(Caption) Four Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (22/31)

Zane didn’t know that Pigtown existed. He was as straight as could be, had never so much as looked at another man–aside from a few times, out of drunk curiosity, but that was different. That didn’t matter though–sometimes, Pigtown comes for you regardless. 

He had been working a construction job down by the docks, adjacent to Pigtown, though he didn’t know that. All he knew was that there seemed to be a lot of queers and fags about on occasion, but they generally gave him a wide berth. All the better, really, so he didn’t have to bash their teeth in. Some in Pigtown, regarded that a worthy challenge. 

Once evening, Zane worked a little longer than he usually did, the fog rolled in a bit thicker, twilight came a bit quicker, the street lights were a bit late to turn on, and he found himself lost in the streets and alleys, looking for his truck. The streets were quiet–not even cars were passing him by, for whatever reason, but for all the stillness, he couldn’t shake the sensation that he wasn’t quite alone, either. Sure enough, he could see the occasional shadow of a person following behind him at a leisurely pace, too far back to make out clearly in the mist, but close enough to give an impression, one of size and substance. Not exactly threatening, but also not…weak.

Zane picked up the pace a bit, and lost his pursuer–at least until the sizable man stepped out of the alley in front of him, sending him stumbling back in surprise. He was certainly large, wearing all of this leather gear, like the fags did on occasion around here. He also had a heavy chain in his hands, and from one end, hung a heavy metal collar. “Where do you think you’re going so quick, boy?” he asked with a grin.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble, alright? I’m just trying to find my t–” Zane said, only for the man to rush into him, wrap a gloved hand around his neck, and pin him to the brick wall behind him. He clawed at the man’s leather grip, but couldn’t get a finger loose. “Hmm…thought you’d be more fun, honestly. Rather boring. Still, I caught you fair and square–so that means you’re mine, doesn’t it?”

Then, it wasn’t the hand around his neck, but the heavy metal collar, and Zane soon discovered he was unable to disobey the man who held the other end of the chain. Right there on the misty sidewalk, he sucked the man off, and then was half dragged, half led, down the street, into Pigtown proper.

Zane never made it back to his car. He remained with his Master for a while, who trained him, and then released him back into the wilds of the streets. And then, it was time for a new hunt. Hopefully this one would give him a little bit of a challenge–these men thought they were so tough these days, but a little leather, a little metal, and they just melted in his hands, every time.

My Town (Part 5)

Kyle, Todd’s older brother, had always been a brute. Even when they were kids, long before Todd had realized anything about his sexuality, he had known that, in his family’s house, there was only one true law of power, and that was sheer physical might. Perhaps, had his brother not been such a violent bully, things would have turned out differently for everyone, but as it was, he had never once allowed Todd to forget that Kyle was the one with the might. That the only person who could usurp him was their father, and so, when they were alone, he had no choice but to obey, or face the consequences.

Now that he was an adult, his violence had served his less successfully. He worked in construction, one of the few jobs around here where he could exercise his might, and still hadn’t settled down, despite being nearly thirty, and had instead settled for a series of relationships with young women he’d attempted to beat into submission. If he’d been smarter about it, he likely could have controlled them with it, like a normal abuser, but for Kyle, it was only violence that mattered–even Todd, as a child, had recognized his brother didn’t have the instinct for control, only power. It was a shame really–with more mindful violence, in this town, in this world, he could have been someone.

Instead, he lived in a trailer park, respected only because he remained nominally within their father’s orbit. He worked, and he worked out, and he worked over whatever bitch he happened to be seeing at the moment, who hadn’t yet wised up to his brother’s abusive games, or who had been lured back by his relative charm and occasional stability. The next morning, Todd relaxed around his father’s home, still a bit hungover from the rush of the day before, taking in the changes of his own body the gloves had brought on. It was a curse, allegedly, but to Todd it was a curse he was more than happy to live with. For the first time, looking in the mirror, he saw a man looking back at him, a man he’d always pictured in his head, a body he’d always desired but never been able to achieve. He was horny too, and the gloves were more than happy to encourage that, stroking him gently, but as hard as he tried to push himself over the edge, the gloves held back, merely milking his longer cock to near orgasm. They knew what he had in mind, they knew what they really wanted. Frustrated, he threw on some clothes, now a bit ill-fitting, climbed in his father’s truck and decided to stalk his brother for a bit, until their meeting in the afternoon.

