Alright, the final chapter. It sounds like 2B and 1B are the choices people would like to see. So how a combination of them both?

***

The satyr and the demon met in the sunroom, the overgrown garden seen through the glass walls, though the room was sweltering with the heat necessary for the demon to keep moving. “What has it been now, fifty years?” the demon asked.

“Oh, what’s fifty years to immortals?” the satyr replied with a chuckle.

“You call being turned to stone immortal?” the demon shot back, “That wasn’t what I asked for.”

“Now, if I recall correctly,” the satyr said, “you asked for unlimited power and immortality. Well, demons are by far the most powerful creatures in the multiverse, and that little stone skin enchantment makes you, well, fairly invulnerable, if not without a few weaknesses.”

The demon glowered at him, “Well, I’ve had a few hours to go over my notes, and I think I know what to do about this stone problem,” he said, “but first, I think I need to do something about you, and keep you out of trouble.”

“Ha, well you’d have to get a hold of me first,” the satyr said, “and song travels faster than you ever will.”

“Oh I think I can resist one or two of your merry melodies,” the demon said.

“Oh do you? Well, then why don’t you have a listen?” the satyr said, picked up his pipes and started to play. The demon readied his mental defenses, expecting the satyr to try and change him back into a mortal. Fifty years earlier, he’d been human and acquired a real satyr by chance from an excavation in Greece, and while the years had crawled by, he had no interest in returning to that sorry existence. However, much to his surprise, the song slipped right past his defenses, and it took him a few moment to realize why. He’d tailored his mental wall to protect his demonic nature–but the satyr had no intention of returning him to normal, and now it was too late for the demon to resist, and he started to dance.

The satyr laughed, and watched as the demon’s muscular form started to bubble and shift, fat packing itself on his body, the dominating drive in him disipating and replaced with simple…laziness. The inertia of his change was pushing against the satyr’s song, and suddenly moving seemed too difficult. Better to sit and loll about. Better to feast, better to be lazy, and then the demon saw what the satyr had planned for him. He was certainly still a demon, however not the demon of domination and lust he had been. Now, the only things that interested him were sloth, filth, and gluttony. Well, all of those, and sex, but not domineering, controlling sex. He wanted to be used, he wanted to be filled. He wanted to be passive while hordes of men used his holes as much as they could. He wanted to feast on their seed, on their virility. Finally, the change climaxed, and he could dance no more, crashing to the floor, a mass of fat, stinking to high heaven, drool leaking down his multiple stone chins, his eyes drawn directly to the pig cock of the satyr’s minion.

“Well my pet, why don’t you go ahead and give our demon friend his first meal?” the satyr said, and Ken snorted, stomping over, grabbing the back of the demon’s head and ramming his cock down his throat.

The demon sucked–he was so hungry, but…but he could sense that this wasn’t over. No, he may not be the demon he was, but he still had power, he could sense it, and he wasn’t about to let the satyr get away with this. He sucked on the monster’s cock, and he realized that it wasn’t only cum he was drawing from him–it was his sexual power. He sucked, and too late, Ken realized something was wrong. His muscles began to atrophy, his form softening and fattening up. In a panic he tried to pull himself away from the demon’s maw, but his fangs clamped down on his cock, sucking harder, and his balls, his massive bull balls, the demon was draining them dry, until the shriveled up entirely, leaving him as nothing more than a steer, a fat hog who collapsed next to his new, demonic master, licking the filthy stone folds of the demon’s body, and the satyr just watched, slack jawed.

Something was wrong–he needed to play a song, he needed to get out of this mess, but something was holding him in place, and it was…a stench. The demon’s rancid musk held him in place, and then began drawing him closer to him, the satyr’s mind slowly degrading as he approached, all thoughts beyond servicing his filthy master disappearing from his mind, but when he knelt down to clean him, the master pushed him away.

“Please…please master, please may I serve you?” the satyr groveled.

“Release me from this stone curse, and you may serve me until the end of days, slave.” the demon said, and the satyr whipped out his pipes, undoing his old work, the demon’s stone skin softening into real flesh, red, but covered with muck and filth. When the satyr finished, he dug into the demon’s folds, reveling in the joy’s of service, and the demon took the pipes, opened his maw wide and swallowed them whole.

Grinning, the demon gave a lilting whistle, the satyr’s powers of song now his own, and he felt himself gain enough lightness that he could move. There were still three men in the house after all–and he ought to make sure that they were all fully under his control before resting.

*

None of the fraternity pledges returned to campus the next morning, and despite a citywide search for the four of them, not a single trace of them was found, not even when the police searched old Greywall Manor. However, that isn’t to say that the four of them were gone, by any means, but the demon was biding his time, and building his might, until he could begin expanding his influence beyond the house.

Ken, the piggish minotaur, and the satyr were now the demon’s personal pets, generally following at his heels, eager for a chance to serve the master, who eclipsed everything else in importance.

As much as it pained the demon to do so, he needed to keep both Dan and David muscular, and working the furnace. However, he did enjoy making it impossible for either one of the men to ever clean themselves, and the two are now lovers, or rather, David is Dan’s bitch, the ugly troll happily servicing the bigger brute’s cock whenever he gets a chance, as well as serving as their toilet on their twenty hour work shifts.

Bob, however, was much more to the demon’s liking. While he was sad to see Butler go, he decided that having a human puppet around might prove useful. Indeed, in a few months, when an eccentric, obese redneck named Bubba Bob, who’d recently won the lottery, decided to buy Greywall Manor and convert it into a bed and breakfast, the town didn’t really mind. In fact, they hoped that the new addition would improve the local economy, and make for a few positive changes around town. But they had no idea what sort of changes the demon had in mind.

***

Thanks for all of your suggestions and participation! This was a whole lot of fun, and something I’d like to do again in the future. However, for now, I need to focus on some commissions, but don’t expect the blog to be silent.

