Jamesi2 gave me something interesting for Ken, which might take him in a different direction:

Smoking is actually drawing the dominance out of him, expelling it into a spirit that forms from the smoke. S&M elements ensue.

and Changememakeme added a bit later (reinforced by a conversation with a friend on IM):

I think the Dan’s shoveling the coal should bring something in the house to life. A demon? A picture? A statue?

along with Furryhairybears:

Perhaps Ken stumbles upon some fetish gear in the master’s sweet, maybe influenced by a demon or ghost. It makes him more dominant or submissive, which ever way you feel is appropriate.

Hmm…how about a demon statue? And then, as Pervmindgonewild suggested:

Ken finds the real Master of the house. The cocky jock challenges him for ownership of the house and it’s trapped guests.

Although I don’t think Ken is really going to be much of a match for him–then again, I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.

***

The flame, it needed more–it needed so much more fuel, and it needed it immediately. Dan began shoveling at an ever more hectic speed, ripping across the cellar floor in a mad dance of shovel and soot–the pipes around him groaning from the pressure, and he felt a chill run through him–one he couldn’t at all explain, and he tried not to think about it too hard, focusing ever more intensely on his work. The steam, however, diverted to a set of pipes which hadn’t been used in ages, rumbling it’s way to the upper floors, to the master’s suite, where Ken found himself drawn with strange urgency.

He knew where he was going–how could that be? Ken walked past rooms, and without opening the doors, he knew what was, or what should be, behind each door. The knowledge was disconcerting, and yet also empowering. He was important, he was…he was in charge. The bursts of dominance had eased in their force, but were coming more often, smoothing out into a steady stream shoving Ken onward. Finally, after a series of winding hallways that would have befuddled anyone other than him, he opened a set of ornately decorated double doors, and found himself in a towering suite at the heart of the third floor. Only some of it was a bedroom–in fact, the space was dominated by a large laboratory, and in the midst of the space–a statue.

Men walked closer to the statue, and saw that while it looked like a man–the truth was a bit more terrifying. Looming over the racks of test tubes and flasks was a hulking figure, demonic in cast, with cloven feet, a tail caught in mid whip, and two fierce looking horns curling from his temples. Walking around the statue, he saw that the figure was naked–with a substantial cock and thick balls hanging low, and he felt–not envious exactly, but the dominance rushing through him was insulted by something existing with a more sizable package than his own. Then, he felt the floor rumble as steam shot through the floor and walls of the room, the air heating to sweltering levels, and the statue started to…move.

It looked to be caught in mid motion, and slowly at first, it completed it’s movement, picking up speed, it’s brow creasing in confusion as awareness returned to it. “No…” it’s voice rumbled slowly, “No, I–How long?” As the heat peaked, the status reached a state of pure animation, and it spun around, facing the sweating and panting Ken, who was stripping away his outer layer in an effort to stay cool. “That accursed satyr–you–what month is it? What year is it?”

“Who are you to speak to me in such a way?” Ken said, his voice strangely similar to the demon’s own, “I am the master of this house, and you will address me as such!”

The demon growled, and saw the butt of one of his old cigars sticking out of Ken’s mouth, “Those were not yours, thief!” he said, and faster than Ken could focus on him, he smacked the young linebacker across the face, sending the cigar flying from his mouth, and knocking him back a few paces. “Now tell me, weak thing, what is the date?”

“October–October…2012…” Ken muttered, and the demon stomped and cursed.

“All those wasted years! I’ll get him for this, I’ll teach that fucking beast to mess with the master of this house,” the demon said, and advanced towards Ken, “but first, I believe I have to teach you, thief, a lesson. I will have back what you took of mine, and take something precious of yours as well, I think. How about your youth?”

He stepped forward, Ken scuttled back, but too slow, and the stone claw closed around the neck of his t-shirt and the demonic statue lifted him up to it’s face, their lips inches away, and when Ken opened his mouth to scream, the demon did the same, and–inhaled. All of the smoke Ken had drawn into him, all of the cigar’s dominance was sucked from his lungs, but also something else. He could feel his life force ebbing, like a candle dimmed by a sudden rush of wind, diminishing and growing weaker, and when the demon released him, he crumpled to the ground, exhausted.

