(Flash Commission) Monster Cock

Jeff saw the package sitting on the porch when he got home, got out of his car, hurried up, got it, and took it inside. He’d been waiting weeks for it to arrive, and finally, it was here. He put it on his table, opened it up, and hauled it out, turning it over in his hands, already wondering if his eyes had been bigger than his stomach, or his ass, rather. It was a custom dildo from a fellow who called his creations “monster cocks”–each one was one of a kind, and while he didn’t charge for them, getting your hands on one of them was hard as hell. The creator took applications for his work, but who received them always seemed a bit random. He said that his toys chose who they wanted to own them, but after trying for most of a year, Jeff had finally been chosen, and now, it was in his hands.

It was in his hands, and the thing was massive. Far larger than anything he’d ever taken before in his life. He had a modest collection of dildos for when he didn’t have anyone around to fuck him, and he’d always enjoyed it. Some guys he knew had suggested he start training to take a fist, and he was close to that at this point. This dildo though was thicker than most guys fists, and easily a foot long. The dildo’s skin was a dark brown mottled with tan up the shaft to the head, which had a sheath, or a foreskin, bunched up around the glans of the cock. He toyed with it, and saw that it was actually rather elastic, and could stretch over the head, even, giving it more of a sheathed look. The base of the dildo included a set of substantial balls, the sack the size of a small melon. The sack and the bottom third of the cock was actually covered with hair–running his hand over it, he couldn’t quite tell if it was real or not. It had to be synthetic, but it felt a bit like soft boar bristle–he wondered what it would feel like on the inside of his hole–if he could get it that far in, even.

Jeff tried at least. Got himself cleaned out and lubed up, warmed up with the largest dildo he had, and then gave it a go. He was just too tight–he couldn’t even get the thing in past the head. He felt demoralized, got cleaned up and onto his computer, where he saw a chat message from the dildo maker.

“I saw that the package got delivered, just wanted to make sure everything got there alright.”

“It did,” Jeff replied, “It’s bigger than I thought it would be. Don’t know when I’ll be able to take it.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. It’ll get in you faster than you think, just keep trying. I know this is the right one for you, it won’t be too long at all.”

Jeff wasn’t sure of what to make of that, but he poked around online, looking for a dildo to train with larger than the ones he had, but smaller than the monster cock, but all he could think about was the beast waiting for him upstairs, and how much he wanted it inside him. It was getting late, and he had work in the morning, so he went to bed. His dreams that night were intense, and when he woke up he couldn’t recall much of them at all, aside from a strange sensation of being stalked. That, and he woke up with the monstrous dildo in his arms, when he was certain he’d left it in the drawer with the rest of them before bed. Confused and a bit bewildered, he went to work, but found it more and more difficult to focus. At first, it was just because he was tired after his restless night, but as the day progressed, he found himself thinking more and more about the dildo waiting for him at home, and he rushed home so he could be near it again, feel it again, lube it up, and once again try and fit it inside him.

That day, after an hour, he finally managed to get the head inside his hole, and that alone was a revelation. It was a sign of progress, and Jeff kept working at it, sweating and grunting, until he was too starving and shaking to continue. He went downstairs, found a couple of steaks he’d been saving in the freezer, and cooked them both, not caring they were rarer than usual, he was just starved. He considered a shower, but felt too tired to bother, and simply went upstairs to bed, curling up around the dildo without even thinking about it. The dreams that night were no clearer, but he woke with a groan, rutting his own cock against the dildo, the sheets under him soaked with sweat and cum from what must have been a very active night. He pulled himself together as quickly as he could, not even bothering to shower, but when he headed for the door, he struggled. He couldn’t…leave it here. He bundled the dildo up and took it with him not quite sure what he was doing, but it felt instinctual. He managed to leave it in the car for most of the day, but found himself terrified someone might see it, or worse, steal it. On his lunch break, he went down, retrieved it, and struggled to resist the urge to take it out and start riding it right there in the office. He settled for taking it into the bathroom with him, licking and sucking on the head while he jacked off, horrified by his loss of control, but still unable to stop.

It was when he got home, that he noticed something was off. He hadn’t really bothered looking at himself in the mirror that morning, but in the bathroom, ready to clean himself out and try again, he saw his reflection, and just stared. He hadn’t been that hairy before, or that muscular. It wasn’t…much, really, but it was there. His clothes didn’t quite fit right, which explained some of his discomfort the day before. His beard was thicker, and when he lifted an arm up in the shower, he caught a whiff of his musk, and that was more pungent too. He didn’t have time to shower though–he hosed out his hole, skipped the soap, and was back in his bedroom, riding the dildo again, working it deeper, inch by inch, now sliding halfway down the shelf. 

He could almost feel it…throbbing inside him, trying to wriggle deeper. He couldn’t tell if it was real, or if he was just imagining it. The idea of it was so hot, though, that he kept shooting load after load of cum all over his bed and his sheets until he collapsed again, too exhausted to move. It was nearly midnight, he’d been at it for hours. He had to piss, but was too weak to get up from the bed. He released it onto the bed under him, horrified at first, but the scent of it satisfied some deep, primal need inside him, and sleep took him soon after.

The next day, he got up from the bed, sniffed his hairy pit, and before he even really realized it, he was pissing all over the carpet and the wall next to the bed. Part of him was concerned, but it was much quieter than it might have been usually. Instead, he hauled out his cock and jacked off as well–it was the only thing on his body that wasn’t larger, all of a sudden. He squeezed his way into some office attire as best he could, no longer certain why he was wearing this, why he was bothering with it. He had more important things to concern himself with, after all, but some part of him clung to that normalcy, tried to deny the drives and desires that were well on their way to overwhelming him.

He didn’t last long at the office that day. He kept sneaking away to the bathroom to masturbate, to worship the dildo, his cock, his monster cock, as he kept thinking about it. Each load that he shot did nothing to calm him down, it only seemed to drive him to more intense heights of desire. When he stepped out of the stall shortly after lunch, and saw the one of his burlier coworkers at the urinal pissing, maybe it was the smell, maybe it was the sight of his ass filling out the back of his slacks, but he went over, shoved the man up against the urinal, and rutted against his ass, grunting and snorting like some animal. The man managed to get away, and before security could get a hold of him, Jeff fled the office with the dildo, abandoning everything else, and sped home.

He wouldn’t go back there. It wasn’t safe. He was safe in his home, in his den. He had to finish, he had to fuck himself with his cock, with his monster cock. He threw himself into the task, he was so close. The dildo was warm now, he could feel blood pulsing through it, the hair no longer synthetic, but so close to the hair that beginning to sprout all up and down his own body. He only had a couple more inches to go, and He worked at it, pushing everything else out. Every time he shot a load of cum, he realized, the dildo would slide in a little deeper. His body was getting larger, yes, but he noticed at last that his balls were shrivelling, his cock dwindling. At long last he took the dildo to the hilt with a roar, and felt the monstrosity come alive, the entire thing digging deeper, screwing into his guts, his wrecked hole closing up behind him.

He felt it push out, forcing its way from his body, his human cock stretching and ripping apart as his new, monstrous cock erupted from his crotch, his massive balls coming through last and dropping, slapping against his hairy thighs. He could feel it, his new cock pumping…something through him, changing him. His teeth, already sharper than they had been, grew longer, into proper fangs, is mouth and nose distending into a furry muzzle. The hair that had been growing thicker on his body became a thick pelt of black fur, hands becoming paws with thick claws on the end, his whole body filling out with layers of muscle and fat, until he was nearly eight feet tall and close to seven hundred pounds of pure mass. He looked at his monstrous bear body in the mirror, cock throbbing and leaking, and that was the last thing he recalled clearly, as he wrapped his paws around his cock and kept stroking, kept pleasing his cock, a slave to his new sexual desires, no longer interested in anything else.

When he awoke, his body had reverted–somewhat. His room was wrecked, as were several of his doorways, but he hadn’t managed to make it outside at least. That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was what his new cock desired–and it wanted a hole to fuck. There was a knock on his front door, and much to his surprise, there on the doorstep was his old coworker from the bathroom, the one he’d rutted up against. He was shaking and sweating, muttered some excuse about needing to see him again, but Jeff knew what the man needed. He grabbed him by the collar with his clawed hand and dragged him inside, shoved him down to his knees, and pissed all over him, marking the man as his new property, or rather, the property of his cock. It would take a while to open this one up and fuck him properly, but he had no doubt that in time, he would be a perfect slave–and when he took him to the hilt, and filled him with a load of his corruptive cum, he too, would turn. He shook off the last bit of piss from his cock, and dragged the addled and horny man into the bedroom now reeking of his scent, threw him on the bed, and went to work.

Horny Hugh – Part 2

When Hugh had finished with Evan–now only known as the bar’s regular urinal–he had gone back out into the bar, his cock aching for someone to fuck. This was a rather new sensation for Hugh, whose attitude towards sex was generally ambivalent at best. It wasn’t that it wasn’t enjoyable–it was just…difficult. When you watch porn, you always saw guys behaving so naturally, without inhibition, and Hugh found himself so inhibited, all the time. He overthought everything, caught up trying to understand pleasure rather than experience it. There was…something inside him that wanted it, because he kept trying despite his general failures, but it was like he kept getting in his own way.

It just so happened that there, at the bar, was someone that Hugh wanted to fuck desperately. The man’s name was Josh, and he was just…so strikingly handsome, that the first time Hugh had seen him, he’d wanted him more than any man he’d ever met. Of course, Hugh knew he had no chance–not with a perfect man like that, and so he’d kept his distance, and his desire, in his heart. That hadn’t stopped him from fantasizing about Josh on a regular basis, his fantasies often taking turns that he would have never considered for someone else. It was like…Josh was a key to something. Or, not Josh himself (after all, Hugh had never even spoken to him before tonight, only given him the occasional unreciprocated cruise across the bar on nights they were both there) but the idea of Josh, some perfect…human object to fulfill his desires on. Perhaps that was why he had stayed away so far. The idea and the fantasy could have never matched reality, and the overthinking, inhibited Hugh knew that. Tonight, however, that inhibition was gone–and so he walked right on up to where Josh was standing at the bar, and hit on him–hard.

