Vignette: Welcome Home, Bro

***Warning: This post contains references to incest. Don’t like it, don’t read it. ***

Taylor parked the car on the street, happy to finally be home for a break from college. Sure, his school was only a few hours away, but between his classes and football, he had barely had a chance to even talk to his dad in the past few weeks, and it would be a nice chance to spend some time with him. Too bad his brother, Sam, was still at home, the slacker. He’d dropped out of high school a few months ago, as soon as he turned eighteen, but refused to get a job and move out of the house. It was embarrassing that a guy like that could even be related to him, the hotshot all star jock, successful in classes and with the ladies. He knew that Sam was gay as well, since he’d found him with some really disgusting porn a few times, but he’d never told his dad. For whatever reason, his dad had always tried to support Sam, but Taylor knew there wasn’t anything he could do. Some people just couldn’t be helped.

He unloaded his bags from the back and headed up to the front door, which he unlocked with his key. The front door opened right onto the living room, and he was greeted by the sight of his short fat, hairy brother in his dad’s armchair naked, with some fat old man kneeling before him, sucking him off!

“What the…What the fuck is this! Does dad know what–” Taylor started to say, when his brother raised up a gun and fired it at him, a prismatic ray filling his entire vision, and sending him crashing to the floor, staring ahead blankly, a bit of drool leaking out the side of his mouth.

“Dang, he got here sooner than I thought he would,” Sam said to himself, then pushed the man off his cock, “Go get dressed for a night at the club, slave. Put on that nice new harness of yours, and don’t forget your collar.”

The older man nodded quickly, adding a curt “Yes, sir,” before walking out of the living room.

Sam got up out of the chair and walked over to where his brother lay on the ground, fiddling with some of the controls on the side of the gun as he did. “Taylor, can you hear me?”

“…Yes…” Taylor said, his voice a straight monotone.

“When I release you from your trance, you will stand up, close the door, and then stand at attention until I tell you otherwise. You will obey all of my commands from this moment onward, regardless of whether you want to or not. You will not be able to attack me or try to cause me any kind of harm, nor will you try and take the gun. Do you understand all of these orders?”

“…Yes…”

Sam shot his brother with the gun again, this time with a beam of pure white, and a second later, Taylor blinked, stood up, closed the door, and then stood at attention in front of his brother. From the look on his face, he was obviously trying to resist, but his body wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do, not anymore.

“Welcome home, Taylor, how’s college going? Putting those scholarships to good use?” Sam said, sneering. He barely came up to his brother’s chest, even though he was only a year younger than him. In fact, he was almost as big around as he was tall, weighing in at nearly 300 pounds, although to Taylor, it looked like he had grown since he’d left for college.

“Fuck you, Sam. What the hell did you shoot me with?”

“What, this?” Sam said, holding up the ray gun, “Just a little something which got shipped here accidentally. The federal agents who came to retrieve it said it was being used for secret military testing. Of course, when they left they all knew that all of this had been a great, big, misunderstanding. See, this is a hypnoray, or at least a prototype of one. Who cares? It works damn well.”

“That’s a pile of bullshit.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that,” Sam said, “Strip bro, all the way down. From now on, you are forbidden from wearing clothing in the house unless I say otherwise.”

Taylor wanted to cuss out Sam. He wanted to punch him, and beat him to death, but instead, he pulled off his shirt, the dropped his pants, and pulled off his briefs, socks and shoes, trying not to blush. Sam just looked on, licking his lips a couple of times, making Taylor shiver in disgust.

“Dang, you know, if I actually had a thing for muscular jocks like you, I might actually find you attractive,” Sam said, “Though I have to ask–is the reason you went through so many girlfriends because of your tiny cock? I mean, you sure did get the shit end of the stick there.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam!” Taylor shouted, tried to lunge at his brother, but returned to standing at attention, his body unresponsive.

His brother said nothing in reply for a moment, just came over and started rubbing his body along the contours of Taylor’s muscles. “You got the best of everything else though, I gotta admit that,” Sam finally said, “Pity it won’t be around for too much longer.”

“What?”

“Oh Taylor, I have such big plans for you!” Sam said, tweaking one of his brother’s nipples, “See, you really have treated me like shit all of these years. All those names you called me, all because I was short, fat and lazy–which I must say are really my best qualities. So I think the best way for you to realize just how wrong you were is to become as much like me as possible.”

