Archive: Matchmaker

Originally published July, 2012

Figured I might as well get back into cleaning up and reposting some old stories of mine! This was an old one with quite a few pics to go with it. This is the original version without much doctoring. For those interested, I added a few notes on to the end.

Synopsis: A young construction worker finds himself the heir to an unlikely legacy, and uses his new powers to help the men in his family find some unlikely romantic matches.

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Continue reading “Archive: Matchmaker”

Fairytale (Repost)

Originally Published in Parts on 08/14/2012

Why do I always do this to myself? Harry thought as he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, and glanced over at his date next to him, who was engrossed in the movie playing on the screen. He’d met Jeff online, and was still amazed the cute cub had agreed to come out with him, even if it was only for dinner and a movie, and on the implied condition that Harry pay for everything. But now…now he’d guzzled his god damn mega-sized drink, he had to piss like a racehorse, and the movie was only half over. He didn’t want to be that guy, that “guy who disturbs everyone by going to the bathroom in the middle of a movie,” but it was starting to look like he wasn’t going to have a choice.

The whole night, really, had been going like this. Jeff had been perfectly sociable, while Harry had spent the entire time tripping over his words like a schoolgirl. He already could tell that Jeff wasn’t happy with him–probably because Harry hadn’t been completely honest. Sure, the picture he posted was a few years old…well, ten years. He was a lot greyer and quite a bit fatter in real life, and he hadn’t exactly shown off his best side at dinner, shoveling down a giant plate of spaghetti and getting sauce down the front of his shirt. Jeff had been nice enough about it, but, well, Harry had ruined his chance for anything aside from a handjob in the movie parking lot…maybe…if he was lucky.

God, he had to go, he didn’t have a choice. He stood up, and with a hushed, “Sorry…” squeezed his chubby ass past Jeff’s face, and hurried out of the theater, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Of course, before he could get to the urinal, he had to look at his face and body in the mirror, and he cringed a bit–no wonder Jeff had no interest in him. Sure, he’d showered before the date, but he’d forgotten his deodorant, and his hair was a couple of weeks overdue for a trim–not that his balding hair looked great cut back, either. And he really was a lot fatter than his pictures on the site–probably by a good fifty pounds, though he did his best to avoid weighing himself and finding out for sure. He heaved a sigh and said under his breath, “I wish someone would…help me figure this shit out…” and his face turned red as he said it. How stupid, a wish? That was ridiculous. But no sooner did the words leave his lips than a sudden wind erupted in the restroom, whipping Harry’s hair and clothes about, and when he turned around, he found that he was no longer alone.

There in the middle of the room, was a muscular, older man wearing nothing other than a pair of black boots and some grandfatherly glasses perched on his nose. In place of clothing, his entire body was covered in a series of intricate tattoos which Harry swore were dancing and shifting in front of his eyes, though whenever he looked at one straight on it stayed perfectly still. “Hello Harry. You wished for help?” the man said, smiling warmly, “I think I can be of some assistance here.”

“Who…who are you?” Harry said, backing up against the sink as the man approached him.

“Me? I’m the Fairy Godfather. Did you really need to wait so long? I’ve been getting all antsy, watching you flounder here,” the man said, cracking his knuckles, “Shall we get started?” with twirl of the wrist, a wand of some dark, slender wood appeared in his hand, and pointing it at Harry, he felt a strange force press into him, and a moment later, he too was naked, and blushing further, he rushed to cover himself.

“How…what are you doing? Bring me back my clothes,” he said.

“Those things?” the fairy said, “Oh no, those were far too classy for your true tastes, don’t you think? I mean, a polo shirt and khaki shorts? Did you really feel good in those? Sexy? Happy? I didn’t think so. I’m here to help the real you shine through, the more honest and comfortable you, because that’s the only way you’ll be able to relax and have a great time with Jeff. Now hold still, I’m thinking.”

This is insane, Harry thought, I have to get out of here, but when he tried to move, he found himself glued to where he stood. Apparently, when the fairy said to stand still, he meant it. As the man approached, Harry began to notice that he wasn’t all that…clean. He could smell him from a few feet away, in fact, and the ripe musky smell was overpowering. But…he was a fairy right? Maybe he really could make Harry’s dreams come true–and it was beginning to look like he wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter, considering he couldn’t get away.

“Hmm…yes, exactly as I’d thought,” the fairy said, whirling his wand once more, “a young man in denial of his true desires, and his ideal form. Well, the easiest solution to that is to bring the ideal form out! What do you say?” he said, and before Harry could answer, he’d waved the wand and a shower of sparks shot out, slamming right into Harry’s belly, winding him and making him double over.

His ideal form? Did that mean he would be young and muscular? Or at least attractive again? Hell he’d settle for the picture he’d taken ten years ago, if nothing else. He managed to stand back up and turn around to face the mirror, and gasped. “What in the fuck did you do to me?” he shouted, appalled at his new image staring back at him in the mirror. His hair and beard had grown longer and tangled, looking like he hadn’t bothered to care for them in months, if not years. He was even fatter than before, with a massive apron hanging down past his groin which was covered in dense, matted hair, and beneath it he could make out crude tattoos which covered him from the top of his neck down to his wrists and ankles. He made the mistake of opening his mouth in horror, spying the rotten, yellowed and crooked teeth in his mouth, and he whirled back around to face the smiling fairy, and said, “Well? This is my ‘ideal image’? What the fuck?”

“Well, what did you expect? I am the Fairy Grungefather after all.”

“Grunge…what? I thought you said Godfather!”

“Then you thought wrong–you really shouldn’t make assumptions like that.”

“Wha–but…You shouldn’t make fucking assumptions that I want to look like this!” Harry cried, “Change me back!”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal come dawn.”

“Dawn? But I’m on a fucking date!”

“Oh would you calm down? Do you think I haven’t watched you all these years? Watched all those jack off sessions in that filthy, unwashed jock of yours, while you smell your ripe pits? Sensed that tingle of pleasure you get when when you don’t wipe your ass after you take a shit? That self-satisfaction when you piss a bit in your underwear ‘on accident’?”

That’s…I mean…” Harry said, but the blush gave him away–he did have a thing for raunch, but so what? That didn’t mean he wanted to look like this!

“Yeah, cat got your tongue? Well I have a better use for it anyway,” the fairy said, and held up one arm, the reeking pit inching closer to Harry’s face. “Go on, lick it. I know you want to.”

“Fuck…Fuck no,” Harry said, “I’m not gonna lick out your nasty pit.”

“No? Hmm…Maybe I underestimated just how stubborn you are. You know what you need? You need to loosen up, so how about I take all those inhibitions of yours, sexual and otherwise, and hold onto them for the night, hmm?”

Harry tried to shield himself, but he was helpless as the fairy raised his wand once more, and Harry felt all of the walls of resistance, of social pressure, and of proper etiquette simply disappear. And a moment later, when the fairy raised his arm again, all Harry could do was grin and lunge forward, lapping up all the filthy sweat he could find. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck, you’re so fuckin’ nasty man, I can’t fuckin’ take it,” he heard himself say, but on the inside, he was panicking. It felt like all of the brakes had been ripped out of his head–there was literally no stopping himself now. He felt the urge to piss suddenly reassert itself, and before he even realized it, he released his bladder, soaking the underside of his grimy apron, feeling it run down his legs and start puddling on the floor around him, and he tore himself away from the fairy’s ripe pit, got down on all fours and started lapping up as much of it as he could from the filthy tile floor.

Worst of all, Harry realized that his cock was rock hard through all of this, because…he wanted to do it. Deep down, he’d always wanted to do something like this, and this rush, this freedom was unlike anything he’d thought possible, and it only made him hornier. He let go at some point, stopped trying to put his feet on the brakes and just rode along, relishing the taste of his own piss, and the stench of his own filthy puts he could smell every time he bent down. Sure, he’d pissed on himself in the shower a few times, even tasted it once, but this…this was filthy. This was raunchy. This was so fucking hot. His licking was interrupted by a sharp, cutting whistle from across the bathroom, and Harry whipped his face up, wet hair throwing piss across the room, and he saw the fairy over by the urinals, his boot up on the small one, presenting his ass in Harry’s direction.

