Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 9)

“Let’s get you in the sling,” Ralph said, but that was easier said than done, however, since Doug had started growing fatter and shorter throughout all of this. Now, he was just barely five foot two, and it took both of them to get him up into the leather seat, Ralph securing his boy’s ankles to the industrial chains, giving him easy access to his loose hole, and then chained Doug’s wrists as well, giving him complete control over his body.

He teased him for a few minutes, admiring the changes that had spread across him like wildfire, changes he was having a hard time even recalling. Everything about him just seemed so…normal. He sucked and chewed on one of his boy’s thick nipples before digging through one of his drawers, pulling out two snake bite suckers and attaching them, and then he tugged on his boy’s balls, feeling them swell and drop in his hand, Doug unable to suppress in groans, nor the precum which had begun flowing from the head of his huge cock. He was…beautiful, looking at him like this. Fat, filthy, nasty, covered with tattoos, everything he fucking wanted in a man, but…but that was because Ralph had made him this way…right?

He could remember now, dimly, how he’d taken the boy under his wing, fed him fatter, taught him the ways of filth and sex, covered him with the tattoos of his choosing, forced him to smoke constantly until he needed smoke and ash all day long, forbid him from cutting his hair of shaving any part of his body. As these memories flooded him, he felt like his own past was fading away. College–who the fuck was he kidding? He’d never gone to college, hell, he’d never wanted to go to college, he’d dropped out a high school years ago. Yeah…years…ago. His beard was beginning to grey, long streaks mixing with the brown–the same with his hair. Face growing cragged and wrinkled, scars to match his oft broken nose from fights and rough fucks, and this sweet young boy, fuck. His boy. He’d always wanted one, and now he had one.

He stepped away from the sling and pulled on a thick, industrial rubber glove, coating it with a thick layer of crisco from a half used tub on the dresser, and then walked back, pushing two fingers into Doug’s ass, his weak hole accepting them willingly, listening to the boy moan, swinging his body onto the intruding hand. Three fingers, four, and then his fist popped inside him, Doug letting off something between a sigh and moan as his daddy’s fist invaded his ass. It was…so familiar to him. Ralph twisted his wrist, applied a bit of pressure, and his boy’s dick started spraying piss all over the both of them, Ralph licking it from his beard and mustache as he grinned, watching his boy loose complete control, pressing harder until it was completely empty, and then he switched again, and started prodding his prostate.

He never touched his boy’s cock–he didn’t need to. Doug’s groans and moans only grew louder from the stimulation, his cock flooding precum from his massive balls, until his daddy finally milked a massive orgasm from him, making him shout and groan and cry, sucking down smoke from the cigar still in his mouth, and Ralph yanked out his hand and replaced it with his cock, fucking the loose hole raw until he too was cumming, feeling a bit…light headed. His boy’s collar…it was glinting, shimmering. It seemed so bright, all of a sudden, and everything else was so dark. Doug seemed to have passed out in the sling, and Ralph struggled against the darkness. He didn’t want to go under again, he didn’t want to loose himself again, no more, no…more…

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Ralph gave a snort on the filthy, piss soaked floor where he’d collapsed, rolled up onto his ass, rubbing the side of his head. Fuck..what the hell was that?

“You ok?”

“Fine…I think…” Ralph said, grabbed onto the chains of the sling and hauled himself back up, Doug swinging to and fro from his weight, the ceiling groaning where the chains were anchored.

“Thought I might be stuck,” Doug said.

“Heh, ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that,” Ralph said, leaned over his boy and gave him a deep, smoky kiss, “Just got…too excited, is all. Still, how ‘bout we get ya down?”

He undid the shackles holding Doug’s arms and legs, and helped his short boy down from the sling, holding his filthy body tight to him. He was still horny, and before Doug could get dressed, he bent his boy over and ate out his nasty loose hole, tasting the grease and his own cum from earlier all over his boy’s crack, sucking down his farts in between drags off his cigar, and Doug looked around the room.

It wasn’t much, their little studio, but neither of them made much money. Well, he was the one who worked to support them, really, with construction work during the day and offering up his ass all night. Daddy worked…sometimes. He had a hard time getting hired, and he usually lost his temper whenever anyone tried to tell him what to do. Still, it worked out, and he did what he could. He had his daddy to think of, after all. Some little voice in his head was screaming though, that this was wrong, but it was getting quieter. He gripped his chain collar and felt it diminish more, until he couldn’t hear the words, just feel an odd unease.

Ralph finally came up for air, licking his lips, “Let’s go for a ride, boy. A long one, a few weeks–nah, fuck that. Even longer I gotta feel the wind for a while, too fuckin’ cooped up here.”

“I gotta work in the morning, daddy. We ain’t got nothin’ for rent.”

“Fuck that,” Ralph said, grabbing hold of his chain, “We’ve lived on the road before. Only thing you gotta do is keep daddy happy, and daddy ain’t happy here. Now come on, let’s pack our shit, just what we need. We can meet up with some old buddies a mine; they got a nice clubhouse where we can stay as long as we want. Don’t need rent–they’ll just want our holes. They’re sick fucks, but nothin’ we don’t love anyway.”

Doug couldn’t say no, and so they suited up in their filthy leathers, hoped on their bikes, and rode off into the night, their old lives just glimmers in the back of their minds. Eddie, however, had been keeping an eye on them. Another great buy–he looked at the two collections of preppy clothes and college supplies he’d recently acquired–and knew he’d be making someone happy next weekend at his next special sale.

The End

Blank Skin

Everyone wanted to know about the shaved head, and his missing beard. Wasn’t the cue ball look a bit too radical, for someone like him? A wealthy, older man like him in his fifties, who dressed in fancy suits tailored to his large gut? He told them he’d wanted a change, and they all just passed it off as a mid life crisis. He couldn’t tell any of them the truth, he wasn’t allowed to, and it was frustrating, so frustrating. He acted a bit strange all day long, in his meetings. It seemed to his co-worker’s like it was hard for him to get comfortable–he kept fidgeting in his seat, and glancing to the clock, like he had somewhere else that he needed to be. A man who was known for short, practical lunches rescheduled meetings and was gone for an hour and a half so he go to some all you can eat buffet nearby. However, other than those relatively minor oddities, he played his role, as usual, leading the team, directing their focus, but when five o’clock struck, a man who rarely left earlier than seven or eight instead grabbed his briefcase and rushed out of the office as quickly as he could. He knew something none of them knew, he knew a secret he couldn’t tell anyone. The secret was, that Mitchell Pratten wasn’t a person anymore–Mitchell Pratten was just a hog in a fancy suit.

