Daddy’s Little Man (Part 3)

Who had he been? He’d been a university student…in a way, he supposed he still was. After all, he hadn’t actually decreased in age at all–sure, he looked young, but he didn’t think he actually was younger, and yet…in his head, when he’d been around da–no, Mr. Rawlins–it had been like he’d been a kid again. No knowledge, no common sense, no…no nothing. He could hear the help running around, and Mr. Rawlins was barking orders all around the store, all of them searching for him. Why him? What had he done to deserve this sadistic treatment? He had to get out, he had to find someone who could help him.

After a few minutes, the shopkeepers quit their frantic searching and went back to their jobs. Maybe he’d given up on finding him. If he could just wait for a couple more minutes, maybe he could sneak out the side door a little ways away. However, before he could build up the gut to make a run for it, James noticed something else. The smell–the smoke was back. Mr. Rawlins must be close by. James did his best to hold his breath, taking in as little as possible, but the lack of air was making it his head swim–making it hard to think. Maybe he should just end this game of hide and seek. He was tired–maybe Mr. Rawlins…maybe daddy and him could go home, and he could have a nap. He was feeling kind of sleepy, and relaxed.

He let out a little sigh, and then he smelled something–and felt something. His crotch was warm, and did he smell…piss? Looking down, he saw that the front of his shorts had a growing dark patch, and a moment later, his piss started to seep through the fabric and patter onto the floor. He froze there, unable to believe this was happening, but try as he might, he couldn’t stop the flow–he’d lost all control of himself, and the tears welled up, and then he was bawling like a baby.

A moment later, a hand shot through the clothes surrounding him, grabbed his arm and yanked him from his hiding place–Mr. Rawlins still smoking his pipe and glaring down at James. The guilt–oh the guilt that crashed down on him, when he saw how disappointed and hurt his daddy was that James had run away from him. He felt terrible–why had he ever done such a horrible thing? “I’m–I’m sorry daddy, I don’t know–I just…” he said, but could barely get any words out past the tears.

“Such a naughty boy I have here,” Mr. Rawlins said, “running off, and unable to control himself? I think someone needs a spanking.”

“No daddy–no!” James shouted, but the bigger man easily dragged him over to a chair by the dressing rooms, yanked down James pants and underwear to his ankles, bent him over on his lap and started smacking his bottom–hard.

“Yeah…that’s it–such a naughty little man, yes you are, such a–fuck…” Mr. Rawlins said, glee in his eyes, and pushing up against his gut, James could feel Mr. Rawlins penis hard as a rock, and as much as it hurt to get spanked, it also felt…a little good. James could feel his own pee pee start hardening–it felt strange again, like when he’d kissed his daddy earlier, but a good kind of strange. He did deserve to be spanked though, he had to admit that. He’d been a very bad boy to run off like that earlier. He deserved to be punished. After twenty pounding slaps, all of his cheeks red as could be, Mr. Rawlins let him stand up again. “Now, you naughty boy, what do you say?”

“Sorry daddy…I’m sorry…” James said.

“That’s better. Now, it seems like you’re a littler man than I’d thought, since you can’t even keep from pissing yourself. Let’s see what we can do about that,” Mr. Rawlins said, took a deep draw off his pipe and exhaled a thick plume of smoke so massive it enveloped James entire body. Coughing and eyes burning, he waved away the thick cloud as best he could, but it clung to him for a few moments before dispersing, and james shivered a bit, feeling somewhat exposed all of a sudden–and for good reason. His school uniform had disappeared and been replaced by nothing beyond a thick diaper around his groin. James tried to speak and protest, but for some reason all of the words in his head were getting jumbled up and coming out as nonsense, and when he tried to stumble away, his legs couldn’t seem to balance right, and he fell down onto his padded ass, and frustrated, he started to wail.

“Aww, calm down little man, here, daddy has your pacifier here–this will make you feel better.”

Mr. Rawlins pulled something that looked a bit like a pacifier out of his pocket, but instead of a small bulb to suck on, it had a thick, three inch rubber cock which Mr. Rawlins shoved in his mouth. James started sucking immediately and felt so much calmer and happier with his pacifier in his mouth, but when Mr. Rawlins got down to see him, James still rolled over and started crawling away as fast as his short arms and legs could take him, gut dragging across the department store carpet.

“Goodness, you are a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Mr. Rawlins said, and now, as James was crawling away, he felt the weight start to pack on once again. The gut which had only been grazing the floor moments earlier was now dragging across it, forcing him to crawl even slower as his knees kept running into the apron trailing back between his legs. His face and chest packed on weight as well, making it hard to breathe, and just crawling ten feet left him completely winded. Mr. Rawlins walked over to where James was struggling for air, bent over and somehow…picked him up. James must have weighed over five hundred pounds by this point, and yet Mr. Rawlins hefted him up and brought him over to the chair he’d spanked James over moments earlier and sat down, putting the giant diapered man on his knee as though he weighed nothing at all.

Slave Swap (Part 5)

The food came, and he ate it. The portion seemed so meager, and it had done nothing to sate any of his cravings. By eight he broke down, and cracked open a beer, and after three of those–close to nine–he lit his first cigar. By ten, he’d run out of beer, and he left the apartment to go buy some more…but instead, he found his feet walking a somehow familiar route, to some place called, The Steam Engine. He wasn’t this weak, was he? He couldn’t even last a single night? He passed it by and went to a corner store and purchased a supply of beers–hopefully enough that he wouldn’t have to leave the apartment for several days, and he forced himself to walk quickly past the bathhouse and went back to his lonely apartment, where he managed to drink himself to sleep.