Taylor just stared at his brother. Was he fucking serious?

“I can see from that look on your face that you don’t believe me. Well here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take this hypnogun, and I’m going to use it on you. When you head back to school, you’re going to be a whole new person. You’ll stop working out, you eat junk food all the time, skip class, jack off at all hours of the day, hit on all your teammates–anything I want you to do really.”

“You’re lying. There’s no way you could do something like that.”

“Oh? Well, perhaps a demonstration,” Sam said, and shot Taylor with the gun once more, sending him back into his trance. “Now, Taylor, tell me the name of the biggest, dirtiest guy on the football team. One of the defensive line, the bigger the better.”

“Max…Max Carpenter.”

“Tell me about Max.”

“He’s…really big. Fat and muscular. Probably 250 pounds. He’s really loud too, and kind of obnoxious. Tells lots of jokes, but they aren’t funny. He also doesn’t wear deodorant at all, which is really disgusting, and refuses to wash his jockstraps.”

“Now Taylor, I’m going to tell you somethings about Max, and what you think of him. When you hear these things, you will know them to be true. You will remember how you used to think, but that will seem obviously wrong to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You are very attracted to Max, Taylor. You find him to be one of the more attractive men you have ever seen. You want Max to like you, so you are always trying to hang around him. You laugh at all of his jokes, and agree with anything he says. You fantasize about servicing him in the locker room, think about sucking his cock or being fucked by him. He is the focus of all of your masturbation fantasies. You imagine yourself licking his pits clean, filling yourself up with his masculine scent, and then you cum, every time. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Sam shot him with the gun again, and Taylor came back to awareness. “You…You did something. What did you do? What was that?”

“Tell me something Taylor, what do you think about your teammate Max?”

“Max Carpenter? Oh man, that guy is so hot!” Taylor said, feeling his heart beat faster at just the thought of his hunky teammate, “God, I’d do anything to suck his cock, or feel it up my ass. I’ve seen it in the showers, and its fucking massive, Sam. Huge. God, and he’s just the funniest guy I’ve ever met! I…No, no this isn’t right, is it? What did you do!?”

“I just made a little tweak is all, nothing big. Nothing like what I’m going to do to you this weekend. When you get back to campus, you won’t be able to stop yourself from begging Max to fuck you in front of all of your teammates, as soon as you see him. Won’t be able to think about anything other than how amazing he smells after a long practice.”

“No…No, please don’t.” Taylor said, his cock rock hard and jutting out in front of him. Sam reached out and started stroking it, making his big brother whimper.

“Yeah, imagine how great he smells, all those times he got close to you in the locker room, in that dirty jockstrap of his. You want to smell that jock, don’t you? You want him to grind your face into his crotch, and make you his bitch!”

With a groan, Taylor shot a massive load of cum all over his brother’s hand. God, he did want Max so badly, he couldn’t help himself. San chuckled again, and shoved his cum soaked hand up to Taylor’s mouth. “Please Sam, please don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Lick it.”

Taylor couldn’t stop himself from sucking his own cum off every one of his brother’s fingers, as Sam spoke, “Of course you’re sorry, Taylor. But really, I’m doing you a favor! You’re going to be so hot soon, once we get rid of all those muscles and replace them with fat, and when you stop shaving and cutting your hair, and maybe you’ll stop taking showers and washing your jockstraps too, like Max. That would be hot, don’t you think?”

“No! That’s fucking disgusting,” Taylor said, but his cock had twitched again at the mention of Max, and he began to panic. Sam couldn’t really do this, could he?

“Well, you’ll agree soon enough,” Sam said, as the older man from earlier came hurrying into the living room. He had put some clothes on, if you could call them clothes even. His big belly was strapped into a leather harness, and he had on a pair of leather shorts stretched tight across his thick thighs. A metal collar was secured around his neck with a padlock. The man’s entire body and head was shaved smooth, from head to toe, aside from a bushy beard on his face.

“I’m ready for the club, master,” the man said, eagerly, “When are we going?”

“Who the fuck is that, anyway?” Taylor asked, and Sam looked at him funnily, and laughed.

“Wait, you really don’t recognize him? Your own father? I mean, sure, he’s made some changes to his life, but he’s still the same guy, deep down, isn’t that right? You love your sons, don’t you dad?”