That Friday, he’d left later than usual, and the subway had been empty, aside from a rough looking, burly skinhead, face full of piercings, arms coated with tattoos, carrying a backpack. Mitchell had been wary, but unprepared for the man to spring at him and shove a needle in his neck–but after they’d had a chat, everything had been sorted out, and he’d let the skinhead follow him home and into his apartment.

But he was almost back now, he was so eager to get out of these clothes. It was stifling him, the real him. He couldn’t be himself in it, he had to be “Mitchell Pratten” and do “Mitchell Pratten” things, like read the paper and scowl at young punks when what he really wanted to do was crawl over and beg the young men to fist his ass with their big hands. He reached his stop, and he hurried to his building, taking the elevator up to his condo, where he opened the door with shaking hands, and stepped inside, immediately ripping at the suit, tearing it away from his body, so he could be rid of this horrid fabric skin.

Master had taught him so many important things, on Friday night, in his condo. He’d taught him that he wasn’t a person at all, that once you stripped away the clothes, that once you stripped away the hair and the beard and the fur coating his body, he wasn’t anything at all–just a blank page. And blank pages needed to be written on, right? And so master had written on him, had taken the tattoo gun he’d brought along in his backpack and helped fill in all the gaps. He wasn’t blank anymore, as he stood at the door, free of “Mitchell Pratten” for the day, his entire arms and chest were covered with crudely drawn words and pictures, all of them marking him for what he was. A whore. A hog. A pervert. A masochist. A hole. A slave for his master. He rubbed his smooth skin, still sore from Master’s work, and let out a snort of pleasure, before getting down on all fours and crawling where his master was sitting, and began licking his boots. He served him for the evening, licking his body clean of any sort of filth, before Master finally allowed him to eat, setting a huge steel bowl on the floor, watching as his pig shoved his face into the slop and devoured it hungrily. He was a glutton now. He was gluttonous pig, and Master liked his pigs fat, so very fat. The fatter he was, after all, the more skin he had, and the more Master could fill him in. That was why Master had insisted on cutting off his balls this weekend–hogs grew fatter much faster than boars, after all. It had hurt, but he’d already noticed the difference. He was calmer, more focused. His pleasure didn’t matter–the only thing that mattered was pleasing his master. Master told him that once that wound had healed, he’d remove his cock as well–after all, he didn’t need it, right? Right–the hog would be more than happy for it to be gone as well.

He emptied the huge bowl four times–only then did Master help wipe his face clean with a rag, and afterwards, Master told him that it was time for him to fill in more of the hog’s body, and he grew excited. He loved having his master fill him up, he loved everything his master did to him. It hurt as he tattooed him, working on his back, and as he did, Master told him what he was writing. That this hog was not only a cumdump and a fisthole, but a urinal too. This hog craved the taste of piss, and would drink whenever he could, fresh or old, and when his Master fed his his first load, he knew it was true, that he’d spend the rest of his life drinking piss and getting pissed on by his Master and any other man. But by that time, it was very late, and they were both exhausted. Master climbed into his large bed, and Hog curled up on the floor next to him, already dreading the morning.

He would have to be Mitchell Pratten again, for the day. He’d have to be Mitchell Pratten for ten or eleven long hours. Master told him he’d have to play the role for quite a while, that a good hog would want to make lots of money for his master, and Mitch did make lots, and lots of money. But the hog wasn’t happy. The hog didn’t like meetings and suits. He didn’t want to discuss business strategies–he wanted to suck his coworker’s cocks and drink their piss. At least Master had ordered him to stuff himself silly during Mitchell’s lunches–that was the one moment when he’d felt the most free. Still, he was just a hog–he didn’t get to choose, he could only obey. Just a hog–something gussied up in a suit–but at the end of the day a hog through and through.

Our Demons (Part 2)

“Look, I’ll just be gone for a few hours, nothing to worry about, really.”

“Please, just untie me, just let me go.”

Derrick looked at Rich with a bit of pity, but also fear, “I would, but it wouldn’t want me to. Besides, you’re helping me out so much! Really, you are.”

“Derrick, this isn’t you, you have to stop smoking those things. Can’t you see what they’re doing to you? You’re becoming a freak, man? A fucking faggot.”

“I’m not a fucking faggot!” Derrick yelled, “You’re the fucking faggot here, you fucking bitch, just for that, when I get back, I’m gonna shove my whole fucking fist in that hole of yours, got it? I’m gonna make you scream like a fucking whore.”

Rich just shook his head, but Derrick grabbed the cock shaped gag on the bed pillow, shoved it back in his mouth, and strapped it around the back of his head. After fucking his face for what felt like hours on the couch, Derrick had dragged Rich into the bedroom, and bound him belly down and spread eagled on the bed. He went over, grabbed the biggest dildo from the collection that had appeared on the dresser. It was shaped like a fist, not a cock, and Rich pleaded with him through the gag.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, but it’ll help. I’m gonna fist you when I get back, and this will get you a bit looser,” Derrick said, and then his voice hardened, “No lube though–I’m gonna shove it in raw, so you can get used to the pain, piggy.” Derrick had already spent most of the afternoon fucking him repeatedly, but the fist was something else. He screamed into the gag, but as soon as he did, he felt a searing pain in the small of his back, as Derrick smashed the butt of his burning cigar into his flesh, “You know how I feel about screaming, fucker! Shut your fucking trap.” Rich bit down and sucked on the gag in his mouth, anything to distract from the pain of his stretched hole, and then Derrick stood back up. “You should make sure that stays in there. I don’t know what it might do to you if it falls out by the time I get back. I’ll try to hurry, I promise. I just gotta get some more cigars, and maybe…maybe some other stuff, is all. I’ll be back soon.”