The piss no longer interested him. He crawled across the floor, loving the sensation of his hairy belly scraping across the tile, licking his lips the whole way. With no fear or trepidation, he dove into the crack, licking and chewing at the filth caught in the fairy’s ass hair, his tongue probing as deep as it could into the hole, and a moment later, he found his reward approach. “Go on Harry, I know you’ve fantasized about this. All those pictures you keep hidden deep on your computer? Those ones you can only bring yourself to look at when you’re drunk? Time to be one of them, Harry–time to take the big leap, pig.”

Harry felt himself cum as he took it in his mouth, chewed in a few times and swallowed, thankful when the fairy turned around and helped him wash it down with some of his piss, before nutting his own load onto Harry’s tangled beard. Exhausted from the thrill and exertion, Harry collapsed back onto the cold tile, panting, and when he finally managed to roll over and pick himself up, he was alone again. Suddenly afraid, he hurried back to the mirror and let out a sigh of relief when he saw he hadn’t changed back into his old self–the freedom from worry and inhibition was too amazing to let go of just yet. He looked at the piss puddle still on the floor, but held back–after all, he needed to get back to his date. Besides, leaving it there for someone else to find…oh fuck, that was damn hot too. On the counter, he saw a pile of clothing–though not the crap he’d worn when he came in. The fairy had been right, after all, he hated wearing classy stuff like that. The tattered army shorts worn commando, yellow stained wife beater, and black work boots were a much better choice, and he saw a letter underneath them, written in rough, but legible, script.


I realize that your date tonight probably will not be as interested in your new self as we are, so I’m lending you a few, small spells to help out. Again, these will only last until dawn, so enjoy yourselves. By the way, your pumpkin is out in the parking lot, and your castle awaits you two after the movie.


Your Fairy Grungefather

On the rest of the sheet, Harry saw several spells scribbled out, along with directions for how to use them, and he grinned wide–maybe he could turn this date around after all.

“There you are,” Jeff said, as Harry squeezed past him and back into his seat, “I was wondering if you fell in or…” His voice trailed off, as he got a better sense of the filthy man taking the seat next to him–and the stench rolling off him, and he had a strange sensation that this wasn’t the man he’d agreed to go out with…or was it? His momentary unease didn’t seem to have any basis in his memory–it was the same filthy, incredibly hairy, obese slob who he watched stuff himself silly at dinner…wasn’t it? Why in the hell had he agreed to this date in the first place? This guy was disgusting.

Harry could see the confusion in Jeff’s eyes in the dim light from the screen, and he grinned. Just like the Fairy Grungefather had written, Jeff had no idea that he’d changed so much in the last half hour. “Here boy,” he said handing Jeff a large soda, “I got you another drink, after I plowed through the last one.”

“Oh…uh, thanks,” Jeff said, and took a drink, still unable to figure out why in the world he was out with this disgusting man. Harry could sense his rising disgust, but he already had the first of the three spells from the fairy in his mind, and he mumbled the chant under his breath. The spell would make his chosen target irresistibly attracted to filth, and hopelessly subservient to any man dirtier than him, though, as a twist, as the subject becomes dirty himself he will, in turn, become more and more dominant. However, Jeff was so clean right now, Harry wasn’t too worried about that just yet. He felt the power in his words burn his lips slightly as the spell wrapped its way around Jeff, and to give it a test, he reached out and put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders and pulled him close, his face dangerously close to his disgustingly ripe pit.

Jeff felt the spell hit him, but had no idea of what to make of it. He was happy when the wave of nausea he’d felt in Harry’s presence dissipated, but when it was replaced by an equal, and very forceful attraction, he tried to resist, but the spell was too strong. Suddenly, his memories of this giant slob from the past few hours were ones of giddy excitement at the other man’s filthy body. How he’d sat, agape, watching the man stuff himself at dinner, Jeff’s cock rock hard the whole time. How he’d kept trying to catch whiffs of Harry’s musk on the way to the theater. The stench of his armpit played into his new, deep fantasies, and he leaned in closer, taking a deep sniff, getting close enough for the hairs to graze his nose.

When Harry’s hand contracted and shoved him into it, he struggled with him out of reflex more than anything else. “Shush boy,” Harry said, “I know you’ve been wanting this all night, so here’s your chance–now lick it good and clean, like I know you want to.” He did. He really did want to, so he buried his face in and started licking at the funk, inhaling deep and feeling Harry’s belly jiggle as he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it.” Harry continued, “Doesn’t that taste like heaven? Go on boy, take out your cock–show me how turned on that nasty funk has gotten you. Here, I’ll take out mine too.” Harry dug around in his camo shorts, pulling out his five inch, thick cock with ample, cheesy foreskin, and without removing his face from Harry’s pit, Jeff did the same, pulling out his eight inch, rock hard cock, which he started milking.

Now Harry didn’t begrudge his date his big cock, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous–and given how submissive Jeff would be for the moment–at least until Harry had him good and filthy–he figured this might be a good time to try out another spell of the Fairy Grungefather’s. Until dawn, the fairy had granted Harry the power to trade physical attributes with any man he was touching–and Jeff’s tongue and face against his pit certainly counted as touching. Harry concentrated, and watched as Jeff’s cock started shrinking in his hand, growing tinier and tinier until it was barely an inch long, and Harry was suddenly grasping a foot long monster cock thicker than a beer can. He decided to take what he could from Jeff’s balls as well, and soon he had an orange resting below his huge member, leaving Jeff with almost no manhood at all.

“Fuck boy, is that all you got to work with? Here, play with mine, and find out what a real cock feels like,” Harry said, and guided Jeff’s hand away from his miniscule cock onto his, both of them trying to suppress groans in the sparsely occupied theater. Jeff was in heaven–he hated his small cock, but given how much he loved bottoming for filthy men, he didn’t mind too much–especially when he was on a date with a monster like Harry. Jeff could barely contain himself, when he felt his tiny cock suddenly start leaking precum uncontrollably. He’d never been much of a leaker, what with his tiny balls, but now–he already could feel it running down the sides of his cock and onto his boxers.

Of course, Jeff didn’t know that his sudden leakage was the result of another one of the fairy’s spells. Harry had been given the ability to control the quantity of any kind of fluid excreted by any man he wanted–and there were all sorts of fluids Harry felt like toying with. He was going to make Jeff leak precum spontaneously for as long as he wanted him to–he hoped he would have a stinking wet spot on his crotch by the end of the film. Jeff’s attention didn’t stay on his cock for long, as he went back to admiring Jeff’s huge, nasty cock, and he felt Harry hand start guiding his face down into his crotch. “Go on boy, suck it–I want to feel that nasty shaft buried down your throat–and make sure you get all that cheese under my foreskin–I know that will drive you wild…”

Jeff struggled for a moment as he resisted the multitude of changes in the world around him, but the fairy’s magic shut him down at every turn. He knew this wasn’t what he wanted, that his cock wasn’t supposed to be an inch long straw leaking precum like a faucet, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything about it, and the more time passed, the more he just felt crazy. And he did want that cock, and that cheesy foreskin. When Harry’s hand pushed him down, he didn’t resist, and swallowed as much of the cock as he could, though he could take more than he’d expected, thanks to the small boost in jaw flexibility and throat size Harry gave him. In fact, he could take it all the way to the hilt without gagging once.

In the dim light, Harry watched the boy work, and decided that there needed to be a few more swaps here and there–just for some added fun. Never in his life had Harry ever had the chance to be muscular, and he’d always wondered what it would be like–so he gave Jeff a large percentage of his own body fat, while removing as much muscle as he could without endangering him. Jeff himself was already a bit chunky, but he had to keep adjusting his position as his gut grew out, his chins expanded, and his gunt swallowed his tiny cock whole. Harry was a bit worried, when he realized his planned change would make Jeff grow out of his clothes, but they seemed to expand with him–his button down shirt expanding to fit his massive gut, his khakis doubling in size to match Jeff’s wide ass and thighs.