In the morning, he woke to discover a small deposit in his account, with a note from Master. “One day down Slave–one day at a time, as they say.” It was a pittance, really, but it meant more to him as a gesture. He was watching–Master didn’t want him to fail. Still, the stench off his sodden diaper was so…alluring, he couldn’t stop himself from sucking some of his own piss from it while he jacked off–or tried to jack off, at least. His cock wouldn’t get hard at all, and the pain and nausea were worse than the day before. He tossed the diaper in the trash, frustrated, and put on a new one, before heading into work that afternoon. He was invisible in the halls, as people hurried past him. Cleaning the bathrooms was the worst, especially when he found loads of piss left in the urinals or the toilets, but he fought it–proud of his willpower, at least.

The first week progressed well. He found that exercise gave him something to distract himself with, to some extent, even if this old body wasn’t capable of much strength. Still, training himself gave him something to do–something to work on. He tried his best to limit his smoking, drinking and eating to moderate levels–enough to keep the rest of his withdrawal in check. He kept hoping things would get better, but he only ever seemed to feel even worse with each passing day. On Friday, after most people had left the building for the day, he gave in and sucked some piss from a urinal, and nearly cried from how…satisfied he felt, afterward. How was he going to cope this weekend? He didn’t know–all he had to distract himself at home was exercise and TV. He found himself missing Master’s presence–he felt so isolated now. He drank too much that night, dribbling his piss into empty beer cans so he could drink it, thinking about how…good his Master’s cum had tasted, how he’d never really relished it, how he’d just swallowed it so many times without a single thought of how…thankful he should be, for receiving it. He sent drunken texts to him, telling Master all of this, telling him how sorry he was, and when he received nothing back, he threw on some clothes–forgetting a diaper in his haste–and stumbled into The Steam Engine.

Just one load, he told himself. If he could get by with a few beers and two cigars a day, he could get one load. It was a treat–a reward. Finding someone interested in him was a struggle, and he was forced to beg over and over, before an older man finally took pity on him, and fucked his face. It was the first time he’d tasted someone’s cum other than Master’s or his own, and he…nearly cried, when the man shot into his mouth. It tasted better than he could even remember, but it was…such a small load. Certainly that meant he could have another, right? He gave up the pretense after four loads, and even managed to find a few men to feed him their piss. When he got up and waddled home that night, pants sodden with piss from his cock, he felt so…good. Not only was the pain gone, but the shivers of pleasure flowing through him–and his cock was rock hard for the first time in nearly a week! Not wanting to waste the opportunity, he jacked off behind a dumpster, his cock still dribbling and flinging piss about as he stroked, but he didn’t care–he wanted a another load–he needed another one. He came into his hand and slurped it up, tasting hints of cigar on it, and he heaved a great sigh of relief, made his way home, and collapsed into bed, happier than he could remember being in a long time.

Of course, when he woke up, head throbbing, mattress and sheets soaked with his piss, he felt horrible. How could he have done that to himself? Master–he was going to be so disappointed in him! He saw a notification on his phone, but the message wasn’t what he’d expected.

“Watching you fail is so fucking satisfying, you fucking piece of shit. I knew you’d never make it, though I thought you’d make it a bit longer than that! Still, seven loads of cum, and four loads of piss–that’s quite a good amount–you’ll find your reward in your account, you fucking slut. See you this afternoon.”

Dumbstruck, he opened up his account, and saw he’d earned close to triple in a single night, than the meager payments Master had sent him him the whole week he’d been trying to be good. He’d wanted him to fail. He’d wanted him to give in–that’s what this was all about. He lit a cigar to calm himself down, to keep the anger at bay, and had a beer too, not bothering to diaper himself, leaking more and more piss into his bed…enjoying the stench. Around one in the afternoon, Master let himself into the apartment, ordered Jug onto the soaking wet bed, and fucked his ass, demanding Jug tell him about the night before, about how it had felt to give in like that, to accept the fact that he was just a fat cumdump urinal. He came, deep, and left again without ceremony…and unable to help himself, Jug ate his Master’s cum from his own ass without even needing to be ordered to do so.

He had to fight this. He had to. He couldn’t live like this. But looking at himself in the mirror, and the dried cum caught in his beard from the night before…he tried to remember himself, but couldn’t. And that night, his will ran out again, and he was back at The Steam Engine, doing what his body did best.

Slave Swap (Part 4)

When Master woke him up, they most certainly were no longer in his sizable mansion, where Cameron had been living in his first year of service. Now they were in a small studio apartment–deep in the city, from the sound of traffic outside–the sort of living quarters any citizen could expect as a guarantee in this era. Nothing fancy, and none of clean from the looks of things, but it was similar to where Cameron had spent much of his youth. “Where are we, sir?”

“This is where you’ll be living, Slave. I’d rather not have you dribbling any more piss on my carpets. You’ll still be working for my company, but I can’t have someone like you as my personal assistant. You’ll be a janitor now–something which will…suit your body’s tastes, I assume. You’ll also be receiving a much smaller allowance from this point further, although there will be…opportunities for you to earn more, if you’d like. After all, if there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re highly motivated by financial reward. Still, we have one final adjustment to make, but I wanted to make sure you were awake. Slave, run personality file: Jug.”