He found him working on some road work downtown, and took up a spot in a small restaurant across the way where he could observe. He was…big, but not as big as he had always seemed in his memories. In fact, he seemed…almost disappointingly small after all of these years–maybe five foot ten, two hundred and twenty pounds. Thick, certainly, but he’d gone a bit to pot as well over the years. In any case, he was no longer the ripped jock stalking him in the hallways of his childhood. Still, the years hadn’t bruised his ego, apparently–he could see how he interacted with everyone on the site, the air of assumed superiority, it had him gritting his teeth, gloves aching to touch and beckon and work on him, but he waited.

He followed him home to his trailer, gave him a few minutes to settle, and then pulled up and parked, taking a moment to light himself a cigar in the cab, the smoke helping to settle his eagerness, and then he got out and walked up to the door. It took Kyle a few moments to answer, and it was clear, when he saw the stranger on the steps, he had absolutely no clue who Todd was–then again, Todd wouldn’t have recognized himself either.

“Who the fuck are you? I ain’t buying anything,” Kyle said, “Get off my property if you don’t want your face beaten in.”

It was a classic line, really. How many times had he said that to Todd when they were kids?

“Come on now Kyle, no time for a brother?” Todd said, and while it took him a couple of seconds to click the gears together, he saw recognition light up his face.

“Holy shit, Todd? What the…you fucking faggot, what the fuck are you even doing back here? Dad’s gonna have a fit if he sees you, you fuck, I oughta kick your fucking ass for showing up here, you piece of shit…”

“Trust me bro, Dad has much bigger worries at the moment–I’m here to see you.”

Todd could see the thought forming in Kyle’s mind, the violence short circuiting the rest of his reasoning, but before he could threaten and then follow through, he reached out one gloved hand and laid it on his brother’s shoulder, and saw his eyes glaze slightly.

“Bro, let me in–we need to have a conversation, don’t you think?”

Kyle found himself nodding, and when Todd gave him a gentle push back, he stepped away from the doorway and let Todd step into the trailer, the screen door shutting behind him.

“How…what the fuck was that?” Kyle asked, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that,” Todd said, taking a long drag off his cigar and blowing the smoke into the trailer’s air. “Or I suppose, you can worry about that if you want, but trust me Kyle, pretty soon, you won’t be worrying about much of anything anymore.”

He was getting ready to strike. Todd could see all of his tells. He let the fist come flying, and he caught it in one gloves hand, gently, and Kyle let off a groan, his knees giving way in sudden pleasure. “I don’t think you’ll be trying that anymore, bro. We need to find a better way for you to…express yourself, don’t you think? Your fists have done enough talking for a lifetime. I want to hear some moans from now on.”

My Town (Part 2)

Edwin took good care of himself, and was in fine shape for a man nearing sixty, but he was someone who had always considered a proper, masculine, appearance to be the most important quality a man could possess. He was dressed in his usual Saturday attire–a bit dressed down from his usual suit and tie for the weekdays. Clean shaven, hair maneuvered into position over his receding hairline, sweating slightly from the hot day outside. He loosened his tie and shut the door, walked into the house and noticed the furniture had shifted, and that a relative stranger was sitting in his chair, facing him, smoking a cigar.

“Who the fricken–” he said, and then looked a bit closer. It had been a long time, but the resemblance was there. “Todd?”

“Hey dad. How have things been?”