Soon ended up being four hours later. Thankfully, Rich got used to the pain rather quickly, but the sheer boredom of his position wore on him more than anything. He tried calling for help, he tried wrenching at the handcuffs holding him to the bed, but nothing budged. Instead, all he could do was think about what in the world was happening to Derrick. He’d already been trapped here for over a day–no one had heard them, no one had come to check on them. Rich lived alone and worked from home–it would be days before anyone realized he was missing, and who knew what might happen before then? At first, he just thought Derrick was going crazy–he kept referring to an “it,” like there was something else inside of him–but as the day had worn on, he was growing more and more sure it was those new cigars of his. Rich thought it was that other voice, the cruel voice, the abuser. Whatever it was, it scared Rich to death–and Derrick was scared of it too. He tried to sleep for a bit, but whenever he did, he could feel his body start pushing the dildo out, so he stayed awake, forcing himself to clench his ass down on the dildo–or clench it as best he could. As terrified as he was of whatever might come next, he was still happy to hear the door open, and the heavy trod of Derrick’s boots.

“Hey, piggy,” he said when he came into the bedroom–but this was a new voice. It was closer to Derrick’s, but tough, raspier, “Fuck, I needed that. I feel so much fucking better, you know? Turns out, those first cigars were just meant to get me started. The guy gave me these new ones, and fuck! They pack such a kick. I can’t wait to get my fist in that hole of yours, it’s gonna be fucking amazing. You’re such a good piggy friend, you know that? What the fuck would I do without you?” Derrick sat down on the bed looking down at Rich’s spread eagle body. “I told him about you, you know? He thinks you’re such a good friend, helping me out like this, that he had a present for you. You see, I told him that you’re still fighting a bit, and he suggested that what I really needed was a better way to keep you under control, and I fucking agreed, you know? If you just did what I fucking told you, then all this would go so much smoother. Thankfully, he had just the fucking thing for you. But here’s the thing. I have to take out your gag, so remember,” and here his voice shifted, and it came back, that deep snarl, “If you scream or shout, I will choke the fucking life from your lungs.”

Derrick pulled something black from the bag–Rich had no idea what it was. He unlatched the gag from his head and pulled it out. To scream or not to scream? He was caught in a moment of indecision, while Derrick fiddled with the black object. A mask? A hood? Before he could get anything out, his friend pulled the hood over his head. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. The rubber pressed against his nose and mouth, tight, as he sucked against it, trying to get air, and just when he thought he might faint, the rubber opened up, pushed into his mouth, and hardened, forcing him to keep his jaw wide spread. He felt it with his tongue–a hard, inch wide, rubber ring had appeared out of nowhere, then he noticed something else–he could feel something running down his neck and onto his chest. He wanted to see what was happening, but he couldn’t see anything. He realized he couldn’t hear anything either, until Derrick spoke. The voice was almost too loud–like it was coming from inside his own head.

“Just relax. Let the rubber cover you.”

He felt his body slump down into the bed. It was rubber then. He could feel it running up his arms now, reaching his hands, but instead of forming gloves, the rubber massed around his hands, forcing them to form fists that he couldn’t open no matter how hard he tried. The rubber kept going down his body, covered his cock and balls in a mass of rubber so thick he didn’t think he’d be able to feel anything, and then down his legs to his feet, which formed into thick, rubber soled boots. He felt two fingers shove their way into his mouth, followed by a single word in his mind, “Lick.” He did, unable to stop himself, and felt the area around his cock start pulsing and sucking on his cock and balls, sending bolts of pleasure through him. Then a cock, another brutal face fuck, and now there was nothing Rich could do. He’d been turned into a hole. He hadn’t imagined that this could get any worse–but now he realized that this might just be only the beginning.

Garrison’s Physical

by Wesley Bracken

What kind of doctor’s office even was this?

Garrison sat in the stiff, leather upholstered chair in the waiting room. The slender, heavily pierced receptionist had taken his name with a flourish; he was ninety percent sure he was a faggot. In fact, looking around, he was ninety percent sure that he was surrounded by faggots. They sat around the room, all in these strange leather chairs–two big hefty men in biker gear chuckling along the wall, a grimy, fat skinhead in coveralls fidgeting by the door, and him, in his suit, here for a company physical because he hadn’t been to the doctor in years, but he hated going to the doctor. He hated having some guy put his hands on him, all doctors were probably faggots anyway, and he was perfectly healthy regardless. But he’d needed to, they said, and so he’d picked a random doctor from the book and here he was. He would have gotten up and left in disgust already, if that strange smell in the air wasn’t so…

He’d kind of blanked out again there, that was the second time. Looking at the clock, only a couple of minutes had gone past–the skinhead had gone in, the bikers were staring at him, or more precisely, his crotch. Garrison grabbed a magazine and covered himself, staring them down, and they just stared back. A young man in black, shiny scrubs opened the door and called his name.

Height and weight. Blood pressure and body temperature. Any medications? Any reason you came to see us in particular? Did you fill out our new patient survey? No, we don’t send it to the government, it remains in our office, we merely like to–. Well that’s alright, the doctor will be in to see you shortly.

The smell was stronger here, and the black blinds and black paint and the lack of windows made him feel like hours had passed already. He pulled out his phone and tried to get some emails written, but he just couldn’t focus for some reason. He blanked out for a bit, breathing deep, staring at the wall and counting odd shapes in the spackle, when a loud groan of pleasure from somewhere close by startled him. This was definitely strange, he thought to himself, but still couldn’t quite manage to stand up and leave, and so he sat, and he sat, and he sat. He checked his phone, but it had to be wrong–he couldn’t have been in here for three hours already. It felt like thirty minutes at most, and didn’t most doctor’s offices close around six anyway? Why would he still be here at eight at night?

Finally there was a knock at the door, and the doctor entered the room. He wasn’t dressed like any doctor Garrison had ever seen, he could see the older man’s hairy ass through those rubber chaps he had on, and was he smoking a cigar? And wearing waders? This, he told himself, was wrong, and yet his body couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Somewhere along the line, he had relaxed so much that he simply seemed to be moving in slow motion, as he tried to protest and push past the doctor, who just shoved him back into his seat, talking to him like he hadn’t just tried to get away at all, and just kept talking for a while, his voice distant and muddled, until he told Garrison to go ahead and strip. He tried to leave his underwear on, but the doctor made him take those off too, gathered everything up, and handed it to a nurse out in the hall, before starting the physical.

