Slob Control – Gear Night at The Alley

Bill had gone out to the gay bars around town a time or two, but had generally always been dissatisfied with them. They certainly weren’t like the bars from decades past, seedy little joints where you could get up to a little trouble in the dark, and no one batted an eye. These days they were so bright and clean and…judgemental. Bill had long since given up on trying to go out, but now that he had his spellbook, he had a feeling he could make the bars around town a little more fun. He decided to start that week with The Alley–what might have been closest to the bear and leather bar around town, but it wasn’t really much of either. However, after having a little chat with the owner, and then the bartenders, and then the bouncers one night–along with a little bit of magic pushed into the place itself, he had a feeling it would have a much nicer reputation soon enough.

Kenneth and Evan got out of the uber as it idled in front of the bar, thanked their driver, and hustled over to the sidewalk outside The Alley. Kenneth and Evan were regulars here, usually coming out on Friday nights after work to have drinks with a few other couples, before heading home. Both of them were in their usual dress–khakis and button down shirts. They didn’t usually bother changing after work to go out. After all, they were in their mid forties, it’s not like they were going clubbing. They walked up to the door to the bar, opened it up, and found themselves facing an unfamiliar bouncer sitting on a stool, dressed in leather booty shorts, vest, cap and boots. It was a bit more…kinky than the usual atmosphere, but it didn’t faze them that much. They got out their IDs, and then the bouncer told them it would be a five dollar cover charge.

“What?” Evan said, “Why? There’s never a cover on Fridays.”

“It’s gear night. You’re not in gear. It’s either five dollars each, or you can grab somethin’ off the wall behind you.”

They turned around, and saw a bunch of pegs had been hung there on the wall, with a variety of gear hanging from them. Flannel, leather, hi viz, camo–it was a bearish assortment, but not anything that the two of them would usually wear. Evan sighed, “Fine,” and fished out his wallet.

“Hold on, let’s just put something on,” Kenneth said, grabbing a hi viz vest off the wall and pulling it on.

“Kenneth, you look ridiculous.”

“Come on, it saves us ten bucks.”

“We can afford ten bucks.”

“Here,” Kenneth said, holding out a leather bracelet with a snap, “Even you can pull this off.”

Evan glared at his husband, but took the leather band from him and put it on, then turned to the bouncer, who was just smirking. “That good enough?”

“Sure is,” he said, “Come on in, fellas.”

The bar was a bit more boisterous than it usually was on Fridays, and the crowd seemed a little older, a little gruffer. Kenneth spotted a few other regulars, some of them also sporting gear off the wall, as well as quite a few guys he hadn’t seen before, who looked like they’d brought plenty of gear from home. “Do you see Jamie or Kaleb?” he said.

“No, they might not be here yet.”

“Or they’re out back.”

They settled on a plan, since the line for the bar was fairly long. Evan would wait in line and get them a couple of drinks, while Kenneth scoped out the bar and looked for their friends, to see if they were there yet. Evan agreed, got in line, and Kenneth pushed his way through the crowded space towards the hall that led out onto the patio behind. He quickly got a bit turned around. The place seemed bigger than he remembered it being, the hallway a bit more twisty and windy than before–that, and quite a bit darker, with quite a few guys cruising from the corners. Kenneth eventually found his way through and out onto the back patio, feeling a bit relieved to be out of there. He scoped out the place, but it too was rather thick with guys. He was going to have to push around a bit to see if their friends were there or not. He found himself pushed around the edges of the main mass of guys, checking tables as he went, but there was no sign of the other couples.

“Hey bud, lookin’ good tonight!”

Kenneth spun around, and saw he’d ended up near a table on the edge of the patio, next to the fence. A group of fellows who looked like they’d either just stepped off a construction site, or off a trailer park, were sitting around, smoking cigars, with about a pitcher of beer for each of them. “Huh?” he said, looked down at his own hi-viz vest, and looked a little sheepish, “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, love a guy in gear, and you don’t have a drink! Need a beer?”

“No, my husband’s buying some inside.”

The fellow hadn’t waited for Kenneth’s response, he’d just poured a glass, and shoved it into Kenneth’s hand. “Guess ya better drink up quick then, go on!”

Kenneth looked down at the beer. He wasn’t much of a beer guy–he preferred a nice, sweet cocktail, but he also didn’t want to be rude. He drank some of the beer, and the next thing he knew, it was all gone. Had he just chugged that? He let off a belch, making the rest of the guys all start laughing.

