Dream Camp (Part 5)

Barry had to fuck his boy twice–he couldn’t help it, it was like he was on autopilot. As he woke up and realized what must have happened, that the wrong dream had come true, he tried to stop himself, but he simply couldn’t. His boy needed a good, proper loving after all, and Barry was the only one who could give it to him. Even though they had woken up ahead of the rest of the troop, they were some of the last people out of the tent, Barry having to get used to his new size…but he only realized just how large he’d become once he stepped outside, standing to his new height of eight feet for the first time.

Everyone around them treated him like normal, but he felt like a freak, wearing this adult uniform bulging with his fat body, his cock shoved down one leg of his pants…still leaking. Everyone….everyone just seemed so damn small, all of a sudden. Christian followed after him, and his boy was shorter than him as well, but still taller than all of the other scouts–even Max and Mr. Hoffson. “Thanks dad–I’ll see you after breakfast? Before the hike?” Christian asked.

“Huh?” Barry growled, “Oh, of course–you know how I get when I don’t give my boy a good fuck every few hours.” He grinned, but he wanted to scream. The words were falling out so naturally. Christian looked happy as could be, and went off to join the rest of his patrol in cooking breakfast. Barry took a step or two to follow him, but realized that he didn’t belong there, not anymore. No…he was a leader now. In fact, he was the assistant scoutmaster, second to Mr. Hoffson, though he knew all the scouts liked him better.

He looked over and saw the adults had congregated around their own set up–a much nicer one, he’d always noticed, and were busy cooking their own meal, or rather, Eric was cooking–he was the best at it, and enjoyed it the most. Barry lumbered over, poured himself a big mug of coffee, and tried to sit at the picnic bench, but he couldn’t bend his legs under the table. He ended up turning around and sitting backwards on the bench instead, though his knees still came uncomfortably high, the wood groaning loudly under his weight. He had no idea how heavy he might be–even at his new height and build he had a substantial apron of fat hanging off of him. If he had to guess, he was probably somewhere around 600 pounds.

“Need some cream in there?” Eric asked, taking a break from cooking to come around in front of him, his uniform shirt hiked up over his lower set of tits. Barry grunted, but put his cup under a nipple, letting Alex shoot a bit of his milk into his coffee. He swirled it a bit and gave it a sip–immediately his cock was hard, his skin felt flushed. Fuck, if that’s what a real man’s milk could do, no wonder Eric was careful about not letting just anyone drink straight from the tap. He could almost feel Mr. Hoffson’s scowl (or rather Kyle Hoffson–he had always just been Kyle to Barry now) drilling into the back of his neck. It was much, much easier to shrug off the disapproval, now that he knew how much bigger he was than him, and Kyle knew it too. Barry looked over his shoulder and met his now fellow leader’s gaze for a moment, until Kyle looked away, cheeks reddening slightly, and he could…smell something, coming off him. Something else that was making him a bit horny all of a sudden, though not as much as Eric’s cream, of course. He took another sip, enjoying the jolt now that he could anticipate it, and looked over at the patrols getting ready for the rest of the day, the amulet heavy around his neck. Was he…happy about this? What about his own dad and mom? What about his old life? He didn’t know how to be an adult–hell, he barely knew how to be a teenager. It did feel good though, and looking at his boy over there…fuck, he was handsome. Best thing in his whole damn life. He didn’t want to go back–then what would Christian do without him? The amulet seemed to be pretty good at sorting things out, so he’d just have to wait and see.

The patrols finished their breakfast, and while they were cleaning up, Barry felt the need rising up in him again, pulled his boy into their tent and gave him another deep fuck. Everyone knew what they were doing, but for whatever reason it didn’t faze them in the slightest–the only person who seemed to recognize anything strange about the whole thing was Kyle, but even he couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, was the matter. Barry could sense his resistance, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. Still, something was gonna have to be done about him–just like Barry had always planned, but had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought. The amulet…it didn’t give him a good feeling–when he was near him, it turned cold. Still, Kyle wouldn’t be a problem for too long, he figured, and Barry unloaded another massive load into his son’s hungry hole with a growl heard throughout the campsite. A growl which made more than a few scouts unexpectedly horny, even though few were willing to admit it to themselves. There was one scout who had remained focused on the tent the entire time, however–Max, Kyle’s buff son, had been staring and licking his lips, trying to understand the raging hardon he had and the…the musky smell in the air. He…he needed something, he needed it bad. He caught his dad staring at him staring at the tent, and he looked away, embarrassed, but he had the strangest feeling in his gut, that something was going to happen. It might be good or bad, but either way, he wanted it, and he wanted it bad–whatever it was.

Dream Camp (Part 4)

For a long while, nothing. Barry is there, and yet he isn’t, because you can’t be nowhere. He can sense this nowhere is his space, that nothing will happen tonight, that he will just sleep, but something is coming. He can feel it, drawing closer, the sensation of two universes colliding, and then they do. He is now somewhere, but he doesn’t know where. It feel alien. He feels like an intruder. This isn’t his, he knows that, but doesn’t know what it means.

A voice, someone crying. He looks up, and Christian comes through a doorway, eyes red.

“Have you seen my daddy?”

Something is wrong. He shouldn’t be here. Barry can’t move, but his lips are moving, he is speaking.

“I don’t know where he went.”

Christian is close now, no longer crying.

“That’s ok, you’re here. You can be my daddy now.”

Barry tries to tell him that he can’t, but he can’t respond. He can, however, feel himself changing. Growing taller, growing older. He is naked suddenly. He sees his gut sprouting hair, first brown, like his, then changing black, matching Christian’s hair, then sprinkled with white. He feels so strong, but also so out of proportion.

