Caption: Daddy Issues #3 – Evan the Roughneck

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.

Evan wasn’t supposed to have even gone to college, if his dad had had his way. He grew up in the sticks in a small town. HIs dad, Gary, ran the only real construction crew in town, and made good money fixing up everything beyond what a handyman could handle, and he’d expected his son to be a proper man’s man, drop out of high school, learn the trade, and follow in his footsteps. Of course, Evan had ended up, in his father’s opinion, a total sissy. He’d given up on him really, and just to get out from under his father’s house, he’d taken on a bunch of loans to get to college in the big city, just as a chance to breathe. But now, he climbed into his car and got ready for the drive home, bracing himself for the culture shock he knew he’d feel after a few months in civilization, back under his dad’s roof.

It was a good four hour drive home, and Evan spent the whole time mulling over his father. He was so focused on it, really, that he didn’t notice as things started changing around him. The pack of gum in the console became a can of skoal, and without thinking about it, he popped it open, packed his upper and lower lips, and just let the spit drool out onto the shirt he was wearing, which had come a grungy looking t-shirt, his pants now ripped camo shorts. The radio switched over to the country station, and rather than change it, he found himself enjoying it. About an hour out from town, he pulled over to use the rest area, got out, but in the bathroom, despite having to piss like a racehorse, he just…couldn’t. He had to save it, didn’t he? He went back out to the lot, climbed into the sizable pickup that had replaced his little junker sedan, and sped off down the highway, eager to get home, finally.

He pulled into his dad’s driveway, hopped out, went inside, and sure enough, there was his lazy fucking father, passed out on the couch, wearing the coveralls for work that he pretty much never took off, even on the weekends. 

Evan jumped up on the couch, boots on either side of his dad’s flabby body, and spit right in his face, making him jump. “Hey pig, open yer fuckin’ mouth, yer boy’s gotta fuckin’ piss.”

He didn’t even wait for Gary to open up, just hauled out his cock, and unloaded all over him and the couch, his dad confused and sputtering for a moment, but once he smelled it, he sat up, opened wide, and drank down as much of his boy’s sweet piss as he could. Once he’d finished, the two of them looked at each other, trying to reconcile what they had expected with what they were looking at, but the smell of them both, and the piss all over them, only made them hornier.

“Fuck son, been waitin’ fer ya tah get home,” his stupid dad drawled, and shoved his face into his rank underwear, “All the guys on the crew been plowin’ mah hole, jus’ like ya told ‘em to, but it just ain’t the same as mah boy’s big ass fuckstick…”

“Don’t ya worry Daddy, yer boy ain’t gonna be goin’ away again anytime soon,” Evan said, “Now roll over pig, let me see if that slutty hole a yers is still a little tight.”

Early Access: The Christmas Imp’s Secret Santas #1

I have a series of Christmas vignettes that I’m working on this month! I don’t know how many I will get done–the goal is always twelve with these sorts of things, but you know, we’ll see how things go. All of these are based on Patron suggestions, and as such, they’ll get access to them all first! If you’re a patron at the $5 level or more, you can find the full version of this story here. They’ll all start to go public after Christmas for everyone else. In the meantime, have a teaser…

Jesse went into the apartment’s living room on Christmas morning, not really expecting much. He lived alone, and hadn’t really had the time this month to decorate anything. He hadn’t even bothered to go get a tree or anything either. He had a few presents on his table from some college friends and family members around the country who had sent him things at least, but that could wait until after his morning coffee.

But as the pot brewed, and he inspected the small pile, something stood out that he didn’t recognize at all. It was a very small present, wrapped in simple brown paper, and the tag on it didn’t have a name–all it said was that it was from his Secret Santa. His office had already done a secret santa this year though, and he had the socks to prove it. While the coffee finished brewing, he figured he might as well solve this mystery quick–he tore into the paper, and was left with a can of chewing tobacco sitting in his hand.

He just looked at it in confusion. Who in their right mind would have given him this? He didn’t even smoke, much less use chewing tobacco, the entire idea was vile to him. But as he was about to put it down, there was a puff of smoke in the middle of the room, and a strange creature appeared before him. Jesse had no idea what he was looking at–the creature was quite short, no more than three feet tall, and covered in green fur from head to toe. The thing was naked as well, with a stubby cock leaking green tinted precum on the floor of his living room, the beast grinning at him, baring all of it’s sharp teeth in the process.