“Hey sexy, wanna touch my horns?” Hugh said, leaning in. 

Josh looked at him, confused, and then at the horns pushing their way out of Hugh’s head, and the look turned to disgust. “What the fuck man, it’s not Halloween for another six months.”

“Come on, I wanna fuck you.”

Josh backed up, but Hugh came around and cornered him at the bar, leering at him–until someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

“Is this guy bothering you, baby?”

Hugh spun around, and found himself looking up at a massive figure–easily six foot four, close to two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. This guy was a beast–it looked like he lived at the gym. 

“He’s just drunk, Kyle, let him go.”

Kyle stared at Hugh, and then leaned in slightly, “Leave my boyfriend alone man, he’s not interested,” Kyle said, and shoved Hugh back into the crowd, before moving in and putting one meaty arm around Josh’s waist. Hugh stumbled back and kept himself upright, but the sight of Josh with someone else gave him another feeling he wasn’t quite expecting–jealousy. Violent, vicious jealousy. Not only was the fantasy not the reality, it was so far from what Hugh had wanted that he could barely square it with the lust guiding him. The disconnect and the anger was so strong, that it broke some of whatever mental fever had come over him since his interactions with Evan over the last few days, and he pulled himself back. It wasn’t worth it, he told himself. Josh couldn’t be worth it. Some of him even believed him. But he cast one last look at Josh as he turned away, and that burning, aching lust wasn’t going anywhere, even if his mind was telling him to look elsewhere, anywhere else, for some release.

He didn’t end up having to look far.

“I’ll touch your horns, man,” someone said behind him. Hugh turned around, and saw a twinkish looking fellow grinning up at him. “What are they? Glued on? Pretty sure there’s another horn I’d like to touch too.”

Hugh leered, and leaned down a bit, letting the young guy touch his horns. He expected the same sort of rush he’d gotten from Evan when he’d touched them, but this was different. There was the same sort of sensation of Hugh diving down into the man’s head, looking around for his desires, but where Evan’s had been obvious and immediate, with this guy, there just…weren’t any. Well, there were some–a general desire to be fucked, an attraction to guys–but there wasn’t anything strong enough to hold Hugh’s interest. As he pulled away from the guy, he mostly felt a bit…disappointed. He was still horny though–almost more so, now that someone was actually interested in him. “What do you think? Like those horns? I do have another one for you, if you wanna come back to my place,” Hugh said.

The guy nodded, and they left the bar immediately. Josh and Kyle had watched the whole thing with a bit of disgust, and then went back to their drinks. That was probably the last they’d see of that weirdo, they assumed. But Hugh wouldn’t be letting Josh go that easily–and this distraction wouldn’t keep him busy for long. For Sam, however, the young man heading hope with Hugh–he was about to get filled up in ways he’d never imagined possible.


Sam got to the door of his apartment and shuddered a bit, trying to shake off that strange hookup. Hugh, that had been his name. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, as these things often did. Then he’d gotten his first good look at Hugh’s “third horn” at Hugh’s place–the cock was as heavily modded as the horns on his head must have been, in ways that Sam had never seen before. It looked like someone had implanted barbs underneath the skin, along the entire shaft. It looked…gnarly. As much as Sam enjoyed getting fucked, this wasn’t quite what he had in mind–but it became clear quickly that Hugh wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He’d dragged Sam into the bedroom, and Sam couldn’t resist him, somehow. There was…a yearning inside Sam that Hugh brought out in him, something he’d never felt before, like a desire to be filled up by something, but when Hugh had started fucking him with that strange cock, the desire hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had gotten stronger. It was like Hugh’s strange cock was making room, hollowing a space out inside Sam’s soul that he hadn’t even realized was there–and the hollower it became, the hornier Sam got, the more Sam wanted to get fucked–even as Hugh was fucking him. Hugh quit at some point without finishing, though he was still rock hard. He had just yawned, and sent Sam on his way–he was done with him. So Sam had left a few hours after midnight, that massive chasm inside him aching still, and he knew full well he wouldn’t get any relief here at home.

Sam lived with his boyfriend, Max. They had a great relationship with one sizable problem–they were both bottoms. Sam could top on occasion, but Max had a rather small cock, and zero interest in anything other than getting plowed. Sam also wasn’t really big enough for Max anyway–his boyfriend mostly got off by being fisted or using one of the massive dildos in his collection of toys. It wasn’t really Sam’s thing–so if he needed to fuck, he’d usually hookup on the weekend and Max would play with his toys alone. It usually worked out fine–but Sam needed something tonight, badly. He went inside, Max was asleep, but as soon as Sam got into the bedroom and got into bed with him, something happened. 

Max woke up, his small cock erect. Sam showed him his ass, and Max happily shoved his cock inside him and fucked him. It wasn’t large, but that didn’t matter. The hole inside his guts that Hugh had created was getting filled by something at last. He didn’t quite know what was filling it exactly, but it was so satisfying that all he could do was collapse onto the mattress and ride the wave of satisfaction until Max finished inside him, collapsed on top of him–both of them not quite sure what had come over them in the moment.

“Thanks, I needed that,” Sam said, and crawled under the covers.

“No luck tonight?” Max asked.

“No, I…it was weird. I’ll tell you in the morning,” Sam said, and it wasn’t too much longer before they were both asleep–though Sam slept fitfully all night long. The dream came on quickly, less a narrative with setting and characters than an onslaught of sensations and needs and drives that manifested inside and outside of him. Always, there was a sensation of something growing inside him, something planted in him by Max, inside the hole Hugh had dug, which was now spreading through him in ways he could barely understand. At times in the night, he would wake in something like a fever dream, humping the bed under him, desperate for release. Other times he would sleep deep, and all he would see was Hugh in the darkness around him, those horns and that cock looming in the unknown distance. Then, he was close, so close he could smell him, the scent of the bar still on him, along with something else, something primal. Then, Hugh was inside him somehow, penetrating him, but not with his cock or his horns, digging around, looking at the thing growing inside him and making little approving noises. “Good, glad someone found a use for you–I’ll check in later, see what else I can do to help…”

And then Sam was surfacing again from the depths of his dream. Blinking, he assumed that this had to be the dream still. The sun was streaming into the apartment bedroom, Max was awake and riding Sam’s cock on the bed, moaning and shuddering and groaning while he did, and Sam joined in. It felt…good. So good for someone to be using him, using his cock, yeah, oh god, he was so horny, he could feel himself on the edge, right on the verge of release, but no matter what Max did, no matter how slow or how fast he fucked up and down on Sam’s cock, release refused to come to him. Max, however, was brought to a series of shuddering orgasms as he hammered his prostate on Sam’s cock, and when he finally pulled himself free, both of them soaked with sweat, there was a puddle of precum all over the bed from Max’s cock.

“Fuck, don’t…don’t stop, I haven’t cum yet, please…” Sam moaned.

Max just smiled at him, “Why would you cum, Sam? You know that big rubber cock of yours can’t cum. That’s just how I like you–always hard, and always eager to fuck,” Max stood up and stretched, “I need something to eat though–then we can keep going.”

Sam just looked at Max, confused, as his boyfriend went into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, and then down at his cock, still slick with lube. Was this really his cock? Was it…supposed to be his cock? It had been smaller before, hadn’t it? And…and flesh? He reached down, cautiously, and touched the black rubber skin of the shaft, trying to remember what his cock had felt like before, what it had looked like before…but now, all he could think about was this…monstrosity attached to his crotch. It was thicker than a beer can, and had to be at least fourteen inches long. The shaft itself wasn’t smooth, but covered in all sorts of different textures, nubs and waves and veiny sections. It felt…good, stroking it, but not as good as it had felt inside Max’s ass. The sensation was there, but dull, but he was still achingly horny. He reached down and felt his balls, but they were as rubber as the rest of his cock, and didn’t…feel like much of anything. They weren’t important, after all. His cock was important. Fucking was important. He needed to keep fucking–if he wasn’t fucking, then….then what was he even supposed to be doing?

He got up from the bed, his massive cock tugging down on his skin, and he looked down, where the rubber met his skin–his human skin, and he could see lines of black pushing their way up into his crotch, like the roots of an infection, almost. He recognized it then–the thing that his cock was now. It was a toy that he and Max had played with on occasion, a rubber strapon, basically, that slid on over his cock and balls. Max loved it, but Sam had never gotten much out of it, really. All…all he had to do was pull it off, right? And his…his real cock would be under it?

He gripped it, but with all the lube he couldn’t pull it free. He wiped it off, pulled again, and it was like he was trying to actually pull off his cock. The distress was hitting him now, but it was still losing out against the aching need to fuck that had been clinging to him since he woke up. Max…would know what to do, right? He followed his boyfriend out into the kitchen, where he had just dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, and stood in the doorway. “Did…did you put the…cock sleeve on me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…I can’t get it off.”

“Of course you can’t get it off–it’s your cock silly.”

“No…I mean…I…” Sam stumbled over his words, and couldn’t quite figure out how to deal with Max’s response. “Can…we fuck some more? I can’t think good, I’m too horny.”

“Of course we can fuck some more hon, go wait in the bedroom.”

“Can I…just a little? Now? While you wait for your toast?”

Max sighed at him, and pulled him back into the bedroom. Sam was hopeful, but Max just sat him down on the bed, pulled something out of a drawer, and walked back to where Sam was. “Here, this ought to keep that mouth of yours occupied better. Good toys like you don’t really need mouths anyway, right?”