It proceeded normally enough at first, the doctor working with his stethoscope, inspecting his body, asking him normal enough questions. The man’s smoking bothered him not because of the smoke–Garrison smoked cigars himself–but because the smoke was the same smell he’d been surrounded with all day in the office, but far stronger. He realized that the doctor had been talking this whole time, and he’d also been talking back to him–answering questions, agreeing with statements–but couldn’t remember anything either of them had said the entire time, until the question came, “When did you have your last prostate exam?”

Never. He’d never let some faggot touch his ass like that. That was what faggots did, that was ‘an exit, not an entrance,’ and yet he was lying on his back on a table, legs in the air, while the doctor slipped his rubber gloved fingers in one by one, and it felt good. It felt so good. It felt like those few times, drunk, that he’d taken the dildo one of his ex-girlfriends had left in his apartment and he’d…so fucking good, fuck. Too good. He couldn’t be feeling this, he shouldn’t be feeling this, but the words no couldn’t quite get out of his mouth, and then all of the fingers were in his hole, pushing in, making him cry out, and then the whole fist inside him, so fucking full.

“Good, it look’s great. You have a great hole.”

His cock was hard now, like it’d been those few times. He tried to not think about it, but then the doctor’s other hand wrapped around it and started massaging it, testing his reflexes, the doctor was making curious noises…or were they his noises? He was shooting suddenly, spraying cum up onto his chest.

“Perfectly natural, you’re doing just fine.”

Fine, he felt humiliated, and yet the fist drove in deeper still, and he wanted it in there, he was telling the doctor he wanted his fist inside him.

“Really? My, that seems serious. I’m afraid that you might be a fist pig, did you know that?”

He hadn’t known that.

“Yes, you see, fist pigs need constant anal stimulation, or they tend to develop depression, anxiety, and other problems. I think that we’re going to have to do something about that, don’t you? I’m sure that if you come in twice a week, we can have your ass properly stimulated in no time. A lot of the symptoms you’re seeing will clear up in a few weeks.”

Garrison thanked him. The doctor asked if he’d like to stop, and Garrison said he’d like to cum again, he’d feel a lot better if he shot, yeah, he begged the doctor for more, until he came screaming a second time, and the doctor allowed him to sit up, warned him that he’d have some residual pain and looseness, and that he should come by on Tuesdays and Fridays for his appointments. The doctor also wrote him a prescription–for a haircut, and for twenty sessions at a local tattoo parlour. To help boost his confidence.

Six months later, Garrison had never been happier. Sure, he’d had to quit his office job when he’d gotten his head and hands tattooed, but Grant–the filthy skin in coveralls he’d seen in the waiting room that first day–had gotten him a job at the garbage dump working in the office, so it was all ok. And Grant’s hands were fucking huge, he fucking loved taking that trashman’s arm up to the elbows. e had no idea why he’d waited so long to get a physical, he’d never been in better health in his whole life. Well, the doctor had started to worry about his gastro intestinal urinary imbalance, but that didn’t sound too serious, right?

***

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I can hear him in his room, jacking off again. I don’t really want to get involved–I mean, what father wants to talk to his son about masturbation? But it seems like it’s all he’s been doing lately, and I think he’s stopped showering too. It’s so strange. I mean, he’s going through a rebellious phase, sure. There’s that tattoo he got with his friends a few months ago, but he’s just a senior eager to get out from under his parents. I was the same way, after all. Still, how can I not worry about him? Besides, he’s so loud, I’m worried the neighbors might hear, especially the freak next door. In fact, Ben’s room shares a wall with him, doesn’t it?

***

Ben had his hand down in his filthy jockstrap that he hadn’t changed for a week, and through the wall, he could hear his perverse neighbor whispering through the small hole he’d drilled through the wall, the one Ben had covered up with his dresser to make sure his dad didn’t find it.

“You smell good jock pig, fuck yeah. You like how you reek, don’t you?”

“F–Fuck…”

Ben shot his load up onto his stomach and rubbed it in there, groaning loudly. He hoped that his dad hadn’t heard him, but he couldn’t stop from making these humiliating groans any longer, licking the rest of his tacky cum off his fingers.

“Got something for you piggy, come on piggy, I know you want it.”

Ben got up and shoved the dresser to one side, and the pervert’s crusty, uncut cock popped through the hole. Ben was on his knees with it down his throat as fast as he could move. Piss came first, faster than he could swallow, and it ran down the front of him, where he rubbed it into his skin, grunting, his cock hard again already, the old man’s cock growing hard, and he sucked until he got a reward of sour old cum, and then he pushed the dresser back and tried to keep from smelling his filthy pits and getting started all over again.

***

I’m getting really worried now–it’s only getting worse, and now he’s gone most of the day too. I’ve been getting calls that he’s missing school, but he doesn’t listen to me anymore. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t listen to anything I have to say, like he’s a zombie when he’s here. In his room, he jacks off and snorts and grunts, and then he leaves and doesn’t come back for hours. I don’t want to invade his privacy, but I have to find out what’s going on–just a quick investigation while he’s gone won’t hurt, right?

I don’t find anything, but what the hell is that pervy neighbor doing next door? It sounds like he’s fucking someone, but who in the hell would have sex with someone as nasty as him? I don’t feel real good all of a sudden though…there’s this…smell in here, but what…what is it?

Dirty laundry everywhere…it smells…fuck. So fucking sweaty, damn…and kind of like cum. A bit stiff…too, makes me want to gag, but it smells kind of good. What the fuck am I even thinking, and why am I hard? This is ridiculous. Can’t stop though, smells so fucking good…fuck yeah, oh fuck just one quick jack, that’s all.

***

“Who’s my nasty jock pig?”

“Me sir,” Ben moaned, his filthy neighbor’s cock buried deep in his filthy ass.

“Who’s my piss drinking, ass licking piggy?”

“Oh fuck, me sir!”

“That’s fuckin’ right!” he spanked Ben’s ass, the jock groaning and unloading a fifth load from his balls into the grungy carpet beneath him. The pig had no control anymore–one sniff of his filthy master’s pits was enough to have him cumming sometimes.

The perv was speeding up now, getting close himself. He unloaded into his pig’s loose hole, and then pulled out, watching his cum dribble down Ben’s crusty ass crack. “Fuckin’ sexy pig.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Now get going–I’m done for now.”