“There ya go fella, have another,” the man said, and pushed another beer into Kenneth’s hand.

“No, I really should go find my husband.”

“Take a seat, he’ll find you out here faster with those drinks. Come on. Name’s Brett, by the way.”

Brett scooched over over the bench, crowding another chubby fellow down the line, and left a bit of bench beside him. Kenneth looked around, desperate for someone to rescue him from this awkward encounter, but as much as he knew he should walk away, a little voice told him to sit, have a drink. Maybe even have a cigar. They seemed nice and fun. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out with them for a bit. Just until Evan found him–that’s all. He took a seat, thigh pushed up against Brett’s, and the big fellow dropped his hand right on Kenneth’s knee. He could feel the blush all over his face, and he downed the second beer as a distraction.

“Man after my own heart, gonna try tah drink me under the table, eh?”

Kenneth looked down at the glass–somehow it had been refilled, but he hadn’t seen anyone pour it. He felt bloated, and gassy. He let off another belch, and found himself laughing along with the rest of the guys. For a while, he kept looking out at the crowd, hoping to spot Evan, but there was no sign of him. It wasn’t a big deal, he supposed. They’d probably found each other inside. He’d go join them in a bit. Just one more beer–and maybe another after that too.

It took longer than he’d expected it to, but Evan finally got a hold of two drinks–one of the sweet cocktails that Kenneth liked, and a whiskey coke for himself–and then set about trying to figure out where his husband had gotten off to. He poked around the main bar, but he was nowhere to be found, and neither were his friends. He managed to find a ledge he could set the glasses down on, checked his phone, but there weren’t any messages from anyone either. Maybe they had ended up out on the patio. He picked up the drinks and began weaving his way in between the bears of the bar, trying to find a path without spilling anything.

The clientele tonight seemed a lot more burly and crude than usual. The Alley was a bear bar, but it was a bar for middle class bears. Professional bears, with jobs downtown and adopted kids, and carefully managed open relationships. The guys he was pushing past seemed quite a bit more lower class than what he was used to, and he wasn’t sure he quite liked it very much. He narrowly avoided some chubby fellow that came barrelling through the doorway, and as he lurched, he stumbled into a wall and ended up dumping both drinks down the front of his clothes. Pissed off that he’d not only wasted a good chunk of cash, but also ruined a good work shirt, he figured he’d find the bathroom and see if he could clean himself up a bit.

The only problem is that the bathroom wasn’t where it was supposed to be. The Alley, like a lot of gay bars, wasn’t particularly large. It wasn’t even a very good cruise bar–there was no circuit, no hallways, no particularly dark corners. There had been two hallways–one that went out to the patio, and another that bent around to the bathrooms. Only the hall to the bathrooms kept going, and got darker. The lights were red, and the men he passed were looking a little more hungry than he liked. He tried to backtrack to the main room and the bar to reorient himself, but found himself turned around entirely. In his panic and frustration, he came around a corner too fast, and ran right into another fellow. He was built wide and muscular–Evan bounced right off him, and would have fallen to the ground, if the man hadn’t reached out, grabbed hold of his wrist, and kept him balanced.

“Easy there bud, what’s got you all in a rush?” the man said.

Evan sized him up–and there was a lot to size. He was tall, broad, muscular, and his whole body was decked out in full leather. Pants, shirt, jacket, gloves, boots. The only bit of skin he could see was the bit above his beard. The fellow’s muir cap was pulled down so low, he couldn’t even catch his eyes. Evan realized he was still holding onto him by the wrist. The grip was just a little too tight to be comfortable. He tugged his wrist free, and in the process lost the leather wrist band he’d put on at the door. It clattered to the floor, but before he could bend to retrieve it, the man’s cap lifted up slightly, and he caught the man’s gaze for a moment, and froze. His eyes, even in the darkness, were like steel. Hard and unyielding. He could have sworn they were metallic. He almost wanted to get a closer look, see if he could find himself in the iris, reflected–

“Careful there cub, don’t want you walking around naked now, do we?”

Evan blinked. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed in that glimpse. It might have been seconds, or it could have been hours. The man bent down and picked up the bracelet from the floor, turning it over and over in his gloved hands. It wasn’t quite a bracelet, in the light. It was too long, and was growing thinner. The snap became a buckle–it was a collar, but Evan was certain it hadn’t been a collar before.