Alright, sorry for the long period of silence–it’s been a busy few weeks. That said, let’s get this story finished!

***

He couldn’t keep up–he just couldn’t. Dan was huffing and panting as he shoveled coal into the furnace, the flame always calling for more–more heat, more power,but Dan just couldn’t keep up, no matter how fast he went, and even in his muscled form, he was growing tired, and the flame wasn’t happy–it wasn’t happy with him at all, but all he could do was shovel as fast as he could.

At the top of the stairs, David sat, hmming quietly to himself as he watched Dan work away, one hand tracing the horns on his head, as he considered his next move. It wasn’t Dan giving him pause–he knew he could take Dan under his control in a heartbeat–no, it was the furnace, the center of the house’s power which had him worried. The flame was nearly as great a trickster as his master–and if he wasn’t careful, he could be undone. He decided that the best course of action would be sabotage, and so be began a low tune, matching the pace of Dan’s work, the muscular man naturally falling in step with the song, and then, when David was confident that he was ensnared, he began a slow decellerando, watching as Dan struggled to move quickly, but his feat couldn’t leave the pace set by David’s music.

Below, Dan could sense that something was wrong. He knew he could move faster than this, and yet it was almost as though he the air were made of molasses, and the flame–oh was the flame angry with him now. Fear gripped his heart as Dan realized he was failing in his duty, but there was nothing he could do, and though the flame tried to urge him on, there was nothing Dan could do as he slowed to a crawl, and then froze in place, David holding his single note as he watched the flame in the furnace die back, running out of fuel in a matter of minutes, until it was just a flicker once more.

He’d done it–he’d really done it. David danced down the stairs now, knowing that the furnace was too weak to tempt him while his master’s song protected him, and spun a little jig around Dan’s still frozen body. “So Dan, this is where you disappeared to, I see. Well, don’t worry, you’ve been found, and goodness, with a body like yours, I’m sure my master would love to play with you. So how about the two of us march out of here and pay him a visit? It’s over now, the demon has lost–so let’s go play!”

David raised the pipes to his lips, ready to begin a new song when a flare of fire erupted from the furnace, striking the wooden pipes and incinerating them to ash in a moment, and immediately, the songs enchanting David and Dan unravelled, the massive worker free to move once again, as David stumbled back, free of the satyr’s influence, the horns gone.

“You hurt the flame,” Dan growled, stalking towards David, “You hurt the flame, and now I gonna hurt you!”

“Dan, fucking snap out of it man! We have to get out of here,” he said, scrambling back, but he was too slow. the giant grabbed him by the ankle and hauled him back, dragging him to the furnace burning weakly, but far from dead. David, lacking the protection of the satyr’s magic, found his eyes pulled to the fire, and hatred–so much hatred burned there, anger at what he’d done, at how he’d almost undone all of the demon’s work, and that hatred poured out into him, and he felt himself changing. Like Dan, he too packed on a massive amount of muscle, but he actually shrank to a little over five feet, his face morphing inot that of an ugly troll, greasy hair and beard growing out his head and face as his brain emptied of will and knowledge. He’d done a bad thing, a very, very bad thing, and he needed to be punished, he needed to pay for what he’d done–he could see that now.

Together, the filthy muscular men started shoveling, and together they could shovel far more than Dan had managed alone, finally allowing the furnace to reach it’s full potential, every vent in the house blasting heat, raising the temperature to sweltering. Bob, busy feasting under the ghost’s supervision, barely noticed, too far gone in his new life to even notice that the satyr’s song was no longer compelling him onward, and Ken, under the thrall of the master was also unaffected, though they all heard the roar of excited triumph from upstairs. The demon was loose to roam the house, and the satyr, out in the garden lost some of his joyous demeanor. He’d hoped to avoid this, but there was no helping it. “Come on, pet,” he said, to Ken, his newest monster, “Let’s go finish this once and for all.”

***

Alright, here we are–the final battle, and only one of our antagonists can come out on top. So, who’s it going to be?

1) The demon wins out in the end, by a) transferring the stone curse to the satyr and Ken, leaving them trapped as statues in the garden, or b) his magic simply overwhelms the both of them, reducing them to his subservient monster pets.

2) The satyr wins out in the end, by a) Ken killing the demon, while the satyr absorbs his powers, making him the master of the house and everyone within it, or b) he uses a song to ensnare the demon, making him a demon of gluttony and sloth, instead of wrath and domination.

No matter what, this next chapter will be the last one, so pick well! What do you guys want to see?

Alright, sorry I missed a post on Wednesday, I’ve kind of been mulling over where in the hell to go with this story, since it’s evolved into a bit of a monster, not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. Still, it does mean that I’m not entirely sure how to direct it towards some sort of climax, though I can feel a climax building–it’s kind of strange. Regardless, way more people seemed interested in following Ken into the garden, and as far as preferred TF’s, the pig idea edged out a slight lead, though I might take it in a more minotaur direction–who the hell knows anymore. Gargoyle voters, don’t despair, Gaynerpig gave me a good idea, and you’ll have a chance next round to make it happen.

***

Ken, his feet moving beyond his control, danced his way out the back door, into the garden, and found himself drawn towards the ramshackle stable a ways off from the house. He could hear the song in his head growing louder as he approached, and it took him a second to realize he was actually hearing the song. Someone else was playing, or rather as Ken discovered a moment later–something else was playing it. There, still perched on the barrel, was the satyr, playing the song on a second set of pipes, and listening to it, Ken felt the attraction to filth increase by magnitudes he couldn’t even grasp.

“Ah, a simple composition, though I must admit, it’s rather effective. I’d say that my little faun has been doing rather nicely, wouldn’t you?” the satyr said, somehow managing to speak without interrupting the lilting tune.

“What…what did you do to him? To us?” Ken said, groaning as he felt himself release another load of piss into his soaked jeans, unable to stop himself.

