Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 2)

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Ken did his best to pretend that the night with Jack had been more or less normal. Sure, there might have been a few…oddities, but he had probably just been drunk and imagined things that weren’t really there. He kept hoping, for some reason, that Jack would reach out to him again, since he still had no way of contacting him from his end of the app. However, the more he tried to focus on getting back to normal, the more he noticed that things seemed to be different.

For one thing, he was just so damn horny now, all the time. Horny, and hungry. The day after he met Jack, and he felt like he was hungover as hell, the one thing that still seemed to be working was his cock, and so he milked out three loads before falling asleep that night at last, wishing he had another day to recover before going back to work on Monday. 

That morning, he woke up, needed to jack off again, ate a much larger breakfast than he usually did, and when he tried to get into his usual business casual, he was frustrated to discover that everything was just a bit too small for him. It wasn’t a matter that he’d gotten chubbier or anything, though he had perhaps gained a little chub–everything was off, from the length of his sleeves, to the legs of his pants, to even his shoes feeling a bit too cramped for his feet. He passed it off as nothing, maybe just a strange little bloat, and did his best to get through the workday, but the sensation of being hungover refused to pass. It wasn’t until he passed by some coworkers who had just come in from a smoke break outside that he realized he wasn’t hungover from the drinking, but from the cigar he’d had with Jack.

He’d quit that though. He wasn’t going back to being a smoker if he could help it. It wasn’t even that he found himself craving cigarettes again–he wanted the feel of a cigar in his hand, that more complex flavor, and deeper nicotine buzz. That evening, he held off pretty well, but soon found his porn interest sliding into cigar smoking videos, and as horny as he was without a chance to jack off at work, he found that he couldn’t cum–and the hangover sensation was only intensifying. He tried to go to bed, but just tossed and turned for a couple of hours before he finally gave in, found a smoke shop that was still open, bought some cheap cigars, went home, smoked one, and the relief! It opened the floodgates in other ways as well, and he came twice as he smoked it, and feeling better than he had in days now, he managed to sleep.

The next few days though, everything just got worse. He was definitely outgrowing his clothes. He measured himself, and was surprised to discover he was gaining almost an inch a day–and was now 6’1”–no wonder his pants were too short! He did have a definite belly coming in, but his chest seemed to be growing not only fat, but some muscle as well–that, and there was the body hair. He’d never been that hairy before, but the day after, he’d started feeling rather itchy, and now three days past the date with Jack, he had a full blown forest of fur coming in all over his chest. It was embarrassing, and coupled with the shrinking clothes, he faked an illness on Wednesday and planned on calling out for the rest of the week, until whatever this strange shit was subsided. Only it didn’t subside at all, and the time off from work only gave him more time for his worst impulses. He spent Wednesday and Thursday bingeing food, cigars and masturbation, until Friday afternoon, when he got a notification from the Arctos dating app–someone else wanted to take him on a date!

He opened it up, but again, he couldn’t see the fellow’s profile or picture or anything–but this time, there was a messaging function open that wasn’t there before, along with a message from the stranger.

“Hey man! You’re looking hot–wanna grab dinner and take a trip to the movies tonight?”

Ken hadn’t gone to see a movie in over a year, since the pandemic had struck. Maybe it would provide him a little bit of relief from his recent impulses as well. He was a bit worried that meeting up with another guy might change him more, but it’s not like that was really possible. He was just having a rough week is all, getting back into the dating scene after a year without. He was just pent up, and a little bloated, and a few days away from work was all he needed. He took the fellow up on his offer, and the fellow offered to pick him up. It wasn’t exactly the safest thing, he knew, but it was probably fine. Ken told him to pick him up at a park near his apartment, so he wouldn’t have to give him his address, and at six, he was out waiting, wondering who this next blind date was going to be.

It wasn’t long before an old beater truck pulled into the parking lot. Ken didn’t think much of it, until the driver climbed down out of the seat, turned around, and beamed at him. “You must be Ken!” he said, “The name’s Eddie, nice to meet you.”

Ken was a bit confused at first. He’d been expecting someone of at least Jack’s caliber, but this guy was decidedly not in stud territory. He was quite a bit shorter than Ken, especially at his new, inexplicable height, with a massive ball gut that Eddie had to tilt back to support. He was wearing some old, grungy looking jeans, suspenders, and just an undershirt with a number of unidentifiable stains on it, and when he came in for a hug, he definitely didn’t smell like he’d taken a shower that day. “Uh…yeah, nice to, uh, meet you.”

“Well come on then, get in the truck! I’m starving.”

“Oh shit, you know, I just realized I forget my wallet at home,” Ken said, “Let me, uh, go grab it.” It was a bad excuse, but it was something at least. There was no way he was going to go on a date with this fellow, if he could help it. However, he found himself walking after Eddie to his truck,, and climbing in with him, feeling a bit sheepish, and wondering why he was doing this. He’d felt the same way with Jack, actually–every suggestion had just somehow necessary. Eddie just chuckled, “Don’t worry pal, I can spot you.”

They drove off, Eddie’s right hand leaving the steering wheel and making its way over to Ken’s thigh, across the bench seat. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” Ken said, hoping that a cigar might dissuade him.

“Hell no, light it up! Cigars are fucking sexy as hell. Loved seeing that in your pics.”

His pics? He hadn’t taken any pictures of himself smoking, that he could recall, and he certainly hadn’t put any up on the dating app. As far as he knew, the only photo up there was his face pic that he’d used as his profile picture. “My pics?” Ken asked, as he lit up his cigar.

“Yeah, you got a good little collection going already on there. Love a big, furry fella like you, couldn’t resist adding my own special twist, if you know what I mean,” Eddie said, and gave him a wink. He turned into a strip mall parking lot, and then into a fast food drive through. This, apparently, was dinner. Eddie pulled up to the speaker and rattled off way more food than two people ought to order. Ken tried to tell him he didn’t want to eat that much, but Ken didn’t pay attention. At the window, five bags of food came at them, along with two big drinks each. Eddie pulled into a parking spot, tossed Ken a bag, and told him to eat up.

“I, uh, don’t usually eat fast food, honestly.”

Eddie just leered at him, “Well you do now, pig. Come on, I know how fucking hungry you are,” he unwrapped a burger and pushed it to Ken’s lips, who found himself helplessly opening his mouth and taking a bite, his gut giving a little gurgle, his hunger rising. “Come on, you don’t have to hide that gluttonous side from me, I know exactly how good it feels to just let go and enjoy yourself.”

Ken ate the first hamburger is about six bites, picked up another one and tore a big chunk out of it with a moan, while Eddie slid closer, eating his own sandwich with one hand while he pushed up Ken’s tight shirt and rubbed his belly. “Oh fuck, it tastes so fucking good,” Ken said through a mouthful.

“Sure does piggy, come on, let’s see how big we can get this gut tonight.”

Ken demolished bag after bag of food, Eddie eating his own smaller share, but spending most of the time rubbing and massaging Ken’s belly and chest, rubbing the grease into his skin as he did, telling him that it was good for making his hair grow. His sweat pants were a bit tight now, and Eddie hauled down the front of them, fished out his cock and rubbed it as well, telling Ken that he loved being a glutton, loved seeing how big he could get, loved eating in front of people like a shameless pig, making as much of a mess as he wanted to. Eventually, all the food was gone, and Ken was left groaning while Eddie massaged his much larger belly and chest, his shirt now impossible to pull down over it at all, and sure enough, even more hair had sprouted across it and down into a thick pubic bush as well. Eddie took a photo of Ken’s face and showed it to him, and sure enough, his beard was longer too–just barely long enough to brush across his chubby chest, full of grease and bits of food.

“Alright, let’s go see what’s playing, pig,” Eddie said, and drove off again. Ken just nursed his very full gut, groaning a bit, but still so hard and horny. He reached down to play with himself, only for Eddie to knock his hand away, telling him to wait. He pulled into another parking lot, and Ken was confused for a moment–there was no movie theater here, just a run down looking sex shop. “Come on, let’s get inside,” Eddie said, and Ken hauled his fat ass out, trying to get his shirt down and failing, waddling after Eddie, horrified at what this nightmare date was becoming.