“You’ll be the biggest daddy, the manliest daddy. You’ll never leave me.”

More hair is filling in, so thick down the center of his gut that he can’t see the skin, tingling all over his back and down to his ass. His cock is growing, now close to a foot long, his balls heavy and churning with cum. He’s growing taller as well, the room growing with him, but Christian is small. Small, so small, he needs to be taken care of, his son, he needs to care for his son.

“You love me daddy. You love me so much, more than anyone else, ever.”

Care for him. Love him. Make love to him. Kiss him. Kiss his son, taste him, make him feel safe, make him feel good. He loses track of what happens, but his boy is with him, and his boy is safe. He loves him, he loves him so much, he’ll love him forever…

Barry wasn’t sure what time it was–from inside the tent, it looked like morning twilight, but Barry couldn’t hear anyone outside, which meant, thankfully, that it wasn’t quite time to get up yet, and he rolled over, finding his son in the sleeping bag next to him, and pulled him close. He knew that it was wrong, that whatever had happened in their dreams, that he needed to try and fight this, but why would he? he loved Christian, he loved him more than anything…but he felt…small, though his son didn’t stay that way for long. As Barry embraced him, he felt his son start expanding–becoming taller, thicker, hairier. Still not as big or hairy as his dad, but he had most of puberty left to get through, after all. Slowly, gently, he pressed the head of his huge cock to his boy’s pucker, slipping it inside, his son accustomed to taking his dad’s massive girth–hell, Christian was the only man Barry had ever fucked to the hilt, who’d had enough practice to take all fourteen inches of his cock, but that was only because the two of them fucked day and night. Neither of them could help it–their heavy, brimming balls demanded it.

Barry reached around, stroking his son’s eight inch cock, feeling him stir as his dad penetrated him, groaning and grunting, pushing back, eager to feel his dad stuff him full, and Barry leaned in, next to his son’s ear, gave him a deep growl, and said “Good morning, son–I love you,” in a voice much, much deeper than he’d ever imagined coming from his throat.

“Oh…daddy…” Christian moaned, but he only really could focus on his father’s cock in his hole, how much he needed it, how happy he was to finally have a daddy who would never leave him–who would love him forever, no matter what.

The Bathroom of the Lost (Part 2)

It was more than darkness–it wasn’t that he couldn’t sense the world, it was that the world had ceased to exist. He couldn’t see light anywhere around him, he couldn’t feel the floor beneath his feet, but what he could feel was…hands. Or something that could be hands, or could, perhaps, be something hand like. Tentacles? Claws? There were so many of them, so many things touching him, that he couldn’t quite decipher any particular sensation, beyond a general, constant, violation. Whatever they were, they ripped away his clothes, leaving him naked, and began tugging at his cock, sliding…things into his ass and his mouth. The…smell of the bathroom only grew more intense, a filthy stank musk that seemed to press around him like a bubble, and then came something he could only describe as…a presence.

The other hands and sensations, they had felt….small. Disconnected from any sort of agency, but this–this felt like a person, or something person like, inches from him in the dark. There was a…heat, or an awareness of a body, but he couldn’t feel anything when he reached out, trying to touch, or grab, anything solid around him in the void. The heat pressed closer, to the side of his face, and he felt something slimy and thick worm around the surface of his ear, and then plunge inside his head, forcing its way into him, making him scream and go completely rigid, the other being taking the opportunity and forcing their way into him as well, into his ass, his mouth, his eyes, the very pores of his skin, the pressure inside his skull, his head…heating up. He could almost hear a voice, a whisper. It wasn’t words, or it wasn’t words he could understand, but the thoughts and the feelings…he could feel them. A hunger, a desire, a freedom. They were…offering him something. Offering him something, and all he had to do, all…all he had to do was…

The light returned. He wasn’t standing, like he had been, he was crouching in a corner, between two toilets, shaking and sweating and muttering uncontrollably, trying to understand what had just happened to him. He put a hand on the rim of the nasty toilet seat, and his eyes went wide–that…that wasn’t his hand. It was…huge. Large enough to wrap all the way over the thick rim of the toilet, the back coated with hair that ran all the way up his thick, veiny forearm and to his shoulder, where it grew even thicker. He hefted himself up and looked down at himself, at his body. RJ had always been proud of his physique, of being muscled, but he’d never given into the temptation fo drugs. He was proud of being a natural stud–but now, now it looked like he’d been juicing for years. His physique had exploded in size, his thick and solid, stretch marks visible under his hairy body–the fucking hair! He’d kept himself waxed diligently, all his life since he was teenager, but this! He’d never grown hair like this. He shook his head side to side, feeling hair whip around his head–both his short hair had grown into a thick, greasy mane reaching his shoulders, and his beard had filled in across his face–something else he’d never allowed to happen in his life.

Simultaneously, another bank of lights flicked on, and the stranger from before appeared, screaming “–me! Get the fuck off me, you can’t have me, you can’t have me!” It was clear he’d been screaming before the lights had turned on, but why RJ had been unable to hear him, only ten feet away, he didn’t know. His head…felt sluggish, but he could…smell him. He smelled just as filthy as before, but somehow he could smell the man better. RJ snorted, feeling his cock grow hard–and it had grown too. He’d been well endowed before, but now it was easily a foot long, with a thick foreskin shrouding the tip. He licked his lips and started stalking towards him, hungry for a fuck, for what…what he needed to do. The stranger saw him, and backed away, shaking his head. “Oh fuck, look what you let them do! Did you fight them at all? You have to listen, you have to stop! You have to fight it!”