“Yes son, I love you very much,” his dad said, and then walked over and started kissing Sam, who shoved his tongue into his father’s mouth. Taylor felt the knot in his stomach tighten and he tried to not throw up. He didn’t want it to be true, but now that it had been pointed out to him, he could see it. It was his dad. Sam had turned him into some sort of perverse leather slave! What the hell was going on?

“Yeah, dear old dad here has been discovering a few things about himself over the past couple months, like how much he loves being fat, for one. And another, how much he loves having anything shoved up his ass.” Sam pushed one of his fingers up his dad’s hole, making the older man shiver with delight. “He just loves going to the gay clubs around town and begging men to fuck him, use him like the fat cumdump he is, isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir, I’m your dirty cumdump, sir! I love having a hard cock up my ass more than anything!”

Taylor felt himself getting a bit light headed. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be real.

“Alright dad,” Sam said, giving his slave a kiss on the cheek, “I’m not gonna go with you tonight–you’re on your own. I want you to find some rough, abusive top and go home with him, and do whatever he wants. You want him to beat you, and humiliate you, and dump his cum in you, because that’s all your good for, right?”

“Yes sir, I will sir!” his dad said, and hurried out the door and into his car, eager to get his night started.

“You’re a monster,” Taylor said.

“No, I’m your brother, silly. And you’re my slave.” Sam said, sitting back down in his armchair, his cock erect. “Now get sucking on this cock and finish up what dad started earlier, which you so rudely interrupted. Suck me off like you fantasize sucking off Max. If you do a good job tonight, maybe I’ll let you suck all the cum out of your dad’s ass tomorrow morning when he gets home.”

Taylor tried to scream and fight, but he just walked over, got down on his knees and started sucking off his brother’s cock. He screamed inside, but all he could think about was Max, and what it would be like sucking his teammates sweaty cock after practice, and he started sucking harder.

A few days later, a very different Taylor climbed into the car, waved goodbye to his brother and father, and headed back to college. He didn’t know why he’d been wasting so much of his life with sports and girls. All he really wanted to do now was gorge himself, watch porn, play video games, and have sex with as many men as he possibly could. Yeah, and as soon as he got to campus, he was going to find Max and beg him to fuck his face with that big cock of his, he couldn’t wait. He let out a large burp, feeling his taut stomach from the massive amount of food Sam had forced down his throat this morning, his cock already hard, imagining what he’ll look like when he’s his brother’s size. He’d really been wrong about his brother all these years–he was a great guy. No, Sam was more than that. Sam was his master, and Taylor knew he would serve his brother for the rest of his life.

Image Vignette: The Life Sucked Out of Me

This, was me.

This was me before I met my master–before I got the life sucked out of me.

I should explain. I was a hotshot cub, and my real fetish, the one I couldn’t get enough of, was bondage. Something about getting hogtied, of having all the power stripped away from me was the biggest turn on in the world. I was always on the lookout for some top to strap me down and do whatever he wanted to me–unfortunately, I found out the hard way that what some predators want can be…unconventional.

He messaged me, something about an officer wanting to come make an arrest someone aching for punishment. It didn’t have a photo attached, but the scenario sounded fucking sexy. I’d always loved cops, especially in uniform, so I messaged back with an address, and said I’d be waiting for a warrant. My reply came from a knock on the door. When I opened it, I had just enough time to take in the silver daddy filling out his leather uniform, chuffing on a big cigar and damn, was he hot. Older than I usually liked my men, but he would do just fine.

Then, he had me shoved up against the wall and his handcuffs around my wrists, the entire force of his weight on me, the cigar in his mouth heating my ear. “Oh yes, you’ll do nicely…good and young and fresh…” he said. He pulled out a chloroform soaked rag and covered my face, and before I could even get out a safe word, I was asleep.

I woke up back in the lair, in one of master’s playrooms, although he wasn’t my master then–not yet. I woke up bound to a wrought iron bed, my hands in mitts and chained to the posts, my legs spread eagle to the bottom corners, and stripped down to my jock, and my harness. I struggled for a few minutes, and even the terror of an actual kidnapping was enough to quell the raging hardon distending my jock. It was a scene right out of my most twisted fantasies, and I was loving it, and yet, what did he have planned for me? Would he let me go?

