Tag: gay erotica

Southern Blackmail

The corded phone rang, and Robert picked it up on the first ring.

“He–Hello?”

“Where’s my fuckin’ cash, faggot?”

Robert cringed at the sound of the Gabe’s deep southern twang on the other end of the line,

but knew better than to try and hang up the phone at this point–he wouldn’t be able to. “I don’t…I mailed it out last week, I hoped it would have gotten there on time, like always,” Robert said. None of what he’d said was a lie, of course, he couldn’t lie to Gabe on the phone. It had gone out last week, but later than usual, because it had taken him an extra day to scrounge up the funds.

“Bullshit, what aren’t ya tellin’ me faggot?”

“I…I didn’t have the money, Gabe. I got it out a day late. Please, you’ve already emptied my savings, I don’t have anything! I had to pawn my watch, and sell some of my electronics on Craigslist–”

“Faggots don’t need tah tell time, ‘n ya could use a little less time on those disgustin’ porn sites a yers. Well then again, maybe ya do need a watch, since ya can’t figure out when tah pay me.”

“Ye…Yes…I’m sorry, I just didn’t have the money, please–I’m sorry,” Robert said, with a gulp. He was in trouble, not that he hadn’t already been in trouble for months now. Robert lived in the deep south, and worked for an ultra-conservative baptist church as a bookkeeper–and he was gay. Sure, he was conflicted about it, but he’d really just fallen into the position there before having his personal, sexual epiphany, and in his small community, he was cornered. The internet was too risky, so he’d turned to highway rest stops, writing his barely used home phone number on the wall, asking for hook ups. It had worked well, until Gabe had called one day.

They’d hooked up–or rather, Gabe had come over one night, shoved Robert down on the wood floor at the front door and had his way with him, calling him a worthless faggot and worse the whole time, before getting up and leaving without a word, and Robert had been glad to see the backside of him–but the redneck was smarter than that. When he’d fucked Robert–he’d done something to him–he could control him using his voice, even through the telephone, and after one more conversation, he’d learned all of Robert’s secrets–and had then threatened to force Robert to out himself at work if he didn’t send Gabe five hundred dollars cash in the mail every week. He didn’t make much at the church, but he’d been able to rely on his savings for a while, but now even that was dry–and he had no idea what Gabe was going to do now that Robert couldn’t make his payments.

“Well since ya can’t be a good little faggot and pay me on time, Ah guess yer gonna have tah be punished. Strip faggot.”

Robert couldn’t resist the order, and he put down the phone, pulling off all of his clothes before sitting back down, “Please, you don’t have to do this, I can get you the money on time from now on,” he pleaded.

“Do ya got a butt plug or a dildo, faggot? I bet ya do, all ya faggots gotta have those nasty things.”

“Yes, but please–”

“Shut yer god damn trap, ‘r we’re gonna have a real fuckin’ problem, faggot!” Gabe shouted through the receiver, making Robert whimper, “Ya got it?”

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Better. Go get it, ‘n put it up yer hole. Tell me when it’s there.”

Robert again put down the phone, went into his room, and retrieved his six inch long, flesh colored dildo, the only one he owned. He’d bought it while on vacation up north, but didn’t use it very often, so working it in was hard, especially since he couldn’t find his lube. Still, he had to obey Gabe and get it up there, and soon the plastic balls were against his hole between his legs, and he walked oddly back to the phone. “It’s in.”

“Good. Now, here’s what yer gonna do, faggot. From now on, yer gonna wear that dildo in yer ass to work, all day, everyday. Yer gonna fuck yerself on it when yer alone, ‘n at least once a day, ya gotta go intah the bathroom ‘n jack off while ya fuck yerself, ‘n eat yer cum, got it?”

“No, please–”

“What the hell did Ah say ‘bout talkin’ back, bitch?”

“But–but what if someone catches me?”

“Then ya better beg them tah keep quiet–ya can even offer tah suck their dick off in exchange fer not tellin’. Yer a faggot, men love a hole tah fuck, if ya seem desperate ‘n worthless enough.”

Robert was speechless. Even worse, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to resist the order. Tomorrow, he’d march into work with a six inch dildo up his ass, and there would be nothing he could do to stop it.

“Ya there faggot? Ya got all that?”

“Yes, yes I got it.”

“Good. Now, we’re gonna have tah figure out a way fer ya tah get some more money tah pay me with, ‘cause this job ain’t gonna cut it alone. So how about this. How about ya start rentin’ out those faggot holes a yers, tah any roughneck lookin’ fer a hole? How’s that sound?”

“No…No, I’m not going to–please don’t make me do that!”

“No? Then how come yer cock’s all hard from thinkin’ ‘bout it, faggot?”

Shit, he was hard. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Go on, jack off yer cock faggot, it’s alright. Think about how much ya’d love tah be used ‘n abused by big roughnecks like me fer hours ‘n hours. How ya’d beg ‘em tah plant their seed deep in yer hole, how ya’d finish the night wit’ a ass ‘n face plastered wit’ cum. Jack off too, ya faggot, Ah know ya can’t resist.”

Oh Jesus, it really was turning him on, wasn’t it? Robert felt his hand wrap it’s way around his cock and start jacking it, while his mind pictured him bent over the bed or the couch, while a long line of bikers, truckers and trailer trash lined up behind him to use his holes.

“Ah can hear ya faggot, gettin’ all excited over there. Hear ya pantin’ like a bitch ‘n heat. Go on, ya can admit it. It’s yer ultimate fantasy. It’s got ya so excited yer gonna cum, ain’t ya. Ya can’t hold it back bitch, I know ya can’t–”

“Fuck! Fuck oh god damn it!” Robert hollered as he came all over his belly, cum shooting all the way up to the phone cord.

“Nasty fuckin’ faggot,” Gabe said, “Since ya want it so much, maybe Ah shouldn’t let ya do it. Maybe Ah should make it so ya can’t even cum!”

“No! Please, I’ll do it, I’ll do it, please,” Robert said, unable to stop himself. The fantasy–it had been so hot. He did want it, he really did, even though he knew deep down that he shouldn’t. That he’d fallen into one of Gabe’s many traps once more.

“Oh, like Ah’m gonna do what a faggot asks me tah do. Forget it.”

“No, look, I’ll…I’ll send you all the money I make–and pictures! Or video, whatever you want!”

“You disgusting piece of trash!” Gabe shouted, “You think I’m a gay boy like you? Fuck no, I don’t want any pictures of you taking another man’s cock up your hole, it’s disgusting!”

“I’m sorry, but please…please let me do it sir, please.”

“Alright, fine. Since yer bein’ such a whiny bitch. But Ah got a few conditions. One, Ah’m in charge a yer schedule, ‘n yer appointments. Ah set them up, set the prices ‘n the men pay me directly, since ya can’t be trusted tah send me mah payment on time. Two, ya do anythin’ a man asks ya tah do on the clock–no refusals. They can fuck ya raw if they want. They can piss on ya if they want. They can make ya dress up like a bitch before they fuck ya if they want. Lastly, ya don’t cum, ever, when yer servin’ a man. Yer job is tah please their cock, not yers. Got it?”

“Yes…Yes I–I understand. I’ll do it.”

“Good. Now, ya better get ready. Ah have six guys scheduled fer half hour blocks startin’ in fifteen minutes. Now yer gonna go unlock the front door, greet every client naked ‘n on yer knees and kiss their boots when they come in, then do anythin’ they want.”

“Wait…six? Six? I can’t, I don’t have time–”

“Hey faggot, yer only pullin’ in twenty bucks a session. It’s gonna take at least, what, twenty five sessions a week tah make yer payment? In fact, might as well up yer payment tah me, since yer gonna be enjoyin’ it so much–so get ready, yer gonna be workin’ those holes a whole lot from now on. Now have a good afternoon faggot.” Gabe said, and hung up before Robert could say another word.

He’d been played–the entire time, Gabe had been setting him up for this…and he didn’t care. He wanted to be a whore for rough, dirty men, it had become his ultimate fantasy the moment Gabe had said it. He couldn’t have been the first one he’d done this to. Gabe probably had a network of men like him on call. He got up and undid the deadbolt on his front door, before getting down on his knees, head bowed, staring down at the same floor he’d been forced down on when Gabe had stormed in and raped him, the same floor he’d licked his cum off of when Gabe saw he’d cum just from getting fucked–or had any of that happened? Was he just imagining, and justifying, his new wants and cravings? But he was a faggot, wasn’t he. Gabe was right, and this was where he really belonged.

Matchmaker (Part 5)

***WARNING: This episode contains references to incest, watersports, and scat. Duck and cover!***

So that, I suppose, brings my tale of revenge to an end. Of course, that was a few years ago at this point. I’d be lying if I said that, when I started all of this, I had wanted all three of them to suffer for the rest of their lives, but it didn’t quite turn out that way–and to be honest, I’m happy about that. In fact, everyone settled into their new relationships and lives quite quickly, more or less, so how about we play a quick game of “Where are they now?”

I suppose it would only make sense to start with Rick and Juan, since they were my first. It was also, perhaps, the sloppiest, but I still have enjoyed watching their relationship grow and change, especially Rick. He stayed on as foreman for a few months, until shortly after my father’s first morning in the mud at the construction site, but his new submissive tendencies were making it difficult for him to lead the crew–especially considering he spent most of his time fantasizing about sucking most of us off, especially the Mexicans. Hell, before too long, Juan had him sucking most everyone’s cock, and to be honest, it’s hard to respect someone when a few minutes ago you had your cock buried down their throat, and you watched him cum buckets just from the satisfaction of having his face buried in sweaty pubes.

When he stepped down, it only made sense for Juan to step up–after all, he’d been working in construction for years, knew the strengths and weaknesses of the crew, and how to utilize us well. The new, domineering attitude helped him cement the job all the more easily, and he did great. Rick returned to being a laborer, and now that his position of authority was gone–he sucked more cock than ever, and ate, and ate, and ate.