“Still, I can’t help but feel like it’s just a theme. How about we add a few variations, to make it more fun? Now, it looks like the house wanted a cowboy, but I’ve always fancied cowmen myself.”

The song shifted, it’s previous lines growing twisted and warped, though still recognizable, and Ken felt his body warp and twist with the song. He grew taller, his muscles ripping through the clothes the house had given him. The lower half of his body started filling it with a long, foul smelling coat, his feet thickening and hardening into two massive, cloven hooves, a long tail whipping out behind him as he gave a snort, two bull horns pushing out from his skull.

“Ah yes, that’s better, but still…hmmm…a bit boring, I think, how about another variation…on top of that one? Oh yes, I like that…” the satyr said, and warped the tune a bit more, a second wave of changes crashing into Ken. His face, at this point relatively unchanged, started morphing into a chubbier version, his nose flattening, resembling a pig’s nose, two tusks growing out of his bottom jaw and curling up over his upper lip. His ears, too flattened and became piggish, and while his now seven and a half foot frame didn’t lose an ounce of muscle, fat began filling in as well, growing into a firm, thick barrel gut and chest. Lastly, his still human cock started to twist, almost as though it were attached to a corkscrew, and pulled up into a sheath. Snorting and grunting like an animal, his human sensibilities nearly destroyed, Ken grasped his new cock and started jacking it, not even noticing as his tail lifted, Ken shitting onto the stable floor like a common barnyard animal–though he was hardly common, the satyr thought with a laugh.

Finally, the satyr stopped playing the song, leaving Ken there, snorting and horny, and the satyr leaned back on the barrel, putting his legs up. “Well come on big boy, why don’t you give that new piggy cock of yours a test drive?”

Ken didn’t need a second invitation, strutting forward and ramming his cock home with no pomp, rutting like a true animal, the satyr directing and encouraging him to new heights of pleasure. In his head, there was a kernel of Ken left, but no shame, no human sensibility. Why should he care about modesty or self control? He could only thank David, for showing him the way, and he knew that sooner or later, he would be fucking his old friends hole long into the night, under the sway of the satyr’s song.

***

Alright, let’s go back to David, who I’m sure has found his way to the basement by now, but what might happen down there?

1) The satyr wins, through David, and he succeeds in killing the boiler’s power, but does David a) change Dan in the basement, turning him into a sex crazed beast, perhaps a rat, or b) lure him, and also Bob, out into the garden for a couple final transformations.
2) The demon has a ninth inning comeback, and the boiler overpowers David, and a) he becomes Dan’s assistant, both of them shoveling enough coal to allow the demon to amass enough power to directly confront the satyr, or b) the boiler absorbs David, sending his spirit into the house, when he ends up inhabiting a gargoyle, who flies down to confront Ken and the satyr.

What do you think? No matter what, I think we’ll only have a few more episodes left, so choose wisely–this is the end game. Thoughts?

Well, we ended up with a slight lead for 2a, but my favorite suggestion came from flame-of-all-chaos:

Option one with A has the main point with B as a worry Butler will have as he is forcibly gourged

Essentially combining option 1a and 1b, pushing it into the lead, and which sounds hot to me.

***

Butler, in control of Bob’s fatter, and now much cleaner body, headed towards the basement, the house happily allowing him passage, and Bob slowly began to recognize the areas of the house he’d explored earlier in the night, and Butler could sense his host growing, agitated. Still, it was of no concern to him–he was firmly in control, though that song he’d noticed after putting Bob in his clothes was still there, and still nagging at him, though he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t able to simply get rid of it.

He passed through one of the houses several dining rooms, when Bob’s nose caught the scent of food–the same pot he’d gorged himself on at the beginning of the night, and Butler suddenly felt control ripped away from him, as Bob’s fat frame, of it’s own volition, surged into the kitchen, nearly slathering with hunger, and it was all Butler could do to keep the reins on and hold Bob back from the massive pot on the stove.

“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself,” the chef said, “Couldn’t resist a second helping, could you?”

“Chef, what in…what in the hell did you feed him?” Butler asked, feeling Bob’s stomach heave with hunger, “I can’t…the master needs us for a mission, we can’t stop to eat!”

“Butler? Is that you?” the chef asked, “Well you old bat, how in the hell are you? Well, I don’t think you can complete a mission on an empty stomach, right? Besides, you were always such an uptight asshole, I think a good feeding might help loosen you up.”

Butler felt his control beginning to slip again, and Bob’s mind had lost all rational focus. It was hungry–that’s all that mattered, and as Bob’s mind lost focus, descending into an animalistic fervor, the song that had been plaguing Butler started growing louder, slowly working against his bonds of control, until after a few moments, Butler suddenly found himself without control. Bob’s body stumbling forward, taking the spoon the chef handed him as he passed, returning to the pot he’d eaten from earlier, and downing more of the gruel, moaning in gluttonous pleasure.

In Bob’s head, Butler worked to try and regain control, but it was like the song had isolated him inside Bob’s head, and he quickly realized that it had done more than isolated him, it was attacking him–changing him. It was then that he realized what kind of mistake he’d made–the song, it wasn’t just any song–it was satyr song. In his lust for Bob’s bigger body, he hadn’t bothered to think about what had made him bigger, and now that he’d fallen into the trap, he didn’t know what he was going to do. The song was wearing away at him, shifting his personality bit by bit, and as it did, the clothes on Bob’s frame started changing too.

Butler’s suit, already covered with much down the front, was slowly simplifying, as Butler himself was worn down and ripped apart by the satyr’s magic. The suit’s coat shifted from expensive Egyptian cotton and became flannel, the arms shrinking up into a cut off vest. The shirt’s buttons disappeared as the fabric grew more worn and aged, the sleeves also shrinking up until it became a massive wifebeater stretched across Bob’s massive belly. The pants shrank up into a pair of cut off jean shorts pulled tight against Bob’s inflating thighs, his belt barely able to hold them up, and they still left a good amount of ass crack exposed in the back, and last, the perfectly shined dress shoes morphed into muddy combat boots.