Sam tried to resist a bit, but Max seemed so much more domineering all of a sudden, and he forced the gag into Sam’s mouth. He saw a cock on one end of it, and expected it to go in his mouth, but instead, Max flipped it around and pushed the other side into his mouth, so that the cock was sticking out–and as soon as it settled in Sam’s mouth…something happened. He could feel the rubber expand in his mouth, almost like it was inflating–forcing his jaw wide. Then, it was more than that–he felt something…sucking on his tongue, like it was pulling it into the cock now sticking out of his mouth. He felt his teeth going numb. Then, he couldn’t feel his mouth anymore, like everything had been filled in with rubber. Max grinned at his confused boyfriend, flicked the cock sticking out of his face, and went back to the kitchen. “Now, be good and wait for me–we’ll try that out in a little bit.”

Sam felt incredibly patronized by everything Max was doing to him today, and so as soon as he left, he reached up and tried to yank the rubber cock gag from his mouth–but it refused to come free. In fact, it hurt when he tugged on it, like he was trying to yank his tongue out of his mouth. Concerned, he stood up and went to the mirror in the bedroom, and there, he saw that the rubber had…fused with his mouth, just like how the rubber cock had fused with his crotch. There were lines of black rubber reaching into his cheeks and around his nose in a rather worrying way. He gave another tug on it, but it was no use. He felt…lost. He was so horny, but he didn’t know what to do with any of this, so he just sat down on the bed and waited for Max to return. Maybe…after Sam fucked him and came, everything would go back to normal. He did want to cum so bad, and he’d been so close before. Everything…everything would be alright if he could just finish, right?

It was twenty minutes before Max came back, and Sam could barely contain himself. His boyfriend climbed up on the bed, ass towards him, and told him to use that new mouth of his–Sam pushed the cock into Max’s hole, and discovered he could…taste still. The rubber cock was almost like a tongue, and the deeper he probed, the hornier he became. He could feel his cock-tongue throbbing, aching for release, but it never came–instead, over the next hour as he fucked Max’s ass, it just seemed to swell, growing longer and thicker, sliding further and further into Max’s ass, bringing him to orgasm after orgasm, while Sam was left aching for release–any release at all, but his groin-cock was dull in his hands, no matter how he stroked it. Max finally had had enough, and pulled himself free–and Sam was left with his new cock-tongue–all two feet of it, hanging down to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s a hot fucking tongue of yours,” Max said, as he laid back on the bed, coated in a sheen of sweat, still shudderning a bit from his deep fuck. “You’re the hottest fucktoy in the world, you know that?”

Sam tried to make a sound, but nothing came out–it was like his throat had started sealing itself up–he could still breathe…but it was a struggle. Even then, he didn’t feel weak, if anything, the ache only made him more desperate. He couldn’t even beg, couldn’t do anything but watch as Max proceeded to ignore him, pick up his phone, and start texting a few of his friends. After a few minutes, with Sam still kneeling at the side of the bed, Max stood up and got dressed in some clothes for clubbing. Sam looked out the window, and realized it was already getting dark–how long had he had his massive tongue buried up Max’s ass today?

“I’m gonna grab some dinner with a couple of friends, then hit the club. I’ll see you tonight, fucktoy, if I don’t get lucky otherwise.”

That was all Max said to him, and then he left, leaving Sam kneeling in the dark bedroom, trying to will himself to stand up…but what did it matter? It wouldn’t make the ache go away. There was nothing to fuck anywhere here. Still, he did it, floundered in the dark, and finally found his way to the bathroom, where he looked at himself in the mirror.

The infection was worse now. The rubber was spreading over most of his hips, and even around to his ass. A good chunk of his face was webbed with black veins as well, even down onto his neck. It was changing things–his nose was…sealing up. No wonder he was struggling to breathe. What little hair he had on his face had fallen off, and when he touched it with his hands, it was…cold. Not exactly cold, but it was…rubbery cold, like there was still flesh below it, but too deep to feel easily. 

He needed to get help. Look at him! He had a massive rubber cock, and a proboscis like cock hanging from where his mouth was supposed to be. But where could he go? The hospital? What would they even make of something like this? A friend’s place? No–no one could see him looking like this, it was too humiliating, knowing that Max was slowly turning him into a rubber fucktoy, and there was nothing he could do about it at all. God, if he was here right now, he…he’d fuck him real good, maybe fist him, even. He was still so horny, but touching his cock only made it worse, because it felt like nothing. His hands were worthless–the only thing that could make him feel good, the only thing that gave him any purpose at all, was a hole. He went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed again, resigned to the fact he would simply have to cope with being horny until Max returned to use him, and zoned out a while–until he heard a knock on the door.

He paused–should he answer that? No–of course he shouldn’t answer that. Not…not looking like he was. 

The knock came again, and after a moment, Sam…felt something, or heard something, in his head. Words, or feelings, or something between the two. He might have translated it as, “I know you’re in there, Sam. I just want to see if I can help you more. You don’t have to be afraid of me, let me in.”

The knock returned, a bit more firm, and still a bit unsure of himself, Sam got up, went to the door, and opened it up–and Hugh stepped inside from the hallway outside his apartment. “Oh my, look at you! Looks like someone definitely found something to fill you up with. I wasn’t quite sure that would work last night.”

Sam stared at him, realizing that this strange, horned man was to blame for this. That he had…done something when he’d fucked him, and then…and then Max had done something else. He tried to speak, but not a sound came out–Sam realized he wasn’t even breathing. That he didn’t even miss breathing. Hugh reached out and grabbed Sam’s cock-tongue, giving it a tug like he was testing it, and then wrapped it around his hand. “Yes, this is much better now, I think. Come on, let’s go play a bit–I hoped I might get to meet the guy who filled you up, but this is good too.”

He gave a tug on Sam’s proboscis, like a leash, and led him back into the bedroom, all the while Sam trying to figure out some way to ask him all of the crazy questions going through his head–mostly wanting to know how he could get fixed, how he could change him back. He…was here to change him back, wasn’t he? He had to be, of course. In the bedroom, Hugh pushed Sam onto the bed so he was lying on his back, and climbed on top of him, rubbing his horns against Sam’s torso, and he…felt it. That same eerie sensation he’d felt back at the bar, of Hugh rummaging around inside of him, looking for something. Before, it had felt like Hugh was wandering around an empty room inside of Sam–but now, even Sam could tell the room was no longer empty. All of Max’s desires had been pumped into him–and taken root inside of him. He was relieved, for a moment, when he felt Hugh pulling on them, tugging them…forward. Forward, and hopefully out of him, but Hugh wasn’t removing them, he was making them bigger, and finding some intriguing things that Sam had developed on the way.

“Oh, what a mean man,” Hugh said, still rubbing his horns on Sam’s body, “He made you so horny all the time, but no way of releasing any of it. I know how that goes–I get so horny, if I couldn’t cum…I don’t know what I would do, really. So selfish. We can fix that, we can fix so many things, don’t you worry…”

Hugh pulled away at last, and Sam was left gasping–or trying to gasp, before he recalled he couldn’t breath anyway. But something was happening in his chest, like he had to cough, force something out, or vomit, and with something like a gag, he felt a…fluid slide out of his chest and down the long shaft of his tongue-cock, until a black, rubbery ooze seeped out of the end. Hugh leered at him, gave his massive groin-cock a stroke, and he felt the same thing, coming from the same…place, even, and his cock leaked the same goopy stuff. It felt…it felt amazing, like every expulsion was a mini orgasm, and while Hugh jacked his cocks, Sam found himself spreading the goop all over himself, coating his body with it, feeling it spread out in an even film and permeate his skin.

 “That’s it, we need to cover all of that skin up, don’t we? You don’t need it anymore–better to just be rubber, inside and out. Let me see what I can find to help…”

Hugh got up, twisting and contorting his head a bit as he looked around the bedroom, almost like he was honing in on something, using his horns to guide him. They led him right to Max’s drawer full of rubber and toys, and Hugh dug around, fishing out a few things. First, an industrial rubber glove he put on Hugh’s right left hand, and then coated with the gunk, trapping it as a fist. Sam added more and more coats of his rubbery cum to it, watching it get…bigger, and thicker, his entire arm picking up more and more muscle as he covered it with rubber–until Hugh pulled his other hand away and put a different glove on it.

This one Hugh had seen before, and played with a bit. Each finger and thumb of the glove was textured differently–one a corkscrew, one covered in nubs, another shaped like a normal cock, and so on–to give the bottom a variety of sensations. As soon as the glove was on, Sam felt it fuse with his skin, and the five fingers came alive, the bones in them melting away, scooping up more and more rubber, growing larger, and longer, and thicker. He could feel some sort of vein or network sliding down his arm and into his chest, hooking up with whatever reservoir was pumping out this rubber, and soon even more was flowing from his five prehensile fingers. Lastly, a pair of rubber waders on his feet, securing around his knees, fusing, more and more rubber flowing around them, all over his entire body now, Sam growing larger and larger, more and more muscled while Hugh admired his handiwork. His face was last, rubber flowing over his eyes, blinding him, but Sam didn’t need eyes anymore–he could…sense what really mattered now, he could feel the holes around him, Hugh’s two holes, in fact…but those weren’t his. No, he…there was one last thing that Hugh needed to do for him, and Sam turned around, bent over the bed, and presented his ass to him.

“That’s a good fuckdrone,” Hugh said, and lined his cock up with Sam’s rubbery asshole. “It’ll be an honor to be the last man to ever fuck you.”