I don’t know how long until he returned, it could have been minutes or hours, but he did come back, still in uniform. “Hello boy–welcome to my sanctum,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll learn to love it here, like the rest of my thralls. Still, I’ve had a few passings lately and I need to replenish my…stock. Still, the first time is such a pleasure, I’m sure neither of us will mind.” He grinned, and I saw something I hadn’t in the doorway–the fangs. I freaked. I begged, I pleaded and fought and struggled, while he removed one of his gloves, licked his finger, and ran the saliva up my chest. The sensation was indescribable, the burn of the spit became pure pleasure coursing through my body, and in my sudden convulsions of delight I felt my cock began to leak, and he bent over, sucking the precum from my jock. “Delicious…you will be a feast, I can already tell–I won’t have to eat for days!” He pulled back my jock, revealing my red, throbbing cock, and he looked up at me, “Well thrall, are you ready to have the life sucked out of you?”

Before I could say a word, his mouth was around my cock, and I screamed from the pain of his teeth sinking in, my sudden, forceful ejaculation, and the pleasure from his spit dribbling down the shaft of my cock. He began sucking, and I swear, I could feel him latch onto my very spirit, and begin drawing it from my body.

My hair began to recede at first, and turn grey, my brilliant red goatee turning pure white, as the changes worked their way down my body. My chest hair turning grey, my skin taking growing pale, toned body growing fat until I had a prominent gut, cheeks becoming sunken and sallow. I had no energy to fight, I could only lay there and allow the vampire to have his way with me, to take my youth, feed from me. I thought things couldn’t get worse than that, but they did. I could feel him manipulating my mind, erasing my memories, replacing them with love and devotion to him. I was made to serve him, to obey him, to be his thrall. It consumed my mind, it is all I can think about any longer.

I do not know how long it took for him to feast upon my soul. The men I have seen him eat since then, he can drain them in minutes, or hours. Sometimes, when I enter the room to clean up, there is nothing but a husk, or a pile of dust, but I was lucky. He chose me, he remade me into his servant, and I will be forever thankful.

When he was sated, he stood again, wiping the cum and blood from his lip, and I saw him, my master, in his true form, restored to his glory.

The hole where my soul, my will had been minutes or hours before now ached with a burning need to service him, to obey his every command until I should pass on. He released me from my bondage, and I accepted my new bonds of the spirit, kneeling before him, now old and decrepit, worshiping and servicing his massive member, and then he gave me my task.

I bring him men. Any man will do, but my master prefers them young and willful. I pose as the lonely daddy, the sugar daddy. I buy them drinks, I ply them with drugs, I bring them to the master’s lair and he feasts, and in return, he gives me strength. Small trickles of youth from a kiss, or his cum, which will keep me alive for a few more days, long enough to bring a new victim, and receive what I need most. I am a thrall of a vampire, and this…this is me.

Image Vignette: Replacement Parts

“Alright, and here’s the guest room, where you can stay. It’s a bit…tight, I’ll admit. It used to me my…uh…friend’s workshop, so pardon the mess.” Marty said, and scratched the back of his head in slight embarrassment as Ryan looked around the room with some dismay. It certainly would have never passed inspection back in the Navy, but it would have to make do.

“This looks fine,” Ryan said, “I just hope you’re not expecting me to start right now,” he added with a smile. The rain outside was horrendous. Marty’s truck had gotten stuck in a patch of deep mud, and they’d both had to hike a half mile through the heavy rain to the farmhouse. Ryan’s clothes were soaked, and Marty had dropped his bag in a puddle, meaning he had nothing dry to wear. Marty had been just as soaked, but the short, stocky redneck had already taken a moment to change into a dirty white undershirt, cut off flannel vest and some jeans.

“Hah, nah, I wouldn’ make ya do that. Tomorrow mornin’ will be fine, if the weather clears,” Marty said, “You can just focus on getting settled this evening. Um…How about I go get these dryin’,” he said, referring to Ryan’s bag, “and ya can strip out a those. There’s probably some a Bill’s old work clothes in the closet there ya can wear fer the time being.”

Ryan heaved a bit of a sigh, and looked around at the cramped space again. Two tours of duty, and this is where he’s ended up. He remembered when he’d talked to a recruitment officer, who had sworn the military was the best track into college and a high paying job there was–instead, here he was, working on some rural farm as a mechanic and handyman to get by. Still, he at least had a roof over his head, his youth, and his health, if little else, though he would definitely catch a cold if he didn’t change out of these sopping clothes. He stripped down and rummaged through the closet, but all he could find in there were a pair of battered overalls, which from the musty smell, hadn’t been washed or worn in quite a while. Still, he didn’t have a whole lot of options, so he stripped down to just his jockstrap and ball cap and then slipped the overalls on, cringing a bit from the crusty material.