Eddie knew the old man behind the counter by his first name, pulled Ken to the back of the shop where there was a row of private booths. “I like this place cause most of these are big enough for big guys like us,” he said, “Go on, get in and sit down.”

Ken went in and sat on the sticky bench, and Eddie followed, squeezing down between Ken’s thighs, his face in Ken’s crotch. He pulled the door shut, put on some gay porn, and got to work milking Ken’s cock. It wasn’t Ken’s usual porno selection, but he found himself enraptured by it anyway–and feeling Ken sucking on his cock the whole time left his own hands free to explore his new, even larger body. As disgusted as he was by the massive gut, the skin was incredibly sensitive, and the increased layer of hair made him shudder–especially when Eddie’s hands joined in. Even his longer beard was a new sensation, and not an unwelcome one. In about fifteen minutes, Eddie milked one load out of him, and when Ken went to open the door, he stopped him. 

“Now now, I know these fat fucking pig balls of yours can pump out more than one load–I’m not done with you yet, piggy.”

Eddie kept sucking, and sure enough, Ken was still hard as a rock. He made his way through three full videos, an hour and a half, with Eddie milking load after load out of his cock, leaving Ken panting and heaving, both of them sweating up a storm in the tight quarters, before Eddie finally stood up, and fed Ken the last load of cum he’d shot into his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s not…the date I was expecting, you’re a damn fine cocksucker.”

“Heh, I’ve had lots of practice,” Eddie said, “But I think it’s time you got dessert, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck, I can’t eat more man, come on.”

“Trust me, you’ll like this. It’s your favorite fucking meal. Come on.”

They left the booth, squeezing their way out, but instead of leaving the shop, they went down to the end of the booths, around behind them, and found themselves in a narrow hall behind the booths. Ken had noticed the glory hole in the booth, but hadn’t thought much of it–there was one in every booth, all the way down. A cock popped through, and Eddie shoved Ken forward. “Go on pig, get your dessert.”

Ken got down and started sucking, while Eddie encouraged him, groped him, gave him tips and pointers, and in a few minutes, he got his first load of cum–and just like Eddie said, it tasted fucking delicious. He crawled down a couple of booths to where another cock had just pushed through, and sucked that one as well, no longer needing much in the way of encouragement, letting Eddie pull down the back of his sweatpants, and slide his own cock into Ken’s hole while he sucked the stranger off. Ken lost track of how many loads he ate as he crawled from glory hole to glory hole. Eddie would occasionally take a break to suck a cock himself, and more than a few guys came around to use Ken’s hole while he was sucking, but he didn’t mind. He loved cum after all, just like Eddie said, and it didn’t matter which end it went into.

It was nearly three in the morning when the two of them finally stumbled out, Ken’s belly now even larger than it had been when he’d entered. He hauled his shirt off and let it all hang out, as he dug the half smoked cigar out of the truck, relit it, and sucked it down as well, while Eddie gave his full, massive gut a rub down. Eddie took him home not long after that, and Ken collapsed into bed, exhausted, knowing that come morning he would be horrified by how he’d spent the evening, but he couldn’t help but admit that part of him was thoroughly satisfied as well. He’d just have to deal with the consequences in the morning, wouldn’t he?


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Commission – Piggy Pizza

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.


Part 1 – Staffing Solutions

It was the sudden rumble that woke Max up. It sounded like a stomach grumbling, but something about it was off. He realized that he hadn’t just heard the rumble, but he’d felt it through his hand, but his hand wasn’t…on his own stomach. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at the back of someone’s neck, and not a womanly neck, either. He recoiled away, nearly fell off the bed in the process, and stood up, looking down at Jeremy, his roommate–or at least, someone who looked mostly like Jeremy, there on his bed, naked.

The main difference was that this Jeremy looked to be fifty pounds heavier than the Jeremy from the night before, not that he could really remember what had happened the night before. They’d gotten home from football practice, completely starving. Jeremy had seen a new pizza place had opened up near campus, and suggested it for dinner. They’d ordered delivery, the food had arrived, and after that…well, he couldn’t recall much of anything. It was then that Max realized he’d been staring right at Jeremy’s uncovered, fat ass, and his cock was…hard. Real hard. Hard enough to climb back into bed, slide his cock right in there and–

He retreated from his room and into the bathroom, turned on the light, and it was the scream that woke up Jeremy. He rolled up out of bed, waddled his way to the bathroom, where he found Max gripping his own larger, hairier gut, horrified. “What the fuck happened to us? What the fuck did we do last night?”

“Did…did you get fatter?” Jeremy asked, then looked down, “Fuck, we’re…both fatter?”

“Do you remember anything from last night that was strange?”

“Just…that pizza bro, it was fucking good, but…I felt real weird afterward, and you were acting strange too, I…I don’t remember anything, though…” Jeremy said, blushing a bit, “Do…do you?”

“No, nothing.”

“Oh, ok, good.”

“It had to be the pizza. What was the name of that place again?”

“Piggy Pizza, it’s just a few blocks away from campus.”

“Come on, we need to go there, and figure out what the fuck was in that stuff, so we can go the hospital and fix it.”

Jeremy’s gut grumbled again, and he grabbed it with both hands. “Can…we have breakfast first?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you fucking think of eating at a time like this?”

Jeremy shrugged, and followed Max’s lead as they got dressed in whatever clothes they could find that mostly fit their changed bodies, got into Max’s car with a bit of a struggle, and drove the few blocks over to Piggy Pizza. They got out, the door said the place didn’t open until eleven, but there was clearly someone inside working away. They pounded on the door until the fellow came out from behind the counter and opened the door for them both. He was an older fellow, wearing a flour and sauce stained apron, easily six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds of beef, with a thick beard braided and tied off against his chest.  “Can I help you boys? I don’t open for lunch for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Yeah you can fucking help us, you can tell us what the fuck your pizza did to us last night!” Max said to him.

“Oh fuck, what smells so fucking good?” Jeremy said, his gut growling again, and he pushed past both of them and into the restaurant. The place was sizable with plenty of seating, and a lunch buffet off to one side, where a couple of pies were already resting, ready to be eaten. Jeremy stumbled over there, drooling, grabbed a slice and shoved it in his mouth with a moan of delight, while Max just stared at him, horrified.

“What the fuck are you doing man, don’t eat that shit!” Max said.

“Oh fuck it’s so fucking good though…”

Max went over and tried to pull Jeremy away, who just slapped at him until he backed off. He turned around, only to find the owner of the shop had locked the door behind them, and was grinning wide. “When I delivered those two pies to you two last night, I had a feeling you were just the couple of pigs I was looking for to help out in the shop.”

“What are you talking about?” Max said.

“Go on, I know you must be hungry. Those pizzas last night would have only scratched that appetite of yours, pig,” the man said, walked over, reached past Jeremy, and picked up a slice of pizza. It was so fresh, Max could still see the grease pooling on the surface, and he realized he was drooling. “Come on pig, let Boss help you out,” he said, pushed the pizza to his lips, and Max opened up and took a bite, moaning as his cock leaked a bit of precum into the front of the sweats he had squeezed into.

He felt his gut growl, and it heaved out as he swallowed, adding a few more pounds. He tried to pull away when he realized it, but Boss just pushed the slice into his mouth, more forceful this time, and Max couldn’t stop himself from taking bite after bite, begging through a full mouth for him to stop.

“I’ll stop pig, but only if you stop. All you have to do is not take another bite. Maybe I’ll even give you that body of yours back, would you like that? Wanna be muscular again? Smooth? All you have to do is stop.” Max tried, turned his head to the side, but he could feel his jaw struggling against him, twisting back, opening up, taking another massive bite, and the owner just laughed at him. “Guess that means you’re mine, pig.”