“Master of the house,” the demon said, chuckling, “at least now you’re old enough to perhaps look the part!” and then walked to a strange funnel in the wall, which he spoke into, “Boiler, heat the house as much as you can–I can’t afford to become frozen again, not until I’ve dealt with that trickster.” Leaving Ken on the floor, he left through the double doors, Dan throwing ever more coal on the boiler’s flame to heat the entire house to a swelter.

Ken, released from the demon’s grasp, felt some sort of life return to him, but he was sore, and weak. He pushed himself up off the floor, and saw a mirrored wall and his reflection…he was–old. His hair white, his hairline recessed into a horseshoe, his muscle mass deteriorated into fat. He was a geezer, a decrepit old man, and he felt like it. But that demon, he had to do something about that thing, but what? What could possibly be of use to him and his friends? He looked around the room, and something caught his eye, but what?

***

Yes, what indeed? Maybe it was:

1) A closet? What sort of outfit might the now older Ken put of to replace the clothes he’s grown out of?
2) Something in the laboratory? A serum, a machine, it could be anything, really.
3) Something else? A nap on the bed? A book from a shelf?

Give me your suggestions/requests below, on in an ask, or send me an email at wesley_bracken@yahoo.com. What have you got for me?

Furryhairybears said:

He tries to resist, but will fall to desire. Maybe becoming some sort of slave to the satyr, or gaining some features of a satyr.

That sounds like a good idea to me. There were also a lot of calls for futile resistance, so let’s see how long David can hold out.

***

It was a different song than the last one which had drawn him into the stables. That one had been jovial and uplifting, and while it had drawn him to the satyr sitting on the barrel, the compulsion had been more suggestive than mandatory. This new song, however, was far more…compulsory. The tempo was hectic and quick, moving quicker than David could think, binding him up in it’s notes and rhythms, worming it’s way inside his head, telling him to dance, let himself go, and obey the satyr.

Still though, David was ready for it this time, refusing to dance or even move, but he needed something to fight back. It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he could counter it with a song of his own, and so he started singing the college football teams fight song back at the satyr. Somehow, the satyr managed to laugh and talk as he was playing, the words almost appearing right in his head as lyrics:

“Ho, so someone has a little fight in them, I hear, well let’s see you handle this.”

The notes flew from the pipes, catching David’s own song in his throat, drowning out every other song in his head, and before he even realized it was happening, he was singing along to the satyr’s tune, unable to stop himself, the feet he’d tried to keep stationary suddenly moving along with the wild beat, and the song, it was everywhere. He did his best to keep it out of his head, but it felt pointless to resist, all of a sudden. No, not pointless, it was more than pointless, it was…he didn’t want to resist at all, did he? No, he just wanted to dance, to dance…and…and fuck, and drink, and pleasure, oh the fucking pleasure of it all!

The satyr wasn’t playing the pipes anymore, but the music was still going, and David realized that the song was still playing inside his head, and he didn’t want it to ever stop–he didn’t want to ever stop, but he was so horny, and he saw the short, thick cock emerge from the satyr’s sheath he thought nothing of bending to his master’s will, and getting down on all fours, allowing the satyr to mount him, the song growing even louder, and when the satyr came, it was accompanied by a surprising tremendous pain in his head, as two curled horns sprouted from his skull.

The pleasure, all of the pleasure. The satyr dismounted, and David rolled over onto his pack, jacking his cock wildly until he shot a load all over his shirt, but he didn’t care–why was he even wearing clothes? He stripped down, still human in form, but far more comfortable in his natural state, and the satyr let out his bleating laugh again. “Good, very good–I think you might give the master of the house a run for his money,” he said, and tossed David the panpipes, “Go, use these, please yourself and others–especially the master of the house–such a sour fool, make him dance until his feet are bloody stumps.”

