obey him, licking at his sneaker, moaning as he did, cock trying desperately to harden in the tight cage, but it refused to budge. He cleaned one shoe, and then the other, and then…begged the young man to help him. He couldn’t get on his diaper, you see, and…and maybe he would be willing to help. The student agreed, but only if the professor would suck him off afterwards. He ended up getting several pictures of the professor, wearing just his diaper, a load of cum sprayed across his face and beard–and promised him it would be all over campus by the evening, so everyone would see just how much of a worthless faggot Professor Herron truly was.

Horrified at what he’d just done, a diapered Leroy fled to his car after the student had left resolved to drive home, but as he was sitting there, he felt piss flood into the front of his diaper…and he realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t let his wife and children see what he was becoming, he…he needed to go somewhere else, anywhere other than there. He ended up getting a room at a cheap motel off the highway, sitting alone in the room, trying to figure out what to do, trying to look up more information about New You Enterprises, but finding nothing. Over the next week…he found himself in a hopeless spiral. The male staff members of the motel soon discovered the faggot living there, and would humiliate him day and night, making him stew in his filthy diapers until they would change him at last, before the smell could be noticed by other guests. He shaved off his hair, and started…drawing on himself with sharpie, fantasizing about the tattoos he would get…soon enough, but what he wanted most…what he needed, was a master.

He started advertising on line, streaming videos of himself, begging anyone to be his master, looking for a dominant man to show this worthless diapered, sissy faggot his proper place in life. Mostly, men would just ridicule him, but eventually, someone took an interest in him–and so Leroy transferred all of the savings he had in his personal accounts to the stranger, bought a plane ticket with the remaining pittance, and drove off, ready to begin his service as a faggot for the year–if not for the rest of his life.

Alright, I’d like to do one more recipient of a set of resolutions, and then I’ll start wrapping things up with the end of the year party for all four of our lucky resolution winners. Who would you like the final target to be? The public poll is below, and the bonus patron poll can be found here!

New You Resolutions (Part 3) [Interactive]

College was supposed to be better. That’s what Morgan had always told himself. That’s what teachers had told him, what his parents had told him, what his friends had told him. That college would be better. In college, he’d be accepted. In college, everyone would understand him, and support him. College was the future. College was everything that high school wasn’t. As it turned out, though, everyone who bullied him in high school ended up going to college too–not the same college of course, but the same kinds of people. The jocks, the bigots–every flavor of bully was still here, and somehow, this was worse.

He’d gotten through the first semester, but it had been hard. Hard to have that illusion shattered, hard to realize that everything was going to be this hard, forever, probably. That there would be more days when someone shouted “Queer!” and “Faggot!” at him than days when no one did. That if he wanted to be who he was–and he most certainly wasn’t about to give the assholes the satisfaction of not being out and proud and weird and all the wonderful things he loved about himself–he was going to have to deal with all of it, always, and there was no way he’d be able to avoid it. That high school wasn’t the problem–the problem was people, and there was no way to get rid of people. That things never really get better, even if they do get easier–or rather, it gets easier to deal with them.

It didn’t help that he was thin, and somewhat frail. It didn’t help that he had a bit of a lisp, that he liked bright colors, that he was a bit of a slut (not that there was anything wrong with being a slut either, he would tell himself). It didn’t help that his response to getting picked on was to just get louder. Bolder shirts, bolder hair, lipstick and eyeshadow. He liked it, in a way. He liked how much he confused them. He liked how he knew they wanted him, that the big football jocks knew he could suck their cock better than any of their girlfriends. Knew that they wanted him to suck their cocks more than they wanted their girlfriends. He knew that they hated themselves more than they could ever really hate him, and that was a small touch of justice he could use as a buoy to guide him.

For the moment though, there was peace. The year was new and fresh. He was new and fresh. Campus was quiet and empty of everyone. He lived a few blocks away, renting a room in a nearby house from an older couple who were nice enough, even if he confused them as well. College might not be better, but he could be better. He could face anything. It was with this resolve in place, that he found the odd golden envelope on the floor of his room in front of his door, like someone had slid it under in the night. Confused, he opened it up, and found himself looking at a letter addressed to him–and with it, a short list of resolutions.

Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.
Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!
Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!
Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises

Morgan read the list next, and gasped. This…this had to be some kind of fucking joke, right? There was no way he was going to do any of these things! What Morgan would soon discover, though, was that he had no choice in the matter at all.

Alright, here’s another list of possible resolutions for Morgan to contend with over the next year. Each person can vote for up to four, and I’ll use 4-5 of them to craft the next part of the story. The patron only poll can be found through here–votes in the Patron poll count twice as much, and I’ll usually use at least one option that’s popular with patrons that doesn’t get as much attention in the public poll. Thanks for reading, and for voting!

New You Resolutions (Part 1) [Interactive]

Alright, I haven’t been particularly happy with how “Home for the Holiday’s has been progressing, mostly because I kind of lost the thread on where I wanted the whole thing to go, and haven’t really been satisfied with it since. In any case, I had an idea I liked better, so I’m going to go with that instead! Something to ring in the new year a bit better. A mysterious company has been gifting people lists of resolutions–ones that they have to follow in the new year, whether they want to or not. I’ll probably do three or four different vingettes, kind of like what I did with Spook Mart a few months back, and each vingette will cover what their resolutions were, and how they ended up at the end of the year. Hope you enjoy it!

Duncan hated New Year’s more than most other holidays, and the main reason, was that, come January, the gym was flooded with so many fat asses and sorry looking losers that getting through his usual workout would often take an hour longer than usual. And so, it was with that in mind that Duncan was up early, at five, getting dressed in his gym clothes, to go out and beat the crowd as best he could.

Duncan worked as a model, and so his physique and good looks were part of his job. He knew how much work it took to look like he did, and he also believed that most people didn’t have the kind of resolve necessary to really get what they wanted. No matter how much they wanted to be thin and muscular, they’d just fall of the wagon by the end of the month (and a few might even get pushed off by Duncan himself, with a few snide glances in the locker room, or out on the gym floor). In any case, he certainly didn’t have any resolutions for himself–as far as he was concerned, his life was going perfectly! All he had to do was keep pushing on, land a few more big campaigns, and he’d be set.

He went out into the kitchen of his apartment, and before he could make himself his usual pre-gym breakfast, he saw something odd on the counter top. It was a small envelope, the paper rather classy, looking almost like a fancy invitation or something. He was certain it hadn’t been there the night before, when he’d gotten home from that New Year’s party hosted by a designer he was cultivating. He picked it up, and saw the front had no address, just his name on it, and in the corner, a monogram for something called “New You Enterprises.” He’d certainly never heard of such a thing, but thought it might be something from an agency that had been slipped to him during the party, that he’d forgotten about. He opened the envelope, and inside was a letter, and a second piece of paper that he set aside. The letter read:

Dear Duncan,
Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.

Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!

Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!

Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises

Duncan reread the letter, certain it had to be some kind of joke. It sounded idiotic–what kind of idiot company would just go about making up resolutions for other people, especially people who had no idea who they were? He crumpled up the letter, and went to do the same to the other piece of paper that had been in the letter, but his hand…refused to crumple it. Instead, he picked it up and read the short list, growing more and more horrified at what was listed there. They couldn’t possibly be serious–this wasn’t a list of resolutions, it was self-sabotage! He certainly had no plans to do anything on the list–unfortunately, Duncan was about to discover that he was going to have to do everything on the list, whether he wanted to or not. But what were the resolutions on Duncan’s list?