Slice after slice disappeared down his throat, and with each one, he only got worse. Fatter at first, and then he started getting even hairier. Boss started telling him about his life now, about who he was. Sure, he’d started college on a football scholarship, but that was a few years ago now. He was too lazy to keep up, and after a year, he’d added fifty pounds. He lost his scholarship, had to get a job delivering pizza, and only grew bigger. Now here he was, his late twenties, balding already, too hairy to work the kitchen for sanitary reasons, delivering pizzas for his boss. For his owner. The man shoved Max down onto his knees, hauled out his cock, and fed it to him. He took one taste of his owner’s precum, and knew, somehow, this was what was in the pizza, this is what had been changing him. He tried to resist, but he sucked his new Boss dry, and when he came, and Max swallowed it all down, everything Boss had told him, that whole story, it became…real. He stumbled up, now close to 400 pounds himself, hair all over his body, head balding, beard down to his chest, sweaty and greasy and stinking. He knew he should hate it, but he didn’t–he groped his fat, reached under and found his cock and started milking it, grunting while he kissed his Boss, and they turned their attention to Jeremy, who was still stuffing himself silly at the buffet.

He was even fatter than Max now, close to 500 pounds. His eyes were terrified at what he was doing, but there was no stopping, not any more. “What do you think of your boyfriend, Jeremy?” Boss asked him, dragging his face around and showing him the hairy, sweaty pig that Max had become. “Wait…Max? What…what the fuck happened to you?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Max said, groping his fat frame, running his hands through his greasy fur, “Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ horny…”

“I bet you are, watching this fat pig stuff himself always gets that cock of yours hard, but not as hard as this fat ass, right?” Boss said, gave Jeremy’s ass a slap, and they watched it inflate, growing wider than the rest of him, Max drooling again, but for a different reason. 

“Fuck, he’s got such a hot fuckin’ ass.”

“Come on pig, I know you’re still hungry for dessert,” Boss said, tore open the already weakened sweats on Jeremy’s body. With a grunt, Max got down on his knees, crawled forward and shoved his bearded face into Jeremy’s crack, eating at the sweaty, rank crack, Jeremy moaning in confusion, not understanding anything of what was happening to him. 

“I…what did you do to him?” Jeremy moaned, “What’s going on?”

“Don’t think too hard now, we all know you’re the dumbest fuck here, Jeremy. Too stupid to be a driver, and too fat at this point. Lucky for me you can operate an oven, with supervision. Still, you have a few good qualities, right? Well, a few things that disgust everyone else, but Max there sure loves them, like your fucking musk, and those rank ass farts of yours.” The mere suggestion was enough for Jeremy’s new ass to rip off a ripe one right into Max’s face, who moaned, his own cock drooling even more pre onto the floor below him.

“No, no that’s not, I was…big! I was a big, like, football guy…”

“No you weren’t, you stupid fuck. You dropped out of high school, and have been working here for years now. You met Max when he started working here, and you pigs moved in together, with my permission of course. I own your fat asses after all, neither of you thinks a fucking thing without my damn permission. But that asshole of yours is as hungry as dick as this mouth is for my pizza, and Max is a horny hairy freak, so it works out, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy tried to think, tried to remember, but all that came out was a loud fart from his hole, right into Max’s face, who just grunted in pleasure and dug in even deeper. Boss grabbed his head, shoved him down, and Jeremy sucked on his cock, already hard again after feeding a load to Max–but then, Boss could always produce a load for his dough, and his sauce, and his toppings. That was how he had the best pizza in town, after all, and when he saw someone he liked, well, he usually got them to work for him, one way or another. “Max, get up, I wanna see you fuck this fat pig while he swallows my load.”

“Yes Boss!” Max said, hefted himself up, dropped his gut on the small of Jeremy’s back, and worked his cock into Jeremy’s loosened hole. He drove in rough, panting and heaving, the air thick with the combined musk rolling off the three of them in the lobby of the restaurant, until Max came with a squeal, and Boss came too, Jeremy swallowing down a load and feeling everything solidify around him, just as it had around Max. 

The restaurant opened an hour late that day, since the two new employees had demolished the lunch buffet. Boss got them into their new uniforms–shorts that were a bit too tight on them both, a polo shirt with Piggy Pizza across the front, neither long enough to disguise their guts hanging out below, and a ball cap with a smiling pig on the front. Then, Boss secured a leather collar around both of his new pigs, reminding him that they were his personal property. Max also got a cage around his cock, and for Jeremy, a vibrating plug in his hole to keep him excited and motivated. If Max got good tips, Boss would unlock him and let him fuck his boyfriend at home that night, but if he didn’t, well, he’d just suffer, hard in his cage from Jeremy’s gas and unable to do anything about it. Neither of them complained, though. Why would they? They loved working at Piggy Pizza–it was the perfect place for a couple pigs like them, after all.


Part 2 – Franchise Opportunities

A year had flown by since Piggy Pizza had opened, and for Max, it had been a bit of a blur. Boss didn’t let his worker slaves have much in the way of time off, after all, and so he delivered pizzas from the time the shop opened for lunch until the evening, snacking on pizza along the way, of course, until they closed at one in the morning. Then, he would drive Jeremy home in his truck, they’d usually have a fuck session if he’d earned one and fall asleep, before getting up, throwing on their still dirty uniforms, and doing it all again. 

Boss took a particular interest in Jeremy over that year, feeding him almost constantly in the shop. Six months after they’d been conscripted, Jeremy had packed on another hundred pounds, and was pushing the scales at nearly 600. One evening, after a long stuffing, he couldn’t manage to get into the truck for the ride home–but Boss had a solution all ready for him. He’d made him a little sleeping area in the storeroom of the restaurant–Jeremy would be living there from now on. It would be more convenient. 

Of course, Max was still horny as hell, and so he’d rush over when he woke up, get his fuck in before his shift started, and Jeremy only grew larger and larger, and muskier and muskier, since he didn’t have a shower in the restaurant. Jeremy eventually couldn’t even keep up with the baking, but Boss had a new role for him already planned–he hooked Jeremy’s cock up to a milker, and started pumping cum out of him, a new blend that Boss had been encouraging inside him, one that he had a feeling would help them grow their customer base even more. It worked–Boss’s own cum was more potent, but Jeremy’s kept folks coming back for more, and more, and more pizza every day. Business was booming, and they had to pull in a few other guys from campus as delivery slaves for the business, with Max as their general supervisor. One night, while they were tag-teaming Jeremy, the rest of the staff home for the night, Boss told Max how proud of him he was. He was thinking about opening up another franchise soon, and he thought Max might be an idea manager for a new location–under Boss’s strict control of course.

Max was thrilled by the idea. He rode that high for the next few days, until it all came crashing down with a sudden drop, when he delivered a load of pizzas, laced with a bit of Jeremy’s special sauce, to a house he…almost recalled, but one he couldn’t place. He rang the doorbell, the door opened, and he quickly realized he was delivering pizzas to a frat house. A frat house he knew. It had been his frat, a lifetime ago now, before he’d met Boss and started working at PIggy Pizza. He prayed that no one would say anything, but after staring at him for a moment, the jock who had opened the door said, “Holy fuckin’ shit, you’re…Max Grainger! Oh my fucking god, what the fuck happened to you?”

Max’s face reddened. Boss’s magic sauce could twist reality, but there were always these little pockets left behind. “Look man, I don’t wanna talk about it. Have a good night.”

The jock called the rest of the guys to the door, and they laughed, watching the player who had been recruited as a possible star waddled back to his truck, ass crack exposed, now just a loser dropout pig. Max’s face was burning, and he grumbled all the way back to the shop, angry that he was even angry about it. He liked working for Boss! He was going to have his own franchise soon! And a new franchise, he supposed, would need some more labor, wouldn’t it? He grinned then, and when he went back into the shop, he told Boss what had happened, and his idea.

Boss was skeptical of Max’s plan, but decided to give him a chance. He fed Max a big load of his cum, and Max felt something happen to him, his balls swelling and tingling. Boss told him that he had the power to change men like he did now–not nearly as potent, but more than enough for what he had in mind, this evening. First though, he had a few more deliveries to make. It was mostly to regulars around town, those who had been especially susceptible to their special ingredients. As the men opened their doors and smelled Max, they all seemed especially interested in him somehow. Max had fucked around with most of them–after all, now that Jeremy was living at the shop, he had to get his fucks in somewhere, but tonight, he was saving his loads for something special. That didn’t make it any less difficult to turn down the men who would invite him in, try and sneak a sniff of his pits, tell him that he seemed real sexy tonight. In the end, they were all mostly satisfied to take their pizzas, leave him a substantial tip, and Max went on his way back to his truck, sniffing his own pits. Sure, they were rank, but no more than usual. Is this what it felt like being Boss all the time? If it was, he could get used to it.