Ben stood up and left his master’s apartment, slipping back into his father’s apartment next door, returning to his room, one hand wiping his master’s cum out of his crack and licking it up, when he saw his father naked on his bed, surrounded by his filthy laundry, his cum rag shirt pressed against his nose as he jacked off, body sweaty.

Ben went to the hole in the wall, “Master, my father’s pigging out sir, what should I do?”

“Oh really? How about you feed him my cum from your nasty hole, pig?”

“Oh fuck sir, I’d love to do that…” Ben got up on the bed and squatted over his father’s face, and unable to stop himself, his father ate the pervert’s filthy cum from his son’s hole. Unable to fathom what was happening, but unable to stop for the life of him.

***

Oh fuck, look at them go! My pig son’s so fuckin’ hot, especially now that he’s working out almost constantly. Fuckin’ ripped, and master just reams his ass with that fist of his. Wish it wasn’t so hard to jack my cock, but I’m just a fat pig, gotta keep eating, so fuckin’ hungry. Master wants me at least 400 pounds here soon, and I’m gettin’ so close. So fuckin’ nasty, fuck.

Gotta piss, yeah, pissin’ my son’s nasty jockstrap. Smells so good, I’ll suck it out of the carpet later, I don’t wanna miss this. Love watching master fist my pig son, almost as much as I love feeling his fist up my fat ass, maybe Ben will fist me when he comes home, fuck that’d be hot.

Master says he’s gonna start training me to be a proper toilet pig soon, gonna have me eating my son’s filthy shit before too long. Can’t fucking wait to be honest, I already love having my tongue buried up filthy shit chutes, tastes so fucking good. I’m gonna be such a good toilet for master and my pig son, fuck yeah. Where’s my fuckin’ dildo? Wanna cum, gettin’ fuckin’ close, gotta get fucked to cum though, such a fuckin’ pig. Yeah, that’s it, nine inches stuffed up in me, fuck! Fuck I’m fuckin’ cumming, such a nasty fuckin’ pig, fuck, fuckin’ love being a pig, love my master, I love my fuckin’ pig son so fuckin’ much, fuck yeah…

wesleybracken:

“Ha, damn dude how about that party! That was amazing,” Nick said, “Man, these temporary tattoos are the bomb, they really sold the biker costume, eh? Man, I’m beat, gonna go wash this crap off and then go to bed.”

Nick tromped up and you hear him turn on the water, but your heart is racing. You’ve had a hard on all night, watching Nick strut around in those biker leathers, and he damn well deserved the best costume prize he’d gotten at the end of the night, but you hadn’t been entirely honest about the tattoos.

See, they weren’t temporary, like you’d said. And on your computer, you loaded up the program which controlled the ink and started making some changes, switching the pattern from “Rough Biker (Full Body)” to “Gay Pig Bottom (Full Body)” and then checked the box next to “Modify Personality to Match Selection.” After a second, you hit submit. Yeah, Nick was going to have those tattoos for the rest of his life, and be your nasty pig slut to top it off.

You went up into the bathroom, and the Nick gaped at you. “What the fuck dude? I was just trying to wash this odd, and they started changing! It’s a bunch of faggot shit all of the…the sudden…*grunt* Fuck…Kinda horny all of the sudden.”

“I bet you are, you fuckin’ nasty pig.”

You walk over and start tugging on his nipples, and Nick can’t stop grunting and snorting, one of his hands slipping into the water to jack his cock. “Fuck man, fuck–I don’t…”

“Shut the fuck up,” you say, slapping his face with your cock, “Suck it.”
He does, no reservations. You let him enjoy it for a moment, the personality changes settling in and taking root, and then you spray him down with you piss. He loves it, and begs you for more, and you’re happy to give it to him–you order him to follow him into your bedroom and introduce him to his new collar that he’ll be wearing from now on, and you plow his fat ass, telling him how long you’ve been lusting after him, how thrilled you are that this tattoo program could finally make him into the bitch pig you’ve always wanted.

When you’re finished, you kick him out of the bed–pigs don’t get to sleep with their masters after all, and Nick curls up on the floor, and you both fall asleep–or so you think. When you wake up the next morning, the arm you have curled in front of your face and under your pillow is a riot of tattoos. You leap up and see that it isn’t just your arm–it’s your whole body, just like Nick’s. You run out of the room and find him at the computer, still grunting and snorting, jacking his piggy cock. “If you get to have the pig you’ve always wanted, then I get the fuckin’ *snort* nasty skinpig top I want too!”

He hit return, and you quickly realize that he didn’t only match your personality to the tattoos–but your body is changing as well. Muscles redouble on themselves, buning away all trace of fat in the process, and in a minute you’re well over six feet tall and nearly 300 pounds of beef. Your whole body is completely hairless, including your face and scalp, which will now be a permanently smooth dome, and the tattoos shift and grow up your neck and cover your head as well. The personality creeps up on you, as you stand there, staring at your nasty pig slave, stroking your eight inch, uncut cock, sneering at him. With a snarl, you throw him to the ground and fuck him raw, but you can only manage two orgasms before you start going soft. You’re not done with his hole though–you work your fist deep into him, making him scream as you shove in your whole forearm, screaming insults at him, demeaning him, twiddling his nasty pig cock as he leaks load after load of cum onto the carpet.

Source: rockinbearsncubs

A lot of the guys in the frat have been acting really strange lately, and I had no real clue what was going on with all of them. It all started when Johnny brought home that funky meteorite from the field that he found, and he’s been obsessing over it lately. Like, in a really unhealthy sort of way–carrying it around with him, not letting anyone else touch it. But more than that…well, the guys who hang out with him have all started acting really…strange. Faggy strange. Louis is wearing these really tight, hot pink clothes, and I saw him carrying around this massive dildo the other day. Noel started wearing all of this leather gear and I swear he and Louis have been fucking around in their rooms. Carter can’t seem to stop eating and masturbating–and he’s watching gay porn too. I don’t get it.

I head to my room today though, and now it all makes sense. See, Johnny was waiting there, and he explained everything to me. See, he’d always been a total pervert–and a gay one at that, and now, the alien living in his head, the one slowly eating his brain, it’s letting him push all of his twisted fantasies onto his frat mates in exchange for devouring it. Of course, that means the alien will be planting it’s larva in our minds too, but those won’t grow to maturity for close to twenty of our years. Sure, I fought hard, but as soon as I felt his tongue burrow into my ear, the slimy worm pushing its way down my ear canal and burrowing into my brain, I knew exactly what to do.