Harry himself felt the fat melt off of him, as his body showed off muscles he’d never seen. Neither he nor Jeff had been particularly muscled, but between the two of them, Harry had managed to pick up enough to look like a decent hunk, with well defined pecs, ridged abs and thick arms, not to mention it showed off his cock really damn well, and gave him a great view of Jeff’s fat face chowing down on his filthy cock, but Harry still felt really old, with his greying hair. He decided that if Jeff was going to hold onto his fat for a while, he could hold onto some of Harry’s years as well. He decided to drop back to the age of twenty one, which would give Jeff close to thirty years, bringing him up to the ripe old age of fifty six.

He watched as his beard and hair suddenly lightened, and his new muscles suddenly filled with a new, remarkable vigor. He felt amazing, and his cock! He was so horny it took all of his effort to not cum the next time Jeff deep throated him. Looking down in the dim light, he could see that Jeff had grown up just as quickly–his hair receding back, face lined with wrinkles, and the blow job was starting to wind him. Harry decided to give Jeff a bit off his own beard, and also took Jeff’s hair, leaving him with an inch long beard and a perfectly smooth, bald head, Harry’s own hair growing a bit longer past his shoulders. To finish Jeff’s transformation into an old, chubby bear, Harry reluctantly sacrificed most of his thick pelt, watching it sprout all over Jeff’s new fatty rolls instead. Watching the bearded old man suck his cock was too much, and Harry unloaded down Jeff’s throat, cumming harder than he had in years–though that didn’t make sense. He was just twenty one after all, every cum shot felt like that.

He saw Jeff swallowing his cum eagerly, and when the flow stopped, Jeff started to come off the cock, but with one hand Harry pushed him back down and a second later, Jeff’s mouth was flooded with piss. He’d never tasted anything so rank, and he choked a bit at first, getting some on Harry’s clothes and on his new beard, but he caught onto the rhythm and was soon drinking that down just as eagerly, his new love of filth urging him on, not to mention his attraction to the hot, muscular redneck who he still couldn’t believe had agreed to go out on a date with a fat geezer like himself. After he finished pissing, Harry finally allowed Jeff up, but only after he’d sucked whatever piss he could get from the front of his shorts, and then let Harry lick the piss from his beard, and Harry decided it was time for Jeff to start getting dirtier.

While they made out, one of Harry’s hands snaked down under Jeff’s massive gut, and found the sticky mess of precum his earlier spell had generated, and he started feeding it to Jeff on his fingers, Jeff happily sucking the filth off them as well. Harry also wanted Jeff to start getting musky, so he used his spell to kick Harry’s sweat production into high gear. Beads started dotting Jeff’s suddenly red face, and sweat stains started formed under his armpits. Harry wanted to get in the middle of it, so he worked his head under Jeff’s sweaty gut and into his humid crotch, rubbing his face in the cum and sweat, listening to Jeff’s muffled groans as he licked away at his tiny cock. Harry must have lost track of time in there, because he was caught off guard by Jeff hauling him out by the back of his shirt, back into the fully lighted theater.

In the sudden light, Harry was struck by how much he had changed Jeff in the dark theater. Where a young cub had sat when the movie started, there was now an elderly, obese bear, dressed in a shirt and tie with a nicely trimmed grey beard and completely bald head–thought the shirt was nearly soaked through with ripe sweat. Harry couldn’t see himself, but he could sense from how Jeff was looking back at him that he was a fine piece of muscular redneck, though maybe it was just his funk making Jeff look at him like that–not that it mattered. They saw the ushers come into the theater, and Jeff said in a deep voice, “well young man, what say you and I zip up and skedaddle?”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing,” Harry said, tucked his cock back into his tight camo shorts and helped Jeff stand up, and together they made their way out of the theater, Harry flaunting his shorts damp with piss and the muscles stretching against his sleeveless tee, and enjoying the stench of cum and sweat rolling off Jeff next to him. Harry felt sexier, and hornier, than he’d ever felt before, and the night was still young. Jeff and him had plenty more to do before dawn, and he hadn’t even tried all of the fairy’s spells yet. Things were only going to get hotter, and filthier, from here on out.

As they left the theater and emerged into the hallway, Jeff turned to Harry and asked, “So, what sort of plans did you have for after the movie?”

“Well, I was thinking we could head back to my place and have a little fun, if you don’t mind hanging around a filthy minded redneck like me,” Harry replied, coming a little closer and sensing Jeff still raging attraction to him.

“Sounds like one hell of a plan to me, but after that drink you brought me, this daddy needs to go take a piss before any of that.”

“You managed to drink that?” Harry asked, “When?”

“While you had your face buried in my gunt, boy,” Jeff said with a grin, but Harry hadn’t really been interested in an answer–he’d only asked it to keep Jeff around for a second, while the spell took effect, forcing Jeff’s bladder to empty itself in the hallway as they stood there. Jeff felt the warmth in his crotch and running down his pant leg a moment later, and his face turned bright red with horror, as Harry grinned wide and quickly pulled him through a couple of doors leading into an empty side hallway, leaving a wet trail of piss behind them.

“Smells like someone couldn’t hold it in,” Harry said.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe…I…oh fuck, are you really…oh fuck, you nasty pig…” Jeff said as Harry got down, buried his face up under his gut and started sucking the piss from the fabric of Jeff’s crotch. Jeff’s hand wrapped around the back of Harry’s head and forced him in deeper, and the sudden assertion of control startled Harry, but also turned him on. Apparently Jeff was already getting dirty enough to assert some dominance in their relationship, but Harry was eager for more of that from him. He worked his way out and back up to standing, and gave Jeff a kiss, before pulling him towards the door out of the movie theater, but Jeff pulled him back and shoved him up against the wall. “Oh no, I pissed myself–I want you to do the same boy…I think that’s only fair.”

“But I already took a piss earlier–”

“Shut up and let it loose–show daddy what you’ve got.” Harry grinned, and decided there was no reason the spell couldn’t work on him as well, and a second later, piss was streaming out of his cock and soaking the front of his shorts, running down his legs and pooling in his boots. Jeff shoved his own leg up against Harry’s, sharing the piss and the two of them made out for a moment longer, before breaking apart and heading for the door, both of them soaked.

They took a moment to get oriented in the parking lot, and before heading for his vehicle, Harry decided it was time to give another one of the fairy’s spells a try. This one could would change the date of the last time the subject changed their clothes and showered, making them either cleaner or dirtier depending on which direction one went–but Harry knew there was only one way for Jeff to head. He decided, for a bit of fun, to make it so Jeff’s “wash date” moved back a day for every pace he took as they walked to Harry’s car…or what had been a car when they arrived.

Suddenly Harry could only ever recall owning a rusted out pick up truck, it’s bed heaped with junk and the cab filthy with trash and who knew what else. Still, they set off in that direction, Harry kept track of their steps as they went–and it took them longer than he’d expected–ninety paces, making it now three months since Jeff had last changed his clothes or showered, and when they climbed into the cab–he definitely looked like it. His shirt and pants were absolutely filthy, the wet sweat marks from earlier now dried under his pits and colored a brownish yellow. The front of his shirt was marked with grease and food stains from his meals, and his navy pants, were stiff with precum and piss. His beard had grown rather unruly as well, and when Jeff closed the door to the passenger side, the suddenly enclosed space was filled with the two men’s combined musk, making them both let out a moan and lick their lips.

“Well daddy, what say we head home and have some fun?” Harry said, went to turn the keys but Jeff lashed out and caught his wrist, stopping him cold. Jeff let go long enough to shove the smaller, younger man up against the side of the pick up, his musk overwhelming Harry’s senses, and making him suddenly feel…like he needed to obey and service this man more than anything else in the world. How powerful was that first spell exactly?

“First boy, I think you and I need to get a few things straight–there’s something funny going on here, and we aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on here. I don’t just accidentally piss myself in hallways very often, and I know I wasn’t think dirty when we left the theater. Now you’re going to fucking tell me, or we’re going to have some problems–got it?” Harry screwed up his lips, trying to keep the truth under wraps, but the sheer dominance Jeff was exuding was too powerful.