“Yes my lord,” David said, and then let out a wild laugh and skipped off, the song still running inside him, stuck in his head, but others as well, so many songs to play, such pleasures to enjoy. He slipped back into the mansion, buck naked, wondering who he might find, and who might dance with with him next.

***

Well, that might make things a bit complicated–but maybe we should leave David for a bit…unless we want someone to dance with him.
1) Ken is still looking for the Master’s Suite. I’ve gotten some better ideas from you all here, so thanks for that.
2) And we still have the bigger Bob to contend with–whatever could he find on the main floor?
3) Something else? We still have Dan shoveling coal, and the satyr thrall running around as well.

Two notes: First, I’ve heard that there’s a character limit on the reply box. If this is hindering your creative capacities, then split it into multiple entries, or put it in my ask box–I’m good with that too. Second, if you don’t have a tumblr account, and you use the reply box, chances are I’m not getting your suggestions. I don’t know why this is. Just make an account–it’s fast and free–or send me an anonymous ask, which I know I get even if you don’t have an account.

So, what have you got for me?

Alright, I’m just going to be brutally honest–your suggestions for Bob and Ken are boring the hell out of me–either give me some details, or give me something new I haven’t written/seen written five hundred times already. Still, I did like what pervmindgonewild had in mind for David:

Maybe David, trying to get as far away from the upper floors as possible will go outside. There’s a stable out there…

And coupling that with gaynerpig’s comment earlier:

My penis says he should go to the kitchen because that’s always delicious, BUT the garden is unexpected. Perhaps something about “mythical” creatures there. Fairies that trick him into a terrible fate, like becoming one of the Manor’s Gargoyles? Idk.

Mythical, eh? Well, let’s see what David might find out there…
***
Bob had been right–something very strange was going on in this house, and David sure as hell wasn’t going to stick around and find out what it might be–he wanted out. However, every door leading outside was suddenly locked tight, and every window unbreakable–including the one the four pledges had climbed in through. Now, the brave cocky jock was actually scared–maybe all of the stories were true. He’d thought it was just supposed to be a joke, something to weed out the pussies form rush week, but…well, he had a feeling that none of them would be leaving tomorrow if the house could help it. Finally, however, he found a door leading outside–but his momentary happiness was dashed, when he realized the door had opened up onto the massive, hedged in garden back behind the house.

Still, it was better than being in the house, he figured, and so using his cell phone as a flashlight (first checking to see if he had service [he didn’t]) started searching the hedge and fence for any sign of weakness. He’d been walking for a few minutes, long enough to stray a decent distance from the house, when he first heard the song borne on the wind, a light, lilting tune, and suddenly, his worries didn’t really seem so bad after all, and…and he almost felt like dancing. Skipping and jumping along with the beat, he found himself unable to stop smiling as he followed the sound, allowing it to pull him towards a nearly derelict stable.

It was pipe music of some sort, like a flute, but when he ducked inside, even the joyful music couldn’t uproot him from where he froze in the doorway. There, sitting on a barrel by a window, illuminated by the moon, as yet unaware of David’s presence, sat a satyr, pan pipes in his hands playing the jolly tune, and David paled. The beast flicked it’s eyes over to David, and stopped its song.

“Well, well, does the house have more visitors? It’s been awhile you know–it must be hungry,” the satyr said, before bleating at what David assumed to be humor, but he didn’t find the thought of the house eating him to be all that funny.

“Who–what, I mean, I thought…”

“Oh, don’t act too surprised–I’m sure you’ve already seen stranger things by this point,” the satyr said, then looked down, “Ha, well, I suppose I am pretty strange, aren’t I?” He hopped down off the barrel, coming up to David. He was shorter than the jock by at least a foot, and yet, there was a sense that the satyr still had complete control over the situation. “What do you say, should I play you a song, little man? Something to ease your worries, and free your mind? You could always stay with me, you know–I get rather lonely out here in the garden, with only the gargoyles for company.” He gave a sniff at David’s crotch, and snickered, “smells like someone has already had one round of pleasure–how about another?” the satyr grabbed David’s crotch, gently caressing his cock through his jeans, and the human moaned.