Fight it? RJ stopped his advance, trying to listen, trying to…resist. This body, it was wrong, but it felt, and smelled, so good… “What…happened to me?” he said, but his tongue felt thick, the words falling slowly from his mouth.

“Listen, I’ve been here for…for I don’t know how long. They’re getting desperate, they’re trying to get you to do their work for them, but don’t! Don’t do it. We can fight this together, this place. We can get out! Please, please, just trust me, just trust me, and keep control of yourself, please…”

RJ…he wanted to do what the man said, he really did, but his…his body. It kept walking forward. The man kept talking, but he…he was done listening. He was…smelling, smelling him, how much…how much the man wanted him, but he just didn’t…realize it yet. He could smell the want, and it made him so horny. The man tried to feint past him, but RJ grabbed him by the arm and threw him to the ground, got on top of him, snarling like an animal, ripping away the man’s filthy clothes and shoving his cock in him again, raping him roughly, but this time, this time he could tell something was different.

The man fought, but he didn’t fight for long. He smelled RJ, he smelled what he could give him, how important it was to…to submit. After a few hours, the man wasn’t fighting anymore, he was begging for it, and then, hours after that, he was actively serving RJ while he rested, eyes glazed over, mouth drooling as he drank down his stinking piss, ate out his sweaty, hairy hole. RJ felt good–happy. He was doing it, doing what needed to be done, and when the lights went out over them again, the hands welcomed him back, the presence–it was so pleased with him, so happy with what he’d done, embraced him, making…promises, pleasures for him, for RJ, for being such a good boy.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 8)

Thankfully he didn’t pass anyone on the way to the dorm, though it was difficult getting out his key so he could swipe it at the entrance to the building. Their room was on the second floor, and he must be getting tired faster than usual, because it seemed like with each step up Doug grew heavier, dragging him down a bit more. He stumbled to their door, fiddled with his keys, pushed his way in and unslung his roommate off his shoulder and onto his bed. He was still out–is this how long he’d been out, when it had happened to him before? It hadn’t felt like it had taken this long, but he wasn’t sure. One thing he did know, was that something strange was happening to Doug.

The sensation of him growing heavier hadn’t been an illusion. He’d started off as very lithe, probably one hundred forty pounds on a six foot two frame, but here in the room, he seemed to have lost a bit of height…and he was packing on weight. He already had sprouted a gut, and as Ralph watched, it was only getting bigger…in fact, he couldn’t…look away. Fuck, just seeing his boy like that, he was getting horny. The small clothes were starting to cut into him; Ralph grabbed hold and ripped them off, licking his bearded lips as he did, and fuck, he pushed up one of Doug’s arms, got down on his knees and shoved his nose and mouth in the pit, snorting and licking, feeling a bush of hair sprouting as he did–nearly as thick as his own…and the more he licked, the thicker–and ranker, the armpit became.

No, no! He yanked himself back, unable to understand the feelings washing over him. He couldn’t do this, the guy wasn’t…wasn’t even awake…but the need, the desire was overwhelming him. He passed over the stinking pit and started sucking his nipples, biting and pulling on them until they were thick, inch masses, studded with piercings, and then worked lower to his cock. It was hardening from the attention, and he swallowed it down, sucking it, feeling it grow and expand as he did until it started pushing its way down his throat and was so thick his jaw ached. Then he rolled his boy over, kneading his ass with both hands, feeling it inflate as he did, before spreading them apart and diving in, licking the crack with broad sweeps of his tongue, his spit sprouting thick ass hair as he did, and then started tunnelling into his hole, feeling it loosen at his will. He took deep inhales of smoke and blew it into his ass, and it was blown back into his face as ripe, pungent farts–but Doug didn’t wake up until Ralph shoved his cock inside him. He screamed, and tried to claw away his way off Ralph’s cock, but he grabbed a handful of Doug’s hair, feeling it lengthen so he could get a better grip, yanking back, bucking deep, sinking his teeth and sucking at his boy’s neck, feeling his terror ease into pleasure, until he was pushing back, eager to feel his daddy’s dick inside him. Ralph’s teeth left a strange mark on his skin, it began to discolor in odd shades, and then began to spread out as wild, whirling tattoos around his neck, down his entire back, around onto his chest, and down his arms past his wrists. Ralph’s breathing was turning ragged and quick; he was close. With a low growl he came deep inside Doug’s loose ass, but this was wrong, fuck, what the fuck had he just done? He pulled out early, spurting cum all over Doug’s filthy crack and stumbled back and away towards his side of the room, staring at his roommate, his…boy.

Doug was still moaning and groaning on the bed, but it wasn’t clear whether it was from pleasure or pain, or some strange combination. Now that he no longer had Ralph’s heavy body keeping him down, he could roll over and sit up, cum leaking from his hole onto his sheets, and he looked down at himself, at his fat body still growing fatter, the tattoos coating him, and he looked up at Ralph across the room. He wanted to be angry–he knew he should be angry, but all he felt was hunger, and this strange desire to…to serve. It was overwhelming, his daddy…he had to serve his daddy, and he got off the bed, falling to his hands and knees and crawled towards him.