It didn’t…quite sound like Todd, though. In particular, that lisp was gone. Edwin had always hated the sound of his youngest boy’s voice, it had always given away the little faggot’s weakness, and it had implied weakness in Edwin as well. He’d never really cared who the boy wanted to fuck, but his sissy ways had undermined the family, in Edwin’s mind. He’d been happy to see the boy leave, and was pleased that the time away had apparently helped him man up somewhat. In fact, Todd looked…good. Healthy, clothes on his back, didn’t seem to be drugged out. “Son, I…wish you’d called, and told me you were coming.”

“And spoil the surprise?” Todd grinned around his cigar, and with one gloved hand, beckoned his father over to him. “Come on daddy, let your boy get a good look at you.”

Something in his son’s tone set Edwin’s hair on edge, but he walked over anyway, eyes locked on the gloved finger drawing him in. He could almost hear the slight squeak of the leather as he drew closer. He intended to stop a few feet away, but his feet kept walking him right up in front of his son in the chair, until the finger stopped moving. Before he could move away, his son’s other hand reached out and stroked the side of his thigh, and Edwin…shivered. It had felt wrong, being touched by that glove, but why? The hand took his own, and the feel of the leather against his fingers, it was so supple. He barely heard his son’s voice speaking to him.

“Go on daddy, drop those pants, and take off that shirt.”

Edwin did has Todd told asked, and when the leather glove brushed it’s way down his bare thigh, he realized why it had felt so wrong. It was because he’d had clothes on, of course. The leather…it felt so good on his bare skin, better than anything he’d ever felt. Todd kept stroking his father’s thighs and small gut, listening to him mutter and sigh as he undressed, until he was naked in front of him. “Looking as good as ever, Daddy–but looking good is all that ever really mattered to you, right? That, and always making sure you kept proper company.”

Edwin knew this wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be naked like this in front of his son–especially not his faggot son–but everytime one of those gloved hands ran down his thigh or stomach, he lost a little more will to care–he just wanted to be touched. Todd tugged down on his father’s hand, and watched him wobble, and then sink to his knees in front of him. Lightly, he caressed his face with both gloved hands, watching his jaw go slack. “That’s good, daddy, that’s very good. Now, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, and I want to see your real face around my cock first. Then we’re going out tonight, and we’ll see what sort of company you keep from now on, daddy.”

Todd unzipped the fly of his jeans with one hand, and pulled his cock free, shuddering as he did when the leather touched flesh. Helplessly, he watched his hand stroke his own cock, beyond his control, the shaft lengthening and thickening from a modest four inches to seven. Then, he took his father’s head in his hands, and pushed the dribbling head to his lips, Edwin happily accepting it, so long as the lovely leather remained against his skin a while longer. Todd took a long drag off his cigar, and released a thick cloud of smoke over his father’s head, making him cough. Edwin had always hated smoke, but he fought through it, eyes burning slightly, because the gloves wanted him to. Because Todd wanted him to. Todd pushed his father’s mouth off his cock, holding him in place with both hands, took another draw off the cigar and locked lips with him, pushing smoke deep into his father’s lungs, making him hold it until he coughed and gagged–then he rammed his cock back into his mouth and fucked his face roughly for a few minutes, barely giving him space to breathe.

“That’s right you fucker–your boy’s back in fucking town. Is this man enough for you, daddy? Is this man enough for you yet? Because trust me, I’m going to be more man than this little fucking town can handle soon enough, just you fucking wait and see.”

The gloves, he could feel them fighting him, and one peeled away from his father’s head and dragged his hand back towards Todd’s body, hauling up his shirt and grabbing his nipples, twisting and pulling at them. Todd groaned, feeling them grow larger and fuller the more the glove played with them, and with a sharp pain, he looked down and saw metal piercings had appeared in both of them. Apparently satisfied, the glove allowed his hand to return to Edwin, stroking his smooth cheek, feeling a thin layer of stubble grow under his fingers. There would be more of that, soon enough, Todd thought, thinking of his plans, of the plans of his gloves, and he filled his father’s mouth with a massive load, listening to him choke it down like the good whore he was going to be soon enough.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 3)

It was early afternoon by the time Jasper stopped and decided to take a break from cleaning the apartment–mostly because his gut had begun to growl a bit. This seemed…a bit odd to him. After all, he’d eaten a sizable breakfast–much larger than he could ever remember eating before this–and while cleaning up the apartment he’d also found himself drawn back to the kitchen every hour or so for some sort of snack. It just…felt good to eat, all of a sudden, and while part of him knew this was wrong, that if he wanted to get his old body back he’d have to stop eating…at the same time, he didn’t want to threaten Daryn, right? If anything…wouldn’t it be better if he was fatter? Less muscular? Less…less of a man than him?