Alright, below are eight options for the resolutions that Duncan found on his list. You can select up to four options below, and I’ll pick three-five of the winners to inflict on Duncan, depending on how they all work together. The winning option of the Patreon poll is guaranteed to be in the mix, and Patreon votes count double! Here’s the patron only poll, and here’s the public poll:

Home for the Holidays – Episode 2 (Part 4)

WARNING: SCAT

Mark could feel himself…growing. He tugged at the belt he was wearing, getting it off from around his thin waist, as his gut began to expand, filling with fat just as his brother had a moment before. It was…the same sensation he’d felt with his father and uncle, that the curse was rebounding on him somehow, that he was tied to it, sympathetically. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it also wasn’t exactly comfortable–and when Buzz walked up and started rubbing his belly, delighting in Mark’s changes, it only made him feel even sicker somehow, seeing the old slob enjoying his change this much.

“Why *grunt* is this happening to me,” Mark managed to get out, hearing himself grunt just like his brother had, and with one hand, he tentatively felt his face, and sure enough, a short snout had sprouted there–not as pronounced as Luke’s, but enough to be unmistakable for what it was.

“Because you’re becoming a warlock, Mark–you’re embracing the darkness inside of you. It’s going to grow and grow, and pretty soon, you won’t be able to remember a time when your head wasn’t full of this perverse darkness, same as me, and same as that friend of ours, Magnus.”

“Magnus…he’s nothing like you.”

“Oh, the only difference between Magnus and I is that he cares more about…keeping up appearances. Just wait until you lay eyes on him, once you’re ready. You’re going to see him for who he really is, and then you’ll understand what I mean.”

Mark wanted to deny it, wanted to push that darkness away, but…he could feel it, inside him. It was a power he hadn’t felt before, but also a need, a hunger. He sniffed the air, and he…smelled something. Something he wanted. He rolled over on the bed and followed his snout over to where his brother was sitting in his filthy coveralls, jacking his pig cock, smelling the shit, and piss, and cum, and musk welling up around him, and…and it was turning him on. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t, and he tried to pull himself away, but Buzz was still inside his mind, still pulling his strings, dulling his intuitions, feeding that…hunger.

“You see, being a warlock isn’t about just about forcing this darkness onto others, we revel in it as well. We share it. Everything you have forced onto these men, it’s inside you as well, it always was, just waiting to grow. Don’t fight it–you won’t win, and giving in is going to feel so good. Just…embrace it…Accept what you need…”

Mark didn’t…remember what happened next, exactly, how he dug into the back of Luke’s coveralls, devouring the mess there, unable to help himself, how it had driven him into a state of bliss, and delight, and he’d pinned him down on the bed and fucked him, both of them rutting like the pigs they were, while Buzz urged them on, eventually taking the other end of Luke, pumping a load of his own cum down Luke’s pig throat, and after Mark came in his ass, he could feel some of the darkness receding, and he was able to break away, run to the bathroom, and vomit up what he could into the toilet, horrified at what he’d done, horrified, and yet…so satisfied at the same time. So eager to try it again, so eager and hungry for more.

Buzz came up behind him, aimed his cock, and started pissing all over Mark’s head, and the hunger returned. He found himself laying back against the toilet, maw open, drinking down as much of Buzz’s piss as he could, still stroking his piggy cock, unable to help himself, while Buzz just laughed. “There’s no going back for you now, you realize that, right? Every step you take is just going to make this even worse–and I can feel how much you want it. Fuck, I fought too, when Magnus helped me down the path, but this was the best thing I could have ever become–you’ll see too, in the end, that this is what you were made for. This is what you have always needed to be.”

He finished pissing, and then left Mark there in the bathroom, covered in piss, jacking off wildly, desperate to control himself…but unable to find the will to resist. He came again, and when he did, the darkness ebbed away a bit further, and he was left on the floor of the bathroom, horrified at himself, but also…part of him was embracing it. Buzz was right, there was something inside him, something real, a twisted knot he’d always felt as long as he could recall, and now…now he didn’t think he’d be able to put it back, to shrink it, or anything…

He wanted to cry, but just felt numb. Eventually, he stood up, and stumbled out of the doorway and into the rest of the filthy house. Buzz was waiting for him, dressed, and told him it was time for them to pay someone else a visit, but who?

What should happen next?