“Alright…alright, I’ll tell you everything…sir,” Harry said, “but it’s kind of a long story, so how about I tell you on the way back to my place?”

Jeff stared Harry down for a moment, but relaxed back into his seat, giving Harry a nod of agreement, and so he started up the truck, and drove off to wherever his new home was, and told Jeff everything. About who they’d been, about his trip to the restroom and his run in with the Fairy Grungefather, his own transformation and the dawn time limit, the spells the fairy had given him to use, and how he’d manipulated Jeff with them all night long. Throughout the story, Jeff was mostly quiet, occasionally asking for a point of clarification but little else, and Harry couldn’t tell whether he believed him or not. As he drove, he realized he was heading out of town proper, and after a half hour drive, they turned into a trailer park, and pulled up in front of a rickety and rusted single wide which Harry knew was his home. “That’s…that’s the whole story sir, like you asked for.”

“You realize that sounds utterly ridiculous, right? I mean, how in the hell am I supposed to believe any of that?”

“Well…uh…I could show you. I mean, I could use a spell on you, and you might notice it happening, now that you know about it.”

Jeff thought for a moment, then said, “Fine, give me your cock, boy. You’re not going to be needing it, the way this night is heading.”

“A–All of it? Can’t I–”

“Shut the fuck up, and give it to me,” Jeff said, and Jeff couldn’t resist the order, so he reached over, grabbed Jeff’s hand and swapped their cocks, leaving himself with a half inch nub, and Jeff with a huge cock a little over a foot long. Jeff rummaged around in his gunt in surprise, amazed not only that the spell had worked, but that he’d also noticed it happening. “Holy fuck, it actually worked…” Jeff said, then turned back to Harry, “Alright, now make me dirtier. Make it so I haven’t showered in a year.”

“I don’t…is that a good idea, sir? I mean–” Harry said, mostly worried that if that happened, there would be no way for him to resist Jeff’s sudden dominance.

“Just shut the fuck up, boy, and do as your daddy says, or you’re going to get it.”

So Harry did it, and he wanted to do it. He wanted to see what Jeff would look like if he were that filthy–he needed to see it. And so Jeff felt himself grow filthier, his clothes nearly turning to grungy rags hanging off his body, his pants torn, his shirt missing buttons. As the change progressed, Harry felt his will to resist simply withering away and eventually disappeared altogether. He needed to serve this man, to obey him. It was truly the most important thing for him to do. When it finished, Jeff looked over at the devoted eyes of Harry next to him, and knew he had his date right where he ought to be.

“Alright boy, now…you said that spell could transfer qualities, right? Was it only limited to physical ones?”

“I…I don’t know, sir. I only used it on physical ones, sir, so I’m not sure.”

“Alright, now here’s what I want you to do. I want you to try and transfer your ability to cast those spells from you to me, so that I can cast them all, and you can’t. After all, I think you’d agree that I’m the one who should have all the power in this relationship, isn’t that right?”

“Ye–Yes sir, of course sir!” Harry said, eager to agree, and so he he touched Jeff’s hand again and with all his might, willed the spells to transfer to Jeff, however, he had no idea whether it had worked or not, and neither did Jeff, apparently.

“Alright, how about we give this a try? I’m tired of these fucking business rags anyway–how about something a little more commanding?” Jeff concentrated and tried casting one of the spells Harry hadn’t used earlier, which allowed for the caster to change the subject’s clothes, and in turn, some of their behaviors, based on what they wore. As Harry watched, Jeff’s business casual started to twist and write, turning into a green and brown camouflage fatigues which were in relatively good shape, despite being well worn, with the name “Daddy Sarge” printed over one pocket. Even though his fat frame was stretching the fabric to its limits, Jeff laughed, amazed that it had actually worked, and Harry was next to him, awestruck. “Damn, I can’t believe that actually worked. How about you, cadet? You like the look of your new sergeant?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Harry shouted, not even noticing that his own clothes had suddenly shifted in a pair of similar fatigues and boots, though his name tag read “Cadet Pigboy.”

“Well why don’t you show off some of that enthusiasm and suck your sergeant’s massive cock,” Jeff ordered, and Harry immediately leapt to, and as soon as Jeff had his monstrous cock out, Harry did his best to choke it down, but with the extra gag reflex he’d taken earlier, he could barely get half of the shaft in his mouth, but he tried his hardest just the same. However, Jeff soon reversed that change, and Harry found himself able to deepthroat the cock with no resistance at all, as Jeff started swapping around their attributes once more.

He decided he liked being older, so he kept their ages the same, but he had to do something about this fat–he didn’t feel like it suited him. He dumped off most of the poundage onto Harry, taking his muscle, but leaving himself with a firm gut over his hard abs. He decided that if Harry was going to be his pigboy, then he was going to be smooth, and so he took all of his body hair, expanding his already thick pelt, and also took away Harry’s thick beard and hair, leaving him with a clean shaven, chubby face and a high ‘n tight haircut. To further cement himself as the leader, he stole several inches off of Harry’s height, bringing him down to five foot six, and bringing himself up to six foot seven, and to make sure Harry wouldn’t find some clever way to regain control anytime soon, he stole forty points off his IQ score, raising Harry a bit past genius and making Harry a certifiable, drooling dunce.

Happy with their new looks, Jeff said, “Alright Cadet, that’s enough sucking. Get out of the truck and stand at attention,” but Harry ignored him–and Jeff felt a sudden anger. He shoved Harry off his cock with enough force to slam him back against the side of the truck, and yelled, “I gave you a fucking order, now get out and stand at fucking attention, you piece of shit!”

“Ye–Yes sir!” Harry stuttered out, popping open the door and tumbling out onto the gravel drive below him. He scrambled back up and managed to get into attention just as Jeff came around the front of the vehicle, shaking his head.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? No discipline, no fucking brain–I mean, look at you, you fucking mouthbreather, you’re drooling on your goddamn uniform!” Jeff shouted, closing Harry’s gaping mouth with one hand, and wiping his slobber off on his shirt. “Hell, I bet you aren’t even potty-trained…”

Harry suddenly felt a pressure on his bowels, and a massive load of shit flooded the back of his fatigues, and his face went red with humiliation, even as his tiny cock tried to get hard from the sheer stench of it, and there was just…so much of it. He felt it pack the back of his pants and then start running down his legs, and then he was pissing himself again, the front of his new fatigues soaked, and he did his very best to hold himself at attention, but his body shook with humiliation and arousal. Sarge came close to him and the sheer stench rolling off him brought Harry to his knees, head bowed, face slammed into his musky crotch, and when he started pissing, Harry started sucking it out through the fabric, lamenting every drop he couldn’t get through the fabric. “Look at you, you fucking piece of work. I don’t think you even deserve the respect of that fuckin’ uniform you have on–how about we give you something a bit more fitting?

Harry shivered suddenly, the cold night air directly against most of his fat body. In fact, the only clothes he was wearing now was a thick, heavy metal collar around his neck, a tag on it reading “Pigboy Baby Slave” and a thick padded diaper, sagging down with the weight of his massive load of shit and piss. As a final tough, Jeff added a pacifier with a six inch cock for a nipple shoved down his throat, and he laughed at Harry’s new look, the idiot just grinning as he sucked the rubber cock in his mouth, his thick mind unable of comprehending what was happening to him. He just felt so happy, on his knees before his stinking Master, his diaper full of piss and shit, this was all he knew, all he wanted. “Come on piglet, we’re gonna go have some more fun,” Jeff said, and walked over to the trailer. Harry tried to get to his feet, but found that he couldn’t walk anymore, and was forced to crawl after his master, oinking and grunting uncontrollably as they went inside.