Sam would have said groaned when Hugh thrust into him, but he couldn’t make a sound. All he could do was keep spewing his rubbery cum all over the bed, feel it slick up underneath him, turning the sheets themselves rubber, while Hugh fucked him with his barbed cock. It didn’t…hurt his body, exactly, but Hugh was tearing through…something. His identity, or what remained of it. His humanity. His self-conception, his awareness. Each thrust was like a dagger in his mind, cutting out a bit more of him, until there just wasn’t anything left. Just…urges and needs. A need to fuck, but also, a growing need to…to feed. It was hungry, wasn’t it? But what was it going to eat? Hugh came, and like Evan before him, Sam felt everything inside him suddenly lock into place. It knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t change again. That it was itself now–it was exactly what it was supposed to be–a solid rubber fuckdrone. A…a hungry, solid rubber fuckdrone.

Hugh pulled his cock free of the drone’s ass, and the hole sealed up behind him, disappearing entirely–the drone knew it would never be fucked again. It no longer had any holes to fuck. That wasn’t its purpose, or its design. Hugh felt better now, his own horniness sated somewhat. He had been aching since fucking Sam the night before, when he hadn’t been able to cum. He could only…make space. Then, that odd dream, where he’d seen Sam, and then this morning, he’d…known he had to find him, and somehow, he’d followed his horns, and his cock, and found him easily enough. Now though, he was finished. The drone stood up, its featureless face turning towards Hugh, all of his cocks leaking everywhere, rubber spreading all over the floor and bed, and Hugh found himself bored. He could wait, he suppose, until the man who had filled Sam up returned to find his new, finished, fuckdrone…but Hugh was pining for something else. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Josh. This had been a good distraction, and Hugh had learned a lot, but he didn’t feel satisfied by it. It was not what he needed. He was angry at Josh’s boyfriend, over how rude he’d been to him, as well. He’d never have Josh to himself, not until Kyle was dealt with–and after this, Hugh had a few ideas for how that might happen. So Hugh left, and the drone took note of him leaving, but it couldn’t leave. It had to wait. Wait for…for Max. To come home.

It didn’t really know time. It only knew hunger, and as it waited, that hunger grew. It was not a hunger of survival, exactly. The drone knew it would not die, no matter how hungry it became. But it needed to consume something, all the same. It was a hunger of purpose…but it also knew, somehow, that it’s reservoir of rubber, which it had been excreting almost constantly, was not…unending. Hunger would fulfill a purpose, but it would also refill its supply. 

Max didn’t return that night. He had gotten lucky and gone home with someone. He didn’t come home until the morning, and he could…smell something, a rubbery smell all through the apartment, and there, in the living room, was the drone, waiting for him, eager for him, hungry for him, and before Max could do anything, the drone was on him, doing everything it was designed to do. Everything Max had desired, and even more than that. The drone pushed it’s fat fist up Max’s ass, driving it in, giving no heed to Max’s pleading, begging for the drone to stop, to now fist it, that it was going too fast. It lifted him up, the rubber drone impossibly strong, so Max was hanging on the air, sitting on the drone’s arm, squirming and trying to get off, but unable to get any leverage. The drone was hungry, so hungry, and now it knew what it would feed on. This man, Max, had something it could use. It would help him. Soon, Max would never have to do anything other than get fucked ever again.

The drone’s long proboscis slid down to Max’s small cock, opened up its mouth, and slid over it, clamping down. Max felt it both sucking at it forcefully, and also pushing deeper, driving into his groin. It was painful, he screamed, but the drone could not hear the screams, nor would it have cared if it could. It was feeding. It was sucking, drawing everything out of Max’s groin that it could, sucking it down, converting it into its own rubbery muck. After a few minutes, when Max had screamed himself hoarse, the drone withdrew its proboscis–though it didn’t let the man down, not yet–and with a shaking hand, Max felt his crotch. His cock, his balls–it was all gone. In its place, a rubbery pucker, a…another hole. The drone relaxed it’s arm and dropped Max onto the couch, then replaced it with his massive cock, now pumping out rubbery gunk that coated Max’s hole, letting the massive member slide right inside. Max felt the hole stretch–but then…he felt almost a numbness as the rubber goo slicked the inside of his hole–and then, pleasure. Different pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure. Max moaned in delight, while Max’s five dicked hand slid up to his face, two forcing their way down his mouth, pumping more rubber into his throat, down into his stomach, into his lungs, and the thumb and pinky cocks wrapped around his head, drilling into his ears, middle finger into his nose, all of them pumping rubber into his head, coating his brain, making it smooth. Making it rubber, making it perfectly obedient.

Soon, Max didn’t worry about any of this. Max was barely thinking at all, in fact. It spent the next long hours in service of the fuckdrone, coating himself in it’s rubber, forming his skin into a black rubber catsuit, perfectly shiny, though his face remained human–mostly. A human face could be useful, for now. Once the fuckdrone had enough to eat, then Max’s face could go away too. The drone was hungry again, its rubber running thin now, dribbling from its cocks instead of gushing forth. That was no problem though. Max had lots of friends who liked to get fucked, after all. He called them, invited them over for an orgy, telling them he had a great new toy for all of them to play with. The drone was pleased–it wouldn’t be hungry for a long time, now. Max was happy now too. Now, all he needed was to get fucked–it was the only thing he was good for, anymore, the only thing that made him happy. He liked being happy. He would make all his friends happy. He would make any man he found happy too, happy to be fucked by his drone.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 3)

Jim went down stairs, his first cigarette of the day already half finished, and made himself breakfast. At this point, he was devouring two pitchers of gainer shake each morning, and even that wasn’t quite enough to have him feeling totally full anymore. He was sure it was only a matter of time before the company would increase it yet again.

As he set down the second pitcher and wiped his face, he saw the envelope on the counter, which had been empty before–he was certain. He could just…ignore it, couldn’t he? But his shaking hands reached out and picked it up anyway. Inside, was another note from New You Resolutions:

Happy four month mark!

We here at New You Resolutions are so proud of you, Jim, for sticking to your resolutions this year. We’re so impressed, in fact, that we’ve decided to reward you with some new ones! First things first:

— I resolve to make some changes to my appearance. I’m going to stop cutting my beard, grow more body hair, and make myself look 20 years older.

Why don’t you head into the bathroom and get started.

Jim just stared at the note, and fought the urge to cry, or scream, or anything really. Anything other than what he did, which was finish his cigarette in a couple long draws, put it out in his kitchen ashtray, and then head into the bathroom, where he found a good chunk of his grooming supplies had been replaced. This was one of the few aspects of his life that hadn’t been touched by the last set of resolutions, and even as he gained weight, and watched his cock, balls, and tits swell and stretch, at least he could still shave, still shower, still trim his hair down. But that was over now, he realized. First, a hair growth serum that he applied all over his body–even on his back with a special applicator. It made his skin tingle, but he didn’t see any results right away. The new shampoo on the other hand…one application, and when he rinsed it out, he was horrified to see that his hair was now flecked with grey–and that his hairline had receded a few millimeters as well. The serum was applied across his face as well, and by the time he left the bathroom, a thick five o’ clock shadow had appeared across his face and double chin. His tasks completed, he headed for his office, where yet another envelope was waiting for him:

You didn’t think that was all, did you? Here’s a few more:

— I resolve to smoke cigars instead of cigarettes from now on.

— I resolve to start injecting my cock and balls with silicone, and make them as large as possible.

You’ll find everything you need right here.

Sure enough, the usual packs of cigarettes that appeared next to his keyboard were gone, replaced with a wood humidor. He opened it up, pulled out a cigar, cut it, and lit it. He inhaled right away, and coughed–the rough cigar smoke a bit much for even his seasoned lungs, but his body refused to not suck down all the smoke it could. After that, he found the silicone. That was a more delicate operation, but after an hour or so, he was done–10 ccs of silicone in his cock, and 20 ccs in his ball sack. They were swollen and tender–so much so that he couldn’t pump his cock like usual. He couldn’t even touch it really. Worried about what he would do next, he saw another envelope appear.

With your new injections, you’ll need a new way to get off too, probably. It’s time you let some other people in on your new you too, Jim.

— I resolve to train my ass with dildos until I can one at least the size of a fist.

— I resolve to start live streaming my jack off sessions over the internet and posting them on the internet.

“No…No no no…” Jim muttered to himself, but he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t stop any of it. There was a dildo there on his desk he hadn’t noticed. It seemed…large, to him, but then, he’d never had anything in his ass before. Everything would seem large to a newbie. He lubed it up and started working it into his hole, only noticing after a few minutes that a webcam was attached to his computer, already streaming his virgin fuck to the entire internet. 

Again, the months wore on, and Jim adjusted to his new commandments as best he could. The cigars were easy enough, once he got used to the stronger smoke. After a few more months, he barely recognized himself in the mirror anymore, however. The beard grew in impossibly quick with the help of the serum, and after four months, it reached the top of his substantial belly. The hair had filled in thick as well, and was just as grey as everything else. There was no doubt in his mind anymore that he was in his sixties. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d looked…young. Even the photo ID in his wallet that he’d checked a few weeks before bore his new image. His new age. His new weight, just a few pounds shy of 500 at this point, and his freakish cock and balls just looked like another misshapen blob of fat hanging off his body, until you got closer. There was so much silicone in them that he couldn’t get much sensation anymore–instead, he’d found that his ass was a much easier way to reach his orgasm requirement each day. The dildos he’d thought were so big at the beginning were now so small to him. After four months of daily training, he could take one a bit larger than his own fist without too much trouble, and riding it hard, he could bring himself to an anal orgasm easily enough. His fans…loved that. Seeing this obese, hairy, sweaty pig, chuffing on a cigar, screaming and groaning as his prostate siezed inside his ass while a massive dildo pounded into him…he hated how much he loved their attention. He was craving more though. He wanted…a real fist inside him. He wanted someone with him, he was so lonely.

Eight months into the year, there was another envelope, and Jim found that New You Resolutions had been thinking the same thing. It was time for Jim to resolve to find a partner–but who does he end up with?


Here’s the next poll! This one only has four options to it, and you can pick two of them. The public poll is below, and the patreon poll can be found over here!