Butler, now, was no more–or rather, he was still there, but his new name was Bubba. His master was no longer the demon upstairs, but the song stuck in Bob’s mind. He would serve the song, and serve Bob as his filthy clothing, helping push him deeper into the life David had composed for him in the theater. Bob, his hunger a bit slated, as he cleaned the bottom of the pot, came to realize that it was futile to try and resist what David had done to him. His gut growled in hunger, swelling a bit larger, his body quickly reverting to its grubby, unwashed form, and he turned to the chef, and asked, “Ya got any more? This here gut a mine is just gettin’ started,” he said, and let off a massive belch.

The chef grinned, “Well, I do love a man who can eat. Let me see what else I can whip up for you.”

***

Well, with Butler and Bob distracted for the moment, I suppose the question is what will happen when David finally makes his way to the basement, or, we can always check in with Ken, and see what’s happening with him out in the garden.

1) David finally makes it to the basement, when he confronts Dan and the boiler. Either a) David’s song wins out in the end, enchanting Dan away from feeding the boiler, and returning the demon to stone, or b) the boiler devours David’s spirit, burning the power and giving the demon access to the rest of the house.
2) Ken finally makes it to the stable, and finds himself on his knees before the satyr, who decides our cowboy needs a few more changes. Maybe a) the satyr decides he needs to be a literal cowboy, and transforms him into a minotaur who will live in the garden’s labyrinth, or b) the satyr becomes a fat pig slave, happily spending his life groveling in mud and filth, or c) a possibility mentioned earlier, he transforms him into a gargoyle, an ally in the fight against the demon master of the house.

Send me your preferences in the reply box, or as an ask. What do you think?

Well, by a pretty solid plurality, you all wanted to see David run into Cowboy Ken, and have David come out on top, so how about we see how raunchy our new cowboy can get, eh?

***

David danced down another hallway, humming to himself, and paused at a junction, looking down a couple of hallways before jigging off down another. He was lost, unfortunately. He’d hoped to find his way to the basement to try and do his master’s bidding, but the house seemed…determined to keep him away from there. The hallways inexplicably curved away from where he wanted to go, sending him away every time he got close. Still, he was too happy to be angry–he was still reveling in how he’d changed Bob earlier, and was starting to wish he’d find someone else to draw into the satyr’s fold. And then, almost in answer to his prayers, he turned the corner and nearly barreled directly into Ken–old, grizzled and chewing tobacco with a bushy mustache–but it was Ken none the less. The cowboy just gaped at his old friend, horned, naked and dancing in place, spit some black juice onto the floor, and said, “David? What in the world happened to you?”

“To me?” David said, laughing maniacally, “Why, I met the master, of course.”

“The demon?” Ken said, “You met the demon too? Is that where your horns came from?”

“The demon is no master!” David shouted, turning suddenly angry, “There is only one true master–perhaps it’s time for you to meet him as well, and see for yourself.”

“No, David, look–I just want to get out of here–we need to get help man, this place is fucking us up.”

David, however, wasn’t listening, he was circling Ken, looking at him, composing a new song in his head for his one time friend. “My goodness, you sure are a dirty cowboy, Ken…I wonder what would happen if we made you the raunchiest cowboy in the west.” David lifted the pipes and started playing a new song, a tune similar to any number of old west cowboy songs, but with…a raunchy edge–that was the only way Ken could describe it in his head, and he could feel the song moving through him, into his shoes, making his boots tap in time to the beat.

“No…No David, stop it–what are you doing?” Ken said, the song making him throw his arm up in the air, and the stench–it was far worse than he’d smelled before, and yet…it turned him on just as much as before, maybe more so. His feet were dancing along now, his mind swept up by the song, spiraling into the satyr’s control, tobacco spit leaking out of his mouth, yellowing his mustache and staining his shirt. The song’s introduction ended, and erupted into a hot spray, Ken noticing a moment too late that he’d heard himself start pissing his pants, looked down, and sure enough, a dark spot grew quickly down one leg of his jeans. “Shit!” he cried, and hauled his cock out of the fly, but he couldn’t stop the stream–the song had made him abandon all control, and instead he pointed it up, soaking his shirt, pushing it out faster, bending over and drinking from the fount, swishing the piss around with his tobacco, the flavor disgusting, but he needed more, so much more. He started jacking his cock, snorting like a beast, feeling his new foreskin pull up over the head, quickly forming a thick coating of cheese he would occasionally lick from his fingers.

David ended the song there, pleased with Ken’s new disgusting desires. “Hey Ken, I have something for you…” David said, brandishing his own cock. Ken got down on his knees and took the head in his mouth just in time to catch the blast of piss David unleashed down his old friend’s throat. He most of it down, allowing some of it to spill out of his mouth with his dark spit onto his now even filthier clothing. When the stream ended, David turned around, presenting his ass, which Ken started licking at, jacking off his cock all the while, shoving his tongue as deep as he could, and after a couple of minutes shot a load of cum onto the floor beneath him, David turning around a nutting directly onto the filthy cowboy’s mustache, watching his crazed friend lick it up hungrily.

“See? That’s much better, isn’t it? Now, I bet our master would love to have a cowboy like you in the stable to play with–why don’t you go pay him a visit?”

“No, no David, please…I can’t…” Ken said, but the song had already taken over his feet, dancing him down the hall towards the garden, the cowboy both terrified and thrilled about what might wait for him in the stable. David in the meantime, realized he’d been distracted by the house on purpose, and annoyed, set off for the basement once more. The house could only deter him for so long–he’d find his way to the boiler before too long, and then the demon will be stone once more, and his master will rule the house once again.