“Don’t…don’t come over here, I don’t know what’ll happen if you do,” Ralph said, “I can’t stop this, I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

“F-Fuck you…” was all Doug could manage in reply, before pressing his face to Ralph’s filthy boots running his tongue over them, coating it in the filth there, eating it down. He kept…trying to grab his cock, but for some reason it was hard for him to grasp. It certainly wasn’t an issue with it being small–rather it was this…strange idea in his head that he shouldn’t touch it. That he wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Ralph was quivering, looking down at Doug licking his boots clean, feeling these desires rising in him, strange, perverse fantasies. He sucked a deep draw off his cigar, a large cinder falling from the end and hitting the floor–without even needing to be told, Doug scooped it up in his mouth and chewed it down, before returning to his daddy’s boots. He couldn’t stop himself. He aimed his cock and started pissing all over him, watching the stinking yellow run over his head, soaking his long hair and coating his body in filth, Doug shuddering beneath him and licking up as much as he could from the floor, but Ralph reached down after he finished, grabbed his boy by the chain collar, feeling that same odd heat pulse through him, and hauled him to his feet, shoving his tongue in his mouth. After eating his boots, ash and piss it was none too clean, teeth chipped and rotting, yellow with smoke, black with ash, but it tasted…it tasted wonderful. They pulled apart and took a hit off their cigars–though Doug couldn’t remember when he’d actually lit one, and then shared another smoky kiss, grinding their filthy bellies together, Ralph’s hands twisting and yanking on his boy’s nipples, and then one dropped down and started stroking his cock, feeling him spasm and groan.

“How long has it been, boy, since I gave you a good milking?”

“Too…too long daddy,” Doug sighed.

“Well how about we do somethin’ about that, eh?”

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 7)

Doug had heard tales of wild roommates in college, that the “matchmaking” attempts by colleges generally resulting in horrible Freshman combinations, but it was past Labor Day, and he was already wondering how in the hell he could get rid of this fucker. Everything had been fine for orientation, hell, Ralph had actually seemed like a normal, decent guy, but this fucking weekend, what in the hell had happened to the guy from before? He didn’t have a problem with someone being a bit of a slob–hell, he wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy either–but this…mess.

Ralph’s “side” of the room looked like a bomb had hit it, and smelled like it had been a bomb filled with piss. Filthy clothes were strewn everywhere, across the floor, the chair, all of it muddy and messy. His computer had disappeared, replaced by a tool box, his posters of indie bands suddenly biker memorabilia, but how had he even had time to redecorate, when it seemed like he’d spent all weekend out getting drunk and smoking. Hell, it smelled like he’d even been smoking in the room, while he was gone. He’d already tried talking to the RA, but he’d said that unless he did it in front of him, there wasn’t anything he could do, which meant Doug was on his own. He’d tried to just stay away from the room as long as he could, but maybe he just needed to have a fight with the guy, see if he could sort some this shit out before it got even more out of control…but when he returned to the room that evening, Ralph wasn’t there–thankfully–but the room had somehow grown even more disgusting. It was littered with sex toys, leather gear and who knew what else. Disturbed at what might have been happening, he fled the building and walked around the side, when a nearly familiar voice shouted out his name behind him.

Doug looked over his shoulder–the fattest, filthiest man he’d ever seen was panting after him, beard grown down past his waist, hair nearly as long grown down his back. He had a cigar shoved in the corner of his mouth, and was wearing chaps and a vest over some of the most disgusting clothing he’d ever laid eyes on in his life, and the guy looked like he’d gotten in a fight earlier, from the swollen nose on his face. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it was Ralph–his roommate. Part of his head knew it couldn’t possibly be, but it was, and that uncertainty drove him to walk faster, and then break into a jog.

“Wait! Fucker, I just…come on!” the man behind him shouted. Doug knew he could outrun him. He ccould outrun nearly everyone–hell, his performance in track had helped get him into this school with a scholarship, but what was he doing? He’d been planning on confronting this guy, they needed to hash this shit out before the semester got going, if they were going to live together…right? But why…why was someone like Ralph going to…college? He looked much too old for one thing, from the streaks of grey in his hair and beard, which Doug could see better once he turned around, stopped, and let the fat biker catch up to him.

Ralph reached where he was standing, and then doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

“Be easier if you didn’t smoke that shit.”

“Fuck…Fuck you…” he gasped, “I really don’t need that shit right now, it’s been…a really strange weekend.”

“No fucking shit!” Doug said, “What the fuck are you even doing? Our room’s a fucking sty, and I know you’ve been smoking and drinking in there. What the hell is wrong with you? Classes start tomorrow.”

“I…I know that…” Ralph stood up and bent back, but when he did something slipped from the pocket of his vest and hit the ground in front of Doug’s feet. It was a small box, and when it hit the sidewalk it came apart, a shiny chain landing on the ground, with a lock. Doug…couldn’t look away from it, and he bent down to grab it. Ralph tried to warn him halfheartedly, but didn’t move to stop him. His roommate grabbed it and picked it up, feeling a bit woozy and hot suddenly, his heart racing.

“Fuck, I feel…kind of weird…” Doug said, and Ralph, realizing what was about to happen, guided his collapsing roommate into his arms as he fainted–and he looked around. It would be easiest to get him back to their room–so he hefted his limp, unconscious roommate over his shoulder and started for the dorm, not noticing that somehow the chain had gone from being in Doug’s fist, to being around his neck, with the padlock closed, securing it tight, like a necklace…or perhaps a collar.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 4)

He woke up the next morning, later than even the day before, face down and snoring on his side of the room. He…didn’t quite remember what had happened the night before, very clearly. He was still dressed in his overalls, but they were…damp. Or at least the crotch was…and one leg all the way down to his socks. He only had one boot on. Next to the bed were two bottles of cheap whisky, one empty, the other nearly, which did a lot to explain his raging headache…but where in the hell had he even gotten the booze to begin with? He’d gone to eat dinner and stuffed himself for a couple hours, but when he’d finished and gone back outside to smoke…he’d felt kind of antsy, almost jittery…and walked a little ways off campus to a convenience store where he’d bought the whiskey…he thought. Yeah…he bought it all the time. Sure, he wasn’t twenty-one, but nobody fucking carded him, not with the beard and his hair and his clothes. He yawned, and felt something hard clink against his front teeth, and he covered his mouth with one grimy hand, before sticking out his tongue and feeling the piercing in the middle of it. Where in the fucking hell had that come from? Had he gone out last night? All he could remember was coming back to his room, getting drunk, yelling at his roommate when the guy came home and complained about the booze and smoke, and then nothing else.