No, he pushed that aside. There was something really weird going on here, and as soon as he finished cleaning up for Daryn, then he was going to go find Mr. Wadsworth, and that old fuck was going to explain what exactly was going on here. This, he was certain, wasn’t the way things were, or should have been, and if that old man had anything to do with this…well, Jasper was certain he could figure out some way to make him fix it, even if he didn’t know what, really, needed fixing. Still, whatever this hunger was, it really was bothering him–he went back into the kitchen, and rather than the lighter junk food he’d been eating, he made himself a sizable lunch, and then devoured it on the couch while he watched TV. When he was finished, he leaned back and let off a nice long belch, expecting to feel full…but while his gut was straining, the hunger he’d been feeling wasn’t satisfied at all.

Distressed, he kept cleaning, and was nearly finished when Daryn returned home from practice, reeking of field and sweat, and he sat down right on the couch, naked, and started watching TV, demanding a beer from the fridge, which Jasper hurried to fetch for him. As he walked away from his jock roommate, however, Jasper had to wipe his chin–something had just made him drool spontaneously, and that growling in his gut was only growing more intense. He occupied himself with preparing dinner, bringing Daryn beer after beer as he knocked them back, and every time he got close to him, Jasper found himself drooling, starving for something but he didn’t know what. He took a plate out to Daryn when dinner was ready, and then devoured a portion five times the size in the kitchen at the table, but the food tasted…dull. It wasn’t what he wanted to eat, but what in the fuck was he so hungry for? Stuffed to the gullet and profoundly unsatisfied, Jasper spent the evening on some schoolwork and then went to bed, hoping his body would settle down in the coming days.

Instead, everything just got worse. Jasper spent the days in relative misery, desperately trying to fill some hole in his belly that he couldn’t explain or even discuss. He tried all kinds of food, anything he’d usually craved in his life, but nothing tasted satisfying. He tried to drink it away, but all that did was provide him with a massive hangover, and a furious Jasper later, when there wasn’t enough beer in the place for him to drink that evening. The drooling only intensified, as well–if he caught even a whiff of Daryn’s musk, his mouth would simply overflow, and his gut would twist into knots, but he didn’t want to eat Daryn. He found his salivation was triggered by other things as well–the nasty piles of sweaty gym laundry Daryn left for him to do, the smell of his piss left in and around the toilet, and the trashcan brimming with cum soaked tissues by Daryn’s computer.

He’d tried to contact Mr. Wadsworth, but the office said he was on a two week vacation, and that since he was out of the country, he was impossible to contact. Jasper doubted this somehow…it seemed like he’d talked with him once or twice since Daryn had fucked him, but he couldn’t remember where, when, or any real details. It was over a week of this, and Jasper was so frustrated he’d be willing to try anything. He could sense that there was something he could do, that the solution was somehow obvious, but it was almost like he was refusing to see it. That…that if he finally understood the problem, and the solution, that might somehow be even worse. One afternoon, while Daryn was out, he couldn’t take it any longer, and he broke down into sobs in the living room. “Please–please, just tell me what to do, I can’t take this anymore!” he shouted–though who he was talking to was unclear.

But the next moment, Mr. Wadsworth was standing beside him, smiling down at him. “Jasper, we’ve already discussed this several times. You know how to make it stop. You know what your body needs now. If you really want to fight it, then this is the price you’ll have to pay.”

“Please, I can’t…just change me back, please.”