This was the Christmas Imp. A rather fateful mistake by Santa Claus when he tried to use genetic engineering to make a more perfect elf, he instead ended up with a rather filthy minded monster–one Santa had managed to keep looked away for quite a few years now. However, the imp had escaped in the midst of a rather hectic year at the North Pole, and was now ready to fulfill a few Christmas wishes of his own, though his ideas tended to be a bit…filthier than was traditional for Christmas. “Go on boy,” the imp rasped, one clawed hand toying with his cock, “It’s a special can that Daddy made just for you…”

Jesse wanted to run–he wanted to do pretty much anything other than twist off the top of the can of tobacco and look inside. He didn’t know what chewing tobacco was supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure that the scummy, pasty goo on top of the leaf wasn’t supposed to be there. What in the hell was it? He tried to pry his gaze away from the imp, but he couldn’t. His fingers pushed their way into the gooey leaf, and as he did, he realized what the substance was–it was cum. Someone had cum on top of the leaf, and closed the lid again. It made his stomach turn in disgust, but he couldn’t stop himself as he put the cummy leaf in his mouth, between his teeth and lip.

“More, you need it all, Daddy made it special…” the imp rasped at him…

If you want to read more, and see the other entries as I finish them, support me on Patreon at the $5 level or more!

Emptied Out (Part 8)

***Three weeks later***

Leonard drove the rusted out pickup truck he’d been forced to trade his Tesla in for, by his fucking boy, into the dilapidated apartment complex. “This is the place?” he asked, “This is where my son is?”

Greg, sitting in the passenger seat beside him nodded. “Yep–I’m true to my word. You’ve done so good for me daddy, doing everything I asked, just so you’d have a chance to see him again.”

Leonard scowled at him–it wasn’t like he’d had much of a choice in any of it. He’d arrived at the college to pick up his son for the summer, and this fucker had been waiting for him, and…and Leonard didn’t know what he’d done to him, but these last three weeks, he’d turned his life upside down. Quit his job, sold his car, started dressing like some hillbilly redneck, drinking cheap whiskey, smoking cigars–usually with a lip full of dip too. He felt like a fucking freak…but if it meant getting him and his son out of this crazy fucker’s grasp, then yeah, he’d put up with it. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t get all of it back soon enough, once he got a chance to call the cops on this faggot. He just wished he could explain why in the hell he couldn’t seem to disobey any of the freaks orders–that, and why he seemed to be remembering less and less of his time with him. He would blank out for hours, and every time he came back and realized it, Greg would be standing there, staring at him with that dumb grin on his face–a dumb grin that seemed a little too clever.

They crossed the complex and made their way to an apartment on the ground floor. Greg didn’t knock, he just pulled his keys out from his pocket (it was a ring with a substantial number of keys, Leonard noticed) unlocked the door, and stepped inside. “Daddy Biff? Where are ya, you fuckin’ nasty pervert?”

The stench made Leonard’s eyes sting, and he gagged. It was horrid–who in the world could live like this, and what was his son doing in a place this filthy? He pushed in after his boy, and Greg shut the door behind him. It was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he did eventually see the massively obese man, Biff he assumed, sprayed out on a couch in front of a TV showing some of the filthiest porn Leonard had ever seen.

“Hot damn, Master, made yerself a handsome one this time. Hope he gets tah hang out here on occasion, wouldn’t mind feelin’ that big beard round my cock, or rubbin’ against my hole,” Biff said, blowing a cloud of smoke in Leonard’s direction.

“We’ll have to see, Biff. Is he back in the bedroom?”

Biff nodded, “Just like ya asked. He’s pretty eager, and bored.”

Greg led the way down a short hallway, and Leonard could hear Biff resume masturbating as they left, moaning and belching as he did. “What the fuck is my son doing here, you fucker?” Leonard said in a hushed voice, “If that pervert laid a hand on Nathan, I’ll make sure you never see daylight again.”

Greg didn’t reply, he just got to the end of the hall, where the door was shut, turned and looked at Leonard. “Alright, your son is through this door. But, before you meet him, I think it’s time we introduce you two.”

“I think I know my own son.”

Greg laughed, “Oh no, you’ll get introduced to him in a moment–no, Leonard, I think it’s time you officially met Leo.”

It was like a curtain had been lifted, one he hadn’t even known was there all this time. The lost memories came back to him, and Leonard realized why he hadn’t had them–it was because they weren’t his at all. They were Leo’s. Leo, the man this fucking boy had been…building in his mind, all this time, and he hadn’t noticed any of it for a second. “Fuck son, ‘bout Gawd damn time ya let me out fer some damn air!”