It was many hours later when Harry, exhausted, finally collapsed and fell asleep. Harry didn’t notice immediately–he was too busy pounding his slave’s filthy hole with his massive cock for the third time, the feel, sound and stench of his slave’s shit squelching around his cock taking up all of his attention. He’d cut open Pigboy’s diaper once they’d gotten inside and forced his nasty slave to slather himself with the contents, before begging his daddy to fuck and fist his loose, incontinent hole, and Jeff had only been too happy to oblige. He came once more with a forceful shudder and heard Harry’s snores, and decided his boy had earned a few hours rest, before Jeff woke him up to eat his master’s morning shit. Fuck–morning–was it coming already? Looking out one of the trailer’s filthy panes, he could see the sky had started lightening, and as the first rays of the sun crested the horizon, Jeff looked back over his shoulder and saw that he was no longer alone.

“Ah, so, Harry, I see you enjoyed yourself tonight,” the fairy said, giving Jeff a wink, “Dang, you sure did do a number on your date, didn’t you?”

Jeff looked down at Harry, and realized the fairy hadn’t noticed the role switch that had happened halfway through the night. Hell, of course he’d think Jeff was Harry–he was the one with the spells as well. Did this mean that their time was already up? Jeff thought about it, and realized he didn’t want to go back to the prissy, uptight cub he’d been just a few hours ago–this sense of freedom, of power and dominance, it was too wonderful to cast aside now. “Is…Look, I don’t want to change back, I don’t want either of us to change back–can’t we stay like this?”

“That wasn’t the deal, Harry.”

“So then make it a deal, what do you want in exchange?”

The fairy cocked an eyebrow, “Well, I mean, since it seems like the two of you are enjoying yourselves, I suppose I could come up with an agreement of some sort. Here’s what I want. First, I want neither one of you to ever shower or clean yourselves in any way ever again. Second, I’ll leave you access to your spells, but only if, every day, you use them to make at least one man filthier and grungier than he was when he began the day. If you don’t follow through on either point, the contract is broken, and your magic will disappear, leaving you trapped in whatever form you might be in at the moment. Is that agreeable to you?”

“I’ll take it,” Jeff said, without a second of hesitation, and the fairy laughed.

“Very well, ‘Sarge’, enjoy yourself now–and I look forward to seeing your work,” with a flash, the fairy was gone, and Jeff grinned, looking over at his pig–this was going to be the start of a whole new life, even if it wasn’t the happily ever after he’d been expecting.

New You Resolutions (Part 10) [Interactive]

Leroy didn’t really know what he was doing on stage, or why he was there. The year had been a blur really, especially as his intellect continued to diminish once he’d entered his Master’s service. By now, he could barely remember that he had ever been someone different before all of this–it seemed…crazy that he could be someone smart, someone with any kind of authority at all. He wondered what all of these men were doing, as the MC told the audience to begin voting–maybe one of them would…take him home? Maybe he’d get to service them all…that…that could be hot, but it wasn’t his place to want things. He would take what he was given, and it would be good enough–that was a lesson he’d had to learn the hard way.

The MC looked up as the first decision was made by the audience, and he perked up in some surprise. “Well,” he said, “It looks like Leroy here is going to get a second chance–or a bit of one at least.”

Leroy…had forgotten that was his name. But when he heard it, more began to come back to him, more memories, more knowledge, more…sense of himself. He didn’t forget what had happened to him over the course of the year, of course, but all of his old memories and knowledge were restored to him–and if anything, that only made everything worse. He…didn’t want it anymore. It had been so easy! Just being a slave, not having to think about anything other than his Master’s orders, but suddenly he could think about…everything, and he could remember how he had behaved for so long…and he hated that person he’d been.

He’d been cruel for no reason, and there were so many handsome students he should have been…servicing this whole time…right? He knew that wasn’t quite right, that his head, even with all of his knowledge, was still faulty–but he hadn’t lost any of his new desires or fetishes–and in fact, when the next decision popped up on the board, he was going to have quite a few more to add to the already sizable list.

His master, over the last year, had subjected him to all sorts of kinks–but for the most part, Leroy hadn’t really enjoyed any of them. The most important part of his world was service–he…wasn’t doing any of this to feel pleasure himself, he was doing it because submission was what he deserved. But now, memories of his master tying him down and whipping him, of fisting him, of feeding him his piss…those were all things he had wanted…right? He could feel his cock struggling to get hard in his cage, something it hadn’t done in ages, and he was…embarrassed by this sudden loss of control, and went to hide it from the crowd, not wanting them to see it…but if they did see it, maybe they would punish him. He…did like being punished. He deserved it, and he also…did enjoy it.

As he struggled with these new desires, his body was changing as well, as the third decision came up on the screen–that Leroy’s already substantial body modifications were going to become…even more extreme. The first thing Leroy noticed was that, even though he wasn’t getting hard anymore…his cock was still swelling. He pushed down the diaper he was wearing, and the cage popped off after a moment, and he could see that his cock wasn’t getting hard–no–it was…swelling up with silicone. His cock was growing wider, the head disappearing inside a sheath of taut flesh, and his sack swelled so large that he would never be able to hide it, no matter what he wore. He touched his cock, for the first time in nearly a year, and felt…nothing much at all. It felt like his cock was trapped…inside of itself, and he realized the cage hadn’t really disappeared–it had just changed form.

In addition to the silicone, the filthy tattoos he had gotten on his body over the last year multiplied, until nearly every inch of skin, even on his face, was covered in lewd words and designs. The piercings grew in number as well, and also in size. After a few minutes, he realized that he had become a total freak…and that he loved it. He pulled the filthy diaper back up, seeing how swollen it was around his inflated junk, and all he wanted was…was for someone to use him.

But no one in the audience wanted him–instead, he spent the evening servicing any man who was interested, and when morning came, he…had a new vision of himself. He would be a teacher, of sorts–he would go find his old students and give him a new education, show them how to treat a faggot freak like him–whether they wanted to learn, or not.

At last, it was time for the fourth and final subject. Hugh emerged from the side of the stage, wearing his coach uniform, and feeling…terrified. He had just watched three other men all warped even further into their new forms–and he…he didn’t that to happen to him. He just wanted things to go back to how they’d been–he’d do better! He…he was tired. Tired of working at the school all day, and then having to service his bratty son all night…the stage hands shoved him out, and the MC announced him to the audience, and he awaited his fate.

Alright, here’s the final poll for this interactive! We’ll wrap up Hugh’s fate next time, and start a new interactive story of some sort next week! Here’s the final patron only poll as well!

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!

The Three Daddies and a Spoiled Brat (Caption Sketch)

From the right: Me, Jeb, Nate and Mitch

The four of us were on our way to Jeb’s parent’s cabin for the weekend, and we were getting there late, so we stopped at a bar along the way to get some food, and a drink. Now, I’m the only one of us who was under 21, but I had my fake ID with me. I don’t fuckin’ know how that old cunt knew it was fake, but when she refused to serve us…I got pissed, and maybe I said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t fuckin’ faze her though–she just stared at me, and I felt this…chill run down my spine, and then she looked at my three friends, and told us to get the fuck out of her bar. We…did, but as I was leaving, she whispered to me, “If you want to act like a spoiled baby, you might as well be one.”

I felt weird for the rest of the drive. We all did, really. No one said much of anything, and we were all hungry, and I felt dumb for making a scene, and for being called out by some old bitch. We got to the cabin and started unloading, but as we did, I noticed that something was off about all of my friends. They seemed…older. Mitch had some grey hair in his beard, and his hair was receding. Nate’s beard was a bit longer, and he seemed chubbier than he had before. It was about that time, that I realized the crotch of my jeans felt warm, and when I looked down, I realized I had pissed my pants without even noticing.

Horrified, I ran inside to the bathroom, stripped out of my pants and got cleaned up–hoping no one had noticed. It took me about…half an hour? I walked back out, and found all three of my friends on the couch–fucking making out with each other like a bunch of fags! That, and all of them were white haired, and had stripped down to their underwear, showing off their hairy, chubby bodies, and I was so stunned that I fell down–and I couldn’t stand back up, no matter how hard I tried, and…and I fucking started to cry.