I have never seen anyone eat like Rick does, and Juan encouraged him all the time, telling him how good he looked with a big wide ass for fucking, and heavy jowls and chins to shake while he deep throated big, latin cocks. The two of them were infamous for their two hour lunch breaks, and they would always return with Rick stuffed to the throat with deep fried mexican, or greasy fast food. It wasn’t very long at all before Rick crested three hundred, and at this point, he’s getting close to four. I think Juan is planning a big feeding and fucking party to commemorate the milestone–it should be a lot of fun.

image

The two of them got married after a year, and it was sweet when Rick took Juan’s last name–Rodriguez. One night at a bar he confessed to me that he wished he could be Mexican like his husband–I think that was why he started picking up as much Spanish as he could, and even mimicked Juan’s Latin accent when he spoke English. He got pretty good, and his developing tan helped a lot. He was all excited one afternoon when some foreman shopping at Home Depot had asked him in Spanish if he needed work for the day, like a common immigrant. Still, all the quirks aside, the two of them were deep in love, and when he didn’t have his ass or mouth around Juan’s cock (which was rarely) they were kissing, giggling, hugging, or just looking in each other’s eyes. It was sweet, really–it was.

Now Spike and Bill on the other hand–I guess you could say they were in love, but in public, they never strayed from the biker master and slave personas. Spike, in fact, took great pains to cement their roles by making some changes to his new bitch’s looks. I must say, that when they rode back into town together, I hadn’t expected to see Bill tattooed from neck to foot. Next, Bill was quickly taught how to properly smoke a cigar, and I have never seen him without one in his mouth or nearby since, well, unless he was smoking pot I suppose. He got a few piercings too, but nothing extreme–I think Spike liked his tattoos more than anything. That just left inducting his new bitch into the gang, something involving a weekend long orgy at the clubhouse, which left Bill at work on Monday with a gaping hole, and smelling of piss, cum and ashtrays.

Spike did love Bill’s red hair though, and he forced him to grow it out along with his beard and body hair. I’d had no idea my brother was so hairy–apparently Spike had gotten everything he’d wanted in that category as well. Over the next few months, the greasy food they ate on their rides, along with Spike’s encouraging forced Bill to pack on quite the gut, which he was apparently proud of. He liked working shirtless on site, showing off his tattoos and letting his gut hang out for everyone to see. On slow days, sometimes we’d pit Bill and Rick against one another, and see who could get two of us off the fastest–fuck, it was so hot seeing my goody-two-shoes brother, now nothing more than a sexpot, roughneck biker–I always nutted first when he was sucking me off.

Now his tattoos, those were funny. Apparently, there was a bit of magic latent in them, such that they always seemed to shift around and change depending upon what Spike and Bill were doing at the moment. If they were in their leathers getting ready for a ride? Suddenly he was emblazoned with Harley logos, with the gang’s symbol covering his entire belly. Having a long smoke slave session? Now he’s covered with images of pipes, cigars, and motifs of smoke from head to toe. A leather bitch for the clubs? He’s got slave across his chest, and all sorts of images telling men exactly what they ought to do with a leather bitch like Bill. My favorite though, is when he’s relaxing at home, high on pot, and pretty drunk–because a bit of my old brother suddenly pops out–the stoner comic book slob–who would have known?

image

Yeah, the Silver Surfer on his arm, and the word “RANK” across his gut, with flies buzzing around it–how hot can he get, right? I asked him about it, and he confessed that he’d always loved comics as a kid, but that our dad had forced him to stop reading them, though he’d always kept it up in secret. Then he confessed, blushing, that Spike loved his hobby too, and together they had amassed quite the collection–so apparently their relationship did have a little give and take. He’d never really wanted to be a cop, or a security guard–but dad had wanted it, so that’s what he did. He was happier now, much happier. I’d misjudged him, I realized, though I still wished he hadn’t ratted on me in the first place. Still, he did apologize, right before asking me to fuck his ass, rough how he likes it, so I guess I can forgive a hot biker like him.

As for Nicky and Glenn—dang, where do I even start with those two? Watching everyone settle into their relationships has been an interesting experience, but none of them went quite as far down the rabbit hole as those two did. It wasn’t much at first–Nicky seemed happy enough to act the part of the immature, innocent child, while Glenn was the rough daddy, but as the weeks and months wore on, we all started to notice that Nicky was undergoing a few, greater changes. The first, and most prominent, was the weight gain. I’m not sure what Glenn was feeding him, but it sure did pack on the pounds, and fast at that. They hadn’t been together a year by the time Nicky hit three hundred and kept on growing.

That was only the most obvious change, but not the most sudden either. One week, I saw Nicky and he suddenly had no hair. Nothing, not on his head, not on his body–he was completely smooth. I asked Glenn about it, and all he’d tell me was that babies weren’t supposed to be hairy, so he’d talked it over with Nicky, and the two of them had agreed to get all of it removed permanently. I pressed him a little further, and found out about some of the other things he and Nicky had spent their time doing, and honestly? Some of it even freaked me out, and as you can tell, I have a pretty twisted head when it comes to sex.

By that time, Nicky was entirely incontinent–he had lost all control over his bladder and ass, and as far as both of them were concerned, he was going to be in diapers for the rest of his life. While Glenn was working, Nicky was at home, listening to a variety of hypnotic recordings designed to regress him permanently to as young a mindset as possible. Glenn had been testing him often, and he was losing at least fifty words from his vocabulary a week, and he always talked like a little kid without even thinking about it. I asked him how the sex was, and this was the part that surprised me, he said they weren’t having any, really. Nicky occasionally sucked on his daddy’s pacifier, and Glenn would jack his son off in his diaper once in awhile, but I think even that quit by their second year together. They were really becoming father and son, in a way–and that was how they loved each other. It was sweet, but also unnerving if you thought about it too much.

image

Glenn took a second job on–apparently it was hard raising an adult baby on a single income, and so he tapped some of us “gay uncles” to babysit Nicky on occasion. It was always a bit surreal, whenever I watched him. He loved to play peek-a-boo, or play pretend with his huge collection of stuffed animals. He was–so innocent really. It reminded me of when he had been a baby, before he’d turned into the immature jackass I’d hated most of my life. And he really was happiest with a full, stinking diaper, who would have thought it?

And that leaves my dad–Max. Boy, I sure did a number on him, didn’t I? Still, from the very beginning, I could tell that something had gone wrong with his spell. Sure, it had worked well enough, but he never seemed to settle down into his new life fully. I mean, don’t get me wrong, from that day on he was a mud slinging, shit eating, piss loving pigman, but you could see in his eyes that he knew something was wrong–that this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. I heard from Hog that the two of them would have terrible fights, usually after Max had gotten a bit too drunk, and they always ended with Max storming out and leaving for days at a time, with Hog having no clue as to where he had gone, or when he might be back.

One night, Hog texted me and told me Max had gotten violent, and that he was worried he was going to hurt himself or someone else. I hurried over, and arrived just in time to see my dad storm out and throw a knife into the bushes. Hog was in the doorway–unharmed, thank goodness–crying and begging him to stay, but Max climbed in his truck and drove off. So I followed him, deciding to get to the bottom of this once and for all. It might be important to note that my dad had been raised a Catholic, and while he had drifted away from church in his later years, it was still important to him. So when he pulled up at a large Catholic church, one with a shelter attached, I wasn’t too surprised. Inside, he immediately went to confession, and then got cleaned up, and was given a room in the shelter, where he could, apparently, pray and work out his inner demons.

He didn’t last long. Two days later, he was back on the streets in his filthy clothes, a hungry look in his eyes, and he would binge all night long. Scarfing derelicts’ shit and piss, begging men passing by to fuck his ass or feed him. He was insatiable, and happy–yes, happy. He didn’t seem upset that he’d given in, if anything, he looked relieved, and the next day he drove back to Hog’s, apologized, and then everything was fine until his next explosion a few months down the line. The next time it happened, I was ready. I confronted him before he could get into the church, and told him to talk to me, and that afterwards, I’d drop him anywhere he wanted to go. He didn’t want to, but eventually, he climbed in.

image

Back at Mary’s house, in the kitchen where this had all started, we talked–as father and son–for the first time in ages. He told me how happy he was with Hog, how much he loved being a trashy pig, how much he wanted to make Hog happy, but there was another voice–it was always there, screaming at him, shouting him down, telling him it was wrong, that he needed help, that he needed God. He would run, but being clean–he hated it so much, and he’d fall back into his new ways, relieved that the voice was quiet again for the moment. I felt sorry for him, to be honest–I didn’t want him to suffer with that old conscience. I think that was where my moment of weakness hit.

See, I told him everything. How I had become a matchmaker, about my magic, about how I had changed all of them, Rick and Juan, Bill and Spike, Nicky and Glenn, and even him and Hog. I told him why, and he listened, but he didn’t say anything. I wanted him to say something, anything, but when I’d finished, he just got up and left, went back to Hog’s and never had another crisis of conscience that I heard about. Still, I shouldn’t have told him. He never confessed it to me, but he’s the one who started the next mess, I’m sure of it. Still, I managed to come out on top of it, didn’t I? What was the next mess you say? Well, why don’t we save that story for another time.

Matchmaker (Part 4)

***WARNING: This post contains watersports, scat and incest. It’s probably not suitable for anyone. Enjoy!***

So that was two down. It was a couple of weeks later that I got to see Nicky again. Glenn had been acting pretty odd all week, and while I knew why, none of the other guys had a clue what was going on with him, though they did manage to pry out of him that he had a new boyfriend. Finally though, the gay guys on the crew convinced him to come out to a bar with whoever he was seeing, and so along comes Nicky, clad in his diaper and a pacifier stuck in his mouth–fuck, I’m not really into the whole diaper thing, but it was hot just the same. Everyone was a bit weirded out, but they saw that Glenn–and Nicky–were happy as could be, they got over it pretty quick, kind of. We were all a little put-off when Glenn invited us to Nicky’s bris a couple weeks later–that was really awkward.