He pushed himself up in bed, and he could smell the piss soaked into the bed. In his mind, he knew it should disgust him…and yet, his cock was getting hard in the cold, wet crotch of his overalls, and he rubbed it, unable to help himself. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, at the piercings studded all over his face–eyebrows, septum, lips, ears…nipples…cock–and the tattoos covering his arms and chest, and that was all he needed–he freed his cock through the fly and jacked off quickly into the palm of his hand, tugging on the thick gauge PA lodged in the head, licking the cum up afterward, and then lit a cigar, feeling the hangover easing off–finishing off the last bottle of whiskey helped too…and so did whipping out his cock, leaning back on his bed…and pissing up all over himself, feeling it soak into his shirt and coat his belly, running down into the creases of his fat, stinking body…and…and what the hell was he doing?

Seriously, what was he doing?

His body continued, but his mind felt like it had derailed. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t anyone. No one behaved like this, especially not in college. Was…was he even going to college? He had to be right, or else why was he in a dorm room? Classes started tomorrow, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall one piece of the schedule he’d signed up for during orientation the week before. This was wrong, how had any of this even happened?

Eddie. Fuck, just…just thinking of him now, he couldn’t stop himself from jacking his cock again, disturbed at his own behavior, at the volume of his moans, at the delight he was taking it rolling around in the now twice soaked bed, feeling it creak and groan beneath his massive heft. But everything had started with…with that first time he’d fainted. Maybe…Maybe Eddie knew something. Maybe he could tell him something about that, the first time, something that could help him understand what was happening to him. Yeah, he needed to see Eddie, if he could just…just talk…talk to him, he could…could…

He groaned, shooting a massive load all over the front of his overalls, his fat hands grinding it into the fabric along with his piss and sweat. He didn’t…didn’t have any time to waste, before this just got worse. Who knew when he might faint again, and what might happen to him if he does? He…he certainly didn’t have time to change clothes or anything, certainly not. He sat back up, slipped on his one lost boot, and then waddled his way out of the room without even thinking of changing his clothes, down the stairs and out onto campus, reeking of piss and cum and smoke. But Eddie…Eddie would help him. Eddie would help him sort all of this out, he was sure of it.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 3)

Ralph hoped that simply getting away from Eddie would be enough for his heart to settle down, but instead it just kept thumping away in his chest as he walked down the street, to the corner, and turned towards campus. He was still exhausted from the first walk, however, and by the time he was halfway home, his thighs and quads were burning from the exertion of hauling himself around. There was a park on the block he was walking past, and he decided he could use a rest–just a short one to catch his breath, get himself back under control, and then he could get back to campus, and try and forget all about Eddie. He couldn’t go back there, he knew that. Not after blowing his load like that, how could he explain that moan he’d let off when it happened? He could have sworn Eddie had seen the wet spot covering his crotch too. He sat down on the first bench he came too, heaving a sigh, trying to figure out why he felt both so tired and so full of energy, all at the same time, like something was building up in him, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He ran his hands down the sides of his jeans, trying to get rid of the sweat coating his palms, when he felt something hard in his front right pocket, along with his keys. He had no clue what it could be–he fished around inside it, grabbed in his fist, the warmth nearly making him nauseous. From the feel of it, it could only be one thing–the lighter, the zippo lighter. Had…had he taken it? Had Eddie handed it to him without him noticing? The warmth was intense, like the lighter was on fire. He kept trying to make his fist drop it–instead it clutched it even tighter, feeling the metal imprint his flesh. He certainly had to pay for it…right? He…He should…go back…pay for…

He snorted awake on the bench a short while later–he wasn’t quite sure how much later. It couldn’t have been an hour, but he was still disoriented, looking around and trying to figure out where he was. It took him a few moments to piece things together, how he’d left the garage sale in somewhat of a froth, though he was having a hard time remembering why he’d been so…crazy. He’d been walking home and tired, and he’d been craving a cigar. He’d sat down on the bench to take a break, and then…then he’d just fainted away. He must have been more tired than he’d thought.

He fished a cellophane wrapped cigar from his pocket. His lighter was already in his hand–he must have gotten it out before falling asleep. He unwrapped it, slipped it in his mouth and puffed it too life, taking a deep inhale, and sighing out a plume of smoke into the crisp fall air, slipping his lighter back into his pocket as he did. A small part of him wondered what exactly he thought he was doing; wondered where he’d gotten the cigar from; wondered about these strange fainting spells he was having all of a sudden. Those concerns drifted off in the cool breeze in the park, and he found himself squeezing his cock in his jeans, thinking about bumping bellies with Eddie, and wondering if his garage sale would be open again on Monday. He had said all weekend…maybe he could pay him another visit. That strange energy he’d felt building all morning was still lingering in his chest, but he passed it off as butterflies. Halfway done with his cigar, but feeling rejuvenated, he hefted himself up and continued on towards campus, itching his face as he went.