They were far too large for his frame, even if he had put on a bit of a belly since leaving the navy. Whoever Bill was, he hadn’t been a small guy. Ryan had asked Marty a few questions about Bill on the way over, but he’d been pretty cryptic and didn’t appear to want to talk about it much. Apparently they’d been friends for a while. Marty had taken care of the farm work, while Bill handled the broken down equipment, the housework and selling goods in town, until Bill had died of a heart attack a few months before. Marty was still pretty young, and couldn’t keep up both sides of the business himself, so he’d hired Ryan to help him out in exchange for a small salary, room and board.

“Hey Ryan! Dinner’s on the table!” Marty called out, and Ryan, hiking up the legs of the overalls a bit so he didn’t trip, made his way downstairs into the kitchen, where Marty was busy laying out a massive spread of food, including a roast chicken, a massive bowl of mashed potatoes and heaps of gravy, bread, stuffing, the works.

“Ryan took a seat and shook his head, “Hey man, you didn’t have to cook all of this for me. I tend to be a light eater.”

“Nonsense,” Marty said, “Ya need tah keep yer strength up if yer gonna get to all the work I need done around here. Now eat up while I get you something to drink. But hey, no hats at the table.”

Ryan cocked one eyebrow, but Marty was serious, so he took off his cap and set it aside, before taking a generous portion of everything so that he wouldn’t seem rude, and looked over at Marty mixing up something on the counter. “What are you making?” he asked.

“Huh…oh! Uh, nothing much. Just a little whisky drink–a toast to old friends and new beginnings, eh?” Marty said, bringing over two glasses and handing one to Ryan. They clinked glasses and knocked them back–and the taste was far stronger and bitter than Ryan had been expecting, but it went down all the same.

“Dang, what the hell was that?” Ryan said, sputtering a bit.

“Aw, not much. Just a bit of mah home brew. Ya like it? I can get ya some more.”

Ryan really didn’t want any more, but decided against refusing Marty’s hospitality. He dug into the food on his plate, and found he was hungrier than he’d thought. He found himself taking bigger and bigger bites of the delicious food, and by the time Marty had returned, he polished off half of what he’d put on.

“Here ya are man. What, that all yer havin’? Come on, eat up! It’ll help ya grow,” Marty said with a wink, shoved the glass into Ryan’s hand and started piling his plate high. Without really thinking, Ryan knocked the second drink back as well, and the taste was easier now that he was expecting it, and without a word, dug into the mound of chicken and potatoes on his plate. Marty sat across from him, eating a bit, but mostly watching Ryan and grinning, getting up on occasion to bring him another drink, which Ryan took without objection. By the the end, Ryan had finished off the spread aside from the small bit Marty had eaten, and he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his gut and let off a big belch. “Dang Marty, that was some good shit,” he slurred, “Couldn’ eat another bite.”

“Sorry, but I still have dessert fer us,” Marty said, and brought over a deep dish apple pie, “I know how much ya love mah apple pie after all,” he whispered in Ryan’s ear, who unable to help himself, he took a fork and dug in, not even bothering to slice it. “Let me go get ya another drink,” Marty added, bringing over the rest of the whisky bottle, letting Ryan take swigs from it between giant bites. Marty stood behind him and started running his hands up and down Ryan’s front, both under and over the overalls he was wearing, making Ryan increasingly uncomfortable, but he was also feeling a bit…turned on. He could feel his cock growing uncomfortable in his jockstrap, and he found himself wondering why he was wearing it. He didn’t usually wear underwear, did he? The room was spinning around him, and he tried to focus, but between Marty rubbing his exposed nipples and the delicious pie he had to finish, his thoughts just kept slipping away from his fingers.

When he finally finished, Ryan leaned back in his chair, more stuffed than he’d ever been in his whole life, and suddenly, Marty grabbed his cheeks and kissed him, making Ryan sputter and twist away. “What in tarnation–I ain’t no faggot, fucker!” Ryan said, unable to tell if he was slurring his words, or if his voice really had just come out as a deep, southern twang.

“Well I guess someone ain’t quite ready yet,” Marty said, grabbed Ryan by the arm and helped him up from the chair onto unsteady feet, “Why don’ we go have a sit fer a bit, and relax after that big meal–that sound good, Bill?”