Buzz wants to visit John, the oldest brother, with his new habits.
Buzz wants to visit Isaac, his cousin suffering under the imago curse.
Buzz wants to visit Magnus, to take Mark down the next step in his path together.
A mysterious stranger arrives, and helps Mark escape from Buzz, telling him he wants to help.

The public poll is here!

The patron only poll is here!

Voting ends in a few days!

Home For the Holidays – Christmas (Part 3)

Ever since Thanksgiving, Luke hadn’t been able to sort out what was wrong with him, but he knew that something had to be wrong with him. He’d…fallen asleep, or whatever, with Mark in that room, and when he’d woken up with a load of shit in the back of his jeans and the front wet with piss, instead of feeling horror at what had happened, he…he’d climbed into his truck and drove off, heading somewhere–heading to Buzz’s place. Luke couldn’t recall what Buzz looked like, or where he’d met him, or why he thought this stranger was his best friend…but he had to see him. See, Luke was sick of working in real estate–what he really wanted to do, more than anything else, was work as a trash collector.

The dissonance in his mind gave him a headache, as he tried to reconcile what his commandments were telling him with what he knew he was supposed to be feeling, but everything in his mind was just being…rewritten faster than he could even begin to understand it. By the time his shit cooled in the back of his jeans, he could come up with a hundred reasons why he hated real estate, and why he’d always wanted to be a trash collector. By the time he pulled up in front of the rundown house with the brown, overgrown yard half an hour later, the new rules were just…him.

As soon as he saw Buzz, memories created themselves in his head, of past times they’d hung out, of all the good times he’d had with Buzz, how safe he felt here, and he asked him–asked Buzz to help him out, that he finally wanted to make the jump–he wanted to be a trashman, he’d do…anything to get there, and he knew Buzz could help him…and the cruelty in his friend’s face was so obvious, it gave Luke pause for a moment, until his head could catch up and bring that back under control.

Buzz made him beg. Buzz made him humiliate himself, tell Buzz about how he couldn’t control himself, how he wanted to be dirty, how dirty men turned him on so much. Buzz asked Luke if he was dirty enough for him, making him smell his rank pits, his nasty feet, working Luke up into a lather, telling him in was no surprise that he wanted to be a trashman, because the only thing he really wanted to do was clean up other people’s filth. In the end, he told Luke that the only way he’d help him be a trashman was if he ate the shit right out of his ass, if he showed him just how filthy and nasty he wanted to be…and while Luke tried to resist it, tried to get out of there, tried to get control of himself…he knew the truth. He was in control of himself. He was here because he…wanted to be here. And so, he did what Buzz demanded, and ate the dirty old man’s shit for the first time. He ate it, and felt so…dirty, and perverse, that he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off while he did it, couldn’t resist reaching down the back of his pants, so he could taste his own, cold shit too, see…see how they compared.

The rest was a blur, really. It had only been a week, but Luke was so…different now, his mind twisted so far by those three new commandments, that he couldn’t possibly think of his life going in any other direction. He wore a diaper at work, usually, the same diaper, day after day, and he would empty it at lunch and after his shift was over before putting it back on. During his days off, he would stay with Buzz, and Buzz would help him become dirtier, help him with new obsessions, help him be the kind of man he was supposed to be–and then Mark arrived in his room…and he could almost remember what his brother had done to him, that he was here because of him…but then Luke and Buzz started chanting at him, and he began to change again.

Buzz had been…frustrated by how skinny Luke was. He’d put him on a feeding regimen to help pack on some pounds, but it was taking too long. Now though, Luke felt his body suddenly expand with fat, and he let out a series of snorts and grunts as he felt himself, rubbed his grubby body, feeling a new, horrific, insatiable hunger welling up inside of him, even as he kept changing. His face…ached, mouth pushing out into a short snout, two tusks curling up from his lower jaw, his short beard turning rough and bristly, the same as the boar bristle running down his back, growing in thicker, even as his belly turned soft and hairless, three more sets of nipples appearing down the front. His cock changed too, growing a bit larger, twisting into a corkscrew as it did, wet from his sheath, and Luke…gripped it, stroked it, feeling the lusts inflamed inside him, feeling his mind shutting down little by little as violent, insatiable instinct crowding out his reason, and the half man, half pig, sat there in his own filth, masturbating, grunting and squealing, while Mark looked on in horror at what Buzz had just made him do.