I’m a pig now, you see? It makes so much sense! I wear these filthy clothes all the time now, and I stink of sex and piss, and it makes me so hot, I can’t even tell you. Nothing is too extreme for me. I clean out Louis’ sloppy hole after Noel finishes fisting him. I beg Noel to take me into his dungeon and make me scream in pain. I suck the piss out of Carter’s filthy boxers, since he’s too fat and lazy to even get up off the couch anymore–I love it. Too bad Johnny can’t do anything about it–he just sits and drools in his room now, brain gone, but hey, he’s living the dream! I can’t wait to be like that in twenty years too–it’s gonna be so sweet.

Smoked

–Day 1–

I woke up, and I couldn’t see anything. It was terrifying, that first time, when you open your eyes and you still can’t see a thing? And even worse, when you try to talk, and say something, and you find something in lodged in your mouth? I could scream–and I did scream, that was for sure, and did my best to escape, but my hands had been locked behind the chair I was sitting on, and my legs were tied to the chair, and the chair must have been bolted down, because my flailing didn’t move it an inch. Where in the hell was I? I didn’t know. I mean, I remembered the smoke shop, the one that everyone on the forum had been talking about, and I remember going in and asking for his special smokes, and the burly man behind the counter had given me one to try, and then…nothing.

I kicked and fought for a few more minutes, but I couldn’t get loose–all I did was tire myself out, and make it even harder to breathe through the tube in my mouth. I could breathe through my nose still, but the air was stale inside the mask, while through my mouth the air was clean. I sat there, panting for a bit, trying to figure out what to do, when I heard him speak.

“Ah, so you’re awake then. Good, that means we can go ahead and get started. Well, you fucking prick, you asked for one of my special blends, so here you go–we have a long week of changes ahead of us, so we might as well get started, eh?”

I couldn’t breathe as well, suddenly, and then I heard the sound of a lighter being lit, and then smoke started flooding my mouth through the tube. He must have stuffed a cigar in the other end or something, and I tried to just breathe through my nose…but this smoke, fuck, you don’t understand, whatever blend it was, it was…irresistible. Before long, I couldn’t get enough, I was inhaling deep off the tube in my mouth, sucking down as much smoke as I could, and he was chuckling, encouraging me to take as much as I needed.

I don’t know how much I smoked, but I know it was at least three cigars in a row. The guy’s special blends, the ones I had wanted, they could…change people, or at least that’s what the rumors claimed. But what in the hell was the guy talking about? I hadn’t acted like a prick! I mean, maybe I had been a bit rude…and maybe a bit of a snob, but fuck, I think I’ve been a weakling long enough to earn the right to be a fucking man, right? I mean, sure, I was impatient, but I didn’t give a shit about how to use the fucking product–you just smoke it–how hard could it be?

Well, not as hard as my cock. Fuck, by the time I’d finished the first cigar, my cock was aching in the chastity device he must have put on me while I was asleep–I mean–I was horny as fuck, and by the time I was through smoking it, I just wanted to cum, but there wasn’t exactly anyway for me to make my desire known, aside from moaning like a fucking whore. Still, eventually the smoke cleared away, and I could breathe again–for a moment at least.

He fiddled with the tube leading into my mouth–I could feel it being yanked around–and then something new flooded my mouth. It was the consistency of a shake, and it came so fast that I nearly choked–I didn’t exactly have many options beyond swallowing it all down. My gut felt like it was going to burst by the time the flow stopped–I don’t think I’d ever eaten anything as massive as that meal, but then it was back to the smoke. He kept it up, and he hasn’t said a word to me. I’m on my fourth feeding now, and I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep though, I have to keep eating. I’m…I’m so hungry, and so horny. The flow’s easing up, thank god–I think I have to try to sleep. There…there’s the smoke again, fuck, that feels good on my gut. Maybe…maybe I’ll sleep for just a little bit. I have to keep my wits about me, and the smoke…so good…horny though…so horny…

–Day 3–

Goodness, he’s looking good already, and we aren’t even halfway there–of course, I’ve been pumping him full of more smoke than any of these guys usually get–I usually only supply them with a dozen “special” cigars for a week of changes, but this guy, well, he’s already gone through a dozen, and I’m going to put another dozen more in him by the time we’re finished. The feedings and immobility are having the desired effect too–he’s plumping up nicely. Of course, he might have been slim walking in here, but he’s not going to be slim walking out. He’s probably at 250 pounds right now, but hell, we’ll see how big we can get him over the rest of the week. Still, I think it’s time for something new.

I’ve been waffling, I admit it. A dumbass redneck? A cock-starved retiree? A piss guzzling trucker? I mean, I have a lot of options, but I think I’ve settled on something. I want a fist pig–a preference for leather, but with more personality than a leather bear. Still, leather is a fine place to start, I think. I have him on a round of cigars at the moment, but lets go ahead and get him all dressed up. First, a harness, but we’re going to have this one spiked, I think. Yeah, I’m definitely feeling a certain punk vibe off of him–this is going to be hot.

Now, chaps? No, I don’t think chaps…hmm…how about. Yeah, I’m going to have to undo his feet for a second, but he’s so smoked out I doubt he’ll even notice. Hell, even I untied him, I don’t think he’d want to leave at this point. Besides, I still have his key–not that he’s going to give a shit about his own tiny ass cock by the time we’re done here.Still, I think some jeans…but distressed. Yeah, lets rip up the knees here a pit, and rip out the ass and crotch of course–he’s a fucking slut after all–no shame there, and then we’ll just…slip these babies on…yeah, that’s looking good.

Now, how about a beat up biker vest, and a bandanna–deep red of course. His hair’s growing out nicely, after all–and I kind of like it–though maybe a mohawk…mmm, yeah, that’ll be fuckin’ crazy. Now then, just add some of these old combat boots and tie his feet up again, and we’re all done–perfect.