“Now, now, I would never do that!” the older man said, “That would ruin my fun. Now come on, I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting right now. Everything you need is right in his room–just go give it a try! You can always stop if you don’t like it, right?”

Yeah…yeah, he just needed…a taste is all. One taste, to get it out of his system, and then he could keep fighting. He was just so tired now, and he needed it so badly. He went into Daryn’s room, to the trashcan he’d never bothered emptying, drool pouring from his mouth. He picked one up–still a bit sodden from a morning load, and pushed it into his mouth. He’d expected it to be dry, but the amount of spit his body was making actually helped it go down so…easily, and fuck, it tasted so good. He fell to his knees, grabbing wad after wad of tissue and cramming it into his mouth, swallowing it all down, horrified at himself, and yet he couldn’t fucking stop.

Yeah, it wasn’t…quite what I’d planned I suppose, when I said I wanted to help my dad get a date. I never really could figure out why mom decided to leave, exactly–I’d always gotten along great with him. I mean, sure, he had a bit of a temper at times, but mostly he just seemed, well, lonely. He never showed much interest in dating, and I was planning on leaving for college at the end of the summer–I wanted him to have someone he could rely on while I was away, you know?

The fortune teller at the fair…I don’t know why I told her all about us, all about my dad’s problems, and how worried I was about him. The old woman had just given me a smirk, and odd look, and said that the next morning my wish would be granted. I didn’t quite understand what she meant by that, but I went home a while later, and my dad was still up, watching TV. I was tired, but joined him for a beer, and then six beers, and then…

Well, then I woke up with my head pounding, and my dad’s arms wrapped around me, tight. And fuck, it felt good, you know? I pushed back into him, unable to help myself, his cock hardening and he slipped it inside me again, nibbling at my ear, like it was perfectly normal for him to be fucking his own son. I was more than a bit freaked out, but the damn fair had disappeared like it had never existed…and before too long, I started to understand why my mom had left my dad in the first place.

That temper of his? In the bedroom, he was in charge, whether I liked it or not. I mean, I did like it, surprisingly enough, and when he saw how…compliant I was with him, suddenly that domination was creeping into the rest of our relationship too. We fought about me going to college–he ripped up my acceptance forms, I tried to leave, he shoved me up against the wall and raped my ass in just the right damn way…and so I stayed. I can’t just leave my dad all alone after all, right? Besides, this hole of mine has turned into quite a money maker online, so I think everything worked out alright in the end, don’t you?

Something for Something (Part 2)

Commissioned by Anonymous

Before Dr. Taylor could respond, the smoke curling from between the man’s bearded lips snaked up and coiled in on itself, and then flung its way across the room, slamming into his chest and binding itself tightly around him, holding his arms to his sides as he struggled, and through the smoke, he could see the man differently, almost as though there were two men standing in one place–the short, old hairy troll, and then behind him was Miles, that foolish student he’d had blacklisted, and a shiver of terror shot through him. “Miles? Miles, is that you? What the hell happened to you?”

“You happened to me, you fucker!” Miles shouted, “You happened to me, but you know what? Everything’s going to be alright bitch, because I’m here to punish you, and what a sweet fucking punishment it’s going to be. Strip him–no fucking rip his clothes off.”

The smoke tightened around the professor, gripping his suit, and then exploded outward, the fabric ripping to shreds in a flurry around him, and the professor was sitting in front of Miles in his chair, naked, and Miles glared at him. The professor was in his mid 50’s, but was still fairly slim, with an angular, clean shaven face, and Miles could see that he had a decent sized cock and balls, and a relatively smooth body. The professor, in that moment for freedom, tried to stand up and get to the door, but the smoke collected around him again, tripping him and sending him crashing to the floor face first at Miles’ feet. “Who…who are you? What is this.”

“This is payback. This is revenge, you fucker, for ruining my life, so I figured I might as well ruin yours–what do you say? I think that’ll be pretty fair, don’t you? How about we change your attitude first though? I’m sick of looking at that snide fucking look of yours.”