“There we go, isn’t that better?” Buzz said to him, “He was such a skinny little thing–when he’s out in public, most people will just see him as a fatass glutton, but he’s going to be a fuck and food hungry pig from now on–how do you feel, Luke? Feeling…better?” Buzz leered at him, but all Luke was feeling was…lightheaded, and sick to his stomach. It didn’t feel like he had pushed the darkness out, it felt like it had grown inside him somehow, that even more of him was corrupted by some insidious force, and he stumbled, falling on the bed behind Luke, who barely noticed, Buzz looming over him, soothing him, telling him everything was going to be just fine, soon enough.

Luke picks up some of the pig qualities from the curse he just cast.
Luke’s reality shifts, and he’s a dirty trashman now too.
Luke finds himself compelled to fuck his pig brother, now just as turned on by filth as Buzz is.
Luke grows even older, and finds himself looking more and more like Buzz–and he’s attracted to him too.

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Home for the Holidays – Christmas (Part 2)

Well, Mark thought, he was here–he might as well hear Buzz out and see what he had to suggest. After all, it wasn’t like Magnus was in any mood to help him, and if what Buzz said was right, about undoing curses being as dangerous as he said, maybe his method would be safer. “Alright, so…how to I channel it, or whatever, into them?”

Buzz got a glimmer in his eye, but rather than dispel some of his concerns, it only made Mark feel a little more…uneasy. This wasn’t the same as the first time he’d met Buzz, to get the ingredients for the curses. Magnus…had told Buzz to drop his name when he got there, that it was the only way Buzz would likely even open the door, and Magnus had been right. Buzz had been gruff, impatient, dismissive, and as uninterested as he could be. Mark had barely even gotten the ingredients out of the guy–the exchange for one of his brothers was the only thing that had interested Buzz at all. Now though…he was warmer, and more concerned. He also kept…looking at Mark, and would touch him on occasion. A hand on the shoulder, or brushing a hand across his ass…and it was making him feel uncomfortable, enough so that he was having a hard time focusing on what Buzz was even saying to him.

“So, do you understand?” Buzz asked, and Mark, uncomfortable and unsure of whether this was a good idea, told him that he hadn’t really been able to follow what he’d said.

“Look, a curse is like…a hole. You dig the hole in someone’s life, or self, and then you fill it up with the darkness they forced on you–but that connection lingers. If you don’t get all that darkness out–if you don’t fill them up with everything they gave you, then what’s left is going to wound you instead. The channel is still open, as long as you’re still changing, and so you can keep filling, got it? It doesn’t even have to be the same curse, exactly. If anything, the curse you chose for this one,” Buzz said, indicating Mark’s middle brother, “is, well, I’m not surprised you’re getting some blowback.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asked, “Magnus said–”

“Yeah yeah, Magnus…trust me, I know his skill set, we’ve been compatriots for a long time. But curses? I know curses. You…have got some beautiful darkness inside you man, and it will just keep eating at you if you don’t do something with it,” Buzz said, sliding closer on the couch where they were sitting, one hand on Mark’s thigh, his breath reeking close to his face…but then Buzz pulled away again. “Come on,” let’s get ready.

Together, Buzz and Mark selected another curse for his middle brother, Luke, something Buzz promised him would pack a significantly greater punch than the last. Then, he got his first look at his brother…and well, some of Mark’s resolve fled the room. He wasn’t the brother he remembered from a few weeks ago. Dressed in a set of filthy coveralls, reeking of piss and shit, he was sitting in his room, groping his cock through his diaper, watching some of the filthiest, nastiest porn Mark had ever seen–and he was so focused on it, he didn’t even turn to look as the two of them stepped into the room.