Let’s see, how about that last accessory though? I’ve been stretching his ass out nicely since yesterday–aw yeah, look at how easy that plug slips in and out now–that’s so damn hot. We’re going to give this punked out bear the loosest hole in the city. I wonder…hell, why not? I’ll just give it a try. Pull it out and start out with a few fingers…aww fuck yeah, he’s fucking eating my hand with his hole, that’s so hot–but can he…yeah, he’s moaning, it hurts, but he wants it, he’s opening up perfectly–just a little more…fuck yeah, take my fist you fucking cunt, that’s so fucking hot. Feels good, doesn’t it? Having my fist pummel that prostate of yours? You like it, I can tell, but we’re not done yet, not by a long shot. Still, that’s enough of that for now. I’d give you a proper fucking, but I can’t get to your hole, so we’re just going to have to give you a bigger dildo for now. How about nine inches and as big as my fist? Still, even that isn’t going to be enough for a hog like you, just you fucking wait.

–Day 5–

Holy fuckin’ shit, this music is really starting to get on my fucking nerves now. Fucking metal? And fuckin’ Screamo at that? It’s just a bunch of dumbfucks playing guitars as badly as fucking possible, and some dude screaming his fuckin’ lungs out. What’s the fuckin’ point? It’s been playing non-stop since yesterday, and I mean, sure, I think it was even worse then. I dunno, maybe I’m just gettin’ used to it or somethin’.

Ow! Fucking hell, it fuckin’ happened again! My right fuckin’ ear this time, somethin’ fuckin keeps poking me every few minutes. I swear, like fuckin’ needles or somethin’. God damn, if it don’t make my fuckin’ cock ache every damn time though. Who knew a chastity device could feel so damn good though, eh? I’m so horny, but damn, if it don’t make my piggy hole feel so damn good. Aw yeah…yeah, he’s pumpin’ the dildo, oh yeah, fuckin’ righteous man, feels so damn nice, gettin’ reamed like that. Wonder how big it is–feels like a fuckin’ two litter bottle. Yeah, I’m gonna have to give that a try when he let’s me out–I bet I can take it. Hell, I’ve already taken both of his fuckin fists, I wonder…wonder if I could take three? Oh yeah, bet that would feel so damn good…

Fuck I’m hungry. I could eat a fuckin’ horse. Gotta keep this big gut a mine fed after all, gotta get bigger too–just…just a fat ass metalhead…yeah–ow! Fuck, again? and my tits this time? What the fuck is up with that? And this fuckin’ burnin’ that’s gettin’ on my nerves too. First it was just my arms, but now my whole gut feels like it’s on fire or somethin’. All itchy and shit. Man, my head…just feels so fuzzy all the time, gettin’ harder to think ‘bout anythin’ other than my…hole…yeah…fuck, feels so good, getting fucked like that…

…Shit, think…I think I zoned out for a bit there. Yeah, fuck, I remember this album, he played it yesterday. Man, it made me so angry yesterday…and…and I’m still angry, but also…kind of…kind of pumped up. Yeah, what a fuckin’ amazin’ solo, listen to that fucker shred! Man, if I didn’t have this fuckin’ smoke tube halfway down my throat, I’d be totally into this, I wonder if they tour. I bet…bet their mosh pits are fuckin’ out of this world, man. I’d love…love to find some big fucker in there, drunk off his ass, and just get down and dirty with him in the mud, get him to fuck my sloppy hole right there in front of everyone, like a fuckin’ punked out pig!

No–No, that’s not me, I don’t mean it. Did I really just think that? What in the hell is happening to me? I can’t even remember what I used to look like. I mean, all I see is this fat, tattooed and pierced thug, but that’s not me, it’s not. I–I mean…it would be…kinda hot if that were me. Yeah, with “SEXXXPIG” tattooed across my gut, and massive fucking gauges in my ears. Big doorknocker hangin’ from my septum, just…just a dumbass, punked out, bear whore.

Oh is…he fuckin’ is, workin’ both his fists in there with the dildo now. So damn full…of fuck yeah, the food’s starting! Yeah, I’m fuckin’ starved, fucking stuff me full at both ends, I’m such a hungry pig, just a hungry ass punked out piggy bear…yeah…feed me, stuff me, smoke me…that’s what I need, that’s what I was made for…

–Day 7–

Hot damn, what a fucking whore. As soon as I let him out, he’s on his knees, cigar clamped in one jaw, and he’s begging me to fuck him. Of course, his hole is so damn loose that I can’t feel a thing–I end up jacking my cock off with my fist inside his ass, and he fucking loves it. You should see him, he’s a fucking freak. Piercings everywhere–and I mean everywhere. When I took off the chastity belt, his cock and balls, they looked like a god damn pincushion. And even with the device off, I saw he’d chastized himself already–the massive PA through his three inch cock was padlocked to a ring in the massive ball stretcher he wore, pinning his cock against his massive sack. I asked him if he wanted to cum, and he told me he’d lost the key years ago–he could still cum on occasion, sure, but he loved how it felt when he got hard, like the ring was going to rip out of his cock head.

Well, he’s definitely a man, I’ll say that. The cigars put on a massive amount of hair–but it’s…well…manicured in some interesting ways. The hair is thick except for on his gut, where it accentuates the tattoo–SEXXXPIG–on a completely bare patch of skin, and his arms, where a riot of tattoos, some of them from metal bands, most of them sexual, form full sleeves to his shoulders. His beard is down to his gut and thickly tangled–he stinks like he hasn’t showered in a week, which I suppose he hasn’t. And his long hair has been spiked up into a deep red mohawk. I sent him on his way, and promised him cigars for life, so long as he stopped by for a rough bondage and fisting session once a month–like he’d turn down an offer like that. Still, he apparently had some metal festival to get to or something–he was going to see if he could turn to mosh pit into a metal orgy–and with that ass of his, I bet he’ll do just fine.

Kevin McGrath, a modern day bandit, has somehow managed to escape arrest over thirty times, and even worse, no one is entirely sure how he manages to do it. He makes things easy enough–robbing banks without even a mask, getting away with the cash on the same motorcycle each time, but the officers who pursue him…well, when they inevitably catch up to him at the seedy motel he holes up in, well, strange things start to happen.

He never resists arrest, but as soon as the men approach him, the find themselves impossibly attracted to the outlaw, and the longer they remain near him, the more thy change. Those who get away after a few minutes tend to quit the force, becoming rough leather cop masters at local gay bars, but on the few occasions that they end up spending the night with McGrath…

Well, it’s a bit different each time. One officer was found in the hotel room, wearing only a leather harness, bound up, his asshole so loose he couldn’t close it, begging the men who found him to fist him like the pig he was. In another case, the officer was found stuffing himself with food, after gaining three hundred pounds over night. McGrath hasn’t struck a bank in the last few months, so he’s probably planning his next heist, and who knows what might happen to the men who pursue him this time.