***

Well, it looks like Ken is heading out back, but I think we should check in with Bob and Butler next. Here’s a few possibilities:
1) Bob and Butler run into some trouble on their way to the basement. Either a) they run into the chef from earlier, who demands Bob join him for the meal he escaped from earlier, despite Butler’s objections, or b) the song stuck in Bob’s head starts making some changes to Butler, perhaps into Bubba.
2) Bob and Butler make it to the basement. Either a) sensing that Dan can’t shovel coal fast enough, the boiler overpowers Butler, transforming him into a partner/assistant for Dan which gives the demon freedom to move about the house, or b) the satyr’s song interferes with Dan’s mind control, freeing him from the boiler’s compulsion, and the boiler enslaves Butler and Bob as the new shoveler, or c) Bob regains control from Butler with the song’s help and breaks the boiler, giving him and Dan a chance to escape, and returning the demon to stone.

What do you all think?

Well, dang, I guess that brought out a few responses. Tallying everyone’s opinions, it was a tie between the pipe and the chew, with cigarettes close behind, but we already have one gentlemanly character roaming around, and I’m kind of curious to see how a cowboy might handle David or the satyr out in the garden.

***

Ken wanted to stay with what he was familiar with–cigars or cigarettes–but the panel was apparently more worn out that he’d expected, and he couldn’t make out what button ran which program. Finally, he settled on one he was pretty sure would give him a cigar, and he pressed it. The button lit up, and then a moment later, the entire humidor sprang to life, the cranking of gears and the rush of steam as he saw a series of mechanical hands behind the glass begin moving. Two entered into the room where he was and pushed him into a chair, while the third selected a tin of chew from the racks which Ken could see labeled as “Cowboy Chew.”

That definitely wasn’t what he’d wanted. He had a few friends who chewed, most of them on the baseball team , and he’d always found it pretty disgusting, watching them spit that black shit all the time. Sure, they could take it wherever they wanted, but he still tried to fight against the hands holding him down. As he fought, the hand holding the tin entered the room, followed by two more. While one of them opened up the tin, the third swung close and gripped Ken’s jaw, forcing his mouth open, and allowing the hand to start packing the chew into his mouth, jamming as much of the black leaf in as it could, packing it on both the top and bottom, filling one cheek and then the other. By the end, Ken had so much tobacco in his mouth that he could barely speak, much less chew, and the flavor wasn’t horrible–it was smoky, almost like a campfire, and reminded him of pastures. As his saliva mixed with the leaf, the rush of nicotine to his system settled him down, and black juice started running out of his mouth, the hands taking the juice and rubbing it in all over his body, one hand staying by his mouth, encouraging him to chew faster, milking his cheeks of spit.

There was nowhere the hands didn’t go on his body with the spit, working the dark liquid into his chest and stomach down to his crotch and cock, hands pushing him forward to slather his back, lifting his arms to coat his pits, even his ass crack, legs and feet were soaked before long. Looking down, Ken saw that the spit was drying quickly, leaving his skin looking weathered and tanner than before, but also quite a bit hairier than he remembered being, a dense thicket of hair on his chest and belly, a massive bush under each arm and around his cock, as well as up and down his arms and legs. The area around his mouth was itching as well, as a grey horseshoe mustache sprouted there, and then two hands grabbed his nipples and gave them a twist, the sensation surprising him so much that he choked back and swallowed half the leaf in his mouth.

Two of the hands worked quickly to replenish the leaf in his lips, but the hands never let up on his nipples, and he felt sick from the leaf in his belly, but also a bit…warm and tingly. Looking down, his body was expanding, muscle packing onto his frame, thick pecs beefing up underneath the meaty, half inch long nipples the hands were still working over, and a third hand moved down and started stroking his cock, another fondling and pulling on his balls. The sensations were overwhelming, and when another hand lifted an arm and turned his head towards his pit, the musk there powerful and raunchy, he felt himself drawn to it, sniffing himself as he chewed, now swallowing more spit than he was putting out, fueling his growth even more, muscle spawned from years of manual labor, aside from a hard gut on his midsection. He felt his heavy, low hanging balls start contracting, and he shot a load of thick, smelly cum all over his belly, the hands rubbing it in, before retracting back into the machine, the program having run its course.

Ken sat more upright feeling…good. Really good, in fact. Before, his old body had felt exhausted, and while he didn’t think he’d gotten younger, he still felt full of energy, which was a welcome change, and he did enjoy his new physique, and his new musk, he thought, taking another whiff of his ripe pits. He stood up, stretching, happily chewing on the tobacco in his mouth, and spit a big wad onto the floor, grinning, his teeth now stained yellow, and saw a pile of clothing had been left by the hands next to the door. First, a dusty flannel shirt which he could barely stretch over his chest, which was then tucked into a pair of tight, grimy jeans. There was no underwear, but he didn’t mind going commando–it did a much better job of showing off the nine inch snake and bulging sack in the crotch of his pants. Next, a cracked leather belt with a heavy buckle, two well worn cowboy boots and last much hardly least, a classic stetson hat. He grinned, imaging what he must look like, but still, it was an improvement, and he checked and found an extra can of chew in nearly every pocket, and with that, he left to explore the house, and see if he could finally get out of here.

***

Alright, I think it’s time for someone to run into David, so here’s a few detailed options.
1) David makes it to the basement first, and finds Dan there, and either a) David fattens and slobs up Dan until he can no longer shovel coal, cutting the boiler off from it’s power supply, or b) Dan resists, giving Dan quite the fucking, the boiler burning the satyrs influence from David’s body, making him Dan’s dirty assistant.
2) David and Bob meet on the way to the basement, and either a) David reinforces the song still stuck in Bob’s head, forcing Butler to transform from a well tailored suit into the clothes of a filthy redneck, reverting Bob to his former, slovenly glory, and perhaps even further than before, or b) Butler uses his compulsions to collar David, rendering him into a subservient house pet.
3) David and Ken run into each other, and either a) David pushes Ken’s new raunchiness to new heights, making him the filthiest cowboy in the land, or b) Ken wrangles David, dominating and taming the beast in him, making him his slave.