But of course, this left me with my father, Max, and I’ll be honest, I wanted him to suffer a bit before I hooked him up with someone. He was an ex-marine, and had always expected the greatest out of us, and did his best to train us to be real men. Of course, he’d already failed once with me, so I wanted him to see that he’d failed with my brothers as well.

He met up with Bill first–who invited him out for a drink at his new favorite biker bar–with his new buddies, and Spike of course. I heard later that my dad wasn’t too happy with Bill’s new look, and when he found out he’d pledged himself to “Master” Spike–well, he kind of lost it. He held his own pretty well, but getting beat down by a slew of gay bikers–well, that will put a damper on any man’s self-image. It didn’t help when Nicky showed up on his doorstep a few days later, with Daddy Glenn next to him, and hell if Nicky didn’t rip him a new asshole. He told my dad how horrible he’d been for kicking me out, and how he didn’t want him as a father anymore, so Glenn was going to be his real daddy now, and they left him there on the porch sputtering.

Yeah, maybe that was a little cruel, but can you blame me for enjoying it? Besides, the worst was yet to come for him really, considering who I was hooking him up with. Hugh was his name, but we all called him Hog, because he loved getting dirty. Piss, shit, mud, I don’t think anything was too much for him.

Nice looking guy, right? I thought he’d be perfect for my clean cut, military asshole dad at least, and I think I was right. This time though, I wanted a little more control over what would go down, because I wanted a little public humiliation for him thrown in the mix, although we can get to that a bit later. I decided to send him a little care package, before he went on his date with Hog, so he could get into the spirit of things.

~~~

Max sat on the couch in his home, staring at the blank TV screen on the wall, a half drunk bottle of whisky on the side table. He hadn’t gone to  trying to comprehend what in the fuck was going on. Hadn’t he been a good father? Hadn’t he done everything he could to raise his kids right? He grabbed the bottle and took another swig. It had to be in the genes–it had to be. First Dan–he’d tried to cut that weed out quick, but now Bill…and Nick? What in the hell was going on?

God he was drunk off his ass–he hadn’t been this drunk in years, but how else was he supposed to try and deal with all of this shit? He hadn’t even bothered show up for work the past couple of days, and his boss kept calling, but what could he say? Sorry, I can’t come into work today, I’m afraid all my boys turned gay on me while I wasn’t looking? What if it was him–what if he went all faggoty like they had? It was ridiculous of course, shit like that couldn’t happen, but then…how could he explain what happened to Bill and Nick? Everything was going around in circles, and nothing made any sense at all.

The night quiet of the room was broken by a knocking on the front door–but Max didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to see anyone, and he definitely didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially not some salesman or something, although why anyone was coming around at this time he didn’t know. After a few seconds, the knocking came again, but louder, and then after another brief pause, the knocking became a pounding, which actually shook the pictures hanging on the walls, and refused to quit. “Alright! Alright god damn it, I’m coming!” Max shouted, and stumbled his way to the door, which was visibly shaking from the force of the pounding, but when he opened it up–there was no one there. Not even a single person on the sidewalk that he could see in the dim street lights.

He was about to close the door, more freaked out than ever, when he saw the cardboard box on the stoop at his feet. After looking around again, to make sure that no one was there, he bent down and picked it up, bringing it inside as he pulled the door closed behind him. This was all just a little too strange. The box didn’t have an address on it, and wasn’t even taped closed–though there was a note taped on top–

Hope you didn’t forget about that blind date of yours tonight–here’s some stuff you should wear. Have fun, and don’t be late. Three AM, at the construction site at 3rd and Middler Street.

A blind date? No one had set him up on a date–he wasn’t even interested in dating. He pulled open the box, and felt himself gag when the stench hit him–something between a week old honey bucket and a high school locker room slamming right in his face. They were clothes, but there was no way he was going to wear anything that disgusting, or go on this crazy date. He threw the box and the clothes in the trash, before returning to his booze and the blank TV.

He didn’t even last an hour. The smell–now that it was in the room, he had to think about it, and as he got drunker, everything started to make–sense. Maybe…maybe he had gotten set up on a date, and he’d just forgotten. Not even noticing how hard his cock was, he fished out the package and unpacked the clothes, stripping down and pulling the yellowed jockstrap, grimy jeans and oily work shirt on over his naked body, straping the ball stretcher around his sack, and sliding the thick butt plug in his hole with a groan. He looked at the clock, but it was only 1:30–he still had forty-five minutes before he needed to leave–and he still didn’t feel…dirty enough. After all, he needed to make a good impression on his blind date.

He went into the garage and found some extra motor oil, and brought it into the bathroom, where he began pouring it all over his body, being extra sure to lube up his cock.

When the oil was gone, he went ahead and pissed all over himself as well, before jacking off while playing with his huge butt plug and smearing the cum into his chest hair. Feeling better now that he was all washed up–he got out of the tub, but when he saw himself in the mirror he let out a groan of disgust. This wasn’t him–it wasn’t what he was supposed to look like, covered in piss, oil and sweat. What was happening to him? And yet, wasn’t this who he’d always been? A dirty slob? Looking around the bathroom, he couldn’t see much evidence to deny it, from the hair clogging the sink, filthy laundry on the floor and the toilet backed up with two loads of shit. He walked through the rest of the house, still tracking footprints of oil, and saw piles of trash in every room, stacks of pizza boxes, and he felt at home here–he couldn’t deny that. He looked up at the clock and saw he had to leave now if he was going to get to his date on time. Still wanting to look his piggy best, he pulled on his rubber waders and a long rubber overcoat, glanced at himself in the hall mirror, hoping he was filthy enough, and then left for the construction site mentioned in the note.

~~~

Yeah, like I said, I set my dad up for some public humiliation–what can I say? I was pretty angry. I decided to give Max and Hog a couple of hours to play around in the mud of the construction site together, before the rest of us showed up to join in. Work usually started at six in the morning, so I had the rest of us–my brothers, their new masters, Juan and Rick show up around then. I got there first, and listened without revealing I was there.

“You want it pig? Go on, beg for it.”

“Please, sir, give me your shit, sir! This dirty pig is starving, sir, please!”

“Alright pig, here it comes. Eat it all down now like a good boy.”

They carried on like that for a while, and everyone else arrived in the next few minutes, and when we did reveal ourselves–this is what I saw my father had become.

Covered in mud, shit covering his face, jacking off while Bud pissed all over him again, and then he looked over and saw his three sons watching him, and the sheer shame in his face was…well, sexy as fuck, but maybe you’re not as vindictive as I am. But he knew he’d been caught, that he’d fallen just as far as his sons had–hell, even farther than us, I think. Leading the pack, I strode over and started pissing on him as well, and Bill was close behind me, though he had to ask Spike permission to play before joining in. The two of us pulled him up onto his hands and knees, and while I pounded his ass, Spike pissed down his throat and skull fucked him, Hog raining down praise at what a good pig Max was being, taking his son’s loads from both ends.

Looking over, Rick and Nicky were sucking their own masters’ cocks while they watched the festivities. Seeing all of my work gathered up in one place was just too much, and I blasted my cum deep in my bastard father’s filthy hole, Bill following suit moments later. Hog made him thank both of us for giving him our loads, and then he cleaned off our muddy, shitty cocks and boots with his tongue.

The rest of us decided that maybe it was time to let the pig let off a load himself. Glenn had kept Nicky in the same diaper for a few days now in preparation, so we made Max beg to have his face smothered in it. Nicky sat on his face, and ridiculed our father while Max jacked his cock harder than he had in his whole life, and he finally sprayed his cum all over himself just as the rest of the crew was about to show up for work. Hog decided to take his new pig home for some private training–and the rest of us quickly made ourselves as presentable as possible before any of the straight workmen caught sight of us. But damn, it was hard to focus on work that day–I’d never felt so satisfied in all my life.

To be concluded Friday.

Matchmaker (Part 3)

***WARNING – This story contains incest, incontinence, watersports, scat, and mental AR. If any of this offends you, go get your panties in a knot somewhere else.***

Within a week of casting the spell–sure enough, a heavily tattooed, and very submissive Bill was working alongside Spike on site, with a padlocked chain around his neck. Fuck if that wasn’t one of the hottest things I’d ever seen in my whole life. Spike introduced us on his first day, and as soon as Bill heard my name I knew he recognized me, but he didn’t dare disobey when his Master Spike told him to suck my cock on our smoke break. Needless to say–that was one down with two more to go, and Nick, my younger brother, was my next target.

Nick had gotten a nice scholarship with the local university in town based on his football skills, and was finishing up his senior year–not that he’d bothered growing up or maturing at all in that space of time, or taken advantage of his education. Was I a bit bitter? Hell yeah I was. I had always been smarter than Nick, and gotten better grades, and here I was, working as a blue collar laborer while he was banging girls and getting drunk at college. Not that I resented where I was working, or who I’d become–it was just, well that could have been me, you know? Well, aside from the girl part, but he’d wasted it like a spoiled, immature brat.

But who to hook him up with? Well, that was a sadder story. Glenn was another gay guy on the crew, but one who’d bitten the straight-acting bullet and married his high school sweetheart, figuring he could still fuck around with enough guys on the side to keep himself happy. Hell, it had worked for thirty years, and he’d somehow managed to get two young boys of his own, and he really did love his family.