The sensation was always…nerve wracking, when Master ran a personality file. Still, he’d been through enough of them to know what to expect, from his first day–after all, it was how Master had turned him gay. The contract gave Master wide licence to modify not only his body, but also his mind, his memories, his personality, his intellect–provided a backup of his original is kept on hand. But this one lasted longer, and the mental nausea was more severe. Whatever Master was doing to him, it was more substantial than anything else he’d done to him previously. At last, it was over, and Jug reached out for a wall to steady himself, and let off a great big belch. “Fuck sir, mah head feels like ya screwed it off in shook it up real fuckin’ good.”

That…didn’t sound like him, but his thoughts were suddenly running much slower than he was accustomed to.

“Don’t worry Jug, you’ll feel better soon enough. It’s just something to…smooth your transition. After all, if you’re going to be a janitor, you’d better think and sound like one, right? And someone your age…well, you need a bit of history, don’t you? In any case, I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes sir,” he said, and Master left him in the apartment, to explore the small space, and to try and sort out what, exactly, his master had fucked up in his head. Why had Master called him Jug, anyway? His name was…was something else, but then again, he’d been called Jug ever since he’d drank that whole gallon of piss in one fucking sitting, years ago, and the name had stuck. It was…it was a badge of pride, wasn’t it? The memory horrified parts of him–the vividness of it. It wasn’t real, he knew that, and yet, to Jug, it felt as real as anything else. He sat down, diaper squishing audibly under him, his body still shaking, the pain coming back now that he had nothing else to focus on.

His body has needs, that he knew, but they weren’t needs that he wanted to satisfy. Why had Master just…left him here? With no guidance, and no direction? He hadn’t even…fed him before he’d left. In a sense, he knew he should feel…free on his own, and yet the hungers growing inside him made him feel more boxed in and controlled than any time in his first year of service. He turned on the TV, but then got up from the chair to explore the room. There was a small supply of cigars in a battered humidor on the shelf, but he fought the urge to smoke. There were a few beers in the fridge, and his thirst…but he also knew he wanted cum…and piss more than alcohol or water. There was no food anywhere, but Jug also didn’t know how to cook. He’d…have to get something delivered, or go out if he wanted to eat.

He heard his phone buzz and shake on the side table, and he went to retrieve it, and found a message from Master. “I’m sure the monkeys on your back have started scratching. I selected this location particularly for you. There’s several gay bathhouses and bars within several blocks, many of them with rather seedy reputations. I’m sure you can find some men willing to feed an old faggot like you, especially in the dark. I’ll be watching. Or you could always kick the habit. I…weakened the original desires, as hard as that might be for you to imagine–the body’s owner wanted his slave’s body to be insatiable. It won’t be pleasant to resist them, I can assure you, but I admit I might find your strength of will to be quite arousing–though I think I’d still rather see you submit, slave. Still, perhaps you’ll surprise me–I do love surprises.”

Was this really just a game to him? Jug felt used, but he knew what he would do–he was going to fight this shit. He didn’t want this life, he wasn’t going to give into this filth. He’d fought so long, his entire life–hadn’t he? He could recall a youth where he’d struggled, but it was like someone else’s story now. Jug, on the other hand, had led a life of debauchery and excess, and just thinking and remembering all those loads of cum he’d sucked down, all those jugs of piss he’d emptied to prove his earned nickname, it was making his old cock rock hard.

But that wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. He sat down on the chair with a glass of water, and ordered some food from the tablet on the wall. He could fight this, he was stronger than any of this. He’d…prove to his master that he was different, that he’d earned his last body, that he could please him by being close to him, that he didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

VIP Package (Part 9)

WARNING: VERY DARK. Scat, incontinence, humiliation, violence.


Samuel’s first thought upon waking–as had become normal over the past week and a half–was that he needed to get fucked. But Bishop wasn’t there for him, which was a relief for many reasons, but then who would fuck him then? He looked over, and was so happy to see Jeremy–the old Jeremy–Jeremy his husband, looking like nothing had happened to them both. In fact, he realized that Jeremy looked…quite a bit like Mr. Bishop had appeared over the last week, though he’d need a bit more work in the gym to match him, and his cock would never be big enough, but that was alright, he tried to tell himself. Jeremy was just beginning to waken as Samuel rolled over, trying to coax his husband’s cock to life so he could climb on and ride it, but as hard as he tried, it remained stubbornly soft. In fact, Jeremy didn’t feel any pleasure at all from having his cock fondled, but seeing Samuel there, remembering all the horrible things he’d said, all the pain he’d inflicted, he smacked his hand away and leapt out of bed away from him.

They fought. Samuel demanded he fuck him, that he was desperate, while Jeremy kept trying to get him to grapple with the horrors they’d just been through, but his husband seemed to have no interest in anything beyond his own immediate pleasure. Samuel started shoving his own fist in his hole, berating Jeremy for being worthless as a man, and Jeremy found some micro liquor bottles in the fridge and started downing them, eager for the numbness he’d grown accustomed to over the last week to settle back in over him.

They disembarked. Each hoped that things would improve quickly–the ship had promised that they would be normal again, though it had mentioned lingering side effects. They didn’t speak all the way to the airport. Jeremy was starving, and he parked himself at a fast food restaurant and stuffed himself. Samuel tried to pull him away, tried to get him to overcome the bad habits which had been ingrained in him over their time with Bishop–not for Jeremy’s sake of course, but simply because Samuel had no desire to ever look on someone as ugly as “Gerald” had been. All he could do was criticize and berate him, which only seemed to drive Jeremy further into his gorging. In any case, Samuel needed a fuck–he found a guy on Growlr, and got plowed in the restroom–and when Jeremy learned what had happened, instead of being jealous…he found himself begging Samuel to let him eat the load in a stall, and he relented. Both felt a bit better at least, one with a full stomach, and the other with a fucked ass.