“Mah name ain’t Bill–it’s Ryan…” Ryan muttered, as he stumbled along next to Marty. His body felt strange all of a sudden, like he was too tall, but also a bit front heavy. He passed by a mirror in the hallway, and through his vision was blurred, it didn’t look quite right. He hadn’t had a beard before, had he? Certainly not the bushy light brown one covering his cheeks and chin. And hadn’t these overalls fit badly when he’d put them on? Now though, they felt very comfortable, holding his big gut just right, and he hadn’t stepped on the pant legs once. Marty flopped him down on the couch, and Ryan tried to struggle up, but he felt so weak and heavy. His jockstrap was cutting into his waist, and he really did need to take it off. He’d feel so much better without it on…and yet, another voice was telling him to keep it on, and take off the overalls. But why would he take them off? They were his favorite clothes after all–he wore them pretty much every day. Besides, Marty loved how he looked in them. Then again, Marty loved how he looked in everything…

Marty came back a few moments later, holding a big, bent pipe in his hand. “Here, I know how much you love a good smoke after dinner.” He lit the pipe and then passed it to Ryan, who took a big draw, and let out a big plume of smoke with a sigh.

“Yeah Marty, that’s the ticket. Thanks…” Ryan said, “I…I love ya…Marty.”

“I love you too, Bill.”

“Marty…Marty what’s happenin’ tah me? Why do I feel so strange…” Ryan said, still puffing on the pipe as his eyes swept the room.

“Don’t worry Bill, everythin’ will be back tah normal soon enough,” Marty said, leaned in for another kiss, but Ryan pushed him away. “God damn it, what the fuck is wrong wit ya Bill?”

“I told ya, my name ain’t Bill, it’s Ryan, ‘n I ain’t a fag!” Ryan cried, and tried to sit up from the couch, but the jockstrap cut into him suddenly, like it was trying growing tighter, making him cry out in pain. It felt like it was searing into his skin suddenly, and Marty undid one of the straps off Ryan’s overalls, reached down and felt the offending material.

“So that’s the problem–someone didn’ strip down all the way!” Marty said, “I can fix that.” He ran to the kitchen and came back with some shears, but Ryan fought back against him weakly, so Marty grabbed Ryan’s nipples and twisted them, making his cry out in pleasure as he felt his cock swell. “Now listen here Ryan, ya’re just here tah be some god damn replacement parts, ya got it? I ain’t gonna spend another day without Bill, so yer just gonna have to give up, got it? Now smoke that pipe ‘n hold still!”

“No…No please…please don’,” Ryan said, as Marty cut away his underwear and pulled them out, but as soon as they were gone, Ryan let out a sigh of relief. Fuck he felt better–why had he wanted to keep that jock on so badly anyway? He looked over at Marty, and with his hand reached out and cupped Marty’s crotch, giving it a light squeeze. “Come here ya lug, ‘n give me some sugar…” he said, and Marty, grinning, leaned over and kissed Ryan, his beard growing in faster as they kissed, sharing the smoke from Bill’s old pipe. However, as they were kissing, Ryan felt his balls start to heat up, and soon they hurt enough for him to let out a moan of pain.

“Wh..what is it Bill? What’s wrong?”

“Mah fuckin’ balls, man–fuck! Feels like someone got ‘em caught in a vice!” Ryan fumbled with the fly on the overalls, opened it up, and hauled out his cock. It had grown thicker and longer, as well as growing a meaty foreskin over the head, but his balls hurt more by the second.

Marty however, was overjoyed. The potion was actually working–the witch had been right. Now all Bill had to do was cum, expelling the remnants of Ryan, and he’d have Bill, his redneck, the love of his life back, and they’d never be parted again. He got down on his knees and swallowed Ryan’s new tool to the hilt, making him scream in ecstacy. It only took a couple of good sucks before Ryan was cumming and spasming, releasing his lifesource into Marty’s mouth, who spit it on the floor, and then the body on the couch collapsed back, limply.

Bill? Buddy?” Marty said, shaking the big man’s shoulder, “Hey! Wake up!”

The man let out a groan and grabbed his head. “Fuck man…what the hell? What…what did ya do?”

“I brought ya back Bill…you’re home.” Marty said, and pulled him into a big hug, “I love ya so much, I ain’t never gonna let ya leave me like that ever again.”