He inhaled deep, and sent out another plume of smoke which curled out of his mouth in a thick tendril, curled in on itself for a moment, and then shot down, pushing it’s way into Dr. Taylor’s mouth in one thick, choking column, and he tried not to breath, but it felt like the smoke was permeating him, driving itself into his body, into his blood, and then into his mind, which began to cloud, almost as though he were drunk or high. He tried to regain his bearings, but it felt like the entire room was spinning aside from the short, wide man in front of him. He looked so stable, he looked so…powerful, and so sexy…

Dr. Taylor tried to shake his head clear, he tried to protest, but the thoughts refused to go away, and they only grew more intense. The idea of being controlled and demeaned and humiliated by this man was turning him on so much…he had done so much wrong in his life, and he wanted to be punished. He craved it suddenly, and he let out a moan, and heard himself say, “Please…please, sir…I…” and then his throat cracked and dried out, but he needed to say something, he needed to show how much he wanted to serve him, and so he crawled forward as best he could with the smoke binding his naked body, until he reached one of Mile’s leather shoes, and he started licking it, tasting the smooth leather, feeling his cock harden against the carpet as he groaned in pleasure.

“You piece of shit. How does it feel, licking my fucking shoes clean? You like being down there, don’t you? I know I can’t quite tower over you, so I think you’re going to spend a whole lot of your life crawling from now on. Hell, maybe I’ll even ride you around like a fucking pony. You’d like that I bet, feeling my huge body crushing your back, eh bitch?”

Dr. Taylor just muttered and moaned. His head was somewhere else, this mind wasn’t his…was it? He had to get back, he had to find his way back, but the smoke was still inside of him, and it wasn’t clouding his thoughts, it was rewriting them. The cloud began to fade, slowly but surely, and these new needs only intensified and grew sharper. He needed to serve this man. He wanted to debase himself. The fact that he was completely naked in front of this troll, licking his shoes clean, only made him hornier.

Miles looked down at his Goliath and smiled. He’d wanted this for so long, and he hadn’t even known it, wanted to see this old fool on the ground naked, but it wasn’t enough yet. He pulled his foot back and walked around Dr. Taylor where he was bound on the floor, willing the smoke to push his ass up a bit so Miles could reach out and knead it with his old hands. “I bet you want me to fuck you, don’t you? I bet you want this big cock of mind to rip open your cherry, I bet you want me to punish you.”

“Y–Yes…” Dr. Taylor sighed, “Please sir, please…fuck me. Fuck me, I deserve it, do whatever you want to me, I need it, please…”

Miles reached under his huge gut and undid the fly of his suit, pulling out his massive, thick cock, amazed at it’s girth. He could barely reach his small hand around the entire shaft, but he wasn’t going to need to jack it off anytime soon. Dr. Taylor was going to be his cumdump from now on. He hefted his apron up and rested it on the small of Dr. Taylor’s back, letting it rest there for a moment as he ran the massive head up and down his crack, feeling it catch on the doctor’s ass each time, feeling the man stiffen with need each time, teasing him, and then he started working it in dry, listening to the man beneath him groan and cry out in pain.

“What, you didn’t think I was going to lube up for your worthless ass, did you? Fuck now, you aren’t worth my spit. You’re getting my cock dry, or you’re not getting it at all, and how would it feel, if I never fucked you?”

“Horrible,” Dr. Taylor muttered, “It would be horrible sir, but please, it’s so big–it hurts.”

“I can take it out. I can take it out and not fuck you at all, is that what you want?”

“No! No, please fuck me, sir.”

“Then beg me to fuck you raw. Ask me to make it hurt. You want it to hurt, pain feels so good, bitch, and you know it, but you’re just a fucking pussy–it hurts every time, but you love it. So fucking beg me for it, and maybe I’ll keep fucking you.”