A few hours into the flight, Samuel pissed himself. Jeremy is the one who noticed, when he caught the pang of piss and started…craving the taste of urine on his tongue. Samuel was so flustered he couldn’t figure out what to do–Jeremy had to take care of him, get him into the restroom, change his pants…and suck a bit of piss from the fabric, just…just to see if it tasted as good as he recalled. To his great concern–it tasted even better.

They got home, at last, but the trauma quickly rendered them completely unable to function in work, or society at large. They had plenty of money from their stint on the ship, and so Samuel simply stopped going. Jeremy lasted a bit longer, but the quality of his work suffered from his lack of care and confidence. A math error cost the company a million dollars, and he took the blame–his severance was sizable, but the humiliation was horrific. Alone together, they soon found themselves establishing a new, hellish routine that neither knew how to escape.

Jeremy found himself as little more than a servant, unable to stop himself from obeying and catering to Samuel’s demands, which were growing more and more childish by the day. His own habits from the ship resurfaced, one by one. He drank from the time he woke to the time he passed out. He started smoking again, despite Samuel’s–or rather, Sammy, since he no longer responded to Samuel–angry and belligerent criticism of the habit, but every cruelty only seemed to make Jeremy more eager to smoke the next cigar, being sure to blow thick clouds in Sammy’s direction, the boy coughing and sputtering in anger. The one thing they could agree on was food–both of them needed a lot of it, and each began packing on the pounds. It wasn’t long before Sammy ceased to find Jeremy the least bit attractive, and Jeremy resented his husband more and more by the day. But…but he needed him. He needed someone, right? It was becoming impossible to imagine a life alone, without a…a master. That was one thing they could agree on at least–how much they found themselves missing Master Bishop. They’d each fantasize about him, discuss him, dream of him–neither wanted to admit it, but they secretly hoped they might have a chance to see him one more time, that maybe there was a way out for them yet, and their master would give it to them.

Sammy demanded Jeremy put him in diapers again, and he relented, secretly feasting on the piss and shit, unable to stop himself. Two or three times a day, he would have to find muscular men online willing to fuck or fist Sammy’s hole. On occasion, Jeremy would get to watch, and that was the closest he got to having sex with anyone. He bathed Sammy, shaved his body smooth from head to toe, he cleaned up after him, and whenever Jeremy messed something up–or even if he didn’t–Sammy would fly into a rage, beating him senseless…and whenever he did, that was the only time Jeremy’s cock would ever harden, and occasionally shoot. It was several weeks before he even noticed that Sammy had begun calling him Gerald again–and that he actually prefered that name over his real one.

Fewer and fewer men were willing to fuck Sammy soon, in part because Sammy’s standards were becoming higher and higher. When he didn’t have someone to fuck him, he would demand Gerald fuck him with a dildo, and when that didn’t satisfy, he would give Gerald a savage beating and bondage session, which was usually enough to blow off some erotic steam. Both of them found themselves longing even more for the cruise, longing for Master Bishop, longing for anything other than this new nightmare they’d been trapped inside.

Soon enough, it had been a year. While Sammy seemed to have fully embraced his authoritarian and childish persona, Gerald was beginning to sense the possibility of an end to the madness consuming him. The compulsions felt less forceful, he could almost imagine a life other than this one. He was secretly making plans to leave Sammy, to abandon him and never return, if he could help it. He knew that if he could just get away from him, he might be able to find his way back to Jeremy, to that man he’d been before all of this. He might have been a fuckup before too, but at least he wasn’t this…bearded, shit covered, stinking slob of a man. If the letter had arrived a few weeks later, he might have even escaped, but Bishop had been keeping a close eye on them this whole time, after all, and their master knew when to deliver the killing blow. All along, he’d known exactly how to get what he wanted. After all, Master Bishop’s fantasies were complicated–but not impossible.

VIP Package (Part 8)

I wanted to mention, at this point, that I’m rather heavily indebted to @vikingzombieboyfriend for this story. He has a…particular skill for writing about corrupt, abusive relationships, and it was this theme in several of his tales which helped inspire the twists of this one, as you may have been able to tell. 

I also wanted to give a warning: the final three parts of this story, today’s entry and the final two coming next week, are very, very dark. It’s one of the more horrific tales I’ve ever written actually–it easily ranks in the top five. Themes include SCAT, RUINATION, HEAVY BDSM, DIAPERS/INCONTINENCE, FURRY, AND SNUFF. Read at your own risk, as always.


Of course, neither Jeremy nor Samuel was ever truly gone; they were both idle passengers in their bodies, witnessing everything, feeling everything, doing everything, unable to resist, unable to deny their compulsions and desires and humiliating drives. Over the next week and a half of their vacation, each time either one of them, trapped in their skulls, believed that things couldn’t get any worse, that surely Bishop couldn’t conjure some further humiliation or depravity for them to suffer through, one of them would find their new selves descending to some until then unknown depth.