What do you all think? If you have another idea, feel free to suggest that as well, otherwise, which of the six options might you like to see?

Hmm, well, your comments seem to be waning a bit on this interactive, which doesn’t mean I’m going to stop it by any means, but I think I’ll try to give a more specific “prompt” in the future. However, if the comments taper off still, I’ll just start taking a bit more liberty with the story myself, or maybe just put it on hiatus for a little while, we’ll see. Regardless, I did like Ken as a tobacco user–how about he stumbles upon a very fancy humidor?

***

Ken struggled up from the floor, too slow to follow Butler, possessing the now fatter Bob, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow them anyway. In fact, as far as he was concerned, this was a much better turn of events. Sure, he was old. Really old, he thought, looking at himself in the mirror, but who knows, maybe there was something that could be done to reverse the change, but in truth, all he really wanted was to get out of here, if he could. Luckily, he could remember the way out of the servant’s quarters and back into the house proper, and while he thought about looking for clothes, he decided it would be safer if he just went naked, as strange as that was. Still, after his experience with Butler he didn’t think any clothes here would be safe, and Bob’s clothes had been too filthy to be tolerable.

As he walked the house, listening carefully to try and avoid running into anyone new, he couldn’t help wishing he had a cigar to smoke, or anything that might calm him down. He had tobacco on his mind so much, that when he caught a hint of smoke on the air, he followed the scent without really thinking about it, into the wing of the house reserved for guest quarters. Hallways there were lined with bedrooms and private studies for the people who must have visited the previous owners of the mansion, but his nose was pulling him to somewhere in particular, and he recognized the glass door of a walk in humidor from a ways down the hall.

He did his best to contain his excitement while he peered into the room–it looked to have a massive collection of cigars, pipe tobaccos, chewing tobaccos and cigarettes, more than he’d ever seen before, and when he opened the door, the rush of air indicated that the room must have maintained it’s seal all of those years. Curious, he stepped inside, proping the door open with his foot, but it slammed shut of it’s own volition, trapping him within.

“Welcome to the guest humidor,” a recorded voice said, “Please select a program for your smoking experience.”

Ken looked at a panel next to the door, where a number of buttons were flashing, all of their labels illegible from years of neglect. “Do…Do you have any master’s blend cigars?” he asked.

“That tobacco is not available to guests.” Ken sighed, disappointed, and then tried to open the door, but it was sealed shut. “Error, guest user has yet to select a program. Please select a program.”

Ken felt worry come alive in his stomach. Apparently, the humidor wasn’t going to let him out until he smoked something, but he didn’t really want to find out what might happen to him if he did, and he couldn’t make out most of the labels to see what might be safe, and what might be extreme. Still, he could see that they were collected into four groups, apparently for pipes, cigars, chew, and cigarettes. It looked like he didn’t have much of a choice–now what program did he select?

***

Here’s a few possibilities, based on some feedback I’ve gotten.
* A cigar experience which turns him into a domineering leather bear.
* A pipe experience which turns him into an old, proper gentleman.
* Some chew which converts him into a grizzled, raunchy cowboy.
* A cigarette which gives him a skinhead makeover.

Or anything else you guys can imagine–don’t be shy! What have you got for me?

Sorry for the lack of updates again, blarg. Real life always seems to pile up at the worst times. Regardless, this next change is going to come from a chat I had again, and involves a run in between Ken, now possessed by Butler, and the now radically altered Bob. Let’s see how this is going to play out, eh?

***

Butler wasn’t very happy with this body–not very happy at all. He stopped to rest, huffing and puffing a bit, wishing his Master hadn’t made this body so damn old–it just wasn’t suited for this kind of exercise. More annoying than that, Butler just didn’t fit him all that well. He was too tall, and not nearly fat enough. He’d shifted his form into standard suit fabric and reformed his crotch and ass, hoping the more standard clothing would help, but it was just as awkward. He wanted to finish his mission so he could return to the master so this body could receive a few needed alterations. He was noisy too–rumbling around in his head, trying to reassert control against Butler’s possession, not that he was strong enough to regain control, but it was still annoying.

Having regained some wind, Butler set off again, heading down a staircase and into a room, where his breath caught in his throat. Bob was there, sitting in a chair, trying to figure out what to do next, after his insane run in with David earlier. He was so hungry, and the song was still stuck in his head, and the garden, always pulling him to the garden. Sitting still was all he could do to not dance his way out the back doors towards whatever might await him out there–he didn’t want to know. The sudden appearance of Ken, dressed as an uptight butler in ill fitting clothes, looking almost forty years older than he should was almost a welcome distraction. “Ken? Is that you? What the hell happened?”

Butler stopped short, a bit speechless. He was perfect–filthy, granted, but perfect beyond that. Well, then again, he was pretty tall, but still, Butler could tell that he would be a much better fit than this old fuck he was wearing at the moment. “It’s…it’s a long story,” Butler said, borrowing Ken’s voice and memories, “What happened to you?”

“David–something strange happened to him, I don’t know. And I…there’s this song, I don’t know…”

“Look,” Butler said, helping Bob upright, “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed in something cleaner, and then everything will be alright. Come along.” With the words, he added a bit of compulsion, and Bob followed him obediently, weaving through the rooms to the servants’ quarters, where Butler helped him into the shower. Bob appeared rather resistant to washing himself, and it took quite a bit of force for Butler to get him under the water and lather him up.

After a shower, and much cleaner than before, Bob stepped out, naked and shivering, and said to Ken. “You aren’t Ken–what are you? How are you doing this?”