“No, please…I just…I just want to get out of here, do you know a way out?”

“Ha, there is no way out, not for you, or anyone else who trespasses on Greywall Manor. Now, shall I play you a song? Something to…help you along, perhaps?”

The satyr raised the pipes to his mouth, and started his song.
***
Uh oh, sounds like David might be in trouble. What’s the brave jock boy going to do to get out of this one, or if he gives in, what’s the satyr’s special song going to do to him? And feel free to keep coming up with ideas for Ken and Bob–but try to be a little less…obvious this time. Give me a challenge here, eh?

Raccooncub said:

I think the study might be a good idea. Seems like a good idea to sit back for a pipe, a cigar, and a blowjob.

Although I think we’ll hold off on the blowjob. I’m trying to take it a bit slower with the story–they do have all night in the house, right? Still, that doesn’t mean we can’t have something else blow…

***
Upstairs, both David and Ken were caught off guard by the lights in the hallways springing to life, and the groan of hot air rushing through the walls, though Ken was more unnerved by it than David was, who figured it was just Dan or Bob trying to scare them. He had been trying quite a few doors in the hallways, trying to force them open, but many of them seemed to be locked tight, and those rooms he could open were pretty much bare, aside from a few random pieces of furniture covered by sheets.

“Well damn,” Ken said behind him, opening a door with ease, “Hey David, take a look at this room. Freaky…”

David was a bit annoyed–he’d tried that door seconds earlier, and it had been locked tight–did Ken just have the magic touch or something? Still, he followed the linebacker into what appeared to be a very large and elaborately decorated study–well, morbidly decorated he supposed, with any number of slightly rotted animal heads hanging on the walls. In fact, the whole room stank of…well, just stank. David really didn’t want to go in there–it didn’t feel like he…belonged in there, but Ken didn’t seem to have the same feelings. He was actively exploring, poking around the massive desk, when he laughed, “Ha, fuck yes!–hmm…Master’s Blend eh? Haven’t heard of the brand…still, says it’s Cuban–nice.”

David looked over and saw that Ken was rolling a cigar in his fingers, and David rolled his eyes. Coach was always getting on Ken’s back about his smoking habit, but the linebacker showed no interest in quitting. In fact, he’d told David and a few other friends that smoking actually got him horny. “Dude, do you have any idea how old those must be? Seriously–let’s get out of here, this place is giving me the creeps…” David said, but saw that Ken had already pulled out his lighter and had the cigar smoldering between his lips.

“Creepy? I don’t think so–it feels…comfortable, actually. Damn…this is…I think this is the best thing I’ve ever…ever smoked,” Ken said, and he felt a strange, sudden urge rise up when he looked at David, an urge to dominate, to control, to fuck–and then as fast as it came, it was gone again, and he shook his head, forgetting it almost immediately, aside from the sudden hard on in his pants. And both of them turned to the doorway when they heard a voice:

“David! Ken! Where the hell are you two? There’s some freaky shit going on here!”

It was Bob, yelling about something downstairs, and David sighed, “Come on, let’s go see what has his panties in a twist,” he said, but pulled up short when Ken shot back.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, giving me orders, boy?”

The voice was brash and commanding, and…terrifying, sending a real chill down David’s back, and he whirled around, staring at Ken, still smoking the cigar. “What did you say?”

“Huh? Did I say something?…I don’t…I think we should go see what Bob’s problem is. Come on, boy,” Ken said, brushing past David and heading down the hall, David catching a whiff of the acrid cigar smoke, wondering how his friend could handle something that strong…strong, and manly…and…with a shudder, David felt his cock suddenly unload a massive wad of cum into the front of his jeans.

“Oh…fuck…” he groaned, gripping the doorway for support as the orgasm ripped through him. “I’ll…I’ll catch up in a second…sir.”

“Fucking now, boy!” Ken shouted back, and David felt his feet immediately follow, the wet spot growing on the front of his jeans, as he followed Ken back down the stairs.