He got back in the early afternoon, after a short detour to a local smoke shop for another pack of cigars, since this was apparently his last one. As soon as he’d smoked it to the butt he found himself compelled to light a second; sure, he knew he shouldn’t smoke this much, but he just couldn’t…stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. He got back to campus and got any number of odd looks from students, and a few angry comments reminding him the entire campus was smoke free, but he brushed it off. A little smoke wasn’t going to kill anybody–but he did have the courtesy to finish before going into his dorm. His roommate was out, which was a relief again. Between the cigars and his earlier contact with Eddie, he was horny as fuck all over again…and then he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Those…weren’t the clothes he’d put on when he’d left for the day. He remembered, when he’d woken up on the bench he’d had on jeans and a collared shirt, sneakers on his feet. Not…overalls, the knees crusty with mud, grungy work boots (which he swore he had seen somewhere before) and a white tank stained yellow, reeking of sweat (and…piss?) which left a bit too much flab exposed for him to feel all that comfortable. His face was odd too, his stubble thick, or was it a beard? He’d never had facial hair before in his life, or ever really been able to grow anything like a beard, but…but it looked good. His hair was too long, though. Still, if it was a bit longer he could put it in a ponytail or something, at least keep it out of his face. His…fat face. Was he fatter? I mean, he’d always been fat, but it seemed like he was even…bigger. The discomfort evaporated faster than he could process it, and when he checked the closet for some more…professional clothes, only to discover all he had was filthy workwear, it bothered him less than he knew it should. It also did nothing to help his horniness, and after he blew a wad in his jockstrap, he felt much better–aside from being hungry as fuck. He tromped downstairs and headed for the dining hall, but stood outside so he could smoke a cigar first. He felt…good, but the looks he kept getting…from the students filing in and out of the doorway…it didn’t help him shake the feeling that something had gone horrifically wrong, and there might be nothing he could do to stop it.

My Boys – Part 5

Light was streaming in through the slanted shades; the only reason Nick woke up was because the room had become uncomfortably hot in the morning sun. He’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, and he simply laid there for a few minutes, too exhausted to consider moving, trying to process everything that had happened to him the night before, and simply failing to do so. It felt like all of that had just happened to…someone else. His pants were off but his shirt was still on, though it felt incredibly tight on him, making it a bit difficult to breathe. He sat up, muscle aching, and tried to peel it off, but the fabric simply ripped apart as he tried, and he ended up shredding it as he pulled, looking down at himself, as this body he was inside, and he couldn’t…this couldn’t…

The hair. The fuckin’ hair. He ripped the bits of shirt away and looked down at himself. The hair was everywhere, all over him, coating him so thickly that he couldn’t even see the skin. But more than that…it wasn’t…his hair. He hadn’t exactly been hairless to begin with, he’d had a decent coating of brown hair, but this new hair, it was multicolored. Not in patches, but different colors intermixed all over, in every color, although a few seemed to be dominant–browns, a huge amount of bright red over his chest and belly, and a dingy white climbing up his shoulders and down his entire back.

He looked around the room. Sean was still in his bed, snoring louder than Nick had ever heard before. He had never managed to get undressed yesterday, and like his brother, he had simply ripped his way out of them, aside from his shirt, which was riding up on top of his belly, cupping two massive moobs like a bra. He had somehow ended up even fatter than their uncle–no, not really their uncle, that cook, just a cook!–had been before…everything that happened last night, and looking at him now, Nick could feel his cock twitching and growing, pushing it’s way out from his tangled multicolored bush to a full nine inches without even thinking much of it. Sean was rolled away from him, and he could just…just picture himself spreading that fat ass and sliding his cock right in his brother’s soft, fat hole…

He stood up from the bed, and suffered a sudden vertigo–he was at least a foot taller than he’d been before, less than a foot away from the seven foot ceilings of the motel. That was enough to snap him from his fantasy, and he tromped to the bathroom, locking himself inside before he could act on…on any of what he couldn’t stop thinking about, right now. The small bathroom was claustrophobic, and he had this buzzing in his head, and he could use a damn beer too, a beer would…would help. He turned on the sink and splashed his face with some water, but almost none of it touched his skin–his face was covered with a huge, thick beard just like the rest of him. He looked at himself, and unlike his body hair, his beard was at least a solid color–a deep red, darker than the red on his chest–and his head hair was the usual light brown…but something was wrong. He stared at himself for a minute, and he swore that he could…see his hair growing right before his eyes. Granted, his beard was massive, reaching down past his chest and curving over his taut, hard gut, but the more he watched, the more certain he was that his hair…it was growing right in front of him.

This was insane. He was going insane. He had to get out of here, he had to get help. Daddy wasn’t here, maybe he could slip out before he got back–

There was something like a psychic slap that hit him then, when he thought about leaving the room. Daddy told him not to leave. Daddy said to wait until he got back. Daddy said…said that if he was bored, then he could…he could…

Fuck…

He stepped out of the bathroom, fighting his own body, but he walked to where his massive brother was sleeping, spit a wad of saliva into his massive, paw like hand, and started lubing up his hard shaft. Spitting…that…that had felt good…He did it a few more times, getting his massive cock good and wet, but like Daddy always said, you gotta eat a man out first. It’s only polite. He got down on his knees, but still had to stoop slightly in order to get his face into his brother’s wide ass crack, probing with his tongue, scraping the sensitive skin with his beard and mustache, listening to his brother’s snores turn into moans as he slowly woke up to the attention on his ass.