“Shhh…” Butler said, “Don’t you worry about that. Now, let’s do something about this hair of yours, and then we’ll get you dressed.” In Butler’s mind, he could hear Ken screaming, trying to warn his friend and tell him what the suit had planned, but Bob was helpless against Butler’s compulsion as the suit set him down in front of a mirror, pulled out a barber’s kit, and went to work. Butler kept the hair on Bob’s hair fairly long, but slicked it back with a thick pomade, before going to work on his beard, taming the wilds and trimming it back to more modest proportions. “Yes, that’s much better. Now, are you ready to get dressed?” Butler said, laughing, and before Bob could get up and run, the clothing began snaking it’s way off Ken’s old body and wrapping itself around Bob.

He fought harder than Ken had, but Butler wanted him, wanted to take this big, delicious body as his own, and soon, Bob was pushed back into the recesses of his own mind, Butler adjusting his suit as best he could, his posture rigid and upright, pushing his hair back into position, chuckling. Yes, the suit still didn’t fit perfectly, his legs in particular needed to shrink quite a few inches, but the youth and vigor! He loved it.

“No hard feelings, Ken,” Butler said, leaning over the weakened old man on the ground, “But you and I just weren’t meant to be. Now, I’m off to serve the master!” Butler said, skipping off, whistling a song he found stuck in his head that he just…couldn’t get rid of for some reason, but no matter. It was probably nothing. Ken, on the bathroom floor, struggled up, weak, but thankfully free. Now, if only he could find a way out of here. Still, looking down at his naked frame, he should probably find something to wear first. He saw Bob’s filthy old clothes on the ground and grimaced–there must be something better than that, but did he really want to take a chance on some clothes he might find in the servant’s quarters?

Elsewhere in the house, David chuckled and danced a short little jig, still pleased with Bob’s transformation. Still, there must be more havoc that he could wreak. From the heat, and the satyr’s memories, he figured that the demon of the house, the satyr’s old enemy, was likely awake, especially since the boiler was up and running. Still, perhaps a little sabotage was in order, and with a cackle, he set off in search of the basement.

***

Alright, who would you like to follow next?
* Ken is back in the servant quarters, needing some clothing. Does he try on Ken’s old clothes, or perhaps something else he finds there? Maybe he just wanders around naked instead, stumbling upon some as yet unexplored room in the house, perhaps a library, a guest room, or something else.
* Bob and Butler are heading for the basement, but there’s that song stuck in their head that might lead them astray, perhaps out into the garden, or maybe making a few changes to Butler?
* David is heading for the basement, but who gets there first, or do they meet along the way? If he gets there first, what sort of song might he play for Dan?

Well, with apologies to you-know-who-you-are, I’m going to take the suggestion he gave me over IM and, well, render it fairly unrecognizable. However–it was your idea that got me there in the first place, so that counts for something, right? Right? Besides, I think that we need satyr David to claim his first victim.

***

Bob was terrified. It had taken a few minutes, but the realization that he was now obese was finally dawning on him–and he had no idea what to do about it. He’d never been a fat kid–he’d never been anything but thin. He’d always hated fat people, ridiculing them, bullying them, and now his sudden membership into that category against his will was wearing on him. It didn’t help that it was exhausting. As he searched for Dan in the house, he’d had to stop several times to catch his breath, and he noticed something else–he was getting hungry. Still, he could control it–and he pushed his way into a new room–a small theater with both a small stage and a projection screen with plush seats, and they just looked too comfortable to not take a seat.

Little did Bob know that he was being followed. David had come in from the garden and spotted his former friend bumbling through the house, and had tailed him for a while, fingers running across the pipes in his hands, a devilish grin curling his mouth, wondering what song to play for his chubby friend. He, of course, knew all about Bob’s hatred of anyone fat–hell, David had joined in on the ridicule several times, but now he had a different opinion. Fat wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was a sign of indulgence, of lost control, of joy. But Bob, well, he was far too controlling, too rigid. He needed a new outlook to reflect his larger stature, and David had just the song in mind to help him along, and when Bob slumped into the theater, David knew that he just had to put on a little show for him.

Bob sat there, catching his breath, but was caught off guard when the lights cut out, before a spotlight appeared on the small stage, and the projector turned on, illuminating the large white screen. A moment later, David stepped out into the spotlight…or the strange man David had become, naked, horned and leering at the chubby Bob. “David? What in the…what happened to you?” Bob asked, moving to get up, but David played a short, soothing ditty, and he slumped back into the chair, unable to budge his eyes from his old friend and the screen.

“Ah, Bob, don’t worry about what’s happened to me. No, I think that we should look at what’s happened to you. See, I’ve composed a song for you, my friend, I call it, ‘An Ode to Bob: The Corpulent, Lustful and Raunchy.’ Do you like the title? I do. There’s even a short film that goes with it. Let me play it for you–you just lay back, enjoy.”

With that, and before Bob could object, David began to play, dancing an odd jig as his fingers flew across the pipe, and the projector suddenly flickered, a movie playing along to the song, in far greater quality than should have been possible from that old equipment, and try as he might, Bob couldn’t move or look away as the film came into focus, the song drilling it’s way into his mind, and the movie showed him–yes, him, sitting in the booth of some fast food restaurant, stuffing himself, wrappers strewn around him, and as the movie played, his image stuffing burgers and fries down his throat as fast as he could, Bob heard his real belly growl, and start…growing. Yes, really growing, pushing out and down into an apron, his moobs thick and heavy, chins descending, his thighs growing together straining the sides of his jeans. The hunger–it was overwhelming now, and Bob no longer could formulate any reason why he shouldn’t indulge it. His mouth started watering, even, as he watched his image feast, and he wished it could be him eating instead.

David’s music came to an end, there was a short silence, and then he launched into the second movement, the scene on the screen fading away, replaced by another, the now fatter Bob in a dirty bar, throwing back shots of cheap whisky, when he catches the eye of a dirty looking biker just as drunk as he is. Before Bob can process what happens, the two of them are in the filthy bathroom, the biker shoving Bob up against the wall, the two of them sharing a drooling kiss, and the display has Bob harder than he’s ever been in his life. Unable to help himself, he reaches underneath his huge gut, massaging his short but very thick cock as the biker flips his image around, yanks down his pants, and rams his cock deep into Bob’s chubby ass. The music increases in tempo as the biker thrusts, Bob stroking in time to the music, and the three of them, cum simultaneously, and David’s song segues directly into the third movement, the image fading out once more, before returning to sharp focus.