Over the next few days, Bishop focused his attentions on Gerald, making sure his cuckold slave properly understood his purpose and place in their dysfunctional triad. He made sure Gerald’s hatred towards Sammy was only matched by the young man’s revulsion. Jeremy, inside himself, tried to resist, but he found himself hating the young man too, hating him, because…he’d always hated him, throughout these years of their marriage. Hated his passivity, hated his banal indifference, hated how little he seemed to care about what happened between them. Now all of those feelings were so intense, and channeled every time he looked at him–it was impossible for them to not overwhelm what remained of his love. He wanted it to end–all of it. He wanted to beg his Master to throw him out, dispose of him, anything so he wouldn’t have to bear this any longer, but he couldn’t. He needed Master Bishop. Without him, he was just filth–and growing filthier. By the third day, his Master decided that his slave wasn’t…disgusting enough, and so he began serving as their toilet as well, drinking their piss and eating their shit with the same fervor he dedicated to his hours long meals each day, never even bothering to wash his face, horrified at his shit crusted image, and yet…so satisfied with himself at the same time.

It was then that Bishop turned his attentions to Sammy, and began twisting him further still. Samuel had learned to cope, had learned to deny what was happening to his body, to try and dissociate himself. If he could just convince himself that this was a dream, that one day, he’d wake up and everything would be normal, if he could just not care–with perfect indifference–perhaps he wouldn’t have to feel everything so…intensely. It was with some surprise that Bishop harnessed that, and began to turn it against him. Soon, Sammy was becoming indifferent to everyone–the only thing that mattered in the world was his own satisfaction and pleasure. Everyone else–aside from his daddy–existed to make him happy, to obey him, to please him, and if it didn’t please him, then it should be hidden. Gerald’s presence offended him more and more with each passing moment, and he found himself compelled to spout the cruelest comments he could imagine, pleased with how they stung the old cuck. It wasn’t long before he enjoyed hurling the abuse, and he began abusing everyone–especially the waiters and servants aboard the ship, but always saving the harshest barbs for Gerald. Not long after, he began to believe in his, and his daddy’s, utter superiority, and it only fueled his love for Master Bishop further.

His petulance had other effects–particularly a certain laziness when it came to various duties. He demanded that Gerald feed him before the cuck could eat himself. Watching the old man salivate over the food he shoved into the young boy’s mouth could bring him enough enjoyment to overcome the disgust he felt at the old man’s shit caked hands and beard. He found himself losing interest in controlling his bowels and bladder, and it made perfect sense, when his daddy told him he would have to be diapered from then on–after all, his precious boy couldn’t be expected to control himself. He was changed twice a day by Gerald, and the cuck would retreat to his room with the soiled linens, where he would devour the contents in private–unless his Master wanted to watch. Jeremy lost control of his emotions, he would throw violent tantrums, throw things, beat Gerald with the whips and canes from Daddy’s closet, and these beatings developed into full blown BDSM sessions–Gerald tied down while Sammy, diapered, clad head to toe in leather or rubber gear selected by his daddy, would beat and lash him, hurling abuse at him, while Bishop sat off to the side, watching, filming, masturbating his massive cock, always fucking his boy’s sloppy, shitty hole afterward, and forcing Gerald to devour the filthy slurry as his reward–sometimes making him crawl behind while he was undiapered, lapping it up from the floor, wherever Sammy’s permanently gaping hole dribbled it.

But for them both, the only thing which they were sure of, was how much they loved Master Bishop, the man at the center of their lives, at the center of their entire universe. One word of praise from him directed at one of them would cause the lauded to melt, while the other would descend into fits of jealous rage. Only one of them could possibly matter. Only one of them could be the most important. Gerald believed it was him, as the vessel for all of his master’s filth and vices, allowing his god to be utterly clean and perfect. Sammy believed it to be him, for he was the hole, the son, the being who his daddy had created–the vision of the world Bishop longed to see. As the cruise drew back towards harbor in Florida, each was certain that their Master would keep one of them and cast the other aside–that they would be the chosen one.

But true to their contracts, he could choose neither, and Samuel and Jeremy awoke back in their own cabin that final morning, in their old bodies, packed to return to their old lives, with their account credited for the cost of the cruise, as well as extremely generous stipends for them both, equal to several years of work at their already high paying jobs. But when they looked at one another for the first time that morning, they each could tell, in their bones, that nothing could ever go back to the way it had been, before they’d met Master Bishop.

True Happiness (2 of 2)


That first night together, Kyle–or rather, Ky, as he soon demanded everyone call him–learned what he’d really needed all along to be happy. He needed a daddy. Someone to hold him close, someone to fuck his tight, fat hole. Someone to change his diapers and treat him like the little baby he’d always wanted to be.

When he’d returned home, reeling from the night’s revelations, he hadn’t known what to think. One part of him kept insisting that it hadn’t been him, that he hadn’t wanted to do those things, that Robin had…been controlling him somehow. But if that was the case? Why couldn’t he stop sucking his thumb? Every time his attention lapsed, it would go right back into his mouth, and he’d suck it like…like he’d sucked daddy’s cock the night before. He was hard again, and trying to jack off, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right not being in a diaper, not having his…his daddy looming over him, helping him, telling him what a good boy he was. He soaked a pair of shorts in his piss again, and while it made him incredibly horny, he still couldn’t cum, no matter how hard he tried.

Robin called him that evening, to check in on his little boy, and hearing his daddy’s voice was enough to trigger the load which had been building all day long. He didn’t even touch himself–as soon as he heard those words, cum just spilled out into the front of his pants, mixing with the cold piss, and he realized he hadn’t even changed from his experiment earlier. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself, but he just felt so…happy. Joyous even. He chatted with his daddy, not noticing how he slipped into childish language after a few minutes, and he sent a car to bring Robin to his home, along with an overnight bag–but Robin never did leave.