It was his voice, but it wasn’t. He didn’t have that drawl, he didn’t…want to say that. He’d felt his lips move, and his lungs push air out, but those were Leo’s words, not his. “What…what the fuck did you do to me?”

Greg just smiled at him, “I made myself a new daddy, Leonard–a much better daddy that you could be. Still, there wasn’t enough room for both of you in that head there, so I’m afraid I had to move you, Leonard. You know where you are, right Leo?”

“Sure do, Master!” Leo said in his thick drawl, one hand pointing to his head, “I’m up here, in the brains!”

Greg nodded, “And you know where I had to put you, don’t you Leonard?”

Leonard knew it wasn’t true. It didn’t make sense, it had to be a delusion…but he nodded, gulped, and said, “In…in my balls.”

“And you know why you’ve been having a hard time remembering things, Leonard?”

“B-Because every time we shoot…some of me gets…lost…”

Leo groped himself through his crusty jeans, “Hell yeah, been gettin’ rid a ya seven ’r eight times a day! Master says yer about all dried up now–gonna get a brand new cock ‘n balls once we’re all through wit’ ya.”

Greg nodded. “But I wanted your last to be special, Leonard–some father and son bonding. Here, let’s get that second introduction underway.”

What Would I Do To You (#1 – Dippig)

A new sort of thing I’ve had on my mind, ever since this post blew up a couple months ago. Not sure how often I’ll add entries, but it’ll be a different sort of thing each time. This one is dedicated to someone in particular, you know who you are.)

What would I do to you today?

Let’s start you off with some dip. If you’re a novice, even better–I show you how to pack that lip your first time, see that buzz in your eye, and you smile, but before you can finish jacking off, you have to race to the toilet to throw up. It happens–but it’s good to see how you take it. We don’t do anything else with the dip right then, instead, I wait for you to bring it up again, because even after that, you’re still curious…and a bit humiliated. You should have been able to take it, you tell yourself. It wasn’t even that much. So you ask, and I oblige. A bit less this time, get you comfortable, get you spitting in a little bottle, and you’re feeling good. You jack off, and you leave it in after, dropping it in the trash before you go.

We see each other more often, and everytime, we pack that lip for you. It helps you enjoy yourself–you feel more relaxed, and more energized with it. But for the moment, you still only do it when you’re with me–but why? You know the brand I give you, there’s nothing stopping you from stopping by the gas station as you leave to buy some of your own. You drop the occasional hint that it would be nice to have a tin of your own, but I don’t give you what you want–you’re not going to get any from me, no, you need to get it yourself. Finally, you do. You don’t use it often–maybe once every couple of days to jack off with, but that’s ok–we can take it slow.

You arrive with a packed lip, and you leave with one now. It isn’t long before spit begins to play a larger and larger role for you in sex. I make you watch me drool, I spit in your face, I lick your body, and I stop giving you a bottle. I want to see you drool. I want you to feel it running down your chin and onto your chest. I want to rub it in there, smear the dark, tacky liquid all over you where I can lick it off later–maybe.

When does an obsession become an addiction? When do you go from dipping because you want to, and start dipping because you need to? Is it the first time you sneak a lipper at work? You keep it small, so no one can notice, keep the trash can nearby for spit, and be sure to enunciate. You’re hard though, and you slip off to the bathroom to jack off, drooling a bit down your chin as you do, and wipe it clean with some toilet paper when your finished. Your chin feels a bit sticky for the rest of the day, all the same.

But I want to take things further–and you do too. You’re enjoying yourself too much to say no. I suggest you grow out your beard, and you agree. We have off your hair, once you have a decent scruff balance the bare skull. More and more often, I start feeding you during our sessions together. It takes some practice, not swallowing the leaf and spit while I stiff you full, but you’re smart, aren’t you? You figure it out, like a good pig. Did you know how erotic eating could be? I don’t think you did. You’d read stories about it, sure, but had you ever experienced it? You start buying snacks when you stop at the gas station to get more dip. You become a frequent customer at the vending machine at work. You bring doughnuts for everyone–but eat a half dozen yourself. You feel less obvious, that way.

We carry on, for a while. It begins to feel normal, now. Your boss catches you using tobacco at work, and you get written up. It feels unfair–it’s not like you’re smoking after all–but rules are, apparently, rules. You try to stop for a day, figuring it would be good if you scaled back somewhat…but the withdrawl hits, and by the end of the week, you’re back to covertly dipping again, and being more careful this time. Is that all the willpower you had? Two days without? Not even without–just for an eight hour stretch at work. You jack off that night, thinking about it, realizing how much you need it–and wondering if you can even stop now, if you wanted to.