Unfortunately, his wife had come home at the wrong time and caught her husband giving it to a young, chubby cub…and well, that was that. She moved across the country to live with her parents, took the boys with her–and Glenn was heartbroken. But hey, I decided to make the best out of it, right? After all, Glenn made an excellent father, and I had a lout of a brother who wanted to live like an infant, so hey, I think it turned out for the best in the end.

~~~

Nick rolled over in the bed and moaned around his thumb, which was inexplicably stuck in his mouth. What in the hell had he gotten into last night he wondered, pulling out his thumb of his mouth, assuming he’d probably blacked out and one of his friends had stuck it in there as a joke. However, while that explanation would have made sense most any other night–last night had been…odd. He’d started out with his friends, bar hopping, but gotten separated somewhere along the line. Of course, that didn’t stop him from getting smashed–nothing could, really, but the night had taken a stranger turn on his way back to his car, stumbling the whole way.

He must have imagined it, it was just too strange to have actually happened, but he’d gotten to his car and was trying to get the key in when some strange, older guy had come out of nowhere, taken the keys from him, and suggested he not drive drunk. Nick had protested, of course, after all, who was this guy to tell him what he could and couldn’t do? Still, he’d been too drunk to really do anything to get the keys back, and it had almost felt like the older guy had been…playing with him–holding the keys just out of reach or jiggling them in front of his face just for fun. Somewhere in the midst of trying to get them back, Nick had felt a strange sensation as his crotch got warm all of a sudden, and he was pissing himself, and he tried to stop, but he couldn’t. His anger dissipated and was replaced by astonishment and shame, and the man had immediately come over and given him a big bear hug, telling him, “Don’t worry, it’s natural for little baby boys like you to have accidents like that. Let’s get you home and get you cleaned up.” And that…that was the last thing he remembered.

He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but when he opened them, he was in a room he didn’t recognize at all. The surprise at that was immediately dwarfed by the realization that he also wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d had on the night before–instead he had on a Dr. Seuss shirt and…and a diaper.

He leapt out of bed, terrified, his thumb going right back in his mouth, and he felt a bit calmer with something to suck on. He had to get out of here–this was way too weird. He looked around for his clothes but they were nowhere to be found–in fact, there were no normal clothes to be seen, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go out in public in a diaper…as turned on as that thought suddenly made him.

“Is that my little Nicky ready for his breakfast?” a voice said from outside the bedroom door, and Nick felt a strange twinge of arousal at hearing that name. He’d always been Nicky to his dad and older brothers, and he’d always resented it, but now, he was just a little boy right? Why wouldn’t he want to be called that? The door opened, and in came the older man he’d met in the street, clad only in a pair of grimy briefs, his hairy chest and back shown off, and his bulge…fuck he had a huge bulge too. He looked like a daddy…yeah, Daddy Glenn. Nick shook his head, trying to clear away the thoughts crowding in around him, while Glenn set down the tray laden with baby bottles down in the dresser and came over to Nick. “You alright son? I know you had a rough night.”

“I’m not…I’m not your son. What is this? Where are my clothes?” Nick said around his thumb. He knew he should take it out of his mouth, but he was so stressed out–it was the only thing making him feel better. “Did you kidnap me or something? What–”

He was interrupted by Daddy Glenn pulling him into a big hug, and Nick melted against him, feeling his stress evaporate. It felt so good being in his daddy’s arms–he could relax there. Too late, he felt that same warmth from the night before flood his diaper as he pissed himself again, and then he started crying, just sobbing his eyes out, his daddy patting his back and cooing to him, lying him back on his bed and then bringing over one of the large baby bottles, which Nick started sucking on, feeling better already.

“Yeah, that’s a good boy,” Glenn said, stroking Nick’s hair, “Just drink down your breakfast and you’ll feel better, plenty of good stuff in there to make you a good little boy, right? And did little Nicky mess his diaper again? Seems like little Nicky likes laying around in a pissy diaper.”

This guy was insane–that was all Nick could figure, but then why wasn’t he doing anything to get away? To be honest, the wet diaper did feel good, as did drinking the warm liquid from the bottle with his daddy stroking his hair. As he sucked it down, Nick started to feel a bit strange. First, he was feeling a bit floaty, and it was hard to focus on what was going on around him, aside from sucking on his bottle and what Glenn was saying. He also felt a bit weak, like his muscles didn’t want to do anything his head was telling them. “Yeah, that’s a good little boy. Drink all your breakfast, or you won’t be a big fat baby boy like daddy wants, will you? You want to be a chubby baby don’t you?”

Nick tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t do anything besides drink, and before he knew it, the first bottle was gone, and replaced by another. He was already full after the first, and the drink was rich like cream, but with a medicinal aftertaste from whatever Glenn had laced it with. Still, he kept drinking–he did want to be a good baby boy, right? That’s what Glenn kept saying, and in his mental fog, anything Glenn told him sounded more right than the thoughts in his own brain, and he settled down, even though Glenn was now rubbing his hard cock through the padded diaper.

In the midst of drinking down the third bottle however, he felt–and heard–his stomach start to churn, and he realized that if he didn’t get to a bathroom soon, he was going to shit himself. He let go of the bottle and tried to sit up, but he was so weak–his daddy easily pushed him back down and returned the bottle to his mouth, but not before Nick managed to get out, “But…poo poo, daddy. I needs poo poo…” Nick had no idea why he was talking like a little kid–but at least he had gotten the idea across–however, Glenn just smiled.

“I bet you do–after all that laxatives I shoved up your hole last night. So go on, son–shit that diaper of yours, like the baby you are.”

Nick felt horror creep back into him, mostly at the thought of how hot it would be if he actually shit his diaper, and he tried to get up again, but the exertion made him lose control, and a massive pile of shit flooded from his ass, spreading up and down his crack in the diaper, and even between his legs to his balls. He smelled it, and felt ashamed of himself, but when Glenn rubbed his hair again and gave him a kiss, telling him over and over how good a boy he was for shitting his pants like a good baby, he slowly sunk back into his haze, sucking down bottle after bottle of Glenn’s strange formula, feeling fuller than he’d ever been in his life, and before long, he was rubbing his ass back and forth on the bed, smearing the shit around, his daddy helping coat his cock and balls in the diaper with the mass, and before he could stop himself, he came in his diaper as well, and Glenn watched him grunt and groan, Nicky’s belly taut with his breakfast, and Glenn had never felt so horny for someone in his whole life.

He pulled his cock from his grimy briefs, and said, “Here son, here’s your pacifier, suck on this.”

Nick was all too happy to do so, and he sucked down his daddy’s big cock, milking it for all it was worth, and not a minute later, he was rewarded with a huge load of cum which he swallowed down greedily, and Glenn pulled out, allowing Nick to suck his thumb again. He remembered thinking he should get out of here, but why? He liked it here, with his daddy, and he felt so weak all of a sudden, and tired. He yawned, and stretched, enjoying the feeling of a full diaper and a full stomach.

“Does little Nicky need a nap?” Glenn asked, “How about we get you cleaned up, and then you can sleep for a while.” Glenn said, but Nick shook his head no. “Oh, does Nicky like laying around in his nasty diaper? Is Nicky a dirty little boy?”

“Yes, daddy, I super dirty,” Nick said, the childish tone sliding out naturally. Glenn leaned in and tickled him, sending Nick into a spate of giggling and flailing, before giving him a deep kiss.

“Well alright, you can keep your dirty diaper on while you nap. Do you want your huggabear?” Glenn said, and with a big grin, Nick reached out and took the stuffed animal from his daddy and hugged him close, already feeling sleepy.

He felt his eyes slip closed, and his thumb found its way back to his mouth, and a moment later, he was asleep. Glenn spent a few moments looking over his new diaper boy, happy to have a family again, and then left his son to his dreams of sucking the cum from his daddy’s giant cock.

Matchmaker (Part 2)

***WARNING – Contains some graphic violence. Don’t like it? Don’t read it.***

So I had a plan–set up the bastard men in my family with some of the perverse construction workers I worked with. Of course, I realized I had a lot to figure out before I could make any of this happen, after all, I hadn’t been in contact with anyone in my family in years. I spent the next few months honing my skills as a matchmaker, and searching out my relatives, finding them rather quickly. My dad, Jerry, was the easiest, since he was still living in the family house, although my brothers had moved out. I decided to save him for last. My younger brother, Nick, was next. A quick look around facebook showed that he was in his final year of college, and the same old lazy, immature dumbass he’d always been. The hardest one to track down was Bill, my older brother, and the one who’d set the whole ball rolling when he’d found my porn stash. He was working as a security guard for a strip mall a couple of towns over. I decided to start with him–it seemed like the most fitting.

Bill had always been the righteous one, the one who felt the call of moral duty beyond all else, especially when he could warp it to serve his own interests. It was no surprise really that he’d ended up as a security guard, where he could flaunt some useless authority at people he deemed inferior to himself. He’d always wanted to be a cop, but I’m pretty sure that the academy would have kicked his ass out after one psych interview–although knowing how cops can be, they’d probably be happy to have him join their ranks. Still, I had always wanted to see what would happen if Bill had gotten into trouble more often in his life.

Regardless, I knew just who to set him up with, a biker on the crew named Spike. He was dirty, covered neck to toe in tattoos, with a blonde mullet and brunette fu-man-chu which just screamed trailer trash, and was always getting into trouble. I thought he was hot, and had played around with him once, but damn that guy was rough in bed, and domineering as hell. Sure, I don’t mind being a sub on occasion–still, I had never really felt the urge to stray too far into the BDSM zone. Still, for a guy like Bill, who loved lording his power over others, I thought Spike would be the perfect man to whip him into a different shape.

This time though, unlike with Rick and Juan, I didn’t want to have to supervise. That whole experience had been so taxing, I felt sick for a week afterwards, so I planned the spell intricately, to make sure it would take hold exactly how I wanted it to. Bill and Spike would have an impromptu meeting–and it would be love at first sight. The spell would intensify Spike’s fetishes and desires, and twist Bill to reflect them as they spent more and more time together. But how would they meet? Well, Bill loved camping and the outdoors, so how better for them to get acquainted than on the open road? Excited, I cast the ritual, and sat back, eager to see the results when they rode back into town.

~~~

“Fucking piece of shit!” Bill shouted, and kicked the tire of his car, the engine smoking and steaming. He came around and opened up the hood, dodging away to avoid getting burned by the vapors. God damn it,” he said, “so much for this camping trip.” He looked around at the somewhat arid landscape, and wished he hadn’t decided to head for such a remote campground. He pulled out his cell phone and cursed again–not a single god damn bar. It was looking more and more like he was walking back to that gas station he’d passed a few miles back. It was about that time that he heard the distinct grumble of a motorcycle approaching from the highway.

