Tag: curse

No…No this can’t be happening, it can’t. I mean, I sure as hell didn’t take the curse all that seriously, sure. I mean, those fucking “witches” and shit, it was just a bunch of fat goth girls trying to inflate their egos, and when Gina, the ringleader of the bunch, had told me they cast a spell on me, I almost laughed. So what if I had raped one of the bitches in their little coven? When she told me that I would spend my the rest of my life with the next person I slept with, I made a mental note to make sure it was a good one, and got on with the rest of my life.

Well, a few days later, I got drunk—really drunk. Blackout drunk, and now this. “Damn boy, ya sure are a fine lay, how ‘bout ya climb back in here ‘n take care a yer daddy’s mornin’ wood?” the fat redneck said, pulling out his cock from his pajamas. Worse, I wanted to tell him to fuck off and leave, but, well, I couldn’t. “Sure thing daddy,” I said instead, climbed in bed, and sucked off his not very clean cock, and all I could think about was what Gina had said as I scoffed and walked off that day.

“You might also want to know that when you wake up, you’ll be transformed into their ideal partner, so be careful what you sleep with.”

There was a mirror in the bedroom, and I almost didn’t dare look at myself. Young, obese, hairy, goatee—the perfect redneck cub for my daddy…yeah, daddy’s cock tastes so good, god I love all the cheese under his fuckin’ foreskin. Gonna beg ‘em tah fuck mah hole later, breed me real good, aw yeah, life is gonna be real good from here on out, I can already tell…

Source: bonethat

Ned hadn’t had a very happy birthday yesterday. You see, as a greedy child, Ned had been cursed to receive a gift from everyone he met on his birthday–only it was never something Ned wanted. Well, he’d managed to avoid going out on his birthday–but this year had been a mistake. See–he’d paid a gypsy to protect him from the curse, and it had worked for a while–until he’d accidentally wandered past a gay leather bar. 

The sheer force of desire had overcome the gypsy’s protections, and before Ned could escape, he’d taken on so many gifts he could barely process them. Some were small, but others, like a fascination with piss and shit, or the need to have his mouth and face stuffed with filthy dildos–those were going to be harder to manage. He was definitely getting a refund–but that could wait until he’d found his master. He’d picked up a collar from some unhappy sub–and now all Ned could think about was servicing a Master Jordan. He didn’t look forward to finding out why the sub hadn’t liked his master–but Ned knew he was about to find out.

Something weird was up with Dennis’ brother, Bryan. After his bad breakup with Cindy a few weeks ago, he had started packing on the pounds suddenly, and soon after that, he started spending a lot of time in his room with the door closed, and more than once Dennis had heard moans coming from his room.

Late one night, a particularly loud squeal woke Dennis up in bed, and he knew he had to figure out what was going on with Bryan. He snuck down the hall, opened the door a crack and peeked inside–and saw his brother, fatter than Dennis had ever seen him, fucking his ass with a dildo. Dennis let out a gasp, a quiet one, but Bryan still heard him. 

The whole story came out then–how Cindy and her witch friends had cursed him to gain weight continuously, and he could only lose the weight by getting fucked. He swore Dennis to secrecy, and his little brother agreed, but Dennis had a plan. The next day, the dildo disappeared–from now on, Dennis would be fucking his asshole brother’s hole, unless Bryan wanted to be as big as a house in a week’s time.

Source: ksguy1978

The construction workers didn’t know where the toilet in the rotted out building had come from. It wasn’t hooked up to any plumbing, it didn’t flush, and yet it always stayed reasonably clean–and for some reason, they all felt compelled to use it when they were on the job. However, the toilet isn’t really a toilet–it’s you.

You aren’t really a toilet, but that’s how you’ve the witch cursed you to be seen, all those years ago, back in college. You remained in your frat house for a while, but since then you’ve spent years being moved from place to place, servicing filthier and filthier men. By now, you’ve stopped trying to get them to hear you or see you for what you are. You wouldn’t want them to–your skin caked with filth–your body obese and bloated with thousands of pounds of shit and piss. They approach, you open, they do their business, they wipe their crack with your long, filthy beard, and then they leave. It’s the only life you remember now, and the only life you know you’ll ever want.

Source: pigtoulouse