You’re spending the night regularly now. I make sure to stock up on all of your favorite snacks, and keep them close at hand all night long for you to binge on. He strip you down, pack your mouth full, and you start drooling like a beast, watching it run down into that beard of yours. I get plenty of spit elsewhere too–all over those soft pecs of yours, over your small gut, drooling all over your dick and balls until they’re good and brown, eat out that ass of yours too, before I fuck you. And you? You’re just in a stupor of pleasure, stuffing your face, with food and more dip, needing it to get hard now, needing all of it.

Do you want to move in yet? Ready to go all the way? I don’t let you quit your job–no, I want them to fire you. I want you to see just how much they’ll let you get away with. But no more showers, not for you. No bottles, either. That spit just drools right out your mouth and into your beard. The chin is stained several shades darker than the rest of your hair now, like some strange dye job, and the hair is crusty and matted together. I put you on a strict gaining diet, and you take most of your meals out of a small trough in the kitchen. Pretty soon, you crest 300 pounds, and not too long after that, they finally fire your ass–and you realize, then, that I’m the only thing you have left to rely on.

But that’s alright, isn’t it? You like being here. It feels good–you feel good, being my dippig. I slowly start breaking down the rest of your social shame, I warp you into an exhibitionist, I make you get off seeing other people see you dipping, seeing you filthy, seeing your fat ass in too small of clothes, covered in muck they can’t even recognize. You don’t carry a can anymore–no, we’ve switched to a different storage system, now that you’ve got that nice wide ass. We just pack chaw in between those cheeks of yours, and let you walk around with it all day long. Fuck, watching you rummage around in your underwear in the supermarket, haul a damp wad of chaw out and shove it in your mouth, right in front of a couple of breeders who just stare at you in horror–I drag you right into the restroom for a good fucking–and in your eyes, I see that that’s exactly what you’d hoped would happen.

Matt pulled into the rest area needing two things–a cigarette and a piss. Unfortunately, he’d smoked his last one fifty miles back, and he was desperate for another one. Still, he could at least take a piss before worrying about that.

The only other guy in the restroom was a huge, imposing redneck at a urinal. He had to be close to seven feet tall, and thickly muscled. Matt felt rather inadequate standing next to him, especially when he caught a peek of his huge cock. He stared for a few seconds before the man asked, “Like what ya see?”

Matt blushed and shook his head no, the redneck chuckling as though he were used to that reaction, before leaving the bathroom. Completely embarrassed, Matt finished up and left as well, but soon found that the parking lot was completely empty, aside from the redneck’s truck. He couldn’t really ask him, not after that, but god he needed a cigarette.

“Hey, do…do you have a cigarette?”

“So ya are interested then. Ya can suck me off in the woods if ya want.”

“No…No, really. I’m sorry, I just need a cigarette.”

“Oh…suit yerself then. All I got is chaw.” He pulled a metal tin from his back pocket, opened it up and presented it to Matt, “Go on, it ain’t gonna bite ya, bro. You’ll like it.”

Mike gave the man a glance of suspicion, but took a wad of the tobacco. He felt a near immediate rush of nicotene when he stuffed it in his lip…but also something else. Looking down, he could see his small gut start to shrink back into his stomach, as hair grew in all over his body. Unsteady on his feet, he felt almost as if he were being stretched, and was overcome with vertigo as he passed six and a half feet and kept climbing. He tried to get away and spit out the tobacco, but it tasted so good he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

His clothes shifted into a western style denim vest and jeans, size eighteen cowboy boots, and his crotch began to bulge out obscenely. As the onrush of horniness overwhelmed his mind, he dropped to near idiot IQ. His last thought was a realization that he now looked identical to the redneck next to him. “Fuck man, that’s hell of a rush,” he said with a drawl thick enough to match his new friend’s voice.

“Nah bro, that’s nothin’ compared tah this,” the redneck said, leaned in and started kissing his twin, swapping tobacco spit as sexy memories flooded Matt’s head about his twin brother Jack.

“Damn Jake, ya sure know how tah get me goin’. How’s about we finish this in the woods?” Matt said, groping his ten inch cock.

“Sound’s good tah me bro, soun’ds damn good tah me. But yer suckin’, I’m horny as fuck.”