He was heading pretty fast, and Bill only got a glimpse of tattoos and blonde hair as the guy blew by, but to his great surprise, the guy slowed down and pulled off onto the shoulder ahead of him. Maybe the guy was a mechanic or something, Bill thought, or he could at least hitch a ride with him. The man climbed off his bike, and Bill felt his heart leap up into his chest. The guy was definitely not someone Bill would have ever imagined being attracted to, but his racing heart was telling him otherwise. The man’s bleach blonde mullet, the cigar tucked in his mouth, his tattooed arms sticking out of his ragged leather vest, and the substantial bulge in the faded jeans and chaps all sent chills through his body. “Having some car trouble, man? The name’s Spike,” the biker said to him, and he nearly swooned. What in the world was happening to him?

“Uh, yeah…yeah, that’s it,” Bill said, but his voice was all squeaky suddenly, like he was back in middle school talking to a cute girl. “S–Sorry, it’s just embarassing, and I’m a bit freaked out…” he added, trying to cover and not look like a complete dipshit.

“You smoke?” Spike said.

“What?”

“I asked if ya smoke, boy,” the biker said, and the tinge of authority in his voice did things to Bill’s cock he didn’t even understand, “Here, have a cigar on me. It’ll mellow you out. You could probably use it.” He handed him a cigar from a vest pocket, and Bill cringed.

“No…No I don’t smoke, but–”

“Take it boy,” Spike said, and Bill’s hand shot out and took the cigar from him, holding it in his mouth while the biker gave him a light. “There, that’s better, right? Now let me take a look at this cage of yours.”

At the word ‘cage,’ an image flashed through Bill’s head. He was in a cage, dressed in leather and Spike was looking in on him, his cock out–No, no, that was so wrong, he thought and shook his head, walking around behind the car to clear his head. He took a drag off the cigar, and did feel a bit better. It was really hot out here–he was sweating like a pig. He pulled off his shirt, feeling better with the fresh air on his skin, and tried to calm down. Calm down, and not think about how hot it would be to suck that biker’s thick, tattooed and pierced cock.

“Well man, I’m sorry, but your radiator is completely gone–you’re gonna have to get a tow–” Spike said, but stopped short when he saw the shirtless Bill smoking his cigar, and he was starting to think of a few possible reasons for why the guy had been acting kind of odd. The guy was definitely cute, and Spike was finding himself more and more interested every second. Hell, even if the boy was straight, he’d just need a firm master to send him all crooked. “Nice tatts by the way–they suit you.”

Bill looked at him, confused. Tatts? He didn’t have any tatts. “What…what are you talking about?”

“How about you go ahead and address me as, ‘Sir,’ boy, seein’ as how I’m your superior and all. Yeah, nice tatts, and they look damn good with that cigar, I must say. And a jock–I love a boy in a jockstrap.”

“I don’t…” Bill started to say, but when he looked down at his previously bare arms, he saw swirling tattoos starting at his wrists crawling up onto his shoulders and pecs. His astonishment was cut short by a sharp slap across the face from Spike.

“I said, you were gonna address me as Sir, boy. Now what was that?”

Bill cringed a bit from the hit–but…was his cock hard? “S–Sorry, sir,” he stuttered, looking down and away with submission. He felt Spike’s hand on his crotch massaging his cock and he groaned. “Please…please no, I’m straight…sir,” Bill said, but the words rang false even to his ears, and Spike just laughed.

“Oh? A straight boy who moans like a little whore when a big, dirty biker grabs his crotch? I don’t think so,” he said, and stuck his grimy, greasy hand down the back of Bill’s pants, groping his ass and pulling him closer, into Spike’s scent of rank body odor, smoke and cheap whisky. They inhaled each other’s exhaust for a moment, before Spike added quietly, “Yeah, I think you just need a big biker master to show you how much of a faggot biker bitch you are.”

Bikk wanted to say no, wanted to get in the car and lock the doors. He struggled as Spike pushed him around and over the back of the car, then pulled down his jeans–but the struggle was all play he realized. He wanted Spike to pop his cherry, turn him into a little biker bitch. “No daddy, don’t fuck me here, in the open.” he heard himself say, but he wanted it–needed it so bad, and Spike grinned wide.

“Oh you little biker slut, you’re gonna get it! I’m not even gonna lube up for this, so you’d better brace your hole.” The pain was excruciating, but Bill fought through it. He wanted to be a good biker bitch for Spike. For his…his boyfriend, no, his master. Yeah, his biker master. He creamed his jock at the thought, and Spike didn’t even notice until he smelled the cum. “Dang, ya ain’t even trained yet. That’s a bad bitch, cumming before I give you permission. The only cock you should think about getting off is mine!” He pounded his big cock in even deeper, making Bill shout out in pain. Hearing the bitch scream sent Spike over the edge, and he filled his new bitch’s ass full of his cum.

“I…I love you sir…thank you,” Bill moaned, but Spike just slammed his face down into the rear end of the car hard enough to send blood spurting from his nose.

“You little bitch–you think I want your fucking love? Fuck no. You’re a piece of shit. You aren’t even fucking trained! You don’t even deserve to wear fucking clothes of your own, strip out of those, that jock too.”

Feeling more ashamed than ever before in his life at the thought of disappointing Spike, he stripped down the rest of the way, not even noticing that his tattoos had spread over the rest of his body. “Please sir,” he said, getting down on his knees, completely forgetting he was on the side of the road, “Please sir, train me sir. Teach me how to be a good and proper biker bitch, sir…your bitch, sir.”

Spike grinned around his cigar, grabbed the top of Bill’s head and shoved him down onto all fours, “Then you can start by cleaning by boots, bitch. And don’t get any of that faggot blood on them either.”

Without any hesitation, he started licking at the leather, swallowing down the road dust and trying not to cough and spray blood from his broken nose. He had to show Spike how much he wanted to be his bitch–if he couldn’t be with Spike–he would just die.

“Dang, you do learn quick. Fine, you want to be my biker bitch? I guess I could train you.”

“Oh thank you sir, thank you. I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

“Well, you’re gonna need a few changes, but nothing I can’t handle. You’re looking pretty good already with all those tatts, and you’re kind of pudgy too. I like a man with meat on his bones. And forget about shaving that body of yours, I like a man with a furry pelt.”

“Yes sir, anything for you sir. I know…I know you don’t love me sir, but I’ll do anything to be your bitch sir, I swear.”

Spike grinned, “Really bitch? I’m gonna hold you to that. So how about this. You’re mine now–my property, got it? And property doesn’t get to own anything–property only gets to wear what I say it can. And all you’re wearing for the drive home is that nasty jock of yours, as a reminder of how bad of a bitch you were to cum without my permission.”

“Yes sir,” Bill replied, pulled on the jock, and followed his new master back to his bike, looking back at his still smoking car just once, before climbing on the bitch seat riding off into his new role, and new life.

“

Matchmaker (Part 1)

My name is Josh, and I’m a matchmaker. Yes, I know that isn’t a typical job for a guy, even if he’s gay like I am, but the story is a strange one. To start, I have to go back a bit, to when I was seventeen. I grew up with my father (my mom died when I was a kid) and two brothers, one older and one younger. As the middle child, I was kind of the punching bag of the family, and to be honest, it was kind of relief when Jack, my oldest brother, outed me to my dad, and the three of them threw me out of the house.

Sure, it wasn’t easy. I was homeless for a while, but an older guy I hooked up with who worked in construction got me my first job as a grunt laborer, and before I knew it, I was on my feet again, and supporting myself. It was a relief, and to say I was proud of myself was an understatement. The story proper picks up a few years later, a few weeks before I turned twenty-five.


At the time, I had been renting a room from an older woman named Mary in the city. She was always nice to me, and I’d opened up about my history, and she’d really become a friend, more than anything, and the rent was amazingly cheap. I knew that it wasn’t enough to cover her expenses, but I had no idea what sort of job she had. All I knew was that there was a steady stream of women who would visit her–I often came home when they were in the middle of a pot of tea. I asked her once what she did, and she dodged the question–so I left it at that. I made up for the low rent by fixing up the house and helping with the chores, and Mary was always very thankful for it.

One night, she came into my room and woke me up suddenly, told me that she had made us a cup of tea, and she wanted to discuss something with me. I thought it was strange, but she insisted, so in the middle of the night, we sat down at the dining room table, and she told me everything. The women of her family, for as long back as she knew, had been matchmakers. However, more than simply having an intuition about who was suited for who, they had a particular knack for getting two people to come together as a happy couple–though she admitted that their method was a bit sinister.

Her clients, for the most part, were women who had been jilted by a lover, or who were in an abusive relationship. What Mary did, was force the man to become the woman’s ideal lover. Sure, it was a bit cruel, but they generally deserved it, Mary told me. However, she had a confession. She was the last of her line, and had had no children–so she had no one to pass her legacy on to, and she asked me…if I would be her legacy.

Crazy, right? I thought she had gone insane, but I agreed, because–well, what else was there to do? I thought that would be it, but she showed me the entire ritual, the rules of her matchmaking, and the powers it gave her over the two targets. I played along, and the next morning, it was like nothing had happened. However, two weeks later, Mary had passed away, from cancer she had told no one about, and I discovered that she had left everything, all of her possessions, her house, and her savings, to me. Of course, I thought her midnight tale was a joke still, however, a few days later, a young woman came to the door, begging for my help, and said Mary had told her before she’d died that I could help her. I had no idea what to do–how could I lie? So, I helped her. I did the ritual as Mary had shown me, using a picture of the woman’s boyfriend, and I didn’t believe it would actually work, but a couple days later, the woman came back, thanked me profusely, and handed me two hundred dollars cash.

Was it real? I had no idea, but I needed to see it work for myself if it was. I had been working with the same crew for a few years at that time, and gotten to know the crew members pretty well. Surprisingly enough, a good number were gay–though they weren’t exactly open about it. They were all decent men, trying to get by like I was. The one exception was our foreman, Rick. Perhaps this picture will best communicate his attitude.

He was a ass. Just a damn bastard to everyone, and a raging homophobe and racist to make matters worse. Mary had told me that her matchmaking abilities could work for any couple I chose, so I decided Rick would be having a change of heart about his sexuality, and maybe meet a nice man in the process, and I had just the man in mind.