Sketch: Greg Meets The Orc

It had shown up on Greg’s doorstep one day. A package, no shipping label or address, with just his name written on it. Wondering if it was from one of his neighbors in the apartment building or something, he took it inside his place, opened it up, and just stared at the thing in the box, trying to figure out what, exactly, it was. It was big, for one thing. Big, and…green, mottled, or almost looking a bit like a camo pattern. He picked it up–it was made of rubber, or maybe silicone…and it felt…good in his hands, somehow. Almost warm, if that made sense, or like there was a little whisper of delight, the feeling after a parent pats you on the head and tells you that you did a great job. Then he realized what, exactly, he was holding, and he dropped it with a shudder.

It was a cock. Not a real cock, of course. It was a dildo, a freakishly large dildo, slightly larger than a beer can at its thickest point. Easily a foot long, the shaft almost bulbous, the head thick and flared, with PA in the head, two balls below it–all of it in the same dingy green pattern. All he could think to do was go wash his hands, but it didn’t do anything to get rid of that…sensation, from when he’d touched it. Greg was straight after all. He’d had girlfriends with toys, though nothing like this, and he’d never touched them. This…wasn’t for women anyway. Somehow, he knew this was for…men. For gay men. It was also meant for him, but that couldn’t be right. He would never touch something like this again–in fact, he was going to throw it out, and forget this ever happened.

Except he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away. He looked on the internet, saw how pricey these sorts of things were, and thought he might as well resell it…but he found it hard to do even that, for some reason. It just sat in the box on his side table. He would look at it before and after work, and all he could think about was that it seemed…lonely. It was a thing–things didn’t feel loneliness, but he…maybe if he touched it more, it wouldn’t…feel that way.

It was irrational. He felt like he was going a bit insane, but he was certain. The toy was lonely. It wanted his company. It wanted him to…to touch it. Not even put it inside him (not that he would ever do that) just…for him to hold it. One day after work, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he plucked it out of the box, took it with him to the couch, and sat with it touching him while he watched TV–and he was sure now. The toy…was happy, and he…he was happy too, wasn’t he? It felt good to touch it, good to spend time with it, made him feel horny, being with it…

Greg didn’t know how the idea came to him. It felt like his own, but he wasn’t sure. He went to his computer, sat down, toy between his legs, his own cock pressing against it, and he started watching porn. But the dildo didn’t want his straight porn–no, that was disgusting. It wanted…leather. Big, muscular leather men, tall muscular brutes dominating other men, sweaty smelly alpha men…Greg was lost in the videos, grinding his cock against the dildo between his legs, humping it until he came in a massive climax more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. He took the dildo with him to bed, no longer feeling the least bit weird about this, licking and sucking at the head, and the dreams…he had such strange dreams.

It got harder and harder to be away from the toy. Or from the Orc, as he’d started calling it, or maybe that was just its actual name. Why wouldn’t it have a name? It had feelings. Desires. Thoughts. He could almost hear it now–its voice. Rough and deep and guttural. But The Orc didn’t need to speak for Greg to know what it wanted…even if what it wanted seemed…extreme.

It wanted Greg to quit his job. Wanted Greg to spend all of his time with him. Wanted him to focus on working out, wanted him to wear leather, wanted him to jack off all over himself all day long. Wanted him to stop showering and stop shaving. He resisted for a while, but more and more, his time away from The Orc was…painful. It was hard to focus at work. He was short tempered and angry. Finally–he’d had enough. He quit without notice, planning on living off his savings, and spending time with what really mattered–with the Orc.

That was a couple of years ago now. Greg hardly ever leaves his apartment for anything anymore–after all, he has everything he needs right here. He wakes up, cradling The Orc close to him, and spends an hour worshipping it, cleaning it with his tongue, before beginning his routine for the day. First, breakfast–high protein–then his workout. He sets The Orc on its seat, flexes for it, showing off his body for The Orc’s pleasure, and then works out–after two years, Greg hardly looks like the slender, lean fellow from before. He’s massive–nearly 280 pounds of almost pure muscle from head to toe. He works out naked usually, or if The Orc prefers, in one of his leather harnesses, all of then custom made for his size. After a workout, if The Orc is pleased, he gets to cum–grinding his cock against The Orc until he cums all over the dildo and licks it clean again, before lunch–and then he usually spends the rest of the day doing whatever the toy wants. Sometimes they watch porn and jack off. Sometimes he puts on leather and toys with himself for the dildo’s pleasure. Sometimes, there are special days too–days like today.

Today, someone is coming over, and that means…The Orc needs to be inside him. It took a lot of training to get to this point, and Greg is proud of how well he did, training his hole up, so he would be worthy of holding The Orc inside of him. He spends a moment lubing up the massive toy, and then squats over it–it takes close to half an hour before his ass closes around the base, feeling The Orc’s balls against his own…and then it happens–Greg opens up his mind just as wide as his ass, and he feels the dildo slide deeper inside him–and then, he isn’t Greg anymore.

Now, he is The Orc. He grunts, and strokes his cock for a moment, happy to have a body for a while, though he knows that it can’t last forever. There’s a knock at the door, and The Orc answers it–it’s a young man, quivering a bit in the doorway–and The Orc leers at him, grabs him by the collar, and drags him inside. Greg watches from inside his body, as The Orc ravages the boy, feeling his own cock sliding in and out of the young, tight hole, but feeling more pleasure at the pleasure of his Master. In the end, it turns out that he is little more than a vessel for The Orc’s desires. It…terrifies him, sometimes. The Orc…wants his body for real, but isn’t sure how to make it happen, but there are…stories. In any case, it doesn’t matter what Greg wants, does it? The Orc cums, filling the boy up with his seed, and holds him for a while, letting the boy worship his musky, stinking, muscular body, and then sends him on his way–the boy leaving a few thousand dollars on the nightstand. After that, The Orc leaves him again, sliding back out of his hole, and Greg is back. He cleans The Orc dutifully, and then it is time for dinner, and time for bed. Tomorrow is a new day, after all, and a vessel’s work is never done.

Holiday Curses – Thanksgiving (Part 2)

The results of the polls were pretty clear on the winners, so I went ahead and wrote the next chunk early!


“Hey John, why don’t you come with me for a second, there’s something I’d like to show you,” Mark said.

“Faggot, what the fuck could you possibly want to show me? Your dick?” John said, not really realizing that his body was standing up from the couch and coming closer to his youngest brother.

“John, where you going? It’s the middle of the quarter!” His father said.

“None of you need to worry about it–you’ll get your turn soon enough. For now, dad, go turn off the appliances in the kitchen–I don’t think any of you will be getting your thanksgiving meal tonight. Then, all of you just keep watching your precious football, and don’t disturb me, or do anything stupid like try and get help. Just watch TV, and wait until it’s your turn.”

The unease on John’s face spread to the rest of them, as his dad got up and realized his wife had left without him even noticing, the dinner half cooked. When he came back, John and his faggot son Mark were gone, disappeared into the back rooms of the house, but he couldn’t do anything but sit down with the rest of the men and keep watching the game, none of them understanding what, exactly, was going on.

In the bedroom where Mark led John, however, he began to get an idea–there, on the bed, was some strange stuff–a gas mask, some dirty looking clothes, a massive cigar, and a…really, really large dildo (in reality, it wasn’t that large, but John lacked much context in this arena, and wasn’t particularly large himself). “You really are some fucking faggot! What the fuck is this shit?”

“You know John, all these years, you’ve taken such good care of yourself,” Mark said, “Lording it over everyone else. Well you know what? I happen to think that vices are healthy–and that it’s high time you pick up a few. Get undressed, sit down on the bed, and put that gas mask on.”

He struggled now, harder, but his body couldn’t resist the compulsion to take off all his clothes, sit down on the bed and pick up the mask, not noticing the chalk circle he crossed over, a circle that Mark sealed with a drop if his blood behind them both, as he followed him in, feeling the crackle of power around them. This was a curse of threes, and of vices–he’d already imbued the items with the power–now, all he had to do was use them–or make John use them, rather.

John pulled on the mask, and then Mark cinched it tight, ordering him to not remove it until the next morning came. Then, he took the dirty underwear and socks, and shoved them down the tube connected to the mask, and whispered the first incantation. Inside the mask, the stench overwhelmed him, and Mark could see his older brother’s eyes dilate with excitement. “Smell that bro? You don’t know what that jockstrap and those socks have been through, but you sure to do love it. Look at how hard that pecker of yours got already, and we still have two to go.”

The smell was rank, like the nastiest locker rooms of his youth, but Mark was right–it was like something in his mind had been rewritten, and now the stench of unwashed man musk was…thrilling. He huffed harder on the hose, while his brother cut the cigar, plugged the end of the tube, making it hard to breathe, and lit it, speaking the second incantation as he did. The smoke poured into the mask, and he had to inhale it–not that he minded after the incantation finished. In fact, he craved, feeling his head go light, and his stomach go queasy, but he…he needed the smoke.

He was horrified–he hated smokers, and he struggled on the bed, trying to fight Mark off, but a couple of words froze him in place, and Mark just laughed at him. “Now now, John, I can tell you’re loving this. Fuck, I remember when I came home smoking those cigarettes one year, and you flipped your shit! Now you’re going to be smoking so many cigars a day–you fucking hypocrite. How’s that smoke taste with that grungy funk in there? It’s probably fucking ambrosia to you right now–well just wait, things are only going to get better from here.” He shoved the end of the tube with the cigar in it into John’s hand. “Now be careful–you don’t want to lose your cigar, do you? Now get up on the bed, on your hands and knees, ass at the edge.”

His brother, shaking now, and careful to keep the cigar in the tube, got up and assumed the position as his brother ordered, eyeing the dildo on the bed beside him. Fuck that though–his brother needed a taste of the real thing first–raw. Mark dropped his pants, his cock rock hard, and pressed the head against his brother’s hole. “Think of this as a warm up–besides, I’ve been looking forward to popping your cherry, bro.”