Robin couldn’t leave–Ky needed him. After a week, Ky had lost all control of his bladder and bowels, forcing him into diapers all day, every day. But he was so happy. After a month, he transferred most of his wealth to his daddy, but that too, made him extremely happy. Six months later, he barely even left the house anymore–he stayed home in his room, looking quite different than earlier that year. Daddy had shaved off that hair and ugly beard, leaving his face clean as a baby’s bottom. The tattoos were for fun–and for Ky’s other role as a masked, kinky sub Robin would drag around to the city’s bathhouses when his baby had been extra naughty. But Ky was happy, at last–at last.

True Happiness (1 of 2)


“So wait–this is your limo? You didn’t just rent this for our date?”

“My own personal limo. You want some champagne? I always have some ready.”

“This is…I have to say, this is probably the strangest first date I’ve ever been on,” Kyle said, leaning forward to take the flute from Robin after he’d poured it. The two of them had gotten to chatting online, and struck up a bit of a fledgling relationship, and while Robin had dropped hints at his wealth, the sheer scope of his date’s extravagance was…surprising to say the least. Robin took a sip of the champagne, looking rather embarrassed. “I’m not quite sure what you see in an old bear like me.”

Robin was in his 50’s, Kyle in his late 30’s, and had amassed enough wealth to essentially retire. “What can I say? I like old bears. It’s hard to explain why…” Kyle was a bit on the chubby side, with a scruffy beard, button down shirt and  khaki shorts. He looked like he’d learned wealth gave him excuse to look however he damn well pleased. In fact, Robin was the first time he’d ever dated someone older than him–he’d always been one for twinks, but something about the fellow just…seemed so endearing.

“It’s a shame you aren’t happy, though.” Robin said, meeting Kyle’s eyes. The bluntness of the statement obviously caught Kyle off guard, but when he tried to look away, he found he couldn’t break eye contact with the older fellow, seated across from him. “I can tell, you’re rather…miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” Kyle said, but he was as surprised by the doubt in his voice, as Robin wasn’t.

“It’s hard to admit, I know. Wealth can be such a burden. So afraid to let anyone see the real you.” Robin moved from sitting across from Kyle to sitting beside him, pressing him up against the side of the limo with his own sizable frame. Kyle could…sense something strange was going on, but knew too little to resist. “It’s ok, Ky,” Robin said, “You can let go–just relax. Daddy’s here.”

Kyle wasn’t sure what he meant, but his body reacted it too ways. First, his thumb slid itself into his mouth, and he started sucking it, and second, he felt a warmth in his pants, as his bladder released, soaking the front and rear of his pants, and the seat of the limo with warm piss.

“That’s a good boy. Now tell your driver we’re skipping dinner. How about we go to my place?”

Hypno Me Please (Part 2)


Well? What do you think? What a difference a year makes, right?

Heh, it took two months of baby steps before I dared take him out for his first test drive–that is, before I made him take the first step down the path I’d been designing for him in my head, a path he would have never agreed to in his life. So what did I make him do? I made him cut his hair. He knew exactly what he was doing, as he went into the bathroom, powered up his razor and shaved off those beautiful locks–I watched on the cam of course, pleased beyond the belief, even if he was sobbing and furious by the end of it. I told him it made him look better, and he told me he’d never chat with me again–as if he could help it.

No, he found himself unable to resist replying to me, and if I sent a hypno file to him, he’d find himself unable to resist opening it up and watching it. He tried to tell me the files weren’t working–but the fact was, he simply hadn’t noticed what they were doing to him. He’d stopped going to the gym a month later, and look at him now–that new gut of his, those flabby arms. I’ve been considering making him gain…but I’ve had other priorities. 

See–he’s starting to like it. He won’t admit it easily, but I’m wearing him down, bit by bit. Being forced to do public cam shows for anyone who wants to watch, those new tattoos of his–and the diapers of course. I made him wear them once as punishment, and his reaction was so extreme–he sobbed for hours–that I had to make them part of his wardrobe permanently. Yes, permanently. He knows he has to wear them, but what I don’t quite think he’s noticed is how much control he’s lost over the last few months–but when I make him go a month without them, and he pisses and shits himself at work–well, he’ll be begging to be back in them soon enough. 

Still, I have a flight to catch. A little one year anniversary surprise–he gets to meet his master in person for the first time. We’re going to have so much fun for the next week, and for years to come. Oh yeah–years. What can I say? He’s worth the commitment, whether he wants it or not.

Commission – Little Critter Diaper Delivery (Part 2)

He hit send, and the diaper brought him to another orgasm. He spewed hardly any cum, his balls drained dry, but this time he seemed to float along in pleasure for ages. The diaper had stopped for the moment, and even though he was exhausted, he also felt…wonderful, somehow. Easy going. Content. Relaxed. He could feel a build up in his bladder again, but he released it without a second thought, feeling the diaper sagging down even heavier, now completely sodden and desperate for a change. Thank goodness he had someone coming over who could help him out with that. A friend…a…a daddy…even.

He lolled about on the ground for a few more minutes, until he heard a knock on the door. He needed to get that, see if it was his friend coming to help change him. Everytime he tried to get up to his feet though, he would get dizzy and topple over. In the end, he crawled over and opened the door on his knees, and found Matt standing there, a six foot three brown bear, fairly chubby, with a big gut hanging over his dress pants from work. “Hey, I came as soon as…fuck, what stinks…?” he says, and then looks down at Hux in the doorway, smiling up at him innocently, naked aside from a very, very heavy diaper and a red hanky tied round his neck. Part of him knew he should be disgusted, shut the door and walk away…but damn, did that little pup need help. Help from…from someone like him. “Looks like I got here just in time, pup,” Matt says, smirking, and steps inside.