But before I get to that, I should probably tell you a bit more about how my matchmaking works. In general, all I have to do is cast the spell, and things usually find a way to work out. This is what I did with the woman who came to me–just cast the spell and let it sort everything out for me. However, for more difficult cases, I can get more directly involved, and guide the spell from a closer distance. In particular, I gain some powers of suggestion over both targets–so that I can best help them come together happily, and realize how perfect they ought to be for each other. And the man I knew Rick would be best for was Juan.

Juan had been on the crew longer than I had, and I still don’t know how he could put up with Rick’s constant insults about being a wetback and so on. It’s a good thing Rick didn’t know Juan was gay, or he probably would have been fired faster than you could say fuck. Juan had never dated a man, preferring to stay in the closet and the backrooms of dirty bars, but he was a nice guy, so I thought it might be nice for him to have someone around. I got pictures of both of them–since I couldn’t have them at the ceremony personally, and cast the ritual in the morning before going to work, being sure to leave room in the spell where I could get involved. After all, I needed to see if this shit actually worked at all, or if I was just going insane.

I got to the site, and saw that everyone is getting ready for work, and I see Rick and Juan keep glancing at each other, though I doubt either one notices themselves doing it. Rick runs down the work for the day, and I make the mental suggestion that he, Juan and I should all work in the workshop today, while everyone else does work on the site, and wouldn’t you know it? It worked! I mean, it was still could have been coincidence, but hey, I was getting excited now. We broke from the meeting and the three of us headed into the workshop. As soon as I was alone, I decided to take a risk, and said that the two of them should spend the day working naked, aside from their tools, and that no one on the crew would find this odd.

It took a second or two, but I saw Rick suddenly pull of his vest, and this his shirt and pants and underwear before strapping his toolbelt around his waist and putting on his hardhat, and it was all I could do not to exclaim with laughter.

It had actually worked. I hurried over to where Juan was working, and sure enough, he had stripped down as well, smoking a cigarette, and I saw he liked wearing cock rings to work and keeping himself semi-hard all day.

I was so excited, I just paced the room for a minute or two, trying to calm down. I honestly hadn’t imagined it would work, and now I realized I needed to actually follow through with the spell and bring these two together, and I decided to start with Rick. As he worked, I started planting new thoughts in his head, about how attracted he was to hispanic men like Juan. It was hard work, getting him to accept it–after all, going from an aggressive straight man to a submissive bottom bitch for latin cock was a long distance to go–but he got there eventually, and I was glad I was there to shape the spell, or else it probably wouldn’t have worked nearly as well as it did. Slowly, Rick started stealing glances over at Juan’s semi-hard cock and licking his lips. All he could think about was how sexy his coworker was, and how much he wanted that cock shoved down his throat.

Satisfied, I moved over to Juan, and he was easier to work with. It turned out, as I peeked in his mind, that he already had a thing for Rick, even though he was an asshole. I enhanced his existing feelings but put a twist on them. One thing Juan happened to like was chubbier guys, so I went ahead and made him an aggressive encourager. Now, he loved making big guys bigger. He was also going to be verbally abusive and domineering, to match Rick’s subservient role, and as a bit of punishment for his years of being a good guy in the face of Rick’s past abuse.

I was so caught up in his head, that I didn’t notice him move at first, but he was walking over to Rick at the saw, and started rubbing his hands all over Rick’s fat body. “Hey white bitch,” he said, “I’ve seen you looking at my cock. You want me or something? Are you a fat faggot?”

Rick, caught completely off guard by his feelings and by Juan’s dominance, simply stuttered, but Juan shoved him down onto his knees and was face fucking his foreman, Rick just moaning and jacking his own cock, unable to help himself, and the insults and abuse Juan was raining down on him just made him harder. I felt him struggle against the spell, but with some more work on his mind he settled down into it, and I sealed it when Juan came down his throat. They were a couple now, and pretty soon everyone was going to know about it.

Not much work got done in the workshop that day–Juan was too busy giving his new boyfriend a good working over, and I was too busy jacking off while I watched. They also took a two hour lunch, so Juan could drag Rick to an all you can eat buffet and stuff him silly. The whispers flew around the rest of the crew, but the spell made everyone readily accept the new situation, but I could see a few of the men looking a bit jealous, or at least the three other guys who were gay like me and Juan. However, I had a plan for them. See, neither of my brothers, nor my father, were in relationships at the moment–and I had a feeling I had their perfect matches standing right in front of me.

Image Vignette: The Gainer’s Dilemma (Part 2)

Warning: This story contains situations of rape and non-consensual sex. Don’t like it, don’t read it.

“Look, we know something’s up. Just fucking spill it,” Jace said.

“Yeah,” Dave added, “this is way too weird. I mean, a new fatsuit without telling us? And how in the hell did you make that beard look so damn real?”

Tony stammered a bit, looking for some words that could get him out of this corner. Fucking Max and his bright ideas! When they’d heard their friends knock on the door, Max had told him to go put on his padding gear–the extra large clothes he wore with his fatsuits when the rest of the gang came over for their parties–and then told him to find some excuse to get them to leave so he and Max could split, but it was a pretty bad plan. When Tony finally answered the door, he was greeted by Jace and Dave who began the group with Max and Tony, as well as Trent and Phillip, two shy, bespectacled friends who had joined just recently and were still learning the ropes.

He told them about Max’s surprise visit, the magic salve, and about putting it on in the bathroom and how he had grown. When he finished, Jace just gaped at him, before saying a simple, “Bullshit.”

“No, It’s true! See?” Tony said, and took down his suspenders and pulled off his 4XL long sleeve shirt to reveal his massive, hairy gut, “It’s all real, I fucking swear. Max, get out here, and show them,” he called, and a bit angry at being found out, Max came around the corner, and all of their jaws dropped even lower.

“But…this can’t be true, can it? You’re just playing a prank or something. Is this some joke you play on new guys like us or something?” Trent said.

“No, it’s real,” Max said, strutting over, “and all of you need to leave. We don’t have time for this.”

The four looked at each other, and the twins turned to leave, but Dave and Jace grabbed them and pulled them back. “No, we want some too, all of us.”

“It’s all gone,” Max said.

“Now that is bullshit,” Jace said, “Cough it up, and let us have some, or we’ll bust your asses wide open,” Jace threatened, and Max and Tony looked at each other, knowing the jig was up.

“Alright, alright fine. But don’t use too much for christ’s sake,” Max said, “I can’t have the company relocate all of us.”

Dave and Jace high fived and hugged Max and Tony, while Trent and Phillip looked a bit incredulous. “Look, maybe…maybe your four have fun, but I’m not ready to make this permanent,” Phillip said, and stepped back to leave, and expected Trent to come with, but his friend didn’t budge. “Come on Trent, let’s go.”

Trent took a moment, and sighed, “No…No, I want this. I want some too.”

“You can’t be serious,” Phillip said.

“You can leave Phillip, but I want some,” Trent said, a bit louder than he’d meant to, and his face turned bright red.

“Look, take some or don’t I don’t care, but we don’t have all day,” Max said, “Who’s first?”

Jace went first, and stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, and wearing the full beard he’d never managed to grow before. Dave was next, growing a similar amount, but without the beard. Finally, Trent and Phillip went in together, and both emerged not quite as heavy as the others, but equally satisfied with their new look and weight. In the meantime, Tony had talked Max down from his anger, and when he saw how happy Jace and Dave were, exploring each other’s new bodies on the couch, he decided that they might as well just throw caution to the wind and make it a party. Tony ordered ten pizzas for them all to gorge on, turned up the music, and they partied all night long, pausing for a moment while Max took a group photo.

The evening eventually wore down however, and the friends broke off into couples, Phillip and Trent leaving for home together, while Jace and Dave were too drunk to drive and ended up sleeping on the floor of the living room, perfectly warm in their new layers of fat and wrapped in each other’s arms. Tony had gotten plenty drunk, and Max dragged him into the living room after watching him strut about in his huge jeans and suspenders all evening, and fucked his chubby ass again, before promptly falling asleep, but Tony didn’t join him–he was thinking about the salve, and his still too small cock.

What harm could it really do? It wasn’t like he needed to use much, just a bit on his cock and balls, make himself a little bigger than Max so he wouldn’t feel like so much less of a man. He snuck out from under Max’s heavy arm and lumbered into the bathroom as quietly as he could. There was still about a third of the bottle left, and he scooped out a good sized glob into his hand and started rubbing it around his cock and balls…but then he thought, why stop there? Why not get even bigger than he already was? His drunk mind ran away with his fantasy, and before he could stop himself, he was spreading it all over his body again, feeling himself swell and grow all over again. His cock was a good foot long before he realized he’d better shower himself off, but he felt strange this time. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer or what, but he was hornier than he’d ever been before, and his head felt kind of fuzzy, like it was hard to think about anything other than how much he wanted to fuck Max’s ass. So intense was the need, that he didn’t bother rinsing all of the salve off, lumbered into the bedroom and without even bothering with lube, rammed the head of his now thirteen inch cock into Max’s ass, the bear waking up with a scream.

“What the…what the fuck is that! Fuck it hurts!” Max shouted, but Tony just pushed in more.

“Now ya know how it feels, ya fucker. Now who’s the big man here? I’m the big man, and I’m gonna have your big ass whenever I want it.” Tony said, the salve clinging to his dick letting him slide in deeper, and he saw Max’s ass start growing larger, which only added more logs to Tony’s flame. Max continued to struggle, but was pinned under Tony’s new, and still growing, weight, though he was terrified that Tony’s cock was going to rip apart his ass if he kept ramming it deeper like that. Luckily, Jace and Dave had woken to Max’s screams and hurried into the bedroom, where together they managed to haul the very heavy Tony off of him, letting him scramble up, his new pear shaped ass jiggling as he fled the room. “Ya fuckers!” Tony shouted, “I’ll fucking show you, I’ll rape your asses too, just you wait,” he said, and tried to get up from the bed, but his still expanding gut had grown out and over his knees, pinning his legs and rendering him immobile on the bed.