It was close to one in the morning, the shop was closing up, and Max loaded up a hefty stack of eight pizzas Boss had waiting for him, for one final delivery. He pulled up back in front of the frat house, already leaking into his uniform shorts, and the more excited he got, the more musk he seemed to be putting out–and maybe it was a bit stronger than before. He hefted the stack of pizzas to the door, rang the doorbell, but no one answered. It took a few rings, and a hard pounding, before any of the frat boys inside actually took notice, and one of them came to answer the door. Max grinned. He was showing good progress, a solid gut, a good amount of hair on his chest, and he was half naked, with grease and cum smeared across his face. 

“Who the fuck are…oh fuck, you…smell real fucking good man,” the frat boy said, stumbled out onto the step, and shoved his face into Max’s pit, snorting in his stink.

“I got your second order of pizzas, why don’t you help me bring them inside, boy?” Max suggested.

He had to suggest it twice, and haul the young man’s chubby face out of his pit, but he finally got the hint, picked up half the boxes of pizza, and brought them inside, Max following him in and shutting the door behind him, looking at the party already in progress.

The pizzas were demolished, the room was demolished as well, and all of the frat brothers were scattered about the living room, on the furniture or the floor, in various states of fucking, sucking, licking and sniffing. None of them had gained less than thirty pounds, and some, like the one who’d opened the door, had gained more. But the one that Max was looking for wasn’t among them–the one who had laughed at him earlier, that was the one he had some special plans for. He took the pizzas one by one, opened up the boxes and laid them on the floor, calling for the little frat pigs. The smell of him, and the pizza, caught them and pulled them over, all of them grabbing for slices like greedy hogs and shoving them in their mouths, moaning and grunting in delight. That would keep them all busy, and growing, for a while longer. He saved one pie, and started looking through the house for the missing boy.

He found him after a few minutes, holed up in his room. Max could hear him on the phone with someone, trying to explain the situation–probably 911, but they kept dismissing it as a hoax. Why wouldn’t they, after all? He knocked on the door, the voice inside went quiet, and said, “Who’s there?”

“Oh, just me,” Max said, “Got your second delivery of pizzas here, but everyone downstairs was too busy to pay me. Why don’t you open up, boy, and we can settle your bill?”

“Fuck you! You fucking freak, what the fuck did you do to everyone?”

Max just chuckled, hauled off his shirt, took a piece of pizza out of the box, and rubbed it in his pits, soaking it in his stink. For good measure, he wiped some of his precum off on it too from the inside of his shorts, then shoved it under the door. 

“What the, fuck why the fuck does it fucking stink!” the voice said, “Oh fuck, it smells so fucking good, and I’m so fucking hungry…”

He didn’t say anything else for a minute, just the sound of someone scarfing on the other side, and then quiet, and a belch. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and open the door, boy?” Max said.

The lock clicked after a moment, and when it opened, he saw a rather zonked looking young man on the other side, grease smeared across his face, drooling slightly. Max pushed his way in, and fed him the rest of the pizza. His name, he found out, was Doug, but Max decided Dough would be a much better name for him. Dough pleaded with him through the first few slices, begged him to stop, but by the time half the extra large pie was gone, he was ravenous. It was only natural, then, for Max to haul out his cock, and give him something to wash all that pizza down with.

Max was so horny, that he came after just a few sucks, and the orgasm was long. He could feel it, all of the corruptive potential he was feeding down Dough’s throat, and when he’d finished, a very different sort of fellow was sitting on the floor. He hauled Dough up by the collar of the shirt that no longer fit on around his nearly 400 pound frame, shoved him in front of the mirror in the room, and he gaped at his new body.

Sure, the fat was a big change for him, but Max helped him notice everything else too. The male pattern baldness that had settled in when he was twenty-five, a few years after he’d dropped out of college, too fat and stupid to keep up. Of course, he was pushing forty now, and had lost most of the hair on his head, replaced by a thick, bushy beard starting to grey, and a forest of hair all over his body–not quite as much as Max, but still plenty.

“Fuck, look at you, you fucking loser,” Max whispered in his ear, “And you thought I was bad when I answered the door, now look at you, long past your prime, don’t even have a job, just spend your days and nights stuffing yourself silly with your friends downstairs, jacking off all the time, like a proper fucking pig.

Dough tried to deny it, but Max tore off his clothes and led him downstairs, where the rest of the boys of the house had finished the second round of pizzas, and were all in similar a similar shape–older, all of them out of college now, fatter, their lives as jocks quickly being forgotten in the haze of lust that followed. He shoved Dough into the middle of them, and they all fell on him, humiliating and insulting him, and Dough found himself more and more turned on by the humiliating, begging them for their loads. Max spent the rest of the night finding the ones with a bit more resistance, and feeding them from his tap, until they too were just happy pigs, eagerly settling into their new lives.

A couple months later, a new franchise of Piggy Pizza opened on the other side of town, with Max as the head manager. Dough took up residence in the back, this location’s sauce supply, just as Jeremy was at the home location. The rest of the boys in the house, after being interviewed by Boss, were all hired on as well–as drivers, and cooks, and cleaners, depending on their personal skill sets and kinks. Business was booming, and both Boss and Max couldn’t wait to see how big this town could get.

Caption: Daddy Issues #2 – Evan the Bully

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.



James’s father, Paul, was a health freak. He went to the gym five days a week, ran each morning before work, prepared only the healthiest of food, and had used all of this to rule over James’s body like a tyrant. James’s body, on the other hand, had never taken to his father’s rule well, and he’d struggled all his life trying to conform to Paul’s expectations for how he should look, and what he should do to get there. There was always just a bit too much fat, not enough muscle, why couldn’t he work harder. The question of sexuality was complicated by the fact his father essentially demanded a family from James, something he had no intention of giving him, of course. 

At college, finally free of his father’s strict hand, James had really let go, and already gained close to the Freshman 15 without even trying. He was terrified of what his father would say when he saw him, as he went up to the door and into the house, but his father wasn’t anywhere to be found. He eventually went up into the bedroom, after he heard someone grunting and groaning in there, and what he found made his jaw drop to the floor.

It was his dad, right? It had to be his dad. He could still see some of the resemblance there, but so much of it was…well, it was how fat he was, first of all. He was struggling where he was tied to the chair, and he was so heavy, he could hear the wood creaking under him, his father’s eyes horrified at what had happened to him. James felt a bit dizzy, and retreated from the room and into the bathroom, his body heating up, muscles cramping, after once the discomfort had subsided, he stood up, looked in the mirror, and was staring at a body just as unfamiliar to him as his father’s now was.

Fuck–he was…hot. He was really hot. He ran his hands over his muscled body, groped his bulge through the jockstrap he now had on, and gave a little smirk, before going back out to where his father was still tied up.

“Fuck dad, look at you, really let yourself go while I was at school, eh?” he said, walked up, and started groping and teasing his dad’s massive body. Paul squirmed and jiggled away as best he could, but James could see the confusion in his eyes, and with a little digging under his massive gut, he found out why–his dad was rock hard. “Fuck, is this turning you on old man? You fucking pig? Having your hot jock son play with your fat and tease you is getting you off?” He pulled his hand out, covered with his dad’s precum, took out his gag and fed it to him off his fingers.

“Please, I…I’m so fucking hungry, but I don’t know what’s wrong with us. Please son, we need to get help.”

“I’ll tell you what we need to get,” James said, picking his dad’s phone up off the counter. “We need five extra large pizzas here ASAP, and I’m going to feed every one of them to you. Then, when you’re good and stuffed, pig, I’m gonna bend you over and fuck that fat ass of yours. I have a feeling you’re gonna love it.”

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 4)

Ken pressed against the bars of the cage, trying to force the bars to grow back out, but they refused to budge. He was left with maybe a few inches of clearance on all sides of him, and there wasn’t a door to be seen anywhere, on any side of the bars. Ken squealed for help as best he could, but he couldn’t form words with his rubber pig face at all–and the imp just sat there, looking smug, like he was certain that he’d won.