“I’m…willy wet…would you change me?” Hux asked, one hand moving up to his mouth, shoving his thumb in and sucking on it. He’d never really realized how…sexy Matt was, actually. It sure was good of him to help him out like this.

“Heh, of course little pup, that’s what…dudes like me are for, right?” Matt said, closing the door behind him. Dude wasn’t quite the right word though, there was a better term, something else he could be… “Go on and lay down, and let’s get you out of that wet thing.”

Like nothing was strange about this situation at all, Matt got down on his knees beside Hux, and undid the side straps on the diapers, a task which had proved completely impossible earlier–not that it should surprise him. Pups couldn’t work diapers, only…only daddies. Matt pulled down the front of the diaper, soaked with piss, and took a deep sniff. “Fuck boy, ya fouled this thing up good–got my cock risin’ real good–fuck pup, what the fuck is that thing? That yer cock?”

Hux sat up a bit, feeling Matt toying with something under his gut…but it didn’t feel right. He looked down, and felt his eyes bug out a bit at the sight of his new cock between two of Matt’s thick fingers. He’d never been incredibly hung before, but now–now his cock was less than an inch long, still somewhat thick, with a small sack of balls underneath. It wasn’t particularly sensitive either…though Matt’s touch had it as hard as it could get. That…that wasn’t right though. None of this was right. “M–Matt,” he said, trying very hard not to say Daddy instead, “I think…you need to get out of here.”

“Nah, hold on, pup, fuckin’ curious now–gotta compare…” Matt said, giving a few grunts as his other hand reached down under his gut, and let his fly loose, hauling his own cock out, and his eyes showed that, inside, he was freaked out by what his body was doing, but he was helpless to stop himself. His own cock was only averaged size, about five inches, but beside Hux’s tiny pecker it looked massive. Hux moaning a bit, sucking his thumb again as…as daddy looked at their cocks together, and started rubbing his up and down, beside Hux’s cock. “Fuck pup, that thing is fuckin’ tiny. Still, I think we both know that’s not what pups really need, right?” He looked over at Hux sucking his thumb and grinned wide. His face looked…different. Usually his facial hair was well trimmed, but it seemed to be extending slightly, forming a longer beard with a few flecks of grey around the chin. His hand had left Hux’s puny cocklet, and was slipping between his thighs, pressing between his ass cheeks for his hole, and when he touched it, Hux shivered and moaned, sucking his thumb harder.

“Oh…Oh fuck, daddy…” Hux said. Half of him wanted it inside of him, the other half wanted all of this to stop, but that chunk of him was growing smaller by the moment.

“Don’t want to waste such a good opportunity, do we pup? Hux wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but Matt answered the question by rolling Hux off the diaper, onto his belly, and then mounted him, running his cock between his ass cheeks, one hand holding his thick tail back and away from the hole, before pressing the head against his chute and sliding inside. “Oh fuck pup, fuck!” Matt said, before dropping into a low growl, slamming in deep. “So fuckin’ tight, fuck! Gonna fuckin’ cum pup, gonna seed yer hole boy, make ya mine, that what ya want?”

“Oh fuck daddy, fuck, please…” Hux heard himself moan, unable to stop himself.

His own cock was spitting cum on the floor as it ground against it, but the true pleasure was in his hole. Daddy’s hole. He felt it now, as Matt let out a roar, filling up his insides, nearly as much cum as he’d filled his diaper with, feeling everything around him…settle somehow. Fall into place. Daddy kept thrusting for a moment longer, and then hauled his cock out. “Fuck…goddamn pup, that damn hole a yers…every damn time.” He heaved a few breaths, and then added, “come on, let’s get you padded up again, before you make a big mess on the floor.”

Matt laid out another diaper from the package, and Hux laid out on it obediently, still sucking his thumb, looking up at and adoring his daddy. He looked…different from earlier, somehow, but he couldn’t place it. The grubby jeans, the stained wifebeater that didn’t quite cover his entire gut, leaving a crescent of brown fur sticking out. “Alright, there’s my baby pup!” Matt said, smiling as he fastened the straps. Matt could feel his daddy’s cum seeping out his ass and into the back of the diaper, but he didn’t mind–it felt…good. Normal. The way things were supposed to be. “Damn, Daddy’s a bit tuckered after all that! Gonna get me a beer and relax a bit–how’s that sound? You can play in the den with your toys.”

Hux crawled after his daddy, and noticed that the entire apartment had…shifted, somehow. But this is just where he lived, right? Lived with his daddy of course. His big, manly Papa Bear, as he liked to call him. He spent some time playing with his dolls and trucks, and then sucked off his Daddy when he got horny again, drinking down all the cum, realizing only later that his diaper was wet again with piss. Daddy liked it though, the smell of it, so he had his pup wear it for the rest of the evening, through dinner, and into bed–Hux only taking a moment to log onto his favorite forums, and add his own positive review of Little Critter Diaper Delivery–it really had changed his life, he wrote, and he never, ever, ever wanted to go back.