***

They found Bob in the foyer, growing more and more frantic–and much heavier than when they’d last seen him. The basketball player was no longer thin–in fact, he was looking rather rotund. The gut Bob had sprouted in the kitchen had only kept growing as his meal digested, and he now had a healthy set of moobs, thick thighs, and the start of a double chin, and at his six foot five height–he was huge, though no longer athletic. Heaving for breath and sweaty from head to toe, he stopped when he saw Ken and David, relieved that nothing horrible had happened to them.

“What…what in the hell happened to you, Bob?” David asked.

“There’s…There’s some weird shit going down here–there’s this…ghost chef, and Dan’s gone, and–”

“Hey, calm down,” Ken said, and immediately, Bob’s heart rate eased up, relief flooding through him, “Look, this isn’t a big problem, alright? Here, let’s all split up and look for Dan. You two split up and look around here on the ground floor. I’ll check the upper floors, in case he went up there…yeah, I need…I need to go up there…somewhere…” he said, taking a deep draw off the cigar, and looking around, he saw the others had already left, automatically obeying his orders, and he trudged back up the stairs–not sure where he was going, but…well, he knew he’d find whatever he needed up there…somewhere.

Who should we follow (for the moment):

1) The now fatter Bob, trying not to think about the hunger gnawing at his gut?
2) David, still rattled by his spontaneous orgasm?
3) Ken, who perhaps stumbles into the master’s suite upstairs?

Don’t be afraid of details–they tend to draw my eye more than anything else. Also–don’t count Dan out either–who knows when or how the new furnace master might resurface?

From Anonymous:

I think you should persue Dan and Bob, going into the basement. Lots of engineering stuff like coal fired boilers, and Carbide gas generators in old mansions: I visualize the Winchester Mansion in San Jose….

Bob sets off into the house, Dan following a bit behind, trying to be cautious. It isn’t that he’s scared, exactly–ok, well, he’s totally scared, he won’t try to lie to himself. While he tells himself that he doesn’t believe in any of the occult rumors around the place, something still just…isn’t right. He’s busy thinking when he realizes he’s lost sight of Bob, and he hurries ahead, sees a door swinging open, and ducks into it without really thinking, and tumbles down a flight of steps into the pitch black basement, the door slamming shut behind him.

He lay groaning on the stone floor for a minute or two, making sure nothing was broken, before he hefted himself up and looked around, or at least, tried to look around. The room was pitch black, and in the fall, he’d lost track of where he was, so he stumbled off in the direction of what he thought was the stairs, but after a few feet, he realized he was wrong, and he stopped, trying to orient himself. If only he had a light…

A flicker. He’d seen it, somewhere in the dark–there it was again. He stumbled towards the pinprick of deep red light, praying he wouldn’t trip and hurt himself, and after a few yards he saw that the light was coming from the inside of a large, complicated furnace. How in the hell could there even be a flame, after all these years? He didn’t know, but it was a light–but not nearly enough to see anything helpful–he’d have to feed it…yeah, feed it, he needed to feed the flame, but with what? Sensing his need, the flame grew brighter, almost as though it were flexing a muscle, and he saw that, piled all around the walls of the room was coal–tons of it–just what he needed to feed the light, and make it bright again. He grabbed a nearby shovel that the light had illuminated and started heaping the coal into the furnace, the light churning through the fuel almost as fast as Dan could shovel it in, like a man possessed, but he had limits. His slender build wasn’t made to keep up with manual labor, and he grew tired after only a few minutes, the light ebbing bit by bit.

“No!” Dan said, “No, don’t go out, don’t die, I’m sorry–I’m just tired, so tired, please, don’t go out, I need you…”

The light seemed to pause for a moment, and there was a sudden explosion of light which threw Dan back against the heaps of coal, and the light dimmed back even more than when he’d started shoveling.