“You might want to be a bit quieter piggy. I know you want someone to help you, but in this place, all you’re going to find is someone looking to fuck a hole like yours–and I can assure you, there are not many men around who you would want to fuck you right now, in your predicament. So why don’t you calm down, and just accept it? You lost, I won. Now I get what I want.”

It was the first words that the imp had spoken, that Ken had heard all night, and he was surprised the creature could even talk, especially as ugly and monstrous as it was. It’s voice was certainly ugly though–high pitched and screechy, though easy enough to understand. None of the other monsters he’d passed in the halls had seemed to have this much…presence of mind.

“Been two years. Two long fucking years, since a few of those monsters got hold of me one Halloween, and warped me into this fucking thing. Can’t tell you how fucking hard it’s been, holding onto myself all this fucking time here, don’t think I could make it another year. But I got lucky with you–caught you early enough to snag your tag. Now all I have to do is make sure you can’t make it back out to contest it–and I’m home free.”

Ken realized, at last, what the imp’s plan was all along. He wanted the tag…so he could leave. He was going to leave Ken here in this nightmare to rot, and this fucking imp was going to go out and claim Ken’s life as his own! Ken redoubled his efforts against the cage, angrily butting his head against it, swinging from side to side, but it refused to budge–all it did was exhaust him. 

“Now now, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your body. You were so handsome, you know. Before…well, before you went all piggy. Maybe I’ll come back next year–I know my way around this place now, and check in on you. See if you managed to hold up as well as I have. I don’t think so, honestly–you seem pretty thick to me–though you could be thicker, couldn’t you?”

The imp laughed, and launched himself up to the ceiling. Ken looked up and saw a bunch of pipes up there around the ceiling, and the imp grabbed one, and dragged a hose back down with him. “Alright piggy–I don’t think you quite look the part yet, do you? Aren’t pigs supposed to be fatter?”

It was true–while the suit had warped his body, it hadn’t really changed his basic shape. Ken tried to shrink back into the cage, but there was nowhere to go–the imp pushed the hose against his mouth, and the thing came alive–forcing open Ken’s snout and filling his snout, latching on and refusing to come off. Something churned overhead and a thick slop started flowing down the hose–Ken’s only choice was to swallow as quickly as he could, or choke.

So he swallowed–and the more he swallowed, the easier it was to swallow, and as his belly grew more and more full, the…better he felt. The imp went around behind him, toying with his ass and his piggy cock, telling him what a good little piggy he was being, eating his slop. Slowly, weight began to show on his body–especially his gut, which began to distend–first firm, and then growing softer, his arms and legs losing definition and growing flabby, his ass growing wider too. He had two chins under his snout now, and he would have happily kept eating mindlessly if he hadn’t looked up at the wall, and seen the clock that told him it was almost three in the morning. He’d eaten the night away–he only had one hour left before he was trapped here forever. But he couldn’t stop eating–even after everything he’d eaten, he was hungry–so fucking hungry. 

“Well Pig, it’s been fun this evening, but I’d better be on my way,” the imp said. “Still, don’t think I don’t have one more surprise for you before I leave–consider it a token of my gratitude, for giving me your life.”


Here’s the choices for this branch! All of these are endings of various natures–after this, we’ll go back and pick up another thread. The patron only version is over here as well!

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 6)

Quinn was certain that the mirror was doing something to him. It wasn’t hard to figure out, of course, but while he was a bit…terrified, in all honesty, it felt so good to let go around his reflection that he was willing to just embrace it. He didn’t know whether the idea came to him on his own, or if it was planted in his mind like so many others, but he knew, somehow, that the easiest way to get Taylor into bed with him, would be to…to get him to look at the mirror himself. Get the mirror inside him, somehow, in the same way in was inside him.

Of course, Taylor spent most of his days working out, and he wasn’t particularly keen on being interrupted, so Quinn had to wait until the late afternoon, when he heard Taylor tromp up the stairs and towards the kitchen, probably to start making himself dinner. Quinn was ready though, and he intercepted him before he could get started.

“Hey man, could you come look at something in my room real quick? I just wanna know if I should ask the landlord about it.”

Taylor’s brow furrowed, “What’s up?”

“I think my window has a bad seal or something, I can hear some wind through it.”

“I’d just call him,” Taylor said, and continued into the kitchen, “Mr Woodrow’s a good guy, he’ll sort it out.”

“Just come listen real quick, would you? I don’t want to call him for nothing. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

Obviously annoyed at his routine getting disturbed, Taylor followed Quinn up the stairs and into his room. Taylor went over by the window to listen, while Taylor went and stood next to the mirror. After a moment, Taylor shook his head. “I don’t hear anything, but maybe we should call him just in…”

Taylor had looked back at where Quinn was standing, and ended up looking right into the mirror next to him. Quinn knew it must have worked–he could see that same…shimmer in his eyes that he saw in his own reflection, when the mirror…had him too. He cautiously walked over to his muscular roommate, laid his hands on him, feeling his body still clammy with sweat from his workout, and Quinn shuddered. This close to him, he could…smell him now, and fuck, he smelled rank, but it wasn’t…bad. It was just strong, and heady, and Quinn’s cock got hard just from leaning into Taylor’s pits for a sniff.

“You ok Taylor? Don’t worry, we’ll…we’re going to have lots of fun this evening, isn’t that right?”

Taylor nodded.

“See…the mirror is…is mine, Taylor. And as long as you’re in it, that means you’re mine too, doesn’t it? You have to do everything I say. It will feel good to do everything I say.”

Taylor nodded, and moaned now, his own cock tenting out the front of his shorts, leaking a bit.

“Get on your knees boy, suck me off.”

The voice that came out of his throat surprised Quinn. It was gruff and…and deeper. Not quite his own, but it was…his. Taylor got down, pulled down the sweatpants Quinn was wearing, and started sucking on his cock, hungrily, and Quinn had to lean on the wall to stay standing, his eyes drifting over to the mirror, seeing himself there, his burly, fat, hairy body getting serviced by this hot, musky jock…there was a twinkle in his eye, just a suggestion really…

“Get up,” Quinn said, “Go down into the kitchen, bring me some snacks. Daddy’s hungry boy.”

“Yes…daddy,” Taylor said, and stood up, leaving the room and heading for the kitchen. Quinn worried that being away from him and the mirror might snap him out of it, but a few minutes later, Taylor arrived back in the room, eyes still shining, arms loaded with beer, and snacks, and Quinn’s mouth started watering at the sight.

Quinn ordered Taylor to feed him for a while, while he just relaxed on his bed, telling Taylor in between mouthfuls how much he was enjoying this. How he wanted his daddy to be happy, how he loved feeding him, how serving him in whatever way he needed just felt so good to him, made his cock hard, made him want to service him more and more. Quinn took over his own eating, and ordered Taylor to start worshiping his body–especially his belly. Told him that Taylor loved being muscular, but that servicing fat men like daddy was what he was born to do, what made him feel complete. 

The mirror was getting…restless. It wanted to be fed, as much as Quinn did. He ordered Taylor up, told him to face the mirror, brace himself and bend over–daddy was going to breed his boy for the first time of many. They had no lube, but Taylor’s hole was hungry and wet, Quinn’s thick cock was leaking profusely, and they slid together like it was all part of some larger design. “Oh fuck, jockboy, fuckin’ hell you feel real nice around daddy’s cock…” Quinn moaned, and started fucking him long and deep. “Yeah, stupid fucking jockboy–good thing you have a nice daddy around here to keep you in line. You love doing everything daddy says, it makes everything so much easier for you, doesn’t it? Easy, and you get to feel good too. You just let all those complicated thoughts drain away, right there into the mirror. From now on, you just need to worry about getting bigger, and keeping daddy as happy as can be, you fucking got it? Oh fuck boy, here it fucking comes!”

It was the first load that Quinn hadn’t shot into the mirror since arriving at the house. It felt explosive, and bright, like he was firing hot light right into Taylor’s body. His boy groaned, reared up, and shot his own load all over the glassy surface, where it shimmered for a moment, and then melted into the surface, and both of them felt the mirror’s hold over them ebb away, Taylor turning around, holding his aching head.