My three friends on the couch in the cabin, shifting

Jeb told me everything was ok, but before I could stop him, he put me in a diaper! I couldn’t even speak, everything came out as gibberish, and I watched all of my daddies having sex…and I got jealous. I got hard in my fucking diaper, and started groping myself, and when Daddy Nate saw, they gave me a spanking for being a naughty baby, and put these damn mitts on my hands! I just wanted to be a big boy like my daddies, but I was so naughty, all I could do was work myself into a fit of horniness.

Me the next morning, after falling asleep finally, still hard as a rock in my diaper

Thankfully, after the weekend, we all changed back–mostly. I…still have to wear a diaper, I can’t control it, and the only people who can change it are…are my daddies. Whenever I’m with them, they get old again, but they hate it–and they’re all avoiding me, but I don’t have a choice! I…I need to go back, and beg her to fix this, but I’m terrified. Terrified…she might just make it even worse. But what choice to we have?

Spook Mart (Part 5)

I tabulated the results, and I’m going to use the top six pranks to create three short vignettes from the party–hope you enjoy them over the next few days!

The guys in the house could just be a bit much sometimes. Sure, the partying was great, usually, but Blake could only take it so long before he needed a second on his own. He stepped out of the house and onto the back porch of the frat house, and shivered a bit. His costume, a gladiator, wasn’t exactly layered or well insulated, and he wouldn’t be able to stand the cold fall evening for too long, but that was alright, he just needed a breather.

But on the table out there, he spotted something odd–a package of cigars sitting beside the ashtray the bros usually used when they were smoking, but to Blake’s knowledge, none of them had ever smoked cigars–well, no one other than him. His dad smoked them, and he’d taught Blake how to do so after his high school graduation as a rite of passage, and he’s smoked them with his dad and uncles during summers past–but in all honesty, he could use one. They always gave him a bit of a boost, and he could smoke one for a bit before going back to the party.

He unwrapped one, bit off the cap since he didn’t have much of a choice, and used the matches there to light it. It was…stronger than the ones his dad smoked, and he coughed a bit after getting it burning–but it was good. It was exactly what he needed, in fact. He took a seat at the table and took a deeper draw–he usually only boy scouted it and never inhaled, but this time…it felt right. He pulled the smoke down into his lungs, feeling warmth spread through him, and sighed, smoke curling out of his nose and down his front, not noticing the facial hair beginning to fill in around his lips and mouth where the cigar smoke landed.

He lost track of time, he was enjoying his smoke so much–that, and he was feeling pretty horny, but not for pussy, like he usually felt. No, he wanted…something else, but couldn’t quite put his finger down on it, at least until Garth came out onto the porch looking for him. But the man in the gladiator costume wasn’t Blake–or at least, not the Blake he remembered. No, he was a stranger now, with a thick, salt and pepper beard, a hefty gut covered in fur, balding severly, and eyeing Garth hungrily while he groped his own cock openly. That, Blake thought, was a handsome looking boy–that’s what he was craving, what he wanted was to fuck a boy. Was to fuck his boy.

He told the boy to come over and help his daddy out, but Garth was having none of that, and he retreated back into the house. Blake, with a growl, heaved his much heavier frame up and followed after him, somehow knowing that if he could feed the boy a few lungfuls of daddy smoke, he’d be…his, for good. Garth ended up retreating upstairs, and Blake followed after him–in Garth’s room, they struggled a bit, Garth slowly succumbing to the daddy’s smoke–at least until he jostled his dressed where one of the nerds had stashed a baby bomb. It fell off and exploded, consuming them both in the cloud of choking baby powder, and as they tried to wave it away, they both became a bit woozy, and couldn’t quite remain standing the way they had been.

When the dust cleared, neither of them was wearing the costumes they’d had on–instead, all the two of them were wearing were big, fluffy diapers around their waists. As much as they tried, neither of them could seem to get the diaper off–they were just too weak all of a sudden. Garth felt a sudden pressure in his peepee, and before he could do anything about it, he flooded his diaper with a massive load of piss, and it felt…good. So good, he didn’t think twice about filling the back with a load of shit as well. He sat down in it, feeling it squish around, stuck his thumb in his mouth and rubbed his hard peepee through the front of the diaper, knowing he was being a good little boy.

Blake resisted a bit longer, tried to talk Garth into his senses, but his words just wouldn’t come out right. Everything was garbled together, and he couldn’t form sentences more than a few words long. Then, he too pissed in his diaper, and let out a laugh, and in a few more minutes, they were both reduced to dumb babies with full diapers, rubbing each other’s peepees through their diapers, wondering where their daddy might have gone to.

In the end, after filling their diapers with a load of cum each, they crawled off to search for one–and for some milk. Babies needed milk to grow, after all, and the best milk came from…men. From cocks. They did find one after a while, pinning a frat boy down and sucking him off, the risidual powder from the babies warping his mind, convincing him that he was the daddy of them both–and after sucking down one the rest of baby daddy’s cigar, he looked like one too.

The Fetish Gun Is Loose! (Part 5) [Interactive]

So it was a tie, between giving Rick some additional humiliating fetishes, and having Anthony become his father, so we’ll do a mash up of both. Also, there’s a 42% chance that this is going to end up backfiring on Anthony–and since there’s two changes, there’s two chances it’ll backfire on whoever has the gun at the moment! So we’ll see what happens!


Anthony was enjoying the hell out of his diaper boy–but he wanted to push things a bit further. What he was really fantasizing about was taking him home and treating him like a stupid little boy…but why not push that in a more taboo direction, and actually become Rick’s father? He didn’t want that idea to turn him on quite as much as it was…and he wasn’t even sure if the gun could do it. Sure, it could create relationships–all he had to do was turn it to dial D–but why not just give it a shot, and see what happens? He turned the dial around to D, while Rick was still busy sucking his cock, and he pointed it at–

(Backfire save roll……Failure! Anthony’s plan backfires.)

Rick. What he forgot, was that the person that gets shot with the gun first, is the person who will be more dominant in the relationship. He pulled the trigger, the ray engulfed Rick in the yellow aura, and then bounced back and swallowed him as well. It was the first time he’d experienced the gun itself–and it was…unsettling. He found all of these new ideas and memories in his mind, how he’d raised his son Rick–and he’d always hated potty training. He’d throw tantrums, insist his father put him back in diapers, and Anthony had always relented–just to get him to stop. He’d assumed he’d grow out of it–and he did, somewhat, but not out of his brashness, and his domineering attitude, and Anthony had just…never been able to say no to him.

Rick wet the bed constantly as a teenager–so much that Anthony believed he must have liked it. If he washed the sheets, then he’d come home from work to discover his own mattress soaked in piss as well. It wasn’t long after that, when Rick coaxed his father into sucking his cock one evening, while they were both drunk, and things had only spiraled out of control from there. Now, here they were–Anthony in his late fifties, and Rick in his mid-thirties, and his son had…total control over his father’s life.

He realized what he’d done, as the gun faded away, but Rick was too quick–he snatched the gun from his father’s hand, and then stood up, and Anthony…quaked. “That’s a very naughty daddy–turn around, someone needs a spanking, don’t you think?”

Anthony realized he was nearly naked in the club–Rick liked to bring him here on busy nights to humiliate his father, usually with both of them diapered. He hadn’t messed his yet–so Rick pulled it down and started spanking his fat father’s ass, and Anthony…liked it. He felt his cock getting hard, knowing his own son was punishing him, and he craved it–Rick had warped his mind so much over the years, that he was willing to do anything for him, now. When Rick was satisfied, he pulled his dad’s diaper back up into place, sat down with a squelch (his own diaper, at this point, was rather full) and ordered his father to sniff his diaper, while he examined his new toy.

He saw the dial on the side, with the settings, and had his daddy explain them to him. He considered lying…but what was the point? He’d just get punished for not telling the truth, if he did. “Well dad, did you shoot me with this earlier? Be honest now.”

Anthony nodded, his face pressed to his son’s pissy diaper. “I…I turned you into a diaper obsessed pig, son, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize daddy–you did good, but you need to be punished for using my toys without permission. If you got to change me, I think it’s only fair that I get to change you, right?”