“What…what happened…” Sean muttered, and then belched.

“Don’t…don’t worry bro,” Nick said, his voice much deeper, with a natural growl and drawl like their Daddy had, “Big bro’s here tah take care a ya.”

Sean screamed, but all Nick could think about was fucking, as he forced his big cock deep into his brother’s hole, running his huge hands over his brother’s soft body, kneading and groping him, ripping away his tight shirt so he could squeeze his tits and play with his meaty nipples, and before too long, Sean was sighing and panting along with him, the two brother’s rutting happily. Nick shot one load, but he kept on going–reaching down with one hand, digging around in Sean’s gunt until he found his brother’s cock and stroked him as well.

“Bro…” Sean moaned, “Bro, we gotta…we gotta stop…stop this, gotta get help.”

Nick drilled in deeper. His brother didn’t know what he was talking about. “Daddy told us tah fuck, so we gonna fuck. ‘Sides, I like how your fat ass feels ‘round my big cock, don’t you?”

Sean nodded. It did…feel good, and when his huge brother leaned over they kissed eagerly, though Sean, for some reason, thought that his brother’s mouth was…missing something. Something that was usually there, a flavor, but it…wasn’t, for some reason. Not that it really mattered. Now that he was awake, he realized how silly he’d been. Daddy had told them to fuck in the morning after all, and he did want Daddy to be happy, and he shot his wad into Nick’s hand, who licked it off, much of it ending up caught in his long mustache and beard.

“Ya don’t mind if I keep goin’, right bro?” Nick asked, “I’m still horny, and still bored.”

“Fuck my fat ass all morning, you know I ain’t got nothin’ better to do,” Sean said, and they kissed, Nick feeding his brother the cum off his beard, and shooting his second load of the morning deep inside his brother’s ass, and kept going strong.

Father’s Rules (Part 3)

Blake woke up, hungover, at six in the morning like always, only to discover more rules had been added to the list while he was asleep:

My son must masturbate to the smell of his own pits, his dirty underwear, and his father’s dirty underwear.

My son never showers, brushes his teeth, or cuts his hair or his beard.

His father had already left for work, and he spent the whole day fighting the new rules–trying to trick himself into getting wet and cleaning himself, but the best he could do was wash his hands–without soap. He was disgusted with himself, but he couldn’t stop from smelling himself, couldn’t stop smelling his dad’s underwear as he jacked off madly, soon falling back into his routine of smoking, drinking, eating and jacking off. He had to do something, he had to. He held out for about a week, but finally, he broke down sobbing one morning, begging his father not to leave him alone in the apartment, that he couldn’t take this anymore.

“I tried to be reasonable.”

“I know, but please, I’m sorry. Whatever you want. I’ll do anything, just…just make it so I don’t have to smell myself, please, I fucking reek…but I’m starting to like it dad, I’m starting to fucking like it!”

Blake looked up at his dad, but Saul was looking away from him. Why couldn’t he look at him? Finally, he responded. “I can’t. I can’t erase the rules I made. That’s not how it works.”

Blake just stared at him. “W-What?”

“The list is educating you, Blake. The rules don’t disappear until you follow them without even thinking about them. Until you don’t even realize you’re following them. Until you want to follow them. Do you remember that first rule I made? About you masturbating?”

Blake nodded.

“Go look for it.”

It wasn’t on the list. It should have been at the top, but he’d become so used to spending almost his entire day jacking off…he hadn’t even noticed when it had disappeared. “How…how long has it been gone?”

“Probably two weeks now.”

“You mean…you mean I’ve been jacking off this much on my own…for two fucking weeks?”

“You’re going to be jacking off like that for the rest of your life son, trust me. You couldn’t do it less if you tried. Look at those fucking balls on you, I mean, they’re fucking huge. You’re made to pump cum out now, son, you don’t have a choice anymore.” Saul looked away again, “Look, the list…the list wants me to punish you, Blake. To be honest..I don’t remember writing those last two rules, I just don’t. But I thought…I thought about them and they just…appeared on the list. I don’t know what it’ll do if you keep fighting me. Please, for your own sake, just…let’s figure out what to do together, alright? You’re already thirty or so…if you aren’t careful, you’re going to be as old as me before too much longer.”

Blake didn’t want to believe him, but did he have much of a choice? Even if his dad was lying to him and had written those rules…if Blake didn’t obey, something worse was bound to happen, regardless whether it was his dad doing it sadistically, or the list itself forcing his hand.

“I should never have done this to you, I know that. But if you just…if you be good, it’ll be over soon enough. I promise. I figured it out when I was a kid, when my dad did this to me. I know you can get past it too.”

Together, they sat down and talked–for the first time, really. Saul suggested that, if he wanted to get out of the apartment, then the best thing he could do was get a job. Blake didn’t know what sort of job he could get, however, looking like he did–so his dad asked his bosses at the construction company he worked for, and they agreed to hire his son on a temporary basis, to see what he could do. It was hard work, for sure, but with his dad helping him–and with a few rules urging him on to be a hard worker and quelling some of his…nastier…urges while he was out in public, Blake was given a full time position after a few months. His dad helped him out with a few other rules as well–especially by requiring Blake to lift weights regularly at the local gym. It didn’t change the fact that he was well past obesity, but before too long, between the hard labor and the weightlifting, he’d gone from total pudge to a 400 hundred pound, chubby bull. He’d stopped aging as well, now that he was cooperating, and was holding stable at thirty-two years old.