Quinn was…nervous. Would he remember, or would he not? “Fuck daddy, thanks! You’re dirty jockboy needed that real fuckin’ bad…” Taylor said, leaned in and gave Quinn a deep kiss, massaging his big belly as he did, and Quinn melted into him, pulling his boy close, knowing he was his from now on. His…and the mirror’s. “Alright boy, that’s enough for now–get down there and make daddy some dinner.”

Taylor gave him a wide, and kind of stupid, grin. “Sure thing daddy! I love cookin’ for you!” Then he was gone, and Taylor relaxed, snacking on the food his boy had brought him, but already hungry for dinner–and for another round with his boy’s hole after that.

***

Mr Woodrow was more than happy to accomodate the two of them a few days later, when they suggested that they move into the basement together, converting the larger space down there into a studio apartment for them both, the mirror hanging on the wall within easy view of the entire room. It was a few days after that, when Marcus, the third member of the house arrived to move in, a week before school started. 

Mr. Woodrow was there, waiting for him, ready to give him the tour. It was a beautiful house…but Marcus struggled a bit, when Taylor came bouncing up from the basement to give him a hug, and tell him how excited he was for him to be living there with him and his daddy. Marcus…couldn’t really recall who this was at all, at least not right away. Mr. Woodrow helped talk him down, and when Quinn got home from his job later that evening, working as the foreman for a construction company, everything made a bit more sense…kind of. He’d met Taylor at school, and been introduced to his boyfriend, Quinn, not long after that. Quinn was in his early 30’s–and hadn’t gone to college, but they were…well, love was a weird word for what they had, but it seemed to work for both of them. Taylor was studying exercise science–badly, really, but he was good enough to graduate and probably find work. But for the life of him…Marcus found it had to believe he would be friends with them…for some reason.

But Marcus settled into one of the rooms upstairs, and started unpacking–and like Taylor and Marcus before him, he too, discovered something…odd in his room as he did.


Alright, so what’s Marcus going to stumble upon in his room? As always, you get two choices in the poll. The patron only poll is over here, and votes are weighted five times as much!

Cleaning House (Part 5)

I was still in Joe’s bed, surrounded by his stench, and surrounded by him, as well. He must have climbed in without disturbing me, and he’d wrapped me in his arms and fallen asleep. I felt so…safe and secure, and happy, and I could feel his hard cock pressed against one cheek of my ass…and I definitely liked that too.

Fuck, what had I done yesterday? What had we done? What had he done to me? I’d wanted that–I’d always wanted that, for as long as I could recall, but…but doing it, it had felt so terrifying. Terrifying that…that I really enjoyed it as much as I had. No one should enjoy that right? Didn’t that all mean I was broken, somehow? I didn’t want to think about it, and so…and so, I didn’t. I snuggled back against Joe, focused on him snoring gently in my ear, and drifted back off, until he woke an hour or so later.

He kissed me, groped me in bed, and then pushed me onto my stomach and crawled behind me, spread my ass and ate out my hole. It felt…fuck, it still feels amazing, whenever he does that, but better when I was tight, when him shoving his tongue in my ass made me shake and groan and writhe under him, humping the mattress until I came in my briefs. He opened me up enough that he could slide his cock into me with just his spit as lube, and he fucked me, rough, for a few minutes before he came. The fuck…it wasn’t much, but the feel of his tongue. Rimming was something I’d thought of, but always been to scared to do.

Breakfast was next, and we followed the same pattern as the night before–I helped him cook my meal, he force fed me the entire thing, and then he cooked a meal for himself while I relaxed on the couch, digesting and jacking off–he demanded two loads from me by the time he finished cooking, and then, I crawled under the table and sucked him off while he ate, and came again at his demand. My cock–it ached, and yet I was still so horny. I felt like someone had flipped a switch in me, and now…now I couldn’t stop myself.

When he finished his meal, he told me it was time I took on a new task, and I followed him back out into the front room. “I hate showerin’, boy,” he told me, “Always have–too big tah really clean up real good. So yer gonna clean me from now on–all over, with that nice tongue a yers, every mornin’.”

I gulped, and started to speak, but he told me to start with his pits…and as soon as I got a good whiff of his musk, I didn’t want to object. I didn’t really want this to stop, did I? I had my dream man here, right in front of me…I couldn’t let this slip away. I spent the next half hour cleaning his upper body, and then moved to his feet at his order. I…fuck, his feet were huge, and I couldn’t stop myself, as I came again, licking them.

I started to work my way up, but he stopped me. “Time tah change seats,” he said.

He got up, hauled a bag out of a closet, and dumped a rimchair out onto the floor, and made me assemble it. I…I’d seen them in porn before, and fantasized about them, sure…but his ass? I thought about how it had felt when he’d rimmed me earlier…and I wanted to make him feel that good too, I realized. I got underneath, and he sat down, his cheeks spread and hole right against my lips. I licked, and he groaned. I licked harder, hand in my underwear, jerking off as I cleaned his ripe, greasy crack while he played his game, and fuck, I was loving it. I felt so used, but I wanted this man to use me. He put his ashtray on my belly, and warned me not to topple it, forcing me to keep my frame as still as I could, even as I licked and proped harder and deeper into him, tasting him and his shit for the first time, and already excited that I would be doing this daily.

The fart caught me by surprise, and with two strokes my cock exploded in my briefs yet again.

“You like that boy? You like daddy’s nasty farts?”

“Y-Yes Daddy.”

“Yeah, not surprised, the way yer chowin’ down on that filthy hole. I bet ya love daddy ass, right boy?”

“Yes Daddy, I do.”

Yeah–good boy, I like hearin’ that–guess ya can spent a bit more time under there, since ya like it so fuckin’ much.”

I serviced his ass for another hour, and then finished licking his ass and thighs clean, ending at his cock, which I sucked off. My jaw ached, and I was so hungry–when he fed me lunch next, he couldn’t stuff me fast enough. That afternoon was spent on chores, and then we ate dinner again–me first, and then him, and after a night of beers, cigars, and another fuck, we fell asleep again in his bed–or our bed, since I never ended up in the guest bed again.

Cleaning House (Part 4)

“Need something else, boy?”

My mouth was dry.

“Need daddy’s cock in that mouth a yers?”

I couldn’t say anything. He took my hand again, and tugged me forward, out of the chair, where I fell to my knees in front of him.

“What do ya need, boy.”

“I…want your cock, I do, I’m sorry.”

He gave me a slap to the face. “I asked ya what ya need–not what ya want. ‘N never apologize, ‘less ya fuck up, and that ain’t how I’m addressed, is it? Git it right.”

“I…need…your cock, d-daddy.”

“That’s a good boy,” he said, wrapped one big hand around the back of my head, and pulled my face into the front of his own briefs. They were…moist, and they reeked. I realized something, in that moment, that in all of the loads of laundry I’d done for him back in town, never had I ever seen a pair of underwear in those loads. “Daddy’s been waitin’ fer ya tah come ‘round, boy, things ‘r gonna be a lot better fer us both.”

He made me pull his briefs down with my teeth, and I saw his cock for the first time–six inches or so, thick as the can of beer still in his hand, with a hefty amount of foreskin around the head. He fucked my face for a couple of minutes, but got a bit winded, stopped and went back to the couch, naked. “Come on boy, git over here ‘n play with me while I play.”

I spent the next hour on my knees between his legs, sucking his cock and licking his balls, bringing him to multiple orgasms, but surprisingly his cock never once softened–and equally surprising, neither did mine. He forced me to have one hand down the front of my pants at all times, massaging my cock, keeping myself horny, matching him load for load, until the front of my briefs were soaked with my cum, and my cock felt raw and tender to the touch. He finished up the game when both of our guts started growling, and told me it was time for dinner, and he went into the kitchen to start cooking for the both of us, leaving me in my briefs on the floor, shaking, confused, and more turned on than I’d been in my life. “Boy, git in here–ya can help,” he called out to me, and so I joined him in the kitchen.

I didn’t do much–or rather, he didn’t let me do much, but it was the first time he’d let me near the kitchen since I’d moved in with him, and I felt…special. We laughed and chatted, things felt…more normal, as if I didn’t have four loads of cum in my gut, and my briefs weren’t coated in my spunk.