John struggled, but there wasn’t anything he could do–he was locked in position as his little brother fucked him for a few minutes–but since he didn’t say the incantation…he didn’t want it. John felt his orgasm coming, and as he shot, he spoke the incantation, feeling is brother start to push back to his thrusts, and when he was finished cumming, he pulled out, and slammed the dildo into the hilt, his brother screaming in pain–and need. Mark stepped back, breaking the circle and unsealing the spell–and watched his brother reach around, grip the dildo, pull it out…and then plunge it back in of his own accord, over and over again.

The desires will fade somewhat, but the next hours, until dawn, were crucial. The more he stuck to his vices now, the harder they would stick after dawn, when the spell lost strength entirely. “Here bro, too keep you well supplied through the night,” Mark said, and set a pack of cigars on the nightstand, along with a cutter and lighter. “Oh, and if you need some variety…” he opened the drawer, and revealed a set of dildos, different sizes, some that vibrate, “that should keep you busy all night long, I think. Be good now, and do what you want to.”

With that, Mark left his brother in the room, and returned to the living room. “Alright Isaac,” he said to his cousin, “Your turn.”

The men on the couch could hear something happening to John in one of the bedrooms, but they hadn’t been able to do anything to get up and stop watching the game. Isaac tried to make a break for the door, when he found his body free, but he found himself following his cousin back into the bedrooms.

Isaac’s curse was a bit more…complicated. Called the curse of the imago, it was about freeing the inner impulses of the target from within, taking off the outer layers of the self, and revealing the true self with in. The results could be…freakish, but Isaac had figured out a solution for that already. Isaac had always been good about hiding himself behind a facade–but what sort of self is he hiding, that Mark wants to reveal?


  1. Issac has always been a violent brute, though he doesn’t look like it.
  2. He’s a lazy glutton, but none of what he eats shows on his waistline.
  3. He’s a sex obsessed pig, with a clean cut appearance on the outside.
  4. He’s a sycophant for Mark’s brothers, always enabling their abuse.

Here’s the public poll

Here’s the patron only poll

Voting ends early next week!

“Daddy, I’m home!” Sammy said, shutting the door behind him. He dropped his backpack by the door, took off his shoes, and then started pulling off the rest of his clothes as he walked through the house, towards the TV den. “Sorry I’m home late daddy, traffic around the university was a nightmare.”

He stripped off his pants as he entered the den, where his daddy was on the couch, longways on his forearms and knees–where he was required to be as soon as the clock his 4:30 and his boy might be home. He had three dildos balanced across his flat back, and a tub of crisco at the top of his ass. He was sweating slightly from the exertion of holding the position, but nothing had fallen today. Too bad–Sammy had felt his daddy was getting too cocky lately, so he’d have to devise something else to knock him down another few pegs. The three dildos were sizable, but none were as large as Sammy’s ten inch cock, which he released from his underwear, half hard and already leaking. Sammy had banned toys bigger than his tool from Daddy’s house–but perhaps it was time for Daddy to take something larger than even his cock.

He went through their usual routine. Daddy kissed his cock and thanked his boy for choosing him as his daddy–said through gritted teeth, as always. Still, he said it–he’d learn to like it eventually–they always did. Sammy had only been training this daddy for a few months, since arriving here to attend school. Daddy had tried to pick him up at a bar, but had ended up on the receiving end instead. After paying tribute to his boycock, they started on the dildos. Daddy tried not to let on how good it felt, having his hole plugged, but like all of them–the more they had their boy inside of him, the more they needed to be filled. The poor daddies he’d left back home when he’d left for school–miserable, desperate creatures, all of them. He’d made them all life sized casts of his cock as souvenirs, but nothing could match the real thing.

Finally, after all three dildos in sequence, Sammy slid into his hole with no resistance. Daddy tried to fight back, but after two thrusts he was gone–his cock spewing cum, eyes vacant, drool flowing from his mouth as his boy rode him. Perhaps it was time to branch out–this daddy, he was thinking, could be a fist daddy. And so the boy started speaking to him in his trance, telling him that he’d always want his boy’s cock, but also his boy’s fists–and the fists of any man his boy took a liking to. Yeah, when daddy has to beg men at the bar Friday night to fist his hole, Sammy had a feeling he wouldn’t be feeling so cocky anymore.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 5)

Jules didn’t like the sound of that. “Why? Are you just going to keep me here? As some fucking freak for you to play with?”

“Oh goodness no, you’re pretty much used up at this point I’m afraid. Testing is always better on a fresh canvas–I can get a better feel for the effects. That said, I can’t just keep you here–I’d be drowning in you fucks before too long, with the amount of testing I have to do to get these models ready for production. Still, you’re not completely worthless at this point, so don’t feel too bad. You can still test one of the biggies.”

“The biggies?”

“Oh yeah–these ones are real impressive. Some of my best work! Not entirely sure I’d be able to pull them off, when Arctos asked me for them, but they actually work quite well at this point. Now, you’re going to get a rather special one–a new combo I’ve worked out just last week, and I’m excited to see how it works.” He walked back to the wall, and returned with a sizable shaft, this one with a rather uneven texture, and colored a dirty, greenish brown. It didn’t look particularly appealing, and he certainly didn’t want it going in his ass at all. “What in the world does that thing do?”

“This one? Well, this is the grand finale! It’s part of a new line I’m calling assbreakers–it’s got two mystery flavors inside as well, which you’ll discover soon enough. Still, it’s late, and I’m tired, so let’s get this thing in you, and see if it works how I hope it will.”

“No, look, please–I don’t want to change anymore! You can have the money, just…I don’t know, don’t do this to me again.”

“Sorry Jules, but this is the last one. You’ll love it too–or at least, you should by the time we’re finished with it.”

“But I don’t want–” he grunted, as the thick shaft pushed into his loose hole. It wasn’t as large as the massive one had been, but when the taste flooded his mouth a moment later, he gagged, trying to spit it out. “Fuck, what the fuck is this? It tastes vile!” It was like someone had wadded up an extremely filthy and sweaty pair of underwear into his mouth, or like hi tongue had been glued to the armpit of that one gymrat who never wore deodorant and never wiped the machines down after he was finished. It was filthy, and he couldn’t escape it. Ari pushed it all the way in, and then started pistoning it in and out, eager to be finished with this. Jules noticed that he was starting to sweat profusely, all over his body–his hair becoming matted, greasy and tangled–and then he belched, the smell roiling up out of him in a thick cloud of gas, and he was appalled by it…and yet…enjoyed it a bit, too. Fuck, no, he wasn’t going to enjoy this, he wasn’t going to be some disgusting slob! He let of another belch, bigger than the last, and followed it up with some gas which slipped out around the dildo, Ari waving the stench away from his face.

“No, I’m not going to be some fucking disgusting slob, you twisted fucker!” he said, and belched again.

“Oh? Tell me Jules, when’s the last time you had a shower?”

“Just…I mean I think…” but his memory was failing him, because he didn’t take showers…right? No, why the hell would he take a shower? He loved his nasty stench! Jules shook his head, fighting the thoughts invading him, faster now, but they were changing him faster than he could even grapple with them. He could feel the filthy taste rotting his teeth, but he didn’t care–he let off another wet fart, and laughed, smelling his nasty pits wafting up to his nose.

“Think I got that layer a bit too think,” Ari said, sliding the dildo out, to check it’s progress. “Still, I don’t think you mind much, right Jules?”

“Nah, I don’t mind none–fuck!” Jules said, surprised by the long, slow drawl which had warped his words. “What in tarnation? Why’s I talkin’ like some dumbass hick?”

“Cause we hit the second layer a few minutes ago,” Ari said, sliding the dildo out, giving Jules a chance to see it in the mirror to his side. Sure enough, the greasy brown layer had all been absorbed by his now filthy body, and what remained below was a red, white and blue pattern–a red field, with blue stripes and white stars…just like the confederate flag. “Aww nah, git that fuckin’ thang outta mah fuckhole! I ain’t gonna be no fuckin’ redneck!”

“Now now Jules, mind your double negatives…” Ari said, and pushed the dildo back in. Sure enough, the taste in his mouth was shifting from rank filth, to a new medley–tobacco, cheap booze and liquor, hay, dust, grease…it tasted like…like home? No, not his home, but it did make him feel comfortable, or somehow at ease. That was a trap too, he realized, but it was difficult to resist–in the mirror, he saw his hair shifting slightly, the top shortening until what remained was a mullet, straight out of the 80’s and very long in the back. He also knew…somehow, that underneath all that fur of his, he’d find all sorts of tattoos he’d picked up over the years–but the only ones he could see easily were the confederate flags on the sides of his flabby neck. it was getting harder to think–which wasn’t surprising. After all, Judd hadn’t gone to any sort of college–hell, he hadn’t even graduated from high school!

He was confused for a moment, about who Judd was, before he realized that was his name. But it wasn’t really, right? He’d had a different name, something else–but as hard as he tried to remember it, the further it drifted from his grasp, leaving him with Judd–and Judd’s dull life. Growing up in a trailer park, drinking and chewing tobacco, getting a job as a trucker which barely paid the bills, hooking up with other nasty pigs and bikers at rest stops to get his nuts off. His old memories of offices and city life had disappeared before he could even think to miss them, leaving him grunting and groaning, demanding that Ari, “Pick up the goddamn pace, ya fucker! Pound that nasty confederate hole a mine real fuckin’ good., fuck yeah…”

“Heh, looks like that layer’s all finished,” Ari said, checking what remained of the shaft, “Guess we finally made it to the creamy center.”

Asslickers Inc. (Part 3)

Ari heaved a sigh, “Guess I fucked the sequence up a bit–should have done a Tatted Twister first, but I won’t be able to see anything under all that hair of his…Oh well, guess we might as well go big or go home–how does that sound, eh Jules?”