“Please…” Dr. Taylor moaned, and he felt the words forming in his mind, and he tried one last time to resist, to reassert himself, but the old him was so far away now, this new Dr. Taylor was just a simpering piece of shit, just a worthless cum dump for Miles, for his Master, yes, his master, it was so obvious. “Please fuck me as hard as you can, make it hurt, sir…Make me scream…”

Dr. Taylor did scream, but he didn’t regret his words, it felt great, feeling that monster cock splitting open his ass. Miles was taking deep breaths of the smoke, but none of it was leaving him, it was pulling itself down into his body, into his balls, and it only took his a few dry thrusts once he was all the way in to start cumming, and along with his seed, smoke poured into Dr. Taylor’s ass, the heat of it nearly as excruciating as the short fuck had been, but he felt it first surge into his balls, and he was cumming onto the carpet, unable to stop himself, and he could feel his cock shriveling up, feel his ball emptying and drying and shrinking, and by the time he’d finished, his balls were smaller than grapes, his sack pulled tight up under his miniscule one inch cock. He knew in his mind that he would never get hard again, that it would just flail about during sex, maybe dripping out a bit of sour cum once in a while, but that wasn’t important. What mattered was serving his master.

Miles kept hammering his cock in and out as he came, and as he did, he watched the smoke still binding Dr. Taylor’s body form itself into thick black stripes before solidifying into a leather harness with straps two inches thick. The bottom strap couldn’t actually attach to his cock and balls with a ring–they were too small, so instead it morphed into a longer strap, and as he pulled his cock out, the smoke solidified into a massive dildo and the strap went between his legs, attaching there instead, smashing the doctor’s cock and balls against his body. Finally, the remaining smoke in the room, coalesced around the doctor’s neck and formed into a thick metal collar, and neither the harness, nor the collar, showed any signs of a seam. The doctor would be wearing them underneath his clothes for the rest of his life, when he taught classes, stuttering stupidly along, unable to focus without being near his master Miles, the new head of the chemistry department who had enslaved him.

Miles sighed, and felt the heat start to dissipate as the pipe burned out. He looked up, his cock still out and dribbling cum, and saw Ed in the doorway smirking at him, and Miles glared at him for a second before giving him a smile, and then the guard slipped out before Dr. Taylor could see him.

“Get up you worthless sack of shit,’” Miles said, rolling Dr. Taylor over with his shoe, “Let’s go home, I think we need some time in the dungeon tonight.”

“Y–Yes sir…” Dr. Taylor said, his voice meek. He got up off the floor and put on his spare suit from the wardrobe, covering up his true self beneath it, and then followed his Master out of the building, and drove him to his house. He could dimly remember there being a wife and kids living there with him, but that was ridiculous. He’d always lived here with his Master–no one else, serving him day and night, when he wasn’t teach courses at the college of course, and doing all of the grading for his Master’s courses as well. The entered the house and Dr. Taylor immediately stripped away his suit, and Miles said, “Get down in the dungeon, in the cage. I’ll be down eventually.”

“Yes, Sir…” the slave said, and made his way quickly to the basement door, went down into the fully outfitted dungeon and locked himself into the cage there, to wait for his punishment. Miles meanwhile went up to the master bedroom–to his master bedroom, and stripped out of his own suit, and stared at his naked, fat, hairy body.

“It was worth it, wasn’t it?” he said gruffly, and then smiled, and packed a big pipe that would last him through most of the session he was planning for his slave. He went to his closet and hung up his suit on the rods dropped down a few feet so he could reach them, and then found his leather uniform, and smiled. He could still be an officer in one way, at least, and he pulled it on slowly, wanting to make the doctor wait, like he had waited. He had waited for revenge, and he had gotten it. He had lost much, but in the end, gained more than he could have ever imagined.

Garrett looked up from where he was washing his car, and across the street he saw that the old faggot, Mr. Phillips, was looking at him from the window again, and he rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that he necessarily disliked the attention–he was definitely proud of his body and liked showing it off, or else why would he be outside on a nice day shirtless? Still, knowing that the fat old man was perving out on him was enough to almost make him feel like covering up. What he didn’t see, however, was Mr. Phillips slide the window open, point a strange looking ray gun at Garrett, and fire a strange bean of glistening light which enveloped Garrett for a moment, and then he went mostly limp, his eyes closed and head down, and he turned around in a trance, and crossed the street before letting himself into Mr. Phillips’ house.