It was then that he realized he might have made a mistake. The salve remaining on him wasn’t going to stop growing him, and if he didn’t get in the shower soon, he wouldn’t be able to fit through the door. He struggled a bit, but he couldn’t move, and he looked over and saw Jace and Dave looking at him fearfully. “Well don’t just stand there,” he said, “Fucking help me!” but the two turned and left to go look for Max, leaving Tony alone in the bedroom, expanding faster than ever. He struggled more and more, but soon he was bigger than the doorframe, and then the bed gave a shudder and collapsed underneath his weight. By the time Jace and Dave had returned, having helped give Max an enema to wash the salve from his well used hole, Tony could already touch both walls of the room with his hands, his head was brushing the ceiling, and even though his gut had extended past his feet, his cock had snaked it’s way out and was leaking precum all over the carpet, and was almost at the wall across from him.

“I…I think we need to get out of here,” Jace said to Dave, and they turned and left, Tony calling after them, now begging for help, but he knew it was too late. He was going to outgrow the room, the entire house. He was going to suffocate in here, and be crushed to death. Already it was becoming cramped, and he started to hyperventilate. No, he thought, I’m not going like this. With his huge hands, he started pounding the drywall, feeling the amazing amount of strength there, and he ripped holes in the sheets, breaking apart studs with his bare hands, tearing through the ceiling to make room for his head, desperate to keep up with the increasingly quick rate of his growth. Max stumbled in at some point, having quit his sobs of terror when he heard–and felt–the house begin to quake. Upon seeing the huge mass of flesh which was now Tony, he fled the house too, and not a moment too soon, as Tony had ripped out enough supports that the roof started caving in around him.

The first thing Tony felt when he broke through the debris was wet. Rain, sweet rain. Excited to clean himself off, he brushed away as much as he could, feeling his growth slow as the water washed the remnants of the salve off his body. Looking down, he saw Max gaping at him from the sidewalk, his ass nearly twice as wide as his gut, staring at his two story tall boyfriend, and realized that if he stood up–if he could stand up, he would probably be twice that tall. With the salve washing away, Tony felt his mind return, and he felt horribly guilty for what he had done. Gingerly, he picked up Max like he weighed nothing, and said, “Max…Max I’m sorry, I dodn’t mean to, I’m sorry…” he said, sobbing giant tears, and Max hugged his huge chest.

“No, I’m sorry for this. This is all my fault. I should have kept things under control, and I should have told you everything to begin with.”

The two shared a very uneven kiss, given that Tony’s tongue was about as large as Max’s torso, but they were interrupted by sirens, and the arrival of the FBI and representatives from the drug company, there to try and disarm the situation.

“You don’t think they brought any breakfast do you?’ Tony said with a smile, and Max laughed. Some dilemmas it seemed, had ways of solving themselves. He looked over and saw that he was at the same level as the tip of a pine tree in Tony’s backyard…where he’d been a good ten feet below it a few minutes prior. With a gulp, he added to that thought, that sometimes, they can create entirely new dilemmas too.

Image Vignette: The Gainer’s Dilemma (Part 1)

(As requested by scot185f)

Tony stood in front of the mirror, and held up his camera phone, getting what he hoped would be his before shot of what would be an astounding transformation. See, Tony was what would be called a gainer. He wanted to be bigger, and especially fatter–well, and hairier, and just…he was just tired of being him. Smooth and mostly hairless, paunchy but not really fat. He’d tried recipes designed to pack on weight, solutions designed to thicken beards, but nothing had worked well, but then he’d run into Max.

Max had been like him, only worse. Scrawny and short, he’d always wanted to be bigger too. They’d met in a forum a few years ago, and once they’d learned that they lived in the same city, they had struck up a bit of a friendship, but both of them had miserably failed at encouraging the other to gain much more than fifty pounds. However, they found some solace in their own failures, and gathered a small group of others like them whose genetics and metabolisms thwarted them at every turn. Tony had even begun to suspect that something like a relationship was growing between them, when all of a sudden, Max was gone. He disappeared for more than a month, and just about the time Tony had gotten tired of leaving him voicemails, Max had shown up on his doorstep–only it was a very different Max who stepped through the door.


He was…big. Not just with a big gut, but tall too, a good foot taller to be exact. And damn if that gut didn’t look fine on his as well, and the hair! It was everywhere! Max had never been able to grow more than an ugly patchy beard, but the bear who strutted into Tony’s apartment had no such problem. Of course, Tony didn’t believe it could be Max, not at first. It was only after the bear had described some of their time together, and some of their secrets, that Tony began to believe, but that of course left a different question–how? How did this happen?

Tony could tell Max was reluctant to divulge his secret, but it finally came out after a few beers. He’d undergone a medical test for low testosterone, and the medication had worked better than he’d ever imagined. Hell, it had worked so well, he wasn’t going to be able to return to his old life–no one would recognize him. He was being relocated by the drug company, and he wasn’t even supposed to be discussing this with anyone from his past life. Still, he wanted to show someone, and Tony was the first person he’d thought of.

Tony was at first incredulous, and then, he felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. It wasn’t fair. Max had gotten more than he’d ever dreamed of, and he’d gotten nothing. Sensing the shift in his friend’s mood, Max pulled out a strange jar and handed it to Tony. “Now listen carefully. Apply this cream wherever you want to accelerate the growth. It takes a couple of minutes to start, but when it does–you have to be quick, and take a shower a few minutes before you reach your target look, alright? The water neutralizes the salve and washes it away, stopping the growth. You didn’t really think I was going to leave you all sad, did you?” Max said, and gleefully, Tony hugged him, loving the feel of his friend’s new gut against his own small belly.

“Should…should I do it now?” Tony asked.

“Of fucking course you should do it now! But I don’t want to watch. I want to be surprised,” Max said. “So get in there and let’s see it.”

And so here was. Taking a picture of himself, just to remember himself by, and hoping that this wasn’t just some scam. Maybe it wasn’t Max. Maybe it was just some guy who was tricking him into the bathroom so he could steal his stuff while he wasn’t watching–but that was ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as a salve that could make you grow like Max had grown. But what did he have to lose? He stripped down and started applying the cold cream, focusing on his belly and chest, but then slathering some on his face where he wanted a beard, getting some of it in his hair by accident. He stood there for a few moments, feeling silly more than anything else, when he felt the cream start heating up on his skin, the warmth sinking into him, and a moment later, he saw his gut begin swelling visibly.

He shouted with glee as he watched himself grow, grabbed more globs of the cream and started slathering it on his arms, thighs and ass, before fondling his burgeoning belly, feeling it fill with fat and start sinking down, into an apron hanging down over his groin. Hairs sprouted all over his smooth belly, at first just a thin treasure trail, but then filling in all over. His chest filled in as well, moobs growing full and fat, his nipples growing into thick sausages. His thighs and ass expanded as well, though were a bit slower since he applied it later, and he watched his chin darken with a beard and several chins filled in under his neck, his hair even growing longer from the accidental application. However, as he was playing with his new body, he realized that the growth was only speeding up–and he hurried to the shower, almost tripping over his feet at his new height–he was getting taller even–taller! He thought about just letting it continue, but decided against it, and turned on the faucet, dousing himself with cold water, and he grabbed the soap and started scrubbing down his now expansive form.

With some regret, he realized he’d forgotten to apply anywhere where it might really count. His cock and balls had remained the same size–a measly four inches, and with his new bulk they felt even smaller, but he could always apply it again, right? Just as Max had said, the growth stopped abruptly as the cream washed off his body, and he cleaned it from his face last, letting his beard grow a bit thicker. Satisfied, he stepped out of the shower, and realized he had nothing that would even remotely fit his new frame, and somewhat bashfully, he lumbered back into the living room where Max was waiting.

“It…It worked. I can’t believe it actually worked!” Tony said, but was silenced as Max plowed into him, kissing him roughly and fondling his love handles.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy like that. This is how I always imagined you should be,” Max said, “I love you Tony. I love you so much!”

The sudden pronouncement caught Tony off guard, and a bit nervous, he broke away from Max and took a couple of steps back. “You…you love me? Is that why you did all of this?”

“Yes Tony, I wanted you to…to come with me. We can be big together man! It’ll be a whole new life!”

Tony gaped for a moment, and tears came to his eyes. He rushed forward and slammed into Max, his sheer weight enough to knock them both over and send them crashing to the carpet with a thunderous clud. “I love you too Max, thank you, thank you,” Tony said as he started stripping the bear out of his tank top and jeans, and found that Max had one more surprise he had buried for him. While Tony might have forgotten to apply the salve in all the right places–Max had not. His cock was a good ten inches long, and quite thick, his balls hanging low, with each the size of a tennis ball. Tony had been so distracted by Max’s new gut that he hadn’t even noticed his new package.

“You like that big cock, Tony? I made it especially for you, and that big, fat ass you always told me you wanted,” Max said, them roughly rolled them both over so he was on top of Tony, who was starting to notice that something was off. Max had never been this aggressive before. Whenever they had played, Tony had been the one on top–and he suddenly didn’t like where this was going. Then he was on his belly, and Max was running the huge cock up and down his crack, and then it was in his hole, and no amount of begging or pleading could make the big bear on him go any slower or gentler.

Certainly the salve had had an effect on Max’s stamina. He fucked Tony for a good half hour, who managed to enjoy most of it, once he’d gotten over the initial pain. In fact, the feeling of Max’s rough thrusts reverberating through his body was so sensual, it easily made up for the rest of it, but the personality change had startled him. Was this even the same Max he had known? The one he had started to develop feelings for? Max reached under and started fiddling with Tony’s cock, making him lose track of his concerns and lose himself in the sex. Max was close, and when he felt the bear’s huge cock begin spasming, he released as well, feeling his jizz shoot over his gut and drip down onto the floor. They remained coupled for a moment, and then Max eased himself off with a grunt and rolled over, where they laid together for a while in the afterglow, until Tony worked up the nerve to ask the question nagging him.