Jules wasn’t listening–he was still staring at his now incredibly hairy body, unable to really process what had just happened to him. His hair had grown long, but at the angle he was positioned on the bed, it had flopped over, obscuring some of his vision. In front of him, he could see his beard, and it was easily a foot long. He had always wondered what he might look like as a redhead, but this wasn’t how he wanted to find out. “Look–please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, alright? I don’t want to do this.”

“See? This is why I need the muscle relaxer first. Because even guys who are open to trying one, never seem to want a second. Well, unless they’re actually buying one of course,” Ari walked back over, and sat down on the bed, looking at Jules, sizing him up. “Probably easiest if I bring the scale in here, I think.”

He got up from the bed, Jules calling after him. He returned a minute later, wheeling a massive, industrial scale ahead of him, and pushed it up next to the bed. “Alright, now let’s get you loaded up.”

The rubber sheeting of the bed turned out to have eyelets all along the edge, allowing it to be hoisted up by a mechanical hoist in the ceiling. For several awkward minutes, as he was picked up in the rubber bundle, maneuvered over the scale, and dropped down onto it, he was forced to try and avoid getting suffocated by the sheet. When he was in a satisfying enough position for Ari to be satisfied with, he zeroed out the scale, and then went to the wall–and returned with a monstrous, pale white tube, thicker than an arm, and five or six inches longer than a forearm. “Newest model of this one–The Nuclear Tonnage! Just have to figure out how much tonnage we’re talking about.”

“Wait, what? What’s this one going to do? And I can’t take something that big!”

“Well…honestly? It’s going to make you fat. I’m not sure how fat–that’s what I have to find out, so I know whether I need to scale the mold up or down.”

“Fat? Oh fuck you, fuck no, get that fucking thing away from me, you fucking asshole!”

“Oh, don’t worry–you’ll love it. Everyone does–it’s built in! You’ll be thanking me soon enough.”

The scale had registered 235 pounds–which, excluding the sheet and prop underneath Jules, meant he weighed about 225. Ari spent half an hour or so, opening up Jules’ ass–first with one fist, and then with both hands at once. It hurt–a lot–but Ari had obviously done this quite a lot, and once the pain subsided…Jules refused to admit it, but it actually felt good…good enough for his cock to get hard, at least. Then the hands pulled out, and before he could object further, the tip of the massive, pale rod was at the entrance of his hole, and sliding in. It went it like butter, and inside, as it heated…it almost felt like it was softening, molding itself to his intestines as it slipped into him, making him shudder and groan with pleasure. “Oh god, it tastes like butter…”

“Oh, this one tastes like a lot of things, trust me–no dog hair though. And hey! You got it all the way in–good job newbie.”

All the way in? It didn’t seem possible, but he could see himself in the mirror, and sure enough, the entire mass was lodged deep in his ass…melting into him, and fuck, it tasted good. Like butter. Or…or lard. Yeah, like pure fucking lard, fuck it was making his mouth water. The warmth inside him, and the delicious tastes assaulting his senses blissed him out, so he didn’t even notice the first few dozens of pounds that added themselves onto his body–not until Ari started poking and prodding at him, testing his skin, and noted that, according to the scale, he’d gained 100 pounds, and it was still climbing at a good clip. Jules tried to pull his focus away from the maple doughnuts he was tasting on his tongue, and looked over at himself, now 325 pounds and growing. His muscles were buried below a hefty layer of fat, and the belly he’d always kept as thin as he could had grown into a proper, sagging gut. Still…it didn’t disgust him as much as he might have expected it to–if anything, he thought it looked…kind of sexy?

“Why…does seeing myself look like a pig…turn me on all of a sudden?” He asked, feeling oddly sluggish in his mind.

Ari started kneading his fat with his rubber gloves, making Jules moan in pleasure, sliding the slick, greasy dildo in and out of his hole a few times, seeing how small it had become. “Because that’s what it’s supposed to do–I told you you’d like it. Now shut up and enjoy yourself. These things are supposed to be pleasurable.”

He did his best to fight it, but as he expanded, he found himself excited to see just how big he might end up. He passed the 200 mark, putting him over 400 pounds, and still showed no sign of stopping, though the dildo was now only about a third of the size it had been to begin with, Ari ramming it in deep, Jules lost in the pleasure of his new body–so lost, that his own orgasm caught him by surprise. He could feel his cock pulse deep in his fat pad, cum leaking out and around his fat…and even that idea made him feel so fucking sexy. The scale finally came to rest at 332 pounds–putting him at a new total weight of 557–and suddenly, he wanted to keep going. Wanted to be bigger, the taste of butter lingering in his mouth but fading fast. “Fuck, he said, and let off a big belch, “I’m fucking starving–and shove another one of those in me! Make me even bigger! Oh fuck, did I…fuck, what the fuck have you done to me?”

Asslickers Inc. (Part 1 & 2)

Missed my post yesterday, so here’s a double post to start the next story off! I’ve been giggling about this strange idea for a week now, so I hope you all enjoy it.


The two of them had been cruising each other for a few weeks at this point, ever since the cub had started showing up at the gym at the same time as Jules worked out after work. Jules was in his late forties, and while he wasn’t a muscle bear by any extent (though he did still harbour a desire to be one, maybe) he was in good, thick shape. No gut, but a solid belly, firm pecs, nice arms with a bit of tone–he liked to think he was a pretty sexy daddy, especially with his salt and pepper beard. Certainly the cub thought so–the younger guy had been staring Jules down ever since the first day he’d noticed him. At first, Jules had been rather embarrassed that someone was cruising him so blatantly, and the gym where they were was rather boutique–hardly the place where one would expect to hook up. The younger cub didn’t really seem like the usual client, but he afforded the pricy membership fee somehow, right? Maybe he had a trust fund, or he worked for one of the various tech startups booming at the moment. He looked more like the later–with his laid back attire, piercings and tattoos. Still, even though Jules was a straight laced professional by day…he’d always had a weakness for young rebels like that. So, after a few days of avoiding him, he–tentatively–began staring back. It was actually rather fun, and it was clear both of them were getting a bit turned on, even in the middle of the floor. Still, Jules was more of a looker and not a toucher, and the cub seemed to be too–so he was mildly surprised when the cub surprised him in the locker room, wearing nothing but his jockstrap.

Jules shook his hand, and realized a few seconds too late he’d been captivated by the ample bulge in the jock’s pouch. Whatever the guy was packing, it was massive–large enough for him to notice the odd bulge of a ring–likely a PA in the head. Kinky indeed. They chatted a bit, Jules got his name–Ari–the cub inching closer, both of them enjoying each other’s post-workout musk, but it wasn’t until a second meeting that Jules suggested they meet outside of the gym.

“Well, my schedule is pretty tight, with all of the product development I’m engaged in,” Ari said, obviously playing coy.

“Oh? What are you working on?”

“It’s a startup, but I don’t like talking about it in public–still rather under wraps. Still, I think you might find it interesting–maybe I’ll show you something if you come over to my place–how about tomorrow, after a workout?”

“I’m not a VC, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Oh no, if you were, I’d have to show up in a suit with my piercings out.”

After a chuckle, Jules agreed to the suggestion, and the next day, after their workouts, they walked the short distance to Ari’s apartment.

Or, what Jules had expected to be an apartment, probably with a roommate or two who’d have to listen to them fuck awkwardly. No, where Ari took him was a condo–a new condo, in one of the buildings that was actually out of Jules’ price range. “Must be rolling in some good seed money, if you’re getting put up here.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely got it’s benefits I’d say. Still, gotta keep chasing the money, you know? It’s amazing how fast you can burn through it when you get into a project.”

“I’m not sure how you start up guys do it–all that stress.”

“It’s not a big deal, as long as you know how to have fun on occasion,” Ari said, and gave Jule’s ass a slap. It surprised and unnerved him a bit, but hey, the cub knew what he wanted. Down a short hall, they entered Ari’s condo, and while it was minimally decorated and quite messy, the view of the city was wonderful. “Care for a drink?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure,” Jules said, and walked to the window, looking down at the people milling about, and towards the bay in the distance. “So, what exactly is your startup? You never did say.”

“Why don’t we hold off on that for now–let’s just say I like to mix my business with my pleasure. Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Where did you say you worked again?”

The two of them made idle chat on the couch for a few minutes, drinking their beers, hands idly exploring one another’s bodies, the conversation slowing as hands slipped down into pants, and they started making out instead. “Ready for that business and pleasure yet?” Jules asked.

“I think we can get started,” Ari replied, pulled Jules up, and led him down the hall and into a large spacious room, which made the older man’s jaw drop even further than the view had. What in the hell was this place? In the middle of the room was a massive, king sized bed, and two walls, facing the door and to the left, were mirrored, but to his right–from the floor up to the ceiling were racks filled with dildos, all of them carefully organized and arranged, in all sorts of shapes and sizes, colors and textures. “Welcome, to the headquarters of Asslickers Incorporated,” Ari said, “what I like to call artisanal dildo fabrication. What do you think?”

Jules felt a bit weak at the knees. He took a step forward, and nearly collapsed to the carpet, but Ari caught him, and helped him over to the bed, “Fuck, I don’t feel so good all of a sudden,” Jules said, his words slurred slightly.

“Yeah, muscle relaxers tend to do that. Still, you won’t have to move much–you’re here to help me out with product testing, after all. I just finished a few new models, and I’d love to see what you think of them. Now let’s get you out of those clothes, and get that hole of yours opened up, eh?”


Ari took a few minutes to get Jules into position on the bed, with the help of a triangle shaped prop under his abdomen, forcing his ass into the air, and his face into the mattress. He kept trying to make his body move, but the best he could do was flop his arm slightly, and uselessly. The rest of his body was completely inert, but his mind was still in good shape, and the numbness in his mouth had subsided, allowing him to speak with less trouble. “I don’t…why the fuck did you drug me? You could have just fucking asked me to help you out! I’m not much of a bottom, but I’d be willing to give it a shot.”