Mark circled around so he could get a better look, and through Luke’s short beard, he looked…disgusting, and from the flecks of brown in his beard, he could imagine some of the paces Buzz had been putting him through. “What…what the fuck did you do to him?” Mark asked.

“You gave him to me–what I do to him is my business.”

The regret and dismay he’d been feeling intensified, and again, Mark felt the second thoughts welling up inside him. Luke…didn’t deserve this. The men in his family had been shitty, sure, but this–he had gone too far, he could see that now. “Fuck this, I’m–I’m getting him out of here, he doesn’t deserve this,” Mark said, and went to heft his brother up–but before he could, it was like some…strange string in his mind pulled tight, and he couldn’t move an inch.

“Now, now, young man,” Buzz said, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to pull your strings, but I’m afraid I can’t let you…disrupt your brother here like that. After all, he’s very happy here, with me, his Master–and he’s going to be even happier after you do what we’d just planned on doing, I think.”

Mark struggled against it, but he realized, then, that he could feel them–all the little strings of control Buzz had been slipping into him during that first explanation, the one he hadn’t been able to understand, or even really remember.

“You know, if I’m being honest, I never understood what Magnus saw in you, when he told me. Even when you came here, I thought he had lost his touch–but you know what? I was wrong. Look at you now? How you’ve…matured,” Buzz came closer, running a dirty hand across Mark’s aging face. He tried to flinch, but instead, he opened his mouth, and allowed Buzz to slide his fingers inside. “There is…so much darkness inside you–we can make a warlock of you yet, I think. It was smart of him to drive you to me though–we’ll be great friends, soon enough, once you get a proper taste of it.”

Mark didn’t understand–were Buzz and Magnus working together? But that didn’t make any sense! He didn’t have time to sort much of it out though, before another string pulled, and Mark felt…something else slide into him, a sick, disgusting desire. Looking at his filthy brother in front of him, all he could feel, suddenly, was an intense, sadistic, arousal. It wasn’t his, it didn’t feel like his, really–it was coming from Buzz. It was what Buzz wanted him to feel, and as hard as he tried to resist it…he could feel more coming, the darkness inside him, which had been growing stronger, ever since he’d cursed his family, was bubbling up. He could hear himself chanting the curse he had agreed on with Buzz…but was there something he could do to stop it? He fought, but there was nothing he could do–he could feel the curse forming on his lips, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

What is the curse he uses on his brother?

An inanimate curse, he turns his brother into a half human, half inanimate, toilet.
An animus curse, he turns his brother into a pigman.
A demonic curse, he imbues his brother with a demon of sloth.
An aging curse, he ages his brother into an old, filthy man.

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The Kingsford County Line (Part 1)

This is a now defunct story of mine that I’m thinking about reworking into an interactive once the fetish gun finishes up here soon (since I’m kind of running out of steam with it! In the mean time, and because I still don’t quite have my buffer back, here’s the first chapter of the original story I wrote.

“That sign says, ‘Kingsford County’! How about that, does that help?” Tyler said, watching the sign blow past in the dark. In the passenger seat of the minivan, his older brother Jeremy squinted harder at the roadmap he had spread out in his lap, while their father, tried to focus on the road. Next to Tyler, on the middle bench of the van, his best friend, Dave, was staring out the other window at the darkness. There hadn’t been much out there all day–just plains and some low hills, and the occasional antenna which did nothing to improve anyone’s cell phone reception out here in the damn national sticks. Some roadtrip–why in the hell had he taken the invitation in the first place? If he’d known all he was going to see was dirt, he would have stayed home. Behind them, on the back bench, Tyler and Jeremy’s uncle Logan was snoring softly, having already fallen asleep after driving most of the day, before his younger brother, Howard–the boys’ father–had taken over a few hours before.