“So…Max. What are the side effects of this stuff? I mean, you said it was still being tested, right?”

“Uh…well, about ten percent of us experienced some personality change–usually increased aggression and libido. I…I fell in that category, but you probably noticed that,” he said, blushing a bit and realizing he might have been a little rough, “A small few had allergic reactions on their skin, some weren’t responsive to the treatment at all, and others, well…they just kept growing. Water didn’t stop it–it only slowed it down, and the risk of that one increases with every application, which is why we can only apply it once.”

“Once? But I wanted…well, I wanted to improve my own equipment a bit, if you know what I mean…” Tony said, “It isn’t fair that you have this huge tool and I don’t.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t think of it. Besides, I was always the bottom for you. I think having the rolls flipped might be kind of nice,” Max said, rolling on top of Tony and pinning him to the ground, “You certainly didn’t seem to object much, after all.”

“Come on, one little bit can’t hurt. Let me get a couple inches out of it at least.”

“No,” Max said, the domineering tone slipping in without him even noticing, “It’s too dangerous, and that’s that,” he said.

Tony glared at him, but said nothing. He was starting to think he wasn’t liking this personality shift at all. However, their argument was halted by a knock at the door. “Oh…Oh fuck…” Tony said. He had completely forgotten.

“What? Who is it?” Max asked.

“It’s…well, the rest of the guys, they were going to come over for a padding session…I wasn’t expecting you–I forgot!”

“God fucking damn it!” Max shouted. He had counted on being able to spirit Tony away before anyone could know the wiser, but now the rest of the gaining group had arrived, and they certainly wouldn’t let Max and Tony get away without wanting to know their secret. Max scowled, and he realized that what he had imagined as a simple visit to help his lover was becoming quite the gainer’s dilemma.

End Part 1
To be concluded next Tuesday.

Image Vignette: A Bad Case of Slutitis

Rick looked up at the clock in the small exam room the nurse had dropped him off in, and then went back to flipping through one of the magazines left there to keep him occupied, although he couldn’t stop the butterflies, thinking about his problem. He blushed a bit, and checked the room, but of course no one was in there. Still, he was so damn embarrassed…he just didn’t understand how things like this happened. Hell, the first day, he was certain he’d been imagining things, but he’d measured the next couple days, and sure enough, he’d been right. His cock…was shrinking.

Well, shrunk, really. A week ago, he’d had a long eight inch tool which could make a girl scream, but now…well, barely two inches were left, and his thumb was bigger around than the shaft. He’d looked all over the internet, read a few books, but he’d never seen anything like this, and as a young man who took pride in his looks and sexual veracity, he just hadn’t quite felt the same since it had started happening, and he had no clue what was up. He readjusted his crotch, still not used to the empty pouch, and checked the clock again, wishing the doctor would hurry up. However, he had to wait another five minutes before the doctor knocked on the door and stepped into the exam room.

The portly, middle aged doctor looked Rick up and down, and then looked at the chart for a moment, before speaking, “Hi Rick, I’m Doctor Anderson. What brings you in here today? The chart says you didn’t want to discuss it with the nurse.”

“Yeah…well, it’s kind of private. See, for the past week or so…” Rick started to say, but stopped and looked away.

“You know, unprotected sex happens, and STI’s are plenty common, and nothing to be ashamed of,” Doctor Anderson said, but Rick shook his head.

“No, trust me, it isn’t that–I only fuck with a condom…it’s that, well…my dick…my penis is shrinking.”

The doctor started at him, for a second, and Rick’s face turned beet red. “Well, I haven’t heard that one before,” the doctor said, “Could you be more specific? I understand that this is probably difficult to discuss, but I can’t help if I don’t know the details.”

“Well, I don’t know. It just started shrinking. I mean, it used to be eight inches, and now it’s down to two. I don’t know if it’s a disease, or what. I can’t find anything about this on line.”

“Hmm…” the doctor said, “Well, let’s have a look, I suppose. Could you strip for me?”

Rick nodded, and took off his clothes, leaving his underwear last, before dropping them down, and showing the doctor his shrunken penis.

Rick just stood there for a moment, while the doctor stared at his junk, and he found himself feeling even more humiliated than before. This was the first person he’d shown his problem to, and…and did the doctor just lick his lips? Was this guy a faggot or something, he wondered, as Doctor Anderson shook his head and blinked a few times, as though he were just waking up from a daydream.

“Hmm…yes, I see…” the doctor said, pulled an exam glove out and put it on his hand, “I think I’m…I’m gonna have to have a feel…to see what’s wrong.” Rick started feeling like something strange was going on, but he let the doctor wrap his gloved hand around his tiny cock, and he let out a surprised moan. His cock hadn’t been that sensitive when he’d touched it–but the doctor’s touch was like a stab of electricity–nothing had ever felt like that before. “Yeah, that’s it,” the doctor said, unzipping the fly of his pants with his other hand, while he gently massaged Rick’s tiny cock, “I’m afraid…I’m afraid you have a case of slutitis…don’t you, bitch? You’re a tiny-cocked little slut, aren’t you?”

“Oh…oh god, what are you doing?” Rick said, “Stop…stop please…” he moaned, but the doctor ignored him, and pulled Rick towards him into a tight grasp, his hand never leaving Rick’s stump.

“Stop? Why? Aren’t you enjoying this, slut? Fuck, you smell so good…” the doctor said, rubbing his rough beard against Rick’s neck. His other hand drifted down Rick’s back and gave his ass a sharp slap, making Rick jump, and push himself closer to the doctor.

He breathed in the doctor’s musky scent, and groaned. His cock was so hard…his little slut cock had never been hard like this before. He needed this man…needed something from him, but what? “Yeah…yeah my little slut cock is so hard for you, doctor. I must have a horrible case of slutitis. Is there any cure?” Rick winced a bit at the disgusting flirty tone in his voice, but he needed this man, needed the doctor to use him like the slut he was now.

“I don’t know, you case is pretty advanced. I’m gonna have to do a proctological exam to see if the cure would take. Bend over bitch, and show me your hole.” Rick slipped out of the doctor’s grasp and bent over the exam table, while the doctor found a bottle of lube for his gloved hand, and shoved two fingers right up Rick’s ass. He cried out in pain, but pushed back anyway. He had to be a slut, a total slut. He needed the doctor’ cock, had to make the good doctor happy. “Yeah, that’s a good bitch. You’re such a slut, feel how that hole opens? Why, I bet I could fit my whole fist up there. Would you like that slut? You want my fist up your slutty pussy?” he said, and slipped in a third finger.

“Oh god doc, yeah, this slut needs your whole fist up his pussy. My slutitis is so bad, help me doc, give me your fist sir, please…”

Grunting and huffing with lust, the doctor lathered up his hand with more lube and started working his fist deep into Rick’s ass, the young man in excruciating pain, but he deserved it. He was just a slut after all, just something for men to use, abuse, and toss away. He reached down and started rubbing his clit, but he couldn’t cum yet. He needed to please the doc, and then he could please himself, but not before. Then he would be a very bad slut indeed. With a final push, the doctor’s fist slipped in, and Rick felt pleasure surge through him. He felt so full–so satisfied. He was such a good slut.

“Fuck bitch,” the doctor said, “That hole of yours is loose as hell. You took my whole fist like it was nothing. How does it feel slut? It feel good to have a man’s fist in your pussyhole?”

“Oh yes sir,” Rick moaned, “But not as good as your cock would feel sir. Please fuck me sir, feed my pussyhole your cum. Fuk me so hard my clit spews a load all over the floor!”

“Oh fuck…oh fuck oh fuck! You’re gonna get it bitch,” the doctor said, and pulled out his fist after a couple of pumps, “You’re gonna get it, get ready for daddy’s big ass cock!” The doctor rubbed some lube on his cock, and found he was suddenly working with more that he’d had earlier that day. His five inch cock had gained at least three inches, if not more, and was nearly thicker than his fist. It was a good thing he’d warmed the slut up with his hand, because he was definitely going to get the fuck of his life. The doctor lined up his cock, and with one smooth push, buried himself pubes deep up Rick’s open hole, ignoring the screams of pain as he started fucking the hole as rough as he could. It was just a slut after all, why should he care how it felt? What mattered was his pleasure. The slut was just a tool, a fleshy hole to take his cum. He wrapped his hands around Rick’s hips to get a better grip and pounded in deeper and deeper, before unloading a massive wad of cum deep in Rick’s bowels, collapsing onto him in exhaustion, Rick sobbing a bit beneath him. He got up a moment later and pulled his cock out, wiping it clean before shoving it back down in his pants. “That was good slut. Clean up that cum of yours and show yourself out. I think you should schedule another treatment session for next week. In fact, just make it this time every week. We wouldn’t want that slutitis getting any worse, right?”

With a laugh, the doctor left Rick alone again, and he slumped down onto his knees, licking up the cum his clit had shot all over the side of the exam table, like the doctor had told him to, and then he got dressed, clarity–and shame–returning to him when he was clothed again, and he sat in the room for several minutes, crying and trying to sort out his feelings. It had felt so good…so good to be a slut, but now, afterwards, he felt horrible. He thought of all the women he’d roofied and raped over the years, all the sluts he’d used. Had they felt like this? He gathered up his things and left the room, passing the doctor in the hall, but the bearish man didn’t even look at him. Did he even remember? Had it even happened at all?

He tried to get out without being seen, but a receptionist stopped him to ask if he needed a reminder call for his appointment next week, and he said no. He would remember–he would remember just fine. As he left, he told himself that he wouldn’t go…but he knew he would. He was a slut now, and he was already thinking about his rugby practice this weekend…imaging all his buddies seeing his tiny cock–seeing him for the slut he was. Yeah, he had a bad case of slutitis alright, and he figured he was going to be getting treated for it every chance he could get.

Vignette: Welcome Home, Bro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Yes…”

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

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

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

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

“That’s a pile of bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Max…Max Carpenter.”

“Tell me about Max.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lick it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a monster,” Taylor said.

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

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

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