Anthony gulped, as his son turned the dial to setting A, turned to gun on him. He fought…hard. He had to stop him, he had to regain control, and push back against this…

(Backfire check #2! The risk is still 42% percent, that things will, this time, backfire against Rick, who is holding the gun. Backfire save roll…….Success! No backfire.)

But before he could work up the will to fight for the gun, his son fired–and Anthony found himself losing the will to do…anything, really. More memories filled in, how he’d always been just as lazy as his son–if not even lazier. He…liked being a slob, and being fat, and being…being a loser. It was natural that he serve his son–after all, he was so much smarter and better than he was. When the gun stopped, Anthony had gained close to 300 pounds, kneeling there in his own oversized, saggy diaper–the same one he’d been wearing, and filling, for days at this point. He could smell himself, and he was so filthy–he loved it, and he loved his son even more for showing him just how much of a pathetic loser he could be.

The people around them were just as disgusted as they ought to be, and they’d also attracted the attention of a bouncer, who was coming over to eject them from the bar–but Rick had a plan for that. He fired the gun at the man, and instead of ejecting them, he shoved his dad down and started hitting him–lightly at first, but then harder. Rick just watched the bouncer abuse and beat his father, berating him the entire time, shooting him on occasion with the gun to push him further, until the bouncer–now a filthy, ugly bruiser obsessed with physical abuse, hauled down Anthony’s full diaper, and shoved his hand into the old man’s ass, fisting him roughly right there in the bar, while Rick watched–until he couldn’t resist joining in, fucking his father’s face while the bouncer kept fisting him, jacking off with his free hand, all of them lost in the moment–and none of them minding the gun.

No one else intervened. The longer it had gone on, the more…normal it seemed for everyone. After all, as disturbing as the trio were, they were all regular sights here, at the bar–the same with Davie and his posse of admirers on the other side, all of them worshiping his massive, monstrous cock–though none were as devoted as Phil–who had an…unhealthy obsession with Davie’s cock. But who gets a hold of the gun next?

So, now that we have a few characters involved, things can get a bit more…interesting. Who gets a hold of the gun next?

  1. Davie recovers it–and starts modifying the three of them to suit his interests.
  2. The brutish bouncer claims it, and uses it on Rick, making him his submissive pain slave as well.
  3. Anthony gets hold of it again, and uses setting E on himself–so the bouncer and Rick will absorb his new fetishes.
  4. Rick keeps hold of it, and uses it to warp some other people into permanent fixtures of the bar’s bathroom.

Here is the twitter poll

Here is the patron poll

Voting ends on Monday!

The Fetish Gun is Loose! (Part 4) [Interactive]

Looks like the winner was out older bear into diapers, humiliation, and watersports. Let’s see what he does when he gets hold of the gun…

Earlier, in the club…

Had Anthony really seen, what he’d just seen? Even now, it was almost impossible to believe it, even though it had happened, right there across the upper floor of the bar. He had been stashed back in a dark corner, watching that man pick up and toy around with that odd gun he’d found in that booth. Then, he’d shot himself with it, and after…he’d been different. Really different, but Anthony hadn’t really been able to remember how different–it was like the earlier version of the man had been scrubbed from reality, and replaced by the freak in the booth–massively hung, wearing a singlet…but that had just been the start of the insanity. He’d just…eaten someone, with his fucking cock. He pulled himself further back as the man stood up, hauling along the heavy, monstrous thing hanging from the front of the singlet, and went down to the dance floor–he was so taken with the sight, he didn’t realize, for a moment, that the man had left the gun behind in the booth.

He moved quick–grabbed the gun and retreated back to the booth where he’d been, stopping only to grab the piece of paper that had fallen from the table to the floor, which turned out to be a summary of the gun–and it’s five features. It would have been unbelievable if he hadn’t just witnessed it in action. The shit he could do with this thing–the possibilities already had him hard in the front of his pants.

Anthony had a few quirks of his own–though they mostly had to do with other people, than himself. He loved humiliating guys more than pretty much anything–but most of all, he loved forcing guys into diapers and making them piss themselves. He didn’t get to enjoy his fetish very often, because finding guys to go along with it was…difficult. But with the gun, it wasn’t going to be a struggle at all. He turned the setting to A, and then went to the edge of the balcony, where he could look down at the crowd below.

The silicone guy was down there, with half a dozen guys clambering for his attention. He must have used setting B–and as tempting as it was to shoot him…he set his sights on someone else instead, as he dragged his obsessive group of hanger ons away from the dance floor and towards the dark back of the bar. Instead, he spotted someone better–someone he knew. Rick was an “A Gay”, always muscled, always on trend, and always desired. He was in the middle of the dance floor now, wearing just a skimpy thong showing off his substantial junk bouncing as he danced to the music. Anthony leveled the gun at him, held an idea of what he wanted in his mind, and shot him with a ray of yellow, watching it sink into his skin, the thong shuddering…and growing into a thick diaper.

Rick noticed, and was horrified, but he couldn’t stop dancing. People were noticing, pointing, laughing–and then he started pissing himself. He couldn’t stop the flow, and there was so much of it–it overflowed the diaper and ran down the insides of his thighs…and he was so turned on, by becoming the laughing stock of the entire club, that he started groping the front of his diaper, his cock hard, milking himself to orgasm in the warm, saggy diaper. Anthony shot him again as he did, and Rick’s perfect body began to melt and distort. He wasn’t muscled anymore–now he was more chub than anything else, his perfect hair lank and greasy, crooked teeth leering around him at the men laughing, groping harder, loving how everyone could see just how much of a loser he was now, and he came, loudly and obviously, before a bouncer dragged him off the dance floor–but Anthony intervened before they could kick him out, and pulled the much changed Rick into a corner, shoved the loser down to his knees, and soaked him down with his own piss, before making him suck him off right there in the club.

“What do you think now, hotshot? Think you’re the coolest fucker in the club now? Can you even remember was a hot piece of meat you were before?” Anthony said.

Could he? Rick could remember, vaguely, who he’d been–but thinking about that only made him even hotter, knowing that he’d fallen so far, into this nasty piece of shit, stuck in diapers, humiliating himself in the hottest gay bar in town. “No sir, I’m a filthy, diaper wearing loser. Can…can I suck your cock sir?”

Anthony made Rick beg for his cum, plead for it, tell him exactly what a loser he was and how much he loved it, making sure everyone around them knew exactly what kind of pervert he was, and what he wanted–and Anthony finally milked his load onto Rick’s face, and told him to leave it. Then he grabbed the gun and twisted the dial–he wasn’t done with Rick yet, not by a ways.

This time around, we have a bit of a twist! There are three standard options, but the fourth one is special–the more people who vote for backfire, the more likely it is that the tables will end up turned against Anthony next chapter, in different ways, depending on which one of the top three gets the most votes. So mind your vote!

  1. Uses setting C to turn his diaper man into a literal, corruptive diaper he forces another jock to wear.
  2. He uses setting A to add more humiliating fetishes to Rick’s mind.
  3. He uses setting D to create an incestual relationship between them, with Anthony as Rick’s domineering father.
  4. Backfire! – The ending total percentage of this option (combined between both polls, not averaged) is the possibility of the top option among the other three backfiring on Anthony.

Here is the twitter poll

Here is the patron only poll

Voting ends on Thursday!

Carnival (Part 9)

“You guys–we have to fight this. This isn’t right,” Finn said, pulling away from his friends, or rather, his lovers, in the mist of the tunnel. “Can’t…can’t you see that something about all of this is wrong?”

Garth and Dylan just looked at him, their eyes slightly pink. “There’s…nothing wrong with this, Finn–you know how we feel about you, how we’ve always felt about each other.”

There was a flash then, a flash of them all in the locker room after practice, sneaking looks at one another, taking their time until they were alone, and they could go to the showers together and–

Finn pushed the thought away again, and slid around the circular bench to be as distant from the other two as they could. This ride–it wasn’t a ride at all. They were literally falling in love with one another! There had to be something he could do, some way to snap the two of them out of it, but how?