The Brandt Boys Annual Family Roadtrip was something of a tradition for Logan, Howard Brandt and his two sons, and each year they would choose a different part of the country to drive through. This year, they were driving through the heartland, but at the moment, they were rather lost. Jeremy searched the map–they should be somewhere in…Missouri? Arkansas? Gah, he was a horrible navigator, why in the hell had his dad given him the map? His Uncle Logan was so much better at this than he was, but he couldn’t blame him for wanting to take a nap. Jeremy had just finished his Junior year of college and was home for the summer, while Tyler and his friend had both just graduated. It was Tyler who had picked their trip, as a graduation present, and also brought along his friend, though Dave hasn’t exactly enjoying himself. Still, the trip was his idea–why the hell wasn’t he the one failing at reading the map? At least then he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for doing it wrong. He looked over at his dad–now in his late fifties, rings under his eyes from driving all day long, and now into the night, beyond a short pit stop for lunch at some small speck of a town a hundred miles behind them now. “Dad, do you want to switch? I can drive for a bit, if you want.”

“No, I’m good–there has to be something around here, somewhere. It’s not like we can be on a road to nowhere, right?”

It sure felt like they were. Jeremy went back to studying the map, looking for a Kingsford county anywhere on there, but he didn’t see one. The road they were one was currently a bit hilly–and all of them breathed a sigh of relief when the rode up over a low peak and saw the night glimmer of a tiny town in the distance. It didn’t exactly look large, but it was something–or somewhere. If nothing else, they weren’t going to be camping on the side of the road like they’d had to a few times in the past–and they hadn’t run out of gas yet, either…though Howard checked the gauge again. This was definitely the closest they’d come–he’d dumped in the two gallons of spare gas he kept for emergencies just before sundown, when he’d switched with Logan. Still, this was all part of the adventure, for him. Staying off the highways, finding these old, forgotten places. This country was massive, but no one understood that. Everyone just stayed in their little bubbles, not even caring about what might be out there, and he wanted his sons to see all of it, warts and all.

The glimmer disappeared behind the next hill, but it was there, at least. They kept driving, and after another ten miles, the first sign of civilization appeared–a small, rundown gas station, with pumps that looked like they’d last been installed in the seventies or eighties, but it would have to do. He pulled the car in up next to a pump, and breathed a sigh of relief–Tyler noticed, Jeremy didn’t, and Dave was still staring out the window like there was still nothing out there at all but plains. There was one small pickup truck, well worn, and three motorcycles parked off to the side, but no one else getting gas. It didn’t look like a pay at the pump sort of situation, so Howard told the three boys to wait in the car with Logan–who hadn’t yet woken up–while he went in and prepaid–thankfully he had cash, because he didn’t expect a place like this to have a card reader.

He also didn’t expect to walk in on a hold up. Or, what looked like a hold up.

The small store was stocked mostly with a few short, but tall, aisles of junk food and candy bars, the coolers along the walls packed with beer. The aisles blocked the view of the counter, and so he lost sight of the windows as he came around the end of the aisle where he found a short counter, and he heard them before he saw them:

“Now, Dougy, are you gonna give us what we want? Or do we have to take it, like usual? You know I like the way you fight, fat fuck, but I don’t know if I wanna work that hard tonight, you know?”

“Aww, come on Butch!” the attendant said, flashing a smile, showing off the fact he was missing quite a few teeth, “You know how I like it, and if you want it so bad, I want to feel you take it–it’s the only thing that helps these fuckin’ night shifts pass, you know?”

There, around the corner, was a short counter, behind which a was stashed the stores cigarettes, cigars, and other tobacco, and it was also where three rough looking bikers were standing, the one in the center leaning over the counter with a knife pressed into the fat, fleshy throat of the attendant–a very large man wearing a greasy uniform and a name tag which said “Doug”. He had his head tilted up, and some…black substance was leaking out the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t seem worried. If anything, he looked excited.

Howard froze and all four of them turned to stare at him, like they were all looking at some strange beast.

“Well fuck me,” Doug said, “Not what I was expecting tonight.”

Howard steeled himself–as best as an overweight, over the hill five foot six father of two with a good amount of grey hair can–and puffed up his chest. “What…what the hell do you three think you’re doing?”