“I’ve never…done anything like that before,” I said.

“But ya wanted it.”

I nodded, hesitantly.

He smiled at me, and pulled me into a short hug, out frames pushed together, him gently grinding his gut into my smaller one. “As soon as I saw ya, I knew ya were the one, I had tah have ya.”

“I…the first time I saw you, I fantasized about you for days, while I packed up my things.”

He didn’t say anything, just pulled me closer, and then we went back to cooking. I noticed that the portions seemed…a bit smaller than usual, but I didn’t say anything about it. When everything was finished, I went and sat at the table, but was confused when he didn’t join me. “Aren’t you eating too?”

“Nah boy–this here’s all fer ya. I’ll eat later.”

I looked at the spread in front of me, confused–I could never eat all of this! It was easily a meal for four on it’s own. “I…I can’t do that.”

“Ya can boy, trust me–trust yer daddy, I ain’t never gonna steer ya wrong.”

That was the first evening he fed me. My hands barely touched the food–instead, he forced me to keep one hand back in my filthy briefs, and the other on my nipples, as he drove the food into me at a steady pace, faster than I usually ate but not so much I choked. I liked it, actually, giving him control. I liked it so much, I came again, moaning through a mouthful of food, and he grunted and belched, grinding his own hard cock into the side of my belly. “Fuckin’ Pig,” he said, “Fuckin’ Pigboy.”

He kept feeding me, fucking his cock against the side of my belly, and before the end of the meal he’d cum again as well–I could feel the sticky mess spew through the front of his whities as he kept grinding against me, and then he leaned in and kissed me. His mouth was all beer and smoke, and I exploded again as his tongue invaded my hungry mouth until he pulled away, and we focused on the remains of the meal. Somehow…I ate it all. All of it. I ached, and I could barely move, but all of it was within me, and I belched–Joe leaning in close and sniffing it, grunting, groping me roughly. “Good boy, I told ya ya’d eat it.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

He helped me up from the table, and led me down the hall of the cabin. I thought we were heading to my room, but instead we went to his. It was the one room of the house he didn’t want me to clean, or even enter, and I never had. It was sizable, but as filthy as the house had been when I’d arrived, with laundry all over the floor, with sheets on the bed I knew I’d never once washed since arriving as his cleaner. They smelled so strongly of him–his cum and his sweat…I laid down on them, feeling him his musk was engulfing me. “Sleep boy–Daddy’s gotta go make his own dinner now.”

I had no idea how I would possibly sleep with my gut so angry, but all I remember is Joe turning out the light, shutting the door, and when I next woke, it was morning.

Deal of a Lifetime (Part 7)

*Knock* *Knock*

“Room service!”

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

“Daddy…Daddy, that’s your cue. Get the door.”

He just moaned, burrowing deeper into the pig’s shit chute with his tongue.

“Daddy! Get the door!”

He blinked, and sat back on his heels, trying to remember what was going on. He took a suck off his cigar, but realized it had burnt out while he’d been eating out the pig’s hole–how fucking long had he been at it?

*Knock* *Knock*

“Is anyone there?”

He stumbled up, a bit off balance, and stumbled towards the hall, hauled open the door. “The fuck do ya want?” he said, and the young woman who’d brought the two full carts of food up gasped at the sight of him, and backed up a step, at a loss for words.

“T-Thanks,” he said, and pulled the two carts inside, shutting the door behind him, feeling a bit embarrassed at the woman’s obvious disgust. Wondering what she’d seen, he slipped into the bathroom and turned on the light, only to shout at the sight. That wasn’t his face–he didn’t look like that! The beard he’d sprouted had lengthened, running down to his chest, and his hair had grown out long as well. They were both greasy and tangled, more grey than his original brown at this point–well, aside from the area around his mouth, which was slimy with the pig’s juices and his own slobber. His leather gear (was it even his? He’d always despised leather and the fake masculinity it seemed to inspire in the men who wore it) was no longer crisp and new as it had been earlier, when he’d found himself in it. The leather vest was well worn, and now bore a number of biker patches, his chaps and boots equally worn, and the jock–fuck, his jock was putrid yellow and crisp to the touch.

“Oh good choices all around, daddy,” the little pig had gotten off the bed and was inspecting what the woman had dropped off. “I bet you’ve worked up a bit of an appetite, right?”

“What the fuckin’ hell have ya done tah me, ya little fuck?” he exclaimed, pointing at his reflection in the mirror.

“You honestly didn’t expect a dirty, disgusting pig like me to want to play around with the cute little cub you were before, do you?” Carmichael said, grunting and chuckling to himself, “No–I only play with guys who are just as disgusting as I am.”

“No–No, I’m not fucking like you–this ain’t me! I ain’t this disgusting fucker! Change me back, right fuckin’ now, or I fuckin’ swear, I’ll–”

The pig interrupted him, shoving a cupcake in his daddy’s mouth, watching the older man’s eyes roll back in his head in pleasure, his larger gut growling with approval. “That’s what I thought. Come on now daddy–let’s get you fed.”

He laid the daddy down on the bed, propping his head up with a couple of pillows, and then pulled both carts up alongside them, before climbing up and straddling, grinding his ass against his daddy’s bulging jock, listening to him moan. “Be a good daddy, let the little piggy fatten you up, and maybe you’ll get to feel that cock in my hole tonight.”

Before he could respond, he shoved another cupcake into his maw, and the feeding began. It was slow going at first–the daddy was still fighting pretty hard. They took the occasional break to feed each other some smoke, to let the daddy’s hunger catch up, the pig’s pipe so much sweeter than the rough cigars he preferred smoking. The breaks weren’t necessary before too long, and the pig quickened the pace. Cupcakes, pudding, ice cream, doughnuts–all of it went into daddy’s gut–they could feel it heaving up between them until a certain point when it lost its firmness, and settled around him in a pile of soft flab. It was around that point, daddy started sobbing–pleading and begging with the pig to just let him go, refusing to eat another bite.

“Do you want to fuck my hole or not, daddy? Keep eating.”

“No, please, no more. I can’t do this anymore.”

“You can too–I believe in you! You can be the biggest, most vile daddy in the world, I know it. Now open up.”

But he stubbornly refused, the little pig letting off a squealing sigh. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to this until later, but you’re just not cooperating. Still, this will help move things along.” He fished his piggy cock out, aimed for his daddy’s mouth over his flabby gut, and let loose a burst of piss which landed right in his face. The stench alone made his head spin–he licked his lips and got a taste of it, and groaned. The pig let loose a longer stream then, his daddy chasing the golden piss as the pig soaked him down, watching his daddy’s hair and beard grow longer, his body stinking and unwashed, the musk stronger than most men would be able to handle. The pig started stuffing his face again, helping him wash it down with more and more piss, watching him grow older and older still, his hair entirely white aside from where it had yellowed around his mouth from his cigars, teeth rotten and crooked, eyes hungry and desperate, losing their will to fight. It wasn’t too much longer before the carts were both empty, and while his daddy moaned, the little pig spent a while licking him clean, tasting his daddy’s filth while the older man smoked his cigars, trying to muster some resistance, but…but he wasn’t entirely sure what, exactly, he was fighting against anymore. All he really wanted, now that he had stuffed himself, was a turn at that little pig’s dirty hole.

“Alright pig, I did mah part. Now you’s get bent over the bed, ‘n let daddy plow that nasty hole a yers.”

Deal  of a Lifetime (Part 4)

The hotel was large enough that it served as an anchor for a couple of restaurants–the first was a much more highbrow affair, and while Carmichael simply knew he would have to sample it’s fair at some point this weekend, he decided on the other restaurant for his first meal–a more casual restaurant with a bar inside. His piggy was growing a bit restless, and he always had a better chance of finding someone for his piggy if he stuck out a bit. It was slightly early for dinner, but a number of other bears were there, scattered around the restaurant, most of them eating as well, but Carmichael neither joined them, nor found any of them particularly intriguing. He asked the hostess to seat him at a small table with a clear view of the concourse of the hotel, giving him a good view of men walking past–as well as giving them all a clear view of him. He ordered a bevy of appetizers for himself–including a couple plates of wings so he could make a mess of himself, and when they arrived, he ripped into the food–after tucking his napkin into his shirt like a bib. He’d never really been able to contain himself around food; the messiest side of himself always seemed to come out, no matter what he did.

