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.