Many times, Blake asked his father to make some rules that might help offset his earlier punishments. The guys at work complained about how bad he smelled, for one thing, and his hair and beard were simply unmanageable, and seemed to only be getting longer. He also wanted him to help him cut back on the cigars. The addiction had gone from constant to nearly crippling. He could barely last half an hour without smoking one, and he’d usually have to get up three or four times in the night just to satisfy his nicotine craving. His dad said that there was simply nothing he could do. The list refused to accept any rules that would reverse earlier changes–he could try to balance the equation with other rules as best he could, but there was only so much he could do.

Blake was becoming more and more certain that Saul wasn’t telling him the whole truth–and that the real reason he wouldn’t change him back was because he liked his new son better than his old one. Granted, Blake liked his dad better too, now that they had more common interests, but he still couldn’t forgive him for doing this to him. Still, he couldn’t deny that there was an attraction there. He’d been watching his dad fuck for so long, that he started to…admire him, and the way Saul would look at him sometimes…that worried him even more. Still, he watched the list grow shorter and shorter by the day, doing his best to follow the rules to the exact wording, feeling them become a second nature to him, so he could finally be free of the curse. But then, one night his dad went out to the bar, but didn’t get lucky with anyone–and returned home very drunk, and very, very horny.

Persistence’s Reward – Part 3

Why was he even bothering with this? What was the point? He sat down on the stairs, feeling another button pop off his shirt, as he gasped for breath in between the fourth and fifth floors. He was climbing earlier than usual today, because he’d been fired from his job. He replayed it over and over in his head, the entire day, wondering what in the world had made him do any of it. He’d woken up late again, just like the day before, and found himself in a sopping wet bed. He’d told himself that it was just night sweats, that he’d just been hot all night long, but he could smell it, he could smell it, and he knew it was piss, that he’d pissed himself in the night, and he’d…he’d jacked off. Jacked off, rolling in his own mess, and then, without even taking a shower, he’d gotten his clothes on for work, even though he knew he shouldn’t go, that he should just call out and feign illness, he went anyway. And there, right there in a meeting with his boss, it had happened. He’d pissed himself. He’d pissed himself, a full bladder, and he hadn’t been able to do anything, just stand there while Mr. Montgomery stared at him, watched the tent grow in his pants, and tell him to leave, and not bother coming back–they’d just send his things home by mail in a few days.

And so here he was, climbing the stairs again to the tenth floor, exhausted and fat, his pants still soaked with piss and sweat. He could smell himself, he could smell himself, and his cock was so fucking hard, and as he sat there, he felt it again. That warmth, piss flowing from his dick right into his pants, soaking the seat of his pants, flowing down the stairs in a stream from where he was sitting, and all he could do was watch it. Stare at it, and think…think about getting down and licking it up, think about how…how thirsty he was, how horny he was. That was what got him up and moving again–he knew that if he stayed there, he would get down and start licking it up, he’d lick it up and jack off, and even though he wanted it, he knew something was wrong. Wrong with him.

He was fatter. He was hairier. He had a beard growing down to his chest, even as his hair was receding back past the crown of his head. He reeked and sweated non-stop. And for some reason he was still climbing these damn stairs, when he should just get in the damn elevator, but he also knew that if he did that, he would be seen. Someone would see him, and they would know what he is, they would know that he’s a nasty pig, a nasty fucking pig…He hit the seventh floor, and couldn’t stop it. The friction of his thighs, the smell of his piss soaked clothes, his sweat and musk, his cock started pumping out a massive load of cum, and he nearly fell back down the stairs from the force and pleasure of it, snorting and grunting, fighting up one step at a time. It happened again below the ninth floor, and by the time he finally emerged into his hallway, he barely even felt human. Too exhausted to stand, he fell to his hands and knees, crawling down the hall towards his apartment, snorting and grunting for breath, but Greg was there in the hall, blocking his way.

“You look like you could use another drink today,” he said, why don’t you come inside and hang out for a while?”

No. No, not that. He turned around and started crawling back towards the stairs, shaking his head, even as his cock was screaming for him to go inside.

“You really are a persistent one, aren’t you?” Greg said, following him, “I’m amazed you can still climb those damn stairs without having a heart attack, but more than that, I’m amazed you’re climbing them at all. Most people prefer sitting on their ass after one date with me, but you, you just keep on fighting.” He straddled Shane and sat down on his back, forcing him to the ground under him, listening and feeling him struggle, “Where do you keep all that gusto of yours? You’re never going to be happy as pig if you don’t let me get rid of it, you know.”

“Not…Not your…pig…” Shane huffed.

“Oh trust me, you’re most certainly a pig, and certainly mine. So what is it, Shane? What is it? If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to have to get rid of everything, you know…”

Shane kept trying to pull himself out from under him, when he felt something warm on his back. He could smell it, the pig in his head taking over and salivating. Piss, his fucking piss. Greg got up, still pissing the front of his shorts, and he pulled out his cock, walking back to his apartment, leaving a trail behind him, Shane turning around and dragging his tongue across the carpet, following him at a crawl until he was inside the apartment. In the middle of the front room Greg was standing over a dog bowl brimming with beer, and he was pissing into it, and he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it, but his body, his nasty piggy body couldn’t help itself. He crawled over and started lapping up the beer and piss, drinking it down as best he could. It took him a while, and Greg came around behind him, pulling off his soggy clothes and started fucking his ass. He licked the bowl clean, drooling from the mouth, groaning and grunting, his eyes glazed over once again.

“Don’t you worry, pig,” Greg said, “I’m sure we can get you sorted out tonight. By tomorrow, we’ll have you set as a proper pig for life.”