***

Garrett startled awake, still standing, not entirely sure what had happened, and almost fell over, unsure of himself. He’d been outside washing his car right, but now he was in some bedroom he didn’t recognize, and he saw Mr. Phillips, his pervy old neighbor kneeling on the ground in front of him, dressed in a leather harness, a thick metal chain around his neck, and the sight of it made a deep growl of approval erupt from his chest, and his cock got a bit hard in his jockstrap.

“Wait…what?” he said to himself, and looked down–expecting to see his camo cargo shorts, but instead he was dressed in a pair of leather chaps and a white jockstrap bulging out with his erection, with two shiny leather boots on his feet, but looking at the slave kneeling in front of him, ready to serve was getting him hard–he loved brutally fucking these old fat perverts, but something was missing, something…he needed in his mouth…

“Slave,” he heard himself say, “Light me a cigar.”

“Yes sir!” Mr. Phillips said, and stood up, rushing to a humidor, opening it up and pulling out a slender cigar. He handed it to Garrett, who looked at it, confused, since he’d never smoked before in his life, but when the old man lit a match, Garrett puffed it to life like it was the most natural act in the world, and smirked. Mr. Phillips was disgusting and a pervert, but then again so was he…right? Just a muscular leather god obsessed with humiliating and dominating old faggots. “Clean my boots, slave,” he said, relishing the sense of power he had over this old man, and Mr. Phillips dropped to the ground, licking the leather to a bright shine, moaning as he did.

“You want my cock in that sloppy asshole of yours, slave?”

“Yes sir!”

“You want me to pound your hole so hard you can’t sit right for a week?” Garrett slipped his cock out of the jockstrap and started stroking it. He really needed a PA in the head. In fact, he really needed some other piercings too, and maybe…maybe some tattoos. Still that would have to come later–he had a fat ass to demolish fist, and with a growl, he kicked Mr. Phillips off his boot, got down and rammed his cock into the faggot with one long, dominant thrust.

Jake and Mitch were chatting behind the counter in the army surplus store, when a young man standing over by the boots said to the roughnecks, “I was wondering if you guys could help me figure out what boots size I should wear.”

“It’s usually the same as your shoe size,” Mitch said.

“Well, I have weird feet.”

With a sigh, Mitch went over, and saw that the kid had already kicked his shoes off, and then the stench hit him. His brain blew a few circuits, and drooling, he got down on his hands and knees, taking as much of the kid’s socked foot in his mouth as he could. Jake rushed over to see what was going on, and a moment later, he too had succumbed to the smell, and each taking a foot, the two roughnecks worshiped the kids feet, obeying his every order without a second–or even a first–thought. 

When he left, it was with a pair of free boots, and the promise of his two new slaves that they would come see him after their shifts–and not take off the filthy socks pulled over their rock hard cocks until then.

When Nathan had said he wanted to take Michael to a gaming convention, Michael hadn’t been too excited. He had been even less excited when he heard about Nathan’s plan to cosplay as a couple of orcs–but Nathan eventually convinced him to try the costume on. If Michael didn’t enjoy it, then he wouldn’t have to do it.

He had been expecting cardboard costumes and face paint–not the strange neon green solution Nathan had presented, but he drank it down with his boyfriend–and immediately felt sick to his stomach. His skin–it was turning green, and he was growing shorter and broader, his body filling in with pounds of muscle. Looking over at Nathan–he too was changing, but growing taller, and even more muscular than Michael. Becoming far more powerful…and Michael felt his now feeble mind overcome with the need to serve his warlord.
As Michael sucked down Nathan’s ten inch cock, Nathan told him that the convention wasn’t entirely about gaming. There was also a heavy undercurrent of sex play involved. They would be a shoe-in for first place in the costume contest, as the orc warlord and his sex slave peon.