“No! No, don’t go!” Dan said, his voice gruff and raspy, and he hauled up the shovel, and felt an enormous amount of energy pumping through him, and he shoveled even faster than before, quickly nurturing the flame back up to a healthy, raging inferno as bright as the sun, and only then did he wipe his coal dusted brow, and bother looking down at himself. He was huge–probably a foot taller than when he’d fallen down the stairs, and no longer slim. The explosion had changed him, packing him full of muscle that strained against the filthy set of coveralls his clothes had become. He now looked like he was in his mid-thirties, and the light of the furnace flickered madly in his eyes. The light was so beautiful–he couldn’t believe that someone had almost allowed it to go out. Certainly he couldn’t leave–no, he would stay here, and serve the flame–feed it, and it would care for him, and he resumed his shovelling, hearing the hungry furnace slowly bring the house’s mechanical guts back to creaking life.

***

In the dining room, Bob raised his hand to block the sudden, piercing light of the chandeliers which burst forth. “Dang, who turned on the lights?” he joked, but realized that his words had fallen on no one’s ears–Dan was gone. “Dan?” he asked, “Dan? Now where did he run off to? He didn’t leave did he…” Bob walked back through the way he’d come to the first room, but saw that the window they’d climbed through was completely repaired. Unnerved, he headed back into the house to find the other pledges–he had a sneaking suspicion that they all needed to get out of here, and fast.

Where does Bob go to look for Dan, and what does newly empowered house have in store for him?

1) The kitchen–gosh he’s hungry.
2) The garden–maybe there’s a way out?
3) The library–he thought he might have seen someone’s shadow in there…

Or whatever other ideas you have–lay them on me.

“Come on, I found a way in,” David said to his three fellow pledges–Dan, Bob, and Ken–and together, the four of them made their way around to the back of the house, where one of the windows was broken. Dan used a rock to clear out the rest of the broken glass, and the four climbed their way in one after the other, falling into a large room of the manor.

This was their task–spend a night in Greywall Manor–the infamously haunted house which the town was known for. It was a well known tourist attraction, but no one was allowed inside, after it was revealed that a number of tours had simply gone missing. No one really thought it was haunted–the reports were generally regarded as publicity stunts, but this year, the frat had decided to put it’s pledges to the test. They were to get in, and take pictures of themselves every hour in different parts of the house to prove they stayed the whole time.

The rumors as to what was haunting the house were numerous. The old owners were rumored to be a family of powerful wizards and warlocks, but that was only one aspect of the legend. There were also rumored to be ghosts roaming the halls, and even strange monsters had been sighted on occasion in the manor’s windows. Still, they were all just rumors, but that didn’t mean the four pledges weren’t scared.

Well, at least one of them wasn’t scared. David, an up and coming star of the football program knew that all the rumors were bullshit. Still, if he needed to spend a night in a “haunted” house to make the damn frat happy, he would do it. When he saw Dan shaking a bit, he snickered–of course the thin fag from the swim team would be scared. Actually, Dan wasn’t gay–but he was certainly the metrosexual response to David’s more brutish figure. Bob was tall and quite thin, a member of the basketball team, and Ken was the biggest of the group, a linebacker on the football team with David.

“Alright, so I guess we should take a picture, eh?” he said, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of the other three, and uploading it to facebook. “One down, seven more to go. So, we have an hour–how about we split up, explore a bit, and meet up back here in a little for another picture?

“Sounds good to me,” Ken said.

“Well, we probably shouldn’t go alone,” Dan said, “You know, for safety’s sake.”

David rolled his eyes, “Well fine–I’ll go with Ken here, since he’s not a pussy, and you two fags can go off on your merry way.”

David grabbed Ken by the arm and hauled him away, the two of them banging up the stairs to explore the upper floors, leaving Bob and Dan alone. “Come on, let’s look around a bit,” Bob said, and Dan, not wanting to seem like a total chicken, followed after him, to take a look around the ground floor.

Who should we follow for the moment, and where should they explore?

1) David and Ken exploring the upper floors (bedrooms, studies and bathrooms)
2) Dan and Bob on the ground floor (kitchen, library, and the basement)

Give your opinion in an “ask,” find me on IM, or use one of the reply boxes I’ll post today or tomorrow on the blog.