There is Bob, naked in a trailer, lounging in a recliner, fat sprawled around him, watching porn, swigging whisky directly from the bottle. The place is filthy–pizza boxes and filthy laundry littering the floor, and Bob’s image looks equally filthy, his fat matted with a thick pelt, his greasy hair long, a thick, wiry beard framing his lecherous grin, as he jacks off his cock, bouncing as he does, driving the dildo he’s using deeper into his ass. The music is tighter now, and Bob realizes he’s trapped, the music cutting him off, driving him towards this image, towards that filthy, obese slob, his present and his future, and then the song ends, and the lights come up.

Bob gasps, seeing his new self for the first time, his ill fitting designer clothes gone, replaced by a food and cum stained tank top, showing off his ample body hair, a pair of tattered camo shorts, a yellowed jockstrap plainly visible through the ripped out crotch, and a pair of second hand combat boots on his feet. He hefts himself up–finding it far more difficult than he had imagined, shuddering a bit as he felt the buttplug in his ass shift, and said, “David, what did you do? What…uh…fuck…” his words trailing off as he watched his friend stroke his thick, long cock up on the stage. Unable to resist, Bob stumbles forward and swallows the shaft to the hilt, the three movements of his song running through his head, his cock hard and leaking into his jockstrap, and David thrusts a few times and shoots down his old friend’s throat, before laughing and bounding off, his fun finished.

“Wait! David, where did–help me, tell me how to fix this!” Bob shouted.

“Why would you want to fix it?” David shouted from the shadows, laughing, “Our master will love you, just you wait!”

Bob called for David a few more times, but he was alone again–the trajectory of his life fundamentally altered, and then his gut groaned, the hunger nearly bringing him to his knees. He needed to eat, but he couldn’t give in, could he? No, he needed to resist…right?

***

Well Bob seems to be coming along quite well, eh? What shall are chubby filthy ex-basketballer stumble upon next?

• Unable to resist the hunger, he makes his way back to the ghost chef’s kitchen.
• In a desperate bit to clean himself up, he finds his way to the bathroom.
• Or perhaps he finds himself drawn out into the garden, where he will meet the master satyr himself.

Or something else–got anything?

Sorry for the break in updates–work was nuts, and I had to take a slightly impromptu personal trip. Now, let’s see what we might have in store for Ken in the bedroom.

Well, we had some people asking for a butler, like Changememakeme (and also on IM):

Not sure if this went through, but maybe a bulter in service to the demon, who awakens others. Since the satyr has a pawn of his own. Maybe in the end a fight between lust and dominance

and also some requests for a sex pig, like Furryhairyguys:

Ken sees a leather fetish outfit in the closet, and by putting it on he hopes to gain enough dominance to be able to confront the now loose demon. However, it turns him into the demon’s little leather slave pig. The demon needs an underling like the satyr, so i feel like it would fit.

So…how about a butler sex pig minion for our stone demon?

***

Ken struggled to his feet, the energy sapped from his body and looked around the room, wondering if there was anything he could use to help put this right, but he was interrupted by a loud roar, and the stomp of the stone demon clomping back down the hall, into the bedroom.

“Not enough heat, not enough power–I’ve been frozen too long, for the house to have fallen into such disrepair,” the demon said to itself, then turned to Ken, “Looks like I might have another use for you, thief.” Ken tried to scramble away, but the demon walked over, grabbed his hand, the stone uncomfortably hot, and dragged him over to the closet. “Now, I’m sure it’s in here somewhere…” the demon said, “Butler? I have someone to wear you!”

Ken stared into the mass of clothing in the closet, terrified, and watched as something began…squirming it’s way out of the mass of tightly packed clothing. It looked a bit like a suit, but the material was all wrong–shiny instead of the dullness of cloth, but Ken didn’t have much time to think about it, because as soon as the outfit was free of the closet, the demon released him and the clothing sprang, tacking Ken to the ground. He did his best to fight it off, but the clothing pinned down his limbs and pulled itself on his body, and he saw that, indeed, the outfit was designed to look like a designer suit, but it was all one piece…of leather. Well, there were a couple of pieces missing. His crotch and ass were both exposed, and the suit ripped his boxers away into tatters, leaving him naked inside the outfit, which really didn’t fit all that well. It was meant for someone shorter than he was, and also for someone quite a bit fatter, but as soon as the suit was in place, his head–it felt like the suit was mounting an invasion into his very being. In fact, the spirit which inhabited the suit was taking control of Ken’s body, crowding his mind and being into powerless parts of his mind, and the butler took control, Ken’s lips and nose curling up and giving off a snort, before falling to it’s knees in front of the demon.

“Thank you master, thank you for freeing me, for giving me someone to wear, thank you,” the butler said, dropping down and kissing the stone hooves of the animate statue.

“I have a task for you, butler. Something has reactivated the boiler, but it isn’t capable of putting out enough power for me to roam the house freely, in my current state. I need you to go down into the basement, see what is happening, and report back to me, so I can figure out how I might be able to…improve it’s efficiency. Understand?”

“Yes master…” the butler said, then let out a little moan of need, “Please…master, please can I suck your cock? And this body, it doesn’t fit me well sir, could you change it please?”

“Rewards, my servant. Serve me well, and you shall have my seed, and the body of your dreams. Now go!”

The butler raced away from the room, Ken trapped behind his own eyes, able to see what’s going on but unable to do anything about it, struggling against the power of the butler, but unable to muster any sort of meaningful resistance.

***

Alright, Ken is now occupied for a few minutes–shall we turn our attention to Bob? I’ve already gotten a few suggestions from all of you regarding him–but anything else you might like to see?