Hank had been so wrong when he’d walked into the leather bar that evening, in his new, shiny pants and jacket, scanning the room. He’d imagined himself a master. He had thought that looking the part was enough to gain a slave–to gain respect. He’d been wrong–the Masters had been kind enough to show him that.

No, his place, where he belonged, was beneath them. Not next to them, on his knees like their many slaves, waiting to be called upon and served. No, he was lower than even them, only worthy of crawling along the filthy floor, licking up their spilled beers, piss and cigar butts, but most importantly, cleaning the filth from the bottom of their boots.

They stepped on him without paying him any regard, and he bore their weight like a good worm, orgasming helplessly whenever their soles crushed his worthless groin. One day, maybe, one of these leather gods would take him as a slave. Perhaps, even later, he might earn the right to become a Master himself, but for now, he finally knew his place.

He never knew where the first one had come from. It had come in an bubble envelope in the mail, and when he’d opened it and pulled out the filthy, yellow stained jock, he’d dropped it, disgusted beyond belief. He could…smell it. He had immediately thrown it in the trash, and then gone to wash his hands, but that smell. He couldn’t not smell it, and he’d gone back, again, and again, and again.

Now, his collection was growing. Soon, one wasn’t enough–he’d needed more. At first, he had tried to make his own filthy jock straps, soaking them in his piss, sweat and cum, but it was never enough–it was never right. It needed to be someone else’s filth for him to get off. When the link arrived in his email, it was a godsend. A site devoted to young athletes auctioning off their smelly jocks to old men like him. The bidding wars were outrageous, but he had to win, no matter the cost, and all orchestrated by the jocks, getting rich old men addicted to their stink. They had to pay for booze somehow, after all.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.