Source: lc600

Obedience School

Warning: contains castration. If that scares you consider yourself warned.
***
Alright, it looks like your favorite from last week was the rubber puppy, so here’s some more pupslave training for you. Hope it isn’t too hard to read—these vignettes give me a chance to try out some new techniques.

Make sure you vote for your favorites! Go back through this week’s photo captions and give your favorite a like or a reblog, so I know which one you all want me to expand.

***

You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber—-

puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy—

No, No I’m not—I’m not it’s a lie, I know it’s a lie but why can’t I remember…why can’t I remember my own fucking face?

horny rubber puppy slave… You’re a—

I was human I know I was human…No not was, am human I am human present tense, fucking present tense Spike, come on, and my name wasn’t Spike it was…it was…

happy horny rubber puppy—

I can’t remember, why can’t I remember? What the fuck have they done to me here, why can’t I remember my own fucking name, or my fucking face, or my family, just my masters, oh fuck my fucking sexy fucking masters I hope they play with me today I hope they want to play fetch and dildos and fist and fuck and fuck and let me lick them and fuck and suck their big cocks like a good happy horny rubber puppy slave yeah fuck love my masters love them so much!

slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy—

Got to get a hold of myself, I’ve got to hold on, I can’t lose control like that, not anymore, it’s so damn hard getting it back I have to think I have to remember that they did this to me they forced me to be like this, in this fucking suit, God if they would just turn off that fucking voice for a minute, if I could just have some fucking silence for once I feel like I could get myself together, but how long now? How fucking long have I been listening to this? I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, I lost count so long ago I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve lost count…

horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave—

What did I look like? What do I look like under my face I mean my mask no their mask, not my mask not my face I have to remember this isn’t me I’m not a fucking rubber puppy I’m not their slave I’m not but God, if I’m not that…if I’m not that then what am I?

You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave—

I was human I was human like the masters love my masters—No, not again but I was, wasn’t I? But then why can’t I fucking walk like them? Why can’t I understand them anymore? I could, I remember I could but now it’s just gibberish mostly, did they do this to me? Did they make me unable to understand them or am I just deluding myself?

You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy—

I can’t speak either, but do I need to speak? Barking is good enough to get their attention, when I need food or play, yeah play I love playing playing so much fun like fetching dildo which one I want up my doggy hole feels so good feels so good to be fucked fisted make puppy so happy make me so happy to get fucked by masters love masters love so much serve masters master’s puppy slave master’s happy horny rubber puppy slave I’m a happy horny rubber—No!

horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy—

Why does this feel so good?

slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny—

It does feel good, really good, I wish my puppy cock could get hard…

rubber puppy slave…You’re—

No, I don’t have a puppy cock, I don’t…do I? I don’t…I don’t know anymore. Tell yourself the story, remember what happened, that’s the best way. At the dog park, I remember the dog park, running around sniffing the other dog’s butts yeah love sniffing butts felt so good to be outside wonder if masters will take me outside again sniffing butts before yeah letting other dogs fuck me yeah fucking just a beta have to let others be in control just a puppy slave everyone above me weak obedient love to be fucked feels so good…

a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy—

Masters found me I was stray they found me and like good masters they adopted me they love me but I not good dog I think I alpha but I beta but I just slave so need obedience school need to be obedient need to learn tricks like fetch like dildo love dildo love fuck fuck feel so good love feel masters fuck my butt hole love licking masters’ cocks love being good dog love being obedient pup love being slave being slave feel so good rubber feel so good love being rubber pup love rubber love fuck love play love masters—No fucking No! No, you know what they fucking did to you you know what they did they’re fucking monsters fucking masters no masters fuck me yeah fuck their rubber puppy hard fuck him good good puppy love being fucked by masters and dildos…

slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny…

You know what they did, you know what they did the bastards I can’t believe they did that to me but I was a bad puppy I tried to escape very bad dog yeah such a bad puppy slave I deserved it I deserved it I deserved it I was a very very very very very very bad happy horny rubber puppy slave very very very…

rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave—

I can’t believe they did it, I just can’t…neutered me, they cut my fucking balls off I can’t…I can’t believe they actually…I didn’t deserve it, I deserved it no I didn’t do as they told me I was a bad puppy and bad puppies can’t keep their balls they said bad puppies lose their balls and have their cocks locked away and can’t get hard ever again and bad puppies need extra obedience school until they stop being bad puppies and stop thinking so much and just love masters and love play and love fucking and love dildos and love sniffing butts like good puppies I’m going to be a good puppy going to be a good happy horny rubber puppy slave for masters show them I can be a good dog good dog yeah good dog for masters I was bad puppy very very very very very very very very bad puppy yes I was I deserved it masters say I deserved it so I deserved it and easier now yeah easier to obey less resistance less thinking necessary helps me be a good happy horny rubber puppy slave stop thinking stop worrying…

You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber—

So tired of fighting why am I even fighting anymore?

puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy…

What has fighting ever got me other than neutered I can’t believe they actually did it I thought they didn’t mean it how could they? I was human like them I was! I was! I had a face and a name and a family and balls and now I’m just a neutered beta rubber puppy slave yeah like I deserve to be like my masters want me to be I wonder if we’re going to work on that new word later that word ‘fist’ I like ‘fist’ make my hole feel so good when master say ‘fist’ since puppy can’t use cock ever again I’m going to be ‘fist’ pup they say but need lots training need to take ‘two fist’ wonder how that will feel so good because masters want it because masters say so but big dildos first seen the big dildos they will feel so good in my puppy butt can’t wait can’t wait gonna feel so good…

You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…You’re a happy horny rubber puppy slave…

Need to be good pup from now on tired of thinking thinking is exhausting thinking is bad I know that stop thinking stop hating masters masters know best masters always right I deserved it I deserved it was very very very very very very very bad was worst puppy could be but will be better masters will be better I promise will be very good fist pup for you will make you so happy so proud no more fighting pup promise no more fighting fighting too hard…