Commission – The Little Critter Diaper Service (Part 1)

Hux climbed the stairs to his apartment, saw the package sitting on his doorstep, and his heart skipped a beat, his cheeks blushing red under his fur. Right there on the side of the damn box–”Little Critter Diaper Delivery”–he’d thought ordering them online would be more discreet, not less! As quick as he could, he fumbled his keys out and got the door unlocked, dragging in the large package with one paw as he stepped inside, and threw the door shut behind him. God, he hoped none of his neighbors had seen that–he was usually home from work before other people at the apartment complex, at least, so chances were his secret was still safe–hopefully.

It wasn’t something he was very comfortable with yet, but Hux…liked diapers. Liked wearing diapers. Liked pissing in them, liked…feeling like a big baby. Something about it turned him on damn much, even if the very idea of anyone knowing about his fetish was a bit humiliating. He’d stumbled across a diaper story a few years back, and his obsession had grown from there. He’d been wearing diapers on occasion for the past few months, usually for an afternoon or something, until he got tired of it and cleaned himself up, but the clerk at the store had recognized him the last time he was there to buy some, and he’d turned bright red and hauled ass out of there. He’d asked around some forums, about where he could order some quality diapers, and over and over, guys kept recommending “Little Critter Diaper Delivery,” saying that once they’d started wearing those, they’d never gone back to another brand. The users who suggested them were all regulars on the forum–he’d seen them online there all the time, so they probably were the ones to know. They added that they were great for long term wear, good for play with daddies–not necessarily things Hux was looking for…yet, but interesting to him all the same.

Now that the embarrassment was wearing off, the horniness was starting to grow. He went into the kitchen and found a knife he could use to cut the tape, opened up the box and found his order of twenty-four disposable XXL diapers. Thick diapers, he discovered as he pulled them out. He’d never bought ones that were this thick, and that actually worried him a bit. He liked cumming in diapers, mostly, but these looked like he wouldn’t even be able to feel his dick through the hefty fabric. They would be absorbent though…no wonder the guys online said they were good for long sessions. Still, what’s the worst that could happen, really? If they didn’t work, he could always just ship them back, right? He didn’t really want to go back to the store, but he’d gotten other recommendations on the forums he might try. He held them up to his waist, under his gut, giving them a bit of a stretch. They’d fit him at least–the one’s before were always a bit too small for a big boy like he was.

He stripped out of his work clothes, the khakis and his button down shirt from the dumb office job where he was working currently, tied on the hanky he liked to wear–it always made him feel like a pup, when he’d worn hankies like this all the time–and then laid out the first diaper he’d pulled out, sat down on it, and went about pulling it up around him, pulling the straps tight around him until it was snug around his whole crotch and ass, with a hole in the back for his fluffy tail. The forum was right–they were comfortable. Really comfortable in fact. Like he was sitting on a cloud, almost…so relaxing he could…could just…

It took him a few moments to realize the warmth around his crotch wasn’t just comfort–but piss. He felt like he should be freaking out a bit, but instead he laid back, feeling the warmth spread around him. He hadn’t really managed to get much piss out into the diapers before, and he’d certainly never let loose like this before! It was as good as he’d always thought it would feel, and he moaned a bit, thrusting his crotch into the air, his paws groping the fluffy diaper. Unfortunately, his earlier worry had been confirmed–he couldn’t feel his paws on his cock at all. Still…something felt good in there, almost like the wet fabric was massaging his cock somehow. He tried to push his hand down the waistband, but he must have pulled it tighter than he remembered–he couldn’t even fit his hand down there to jack off. As he tried, the sensation around his cock was intensifying–now he was certain something was going on–he sat up, the piss starting to grow a bit lukewarm, and again felt the outside of the diaper. His paws just felt fluff, but inside–it was like someone’s mouth and ass were toying with his cock simultaneously, quicker now, and with a jerk, clutching the front of the diaper, he shouted, “Fuck, I’m cumming!”

It was easily the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced, and as soon as it had begun to ebb, the diaper contracted around his cock again, sending him into another orgasm, even stronger than the last. The diaper refused to stop, milking as much cum out of his cock as it could with each orgasm, the next one beginning almost as soon as the last one ended. His paws, shaking, desperately tugged at the tabs on the sides of the diaper, but they refused to come unstuck. He couldn’t even feel the seams anymore, and another orgasm had him on his back, thrusting into the air, moaning and howling with pleasure, almost as a punishment for trying to escape.

It wasn’t long before the milking of his cock took on a different sensation, becoming less sensual and gentle, and rougher, harder–the fabric crushing against his cock and balls, squeezing and pulling them in strange, unfamiliar ways. It made his stomach ache, like he was seasick, but it didn’t stop him from cumming again and again. They were as intense as before, but growing shorter–less and less cum flowing into the now soggy, sagging diaper with each shot. For a while, he kept trying to get himself out of the diaper, but before long he’d rolled over onto his belly and was willingly thrusting into the diaper, drooling on the carpet, listening to the soaked fabric squelch beneath him, tail wagging too and fro in the air behind him.

Help–he had to get help. He can see his khakis on the floor a few feet away, and he crawls over…enjoying the sensation of the sagging diaper between his fat thighs that he cums from that sensation alone, his balls aching in their fabric cage. He fumbled through his contacts, terrified that someone was going to see him like this, but he…needed someone here with him. He couldn’t do this alone. He had a good friend who lived nearby, a coworker named Matt a bit older than he was, in his 30’s. They’d hung out regularly and he was cool with everything Hux had told him about–hopefully he’d be cool with this. He took his time, typing out a text as he panted, tongue hanging out, diaper nursing his cock gently, urging him on.

“Hey, could you come over please? I’m having a emergency, and need some help. ASAP!”