The people around him kept glancing at him, a bit aghast at the massive man stuffing himself at the table there, and knowing how disgusted they found him made his cock harden and leak a bit in his slacks. He would occasionally look around and meet their stare, daring them to come over and say something, encouraging them to come play with him, but none of the men at the tables answered his desire. If anything, they seemed embarrassed, and by the time he moved onto his entrees he was becoming a bit discouraged–but then he walked by.

One of three young muscle cubs who were obviously acquaintances. They were all wearing some variation on shorts and tanks, displaying their wares, giving the men a peek at what they might find underneath if they were worthy. A great snort escaped from him, as he chowed down, loud enough to draw their attention, and while all three gaped at him in utter disgust, one of them in particular stood out to him. Finally, someone interesting. He locked eyes with him a moment, and unlike the others around him, he didn’t flinch away–he stared right back, the utter disgust apparent in his eyes, and he only turned away when one of the other young men got his attention, and they continued on their way–but Carmichael knew he’d made an excellent first impression–he’d be back soon enough.

He finished his three entrees and ordered a trio of desserts. With these, he took his time. He no longer needed to perform as grotesquely as before, now that someone had taken the bait. His cock was hard and quivering with excitement, but it wasn’t until the young man walked back past the restaurant–no longer in the company of his two friends–saw Carmichael still stuffing himself, sneered, and walked over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you one of those fucking gainers? Is that what you’re fucking doing? Because it’s fucking disgusting, and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself,” he said, standing across from Carmichael.

The insult brought a sharp, erotic heat to his groin, and Carmichael moaned, mouth full of cake as he did.

“You fucking piece of shit, did that fucking turn you on?” he asked.

Carmichael nodded, slowly, watching the fury build in the young man’s eyes. Yes, he was going to be a good one.

“So that’s you’re fucking fetish? You like making a pig of yourself in public?”

“Oh, I can make a pig of myself in private too.”

“In your fucking dreams.”

“No–I know you want to. That’s why you walked over here, sir,” Carmichael said, “You get as much of a thrill from insulting me as I get from your cruelty. You want to punish me, don’t you? You want to abuse me, and humiliate me, and you’d love every moment of–”

The young man, rattled, picked up the rest of the cake and shoved it into Carmichael’s mouth, and he moaned, taking as much as he could, feeling the rest spread around his face, while the young man tried to figure out why his cock was so hard all of a sudden. He pulled his hand away, wiping it off with a dirty napkin, while Carmichael chewed the massive bite, and swallowed it. “Goodness sir, this pig wants to play with you real bad.”

“Fuck you. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“No sir,” Carmichael said, a strange sternness slipping into his voice, “We’re going to go up to your room, and you’re going to play with this little piggy, because that’s what you want. You want to abuse me, to use me, to rape me. Well here is your chance. What do you say, sir?”

The young man tried to speak, he tried to deny it, but…but it was true. He’d never once imagined having sex with someone who looked like this, this fat, old ugly fuck, but looking at him, standing right here, suddenly…it was all he could think about. “Get up then.”

“No sir–help me finish dessert first, and then we can go.”

“What?”

“Stuff my face like you’re going to stuff my holes. I know you want to. Show the rest of these people what a pig I am. Think of it as a warm up.”

So he did, standing there. He shoved the rest of the food on the table right into Carmichael’s mouth, listening to his grunt and snort, wondering what it the world he was doing–and when every plate was licked clean, Carmichael paid his sizable bill, left ample gratuity for the embarrassed staff, and the young man led him up to his room to play.

Medical Trials (Part 2)

The feeling of calm indifference only lasted for about half an hour–but the tank had only been drained by about a third, when he felt like he was finally free of whatever strange mental state that drug had left him in. As disconcerting as it had been, he actually missed it in a sense, as he kept swallowing his own seed, desperate to not drown on his own spunk, his gut aching, because at least for that short window of time, he had genuinely enjoyed this. The speakers in his mask continued to repeat the message, however, about once a minute, and the repetition wore on him, and he fought it for a while. Now however, he was sobbing, about an inch of cum remaining in the tank, his gut feeling like it would burst at any moment. He’d gagged a few times, spewing cum out his nose, where it ran down the outside of his mask and dripped onto his chest and swollen gut. He let out a cry of relief when the flow eased up, and the tank was dropped back down to the floor, out of sight. The machine beside him administered something else to him, and he feared he’d see that ame blue liquid, as before, but all he felt, after a moment, was pleasantly floaty, and he fell asleep in the chair.

When he woke up, he was once again in the chair, though his gut didn’t ache as bad as it had, and he felt less stiff, like he’d been out of the chair for a bit, while he was asleep, and then returned to the same position. He tried to beg and plead through the mask attached to him, but he saw the drip once more turn blue, and he fought harder against his bonds. Fifteen minutes later, the first orgasm ripped through him, and he just focused on his mind, on maintaining his focus, but he was broken, sobbing and whimpering after an hour, and after two, when his cock was merely spasming weakly, the fact that the mask was pulling his head back to the chair was the only thing keeping his head upright. Once more, the tank was raised up to the ceiling, and the flow began again. The world was dull, meaningless, aside from a slight bright spot. The tank. He…enjoyed cum. He could remember that, somewhat, but little else.

“You love the taste of cum, officer Timmons.”

The tank grew brighter in his focus, and once the flow began, he drank it down hungrily. He drank, and the messages continued, though with greater variation than the last time.

“You crave cum, Officer Timmons.”

“If a man offers you his cum, you will do anything he demands of you to obtain it.”

“Cum is priceless, you will never have enough of it.”

The dullness lasted longer than it had the first time, and was more difficult to shake off. Or was it just that the tank hadn’t been as full as it had been the first time? He wasn’t sure, everything felt like a blur. He pushed the sensation away as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a more lasting effect this time, a…craving for more. The taste of cum lingered in his mouth, and he didn’t want it to fade. His gut ached, but surely he could fit in another load or two, right? Oh fuck, what in the world was he thinking? It was a relief when the tranquilizer flooded his system again, and sent him to sleep, it was easier than trying to understand what was going on with his mind.

He was forced to endure five more sessions like this. He would wake up in the chair, once again. As soon as he was awake, the strange drug would be administered. He would cum, violently and repeatedly, for several hours, after which he would ingest every drop of cum he’d just expelled. The voice would repeat in his mind, and he was no longer certain whether everything he thought was his or not. One thing he did know, as the sessions wore on, was that, more and more, he looked forward to eating the cum. He could…survive the onslaught of orgasms (though they had become so painful, he was certain that if he ever left this lab alive, he would never cum, or have sex, ever again) so long as, when they were over, he could eat the cum. He loved cum, after all. That much he knew for sure. They wouldn’t be able to take that away from him, that was just…just who he was, right?

It was difficult to compare from session to session, but Evan thought that he was orgasming less and less each time. Certainly the cum he was fed wasn’t enough to sate his desire, and the tank never looked as full as it had that first time. He also wasn’t sure…but his body felt different, somehow. Of course, he hadn’t been able to see his body since waking up in the room, with his head pulled tight against the back of the chair, but he…sensed something was wrong, or at the very least, different than it had been. Most worrisome, however, was that the world really was beginning to lose some of it’s color, even after the drug had worn off. It was hard to care about anything beyond drinking more cum. He felt dull…but even stranger, he felt calm. Relaxed and at ease. Rationally, he knew that what was being done to him was terrifying, but the emotion attached to the thought was losing force. Every emotion was losing force. He’d think of his girlfriend naked, but only received a dull throb of arousal and love, nothing like he could remember feeling.

And so, when he woke up after that seventh session, and he wasn’t strapped to the chair, he didn’t really know what to feel. Or rather, he knew what he should be feeling–relief, happiness, anticipation–and all of those things were there to some extent, but mostly he just felt…calm, as he looked down at himself, and saw for the first time what the drug had done to his body.