The sides of the boat were high, but were lower where they’d gotten in. He reached down into the cool water, scooped some up in his hands, and flung it at the two of them, hoping it would bring them to their senses, but when it struck them, both of them glowed pink, and Finn watched them begin to shift. In their minds, both Garth and Dylan found their love for one another growing deeper–and also growing longer. They had met in college, sure, but by now, that had been years ago. In their forties now, and happily married for nearly 20 years, all Finn could do was watch as his best friends, the young men he loved, became two pudgy, middle aged bears, still kissing and even deeper in love than before.

“That was a few bad thing to do, to try and destroy someone’s love,” a voice said. Finn looked around for the source, but couldn’t see anyone–it seemed to be coming from the mist all around them. “But don’t worry, your daddies will take good care of you.”

Before he could do anything, the mist descended on him, cloaking him in pink, filling his mind with love–love for the two older men across from him, but also dulling him, sanding off the edges, making that love into something singular and obsessive–so powerful, it was all he could think about. When it cleared, and he saw his two daddies, Garth and Dylan, looking at him, he thought his heart would burst, and a moment later, he was pulled over the center of the boat, all three of them kissing together, until they had Finn undressed, Garth and Dylan fucking him at both ends, telling him what a good boy he was, telling him that he was going to be their boy forever.

When they reached the end of the ride, all three of them having cum, and forgotten their old lives and souls in the tunnels, Garth and Dylan got out first, both of them wearing jeans and flannel, suspenders tight against their guts, looking like the perfect bearish couple, and then they helped Finn out–and Finn looked down at himself in shock. He was wearing overalls, but with shorts on the bottom, something like what a toddler would wear, with a shirt underneath with cartoon characters on them. He was shorter than his daddies, and quite a bit chubbier too–but something making him look larger was the diaper he could feel around his waist. “Wow daddy! That was a fun ride, I love you so much!” he exclaimed with his usual youthful enthusiasm, and hugged both of his daddies tight.

“I gotta admit–it’s nice to be reminded of what’s really important,” Garth said, winking at Dylan and giving his husband’s crotch a squeeze, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m a bit tuckered out–how about we all head home and call it a night?”

Dylan agreed, and while Finn tried to protest, and insisted he could go on more rides, the way he was yawning gave away how tired he was. As they left the ride, Finn felt a warmth spread across his groin, and it took him a moment to realize he’d pissed right into his diaper without a second thought. “D-Daddy? I think I had an accident,” he said, looking at Garth, who smiled back.

“Goodness–guess its a good thing we diapered you up, eh, you dirty little boy?”

Finn nodded, his little cock hard in the front of his wet diaper.

“Well, you want us to change you here, in front of everyone?” Dylan said, “Or is the dirty little boy going to have to wear a sopping wet diaper all the way home?”

In the end, he wore it home. Finn loved the feeling of a wet diaper, after all, and his two daddies always enjoyed it when their little cub made a mess like that. Deep inside him, some other version of himself was horrified, but it didn’t matter–love was the most important thing, after all, and Finn was going to love his two daddies forever.

This is the end of this interactive for the moment. I’ll probably run a Patreon only poll in a day or two, to see if there are any stories people would like to see me wrap up and expand on a bit.

What Would I Do To You #2 (Diaper Cuck)

What would I do to you this time?

We’ve been going steady for a little while now, haven’t we? It all seems rather normal, in fact. I want you to be comfortable, though. I want you to know what normal tastes like, so we let things ride for a few months. The sex begins to feel stale, we begin to discover the things about one another that we hate. I seem to keep pushing your buttons, and you’re beginning to resent me. You’re beginning to think about breaking the whole thing off, in fact, and moving out. That’s when we wake up with the bed sopping wet the first time.

You deny it, but it’s clearly on your side. You’ve wet the bed, a full bladder right into the sheets and the mattress. You’re confused, you feel betrayed by your own body–but that’s alright, I tell you. Accidents happen–I’m sure it was just a fluke, right? The next morning, it’s dry, but you wet it again the next two days in a row. The mattress…smells like piss now, but it was time to get a new one, right? We go shopping, and splurge on a king–but when we get home, you know I have to insist right?

You’re horrified at the thought. You don’t need diapers; you’re a grown man! Yes, I say, a grown man who’s wet the bed nine out of the last twelve nights. We just can’t have these things happening on the brand new bed, right? I reason with you, and I console you, and stroke your ego. We compromise in the end. We’ll use a plastic sheet for now, and if it stays dry for a week, we’ll never speak of it again.

You last for two days, before you wet it again, and this time, I insist. Humiliated, you go along with it, and that is your first night in diapers. It’s the most restful night you’ve ever had. You don’t even mind waking up to the soggy thing around your waist–it…feels comforting, somehow, not that you can admit it. You put up an act for a couple of weeks, but you wear them willingly, and everything seems fine–until the first accident at work.

I entertain your concerns, and we visit the doctor. He assures you this is just a thing that can happen, which is not what you want to hear. On the ride home, you feel lost and adrift–I hold you in bed for a bit, and you feel better, until you let it flow without a diaper on, right there. And with that, you begin wearing them during the day as well. You don’t notice the other things happening, you don’t see yourself sucking your thumb at night while you hump your dick into the front of the diapers, until you spurt. You don’t see how you’re plumping up, how you’re losing the hair on your body. You’re too focused on making sure no one ever notices your secret. But things are going well between us, you think. You’re…surprised by how understanding I’ve been. In fact, you don’t think you could have done this without me. Wanting to do something special, you come home early one day, only to discover me fucking another man in our bed.

You’re speechless. All you can do is stand there and watch, one hand slipping down and groping the front of your diapers, jacking off while you watch me plow a stranger the way I used to plow you, the way I haven’t plowed you in months. You cum, and that snaps you out of it. You bust in, the stranger flees, leaving just the two of us. You think you have the upperhand, and as you begin to yell, the bottom falls out from your world, and you shit your diaper.

You stop midsentence. It’s too much. All of this is too much. You stumble back, and fall on your ass, feeling the shit squish around you, and you start to cry. You more than cry, you wail, and pound your feet and hands, you throw a tantrum–but I talk you down. You see, I love you–I really do, but…you have to understand that I just feel myself attracted to you like I was when we first got together. How could I? I…don’t really have a thing for guys in diapers, but I respect you, and I love you…but you understand, don’t you? By the end of the conversation, you’ve come around, and agreed to open the relationship, for the good of us both.

You hate it though. You hate how…weak you’re becoming. Everything that bothered you about me has only seemed to gotten worse. I never pick up after myself, I belittle you and humiliate you in public, I take your money. Slowly, I’m beginning to control everything about your life–and there’s nothing you’re willing to do about it. Who else is willing to accept you for who you are, after all? You don’t have a choice. Eventually, you come to believe that you’re the real baggage, in the relationship, and you thank me for putting up with you day in and day out. With nothing and no one left to console you, you turn to food to try and fill that hole I’m making in your soul. How much weight have you put on now? Fifty pounds, or is it closer to a hundred at this point? Your body hair has grown thin, and your beard has become patchy–best if you just shave it off, even if it makes you look too young. Your cock is smaller too–just a few inches, not that it gets much use at all. Even if the relationship is open, you’re far too embarrassed to look for sex–though you do, on occasion, chat with daddies on some ABDL websites, not that you’d have the courage to meet them in real life.

No, the only sexual satisfaction you get anymore is purely second hand. You go to bed early, and I have a friend over, and once we get going, you creep out of bed, trying to keep your diaper from making too much noise, and you squat at the door I’ve left ajar, and you watch. You watch me fuck some stranger, and you…imagine it was you there, instead. But who would want to fuck you? You grope yourself. You’re just an ugly loser. Your little dicklet is hard now. A fat loser in diapers, who can’t even control themselves, who’s…starting to even enjoy sitting around in their piss and shit, like a freak. You feel it, the load of shit squeeze out your ass and you cum in the front, muffling your cry, and keep watching until I finish–and then you sneak back to bed before I notice, lying in your shame, and wonder if I’ll be bringing home someone else tomorrow.