Ari was over at the wall of dildos–Jules could see him reflected in the mirror. He’d stripped both of them of their clothes, but he’d pulled on a pair of heavy duty rubber gloves which extended to his elbow, before climbing up a stool to look at his collection of dildos and decide what he’d like to test. “Oh, trust me–it’s much, much easier this way. See, my products offer…some rather special effects, which make quite a few people reluctant to try them, unless they have some particular interests. Some of the less popular ones, well, bringing men like you here is the simplest way to see how well they work.”

“Special effects?”

“Oh yes, rather impressive feats. I even have a company interested in a substantial investment, provided I could produce products aligned with their particular clientele. Not my ideal…but they were rather persuasive…” he said, one gloved hand fiddling with the ring in his nose. Still, the kinks have all been worked out for the most part, so you can feel some relief on that measure–you won’t be leaving a monster or anything, not like some of my earlier tests!”

If that was supposed to ease Jules’ worries, it didn’t work at all. Instead, he redoubled his efforts to move, but had even less success than before, as the drug paralyzed his body further.

“Now, first things first, let’s get you lubed up, and then we’ll start you off with a Pelt Pounder, I think. I want to see if I’ve got the dosage a little better in this batch,” Ari said. He returned to the bed, holding a modestly sized dildo, about six inches long and average in girth. It was colored a brownish red, and the entire surface…it looked almost hairy. When he got a closer look, he saw that the look was achieved by hundreds of small rubber hairs that covered the dildo, making it appear almost shaggy. He would have been impressed, but little could cut through his state of terror. He tried to console himself with the fact that it was no larger than the dildo he had at home for himself, when he felt so inclined, but it didn’t ease his worries much, as Ari scooped a substantial amount of lube into his gloved hand, and began worming most of his fingers into Jules’ ass. The muscle relaxers were working wonders back there as well, and Ari met almost no resistance. Still, he brought in a basin and gave Jules several enemas, until he ran clean, and then determined they were ready to proceed.

Jules had never been much of a bottom, for a few reasons. First, though he’d never admit this, he held a deep suspicion that being fucked somehow robbed him of authority. He’d never managed to articulate this to any of his sexual partners, but it was a reason why many of his attempted relationships had crumbled after a few years. The second reason, however, was that the few times he’d tried it, he’d never really gotten much pleasure from it. That said, his few tries were with rather unskilled tops–had he perhaps had a more enlightening experience when he was younger, it would have done much to improve his relationships. That said, when the dildo slid into him, he didn’t expect to feel much, and was instead quite surprised at how…enjoyable the sensation was. It was almost like he was being tickled on the inside–like if getting a hair caught in your throat could somehow feel pleasurable. But the stranger sensation came when the dildo was almost completely inside him–his tastebuds lit up in his mouth, and he could…taste the dildo, somehow. It matched the color somewhat, like a chocolate covered strawberry, but with the strange burst of wet dog on occasion that made him gag, catching Ari’s attention.

“What’s wrong, how does it taste?”

“Like a…chocolate strawberry? But sometimes it just tastes like wet hair.”

“Gah, it’s been so hard getting rid of that! Maybe I should just embrace it? No, that’s ridiculous…hmmm…”

“I don’t…how in the world can I taste this thing?”

“It’s an asslicker. My own invention–the first line of candy dildos..and each one holds a special surprise as well.”

“Surprise?”

“Heh, you’ll have to lick it for a bit–shall we find out how many thrusts it takes to get to the center of an asslicker? I love that slogan, but the legal department tells me it’s too similar to the original to get past copyright.”

The taste was intensifying, as Ari thrust the dildo in and out, and the sweetness melded with the wet hair into something quite unappealing, making him feel a bit nauseous. He was thankfully distracted by a new sensation–an odd tickling, this time on the outside of his body, all over his skin. His head was turned towards the mirror, and it wasn’t too long before he noticed something odd about his beard–it was longer. His usually short hair was growing as well, and even the hair on his body was growing in thicker. At first, he thought it was just the light, but there was something odd happening to the color of his hair as well. It had always been a very deep brown, almost black, but it was lightning, and soon matched the color of the dildo in his ass–a dark, burnt red. It was…actually quite sexy, especially with the white hair that remained behind. Still, the hair was growing in…surprisingly thick at this point–too thick even. “Uh…is it…supposed to be this thick?” he asked, “Wait, how the fuck is this even happening right now! Hair doesn’t just grow like this!”

“Heh, you’d be surprised what a bit of biology can do these days. And no, it’s still too thick I think, so I still haven’t got the dosage quite worked out for these. Maybe I should just sell them as a two pack of butt plugs. Two for you, or share with your buddy! I like that, actually…”

“You sound so fucking easy going about this, but I look like a yeti!”

“Well, you are a guinea pig…”

“Fuck you–when I get out of here, you’re going to be ruined, you do realize that, right? I have fucking powerful friends–you’re going to jail for the rest of your life, and we’ll see how many asses you lick in there.”

Ari just ignored the threat, and pulled out the dildo–or rather, the plastic stick that remained of the dildo. He hadn’t really been paying attention, but the dildo had dissolved inside of him. He stared at himself in disbelief, as Ari set aside the stick to be cleaned and reused, went back to the wall, and pondered which dildo to use for testing next.

The Fetish Gun (Part 2)

He got to his apartment building, and quickly realized that he was so skimpily dressed, that he had absolutely no idea where his wallet or keys were. They weren’t on him–not that he would have had anywhere to put them. Wade thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to get into his apartment, when a thought that had been nagging him since he arrived finally caught him–that he should check his mail box. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d thought that–but the mailboxes were all combination locks–not keyed–and sure enough, stuffed inside was his key ring. With a sigh of relief–even though he had no idea how they had gotten there–he hurried up the stairs, praying no one would see him, got inside his apartment and breathed a sigh of relief.

He walked inside, gun still in his hand, and started examining it, hoping there would be somewhat clear controls. Unfortunately, there weren’t really any controls at all. In fact, the only thing of note beyond the trigger itself was a single dial on the side with five marked positions equally around a circle, all labeled rather unhelpfully with letters–“A”, “B”, “C”, “D”, and “E”–rather than any indication as to what they might do. The gun was currently in the B position. Was it labelled B for balls or something? Certainly that’s what it had done to him, but it had done other things too, like turn him into a thick fireplug, shaved his head down, grown a goatee around his mouth…

Wait a minute, how did he know that?

He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror. How did he know what he looked like? Or that he looked different from…from…

Wade couldn’t remember. He knew he’d been someone different–he could kind of describe that old self–potbellied, wearing a suit, clean shaven, and had he been…straight? Ugh, that’s disgusting–who’d want to put their cock in a cunt anyway?

This gun had most definitely changed more than just his balls–it had changed everything about him. Looking around his apartment, he realized that this wasn’t quite what he’d expected to come home to at all. Instead of his fancy computer and gaming systems he used to use to unwind, there was a well equipped, if compact, home gym. His book shelves no longer had books on them, but instead all sorts of dildos, ball stretchers and other bondage gear he’d never known existed before, but which he now knew…rather intimately. He walked to his bedroom, and sure enough, his new memory was correct–in addition to a now king sized bed, he also had a leather sling suspended from the ceiling. In the closet, where he was almost certain he should have found a small collection of suits, there was instead a bunch of leather gear–harnesses, jackets, pants, chaps–all leather, and all of them fairly worn and…supple to the touch. None of these things looked new–the entire apartment looked well lived in, in fact, but what had happened to his life? His internship?

He looked at the gun again, but no clues appeared. Were the letters some sort of measure of intensity? Why wouldn’t they just be numbers then? Maybe they were different modes? Would one of them be able to change him back? He let out a growl and tossed the gun onto the couch–all of this damn thinking was just making his head hurt. It wasn’t even eleven, and he wasn’t at a club, finding some hot leather daddy to pummel his nuts all night–what was he even doing? Maybe…maybe he could go find those two leather men, give them back their gun…in exchange for a night of some fun. He smiled, one hand reaching down and squeezing his massive nuts firmly, feeling cum leak profusely from his nub of a cock. Fuck, he could always have some fun at home first, right?

He got a two inch ball stretcher from his toy shelf, and started working his balls through it, one at a time, slowly, using his own cum to help him lubricate until both balls were through, the heavy steel pulling them away from his body, causing a steady stream of cum to flow from them and out his cock. He worked a dildo in his ass and began fucking himself, swinging his balls too and fro, milking himself with the pain, gasping and sweating and…and what in the fuck was he doing?

This was filthy, and perverse, and disgusting, and…and what he did every night, when he couldn’t find anyone to come home with him for some fun. What in the fuck had this gun done to him? He was a fucking freak, and…and he liked it. He liked all of it, and that terrified him even more. He got up from the couch, after pushing the dildo deep inside himself, and picked up the gun again, walking to the mirror he had hung in the hallway and staring at the person he’d become. Suddenly, he didn’t really care what the gun might do to him–he didn’t want to be this–he didn’t want to live like this for the rest of his life, even though he was having a hard time articulating why, all of a sudden. Still, there had to be a way to fix himself–one of these settings had to be an undo button, right?

There were three settings he hadn’t tried. He…kind of knew what B did, although it seemed unreliable. It had given him this body, but when he’d shot those two uniformed men, only their balls had grown–nothing else had seemed to change, like he had. So…he kind of knew what it did–probably something to do with balls…maybe. That left four other options, and he had no idea what they might do to him, but the dial could spin all the way around in a circle…so he gave the dial a hard spin–he’d just shoot himself with whatever letter came up. It couldn’t be worse than this, right? The dial came to a stop on D–and with a shrug, he turned to gun towards himself, and pulled the trigger.