“Here, let me put it on ya,” the man said, stepping close. Evan could smell the leather, felt it on his arms. He found himself cursing the shirt he had on, he wanted to know what it felt like against his skin. The man buckled the collar around his neck, and Evan felt a wave of ease flow over him. That was so much better. No wonder he’d been such a nervous wreck earlier, he hadn’t had his collar on right at all.

“There, that’s better, right cub?”

“Yes…Sir,” Evan said.

“You’re all wet,” he said, tugging at his shirt.

“I…spilled a drink on myself. I was trying to get to the bathroom to clean up, and…”

“Shush,” the man said, “None of that matters.”

Evan’s lips shut tight, and he nodded up at the man.

“The most important thing, cub, is that you thank me for putting your collar back on.”

That didn’t seem quite right, to Evan. In fact, all of this seemed a bit strange. What was he doing here, with this strange man, with a collar on of all things. “I…I need to find my husband, I–”

The brim of the man’s cap slipped up, and Evan could see just a bit of silver there, and his eyes couldn’t look away. “Silly little cub. Walking in here in your leather harness, showing off those muscles you’re working on, that hot, furry little gut. Wearing those hot little chap shorts, that grungy looking jock. You didn’t come here lookin’ for a husband. You came in here looking for a Daddy. Looking for a Sir.”

Evan tore his eyes away and stumbled back. Looking down at himself in the dark, everything seemed wrong. He could remember Kenneth, remember the drinks, but he was wearing a harness, and those hot fucking chap shorts, and his dirtiest jock, because he’s a dirty little cub, fuck yeah, and fuck, if this isn’t the hottest fucking leather daddy he’s ever laid eyes on, and he has his collar on. He put his collar on him, on his neck. Fuck, this leather god collared him, the least he could do is thank him, thank him like a good little cub.Get down on his knees, shove his face in his Sir’s leather crotch, then get down and lick his boots clean, lick them good and clean. Maybe Sir will walk on him, crush him, crush his cub cock under those boots, make him squeal before he fucks him, maybe–

Evan pushed the thoughts away, and he ran. He ignored the voice that called after him, ordered him to come back. His booted feet almost ground to a halt, but Evan knew the truth, and it wasn’t that. He had to find Kenneth, he had to get the two of them out of this fucked up bar, before it was too late.

Kenneth was drunk. Kenneth couldn’t remember the last time he was drunk like this–maybe college, but even that was doubtful. He wasn’t a heavy drinker by any measure. Sure, they liked to uber to the bar together so they could both have their fill, but neither of them was an alcoholic, not like some of the other guys at the bar they could point out, or even a couple of guys in the friend group they usually hung out with. Tonight, hanging with Brett and his buddies though, every time he looked, his glass was brimming with their cheap beer, and every time he took a drink, he somehow ended up chugging the whole thing back.

Brett’s hand was sliding over further and further, and was now openly groping Kenneth’s crotch. When he tried to scooch away, Brett’s arm ended up around his shoulder, his stinking pit inches from his face. When he tried to push away, he found his own hand in Brett’s crotch, groping his cock–his sizable cock, from the feel of it. He was losing control of the situation. He wouldn’t be able to say no, if he wanted to say no, but of course he wanted to say no. These guys weren’t his type at all, as much fun as it was hanging out with them. Besides, he needed to piss real bad after all of that beer, and try as he might, he couldn’t seem to excuse himself. “Fuck guys, I gotta go to the bathroom,” he said, or thought he said. Tried to say, at least, he might have slurred out some of that. He stumbled up from the bench, but couldn’t quite get his foot over it. He would have fallen on his face if Brett hadn’t gotten up first and been there to catch him, pull him close into his warm gut.

He wasn’t sure how exactly his mouth ended up on Brett’s. One second he was trying to apologize, the next his mouth was full of Brett’s tongue, tasting of beer and cigar smoke, and fuck, it felt so good to just let go, and relax, and just stop worrying so much about everything, and just have this one kiss for a moment.

“Holy fuck, Kenny’s fuckin’ pissin’ himself!”

Brett pulled away from the kiss, looked down, and started laughing, along with the rest of the guys at the bench. It took Kenneth a moment to realize that the name Kenny had been referring to him, and that the kiss had apparently broken his focus so much, he’d let his bladder loose down the front of his khakis. He could feel it, the warmth running down his legs. He tried to stop it, but couldn’t seem to manage. It was running down both legs, even down into his socks and shoes. He just stood there, horrified, not at all certain what to do, as the rest of the guys just laughed.

“I…I should go, I need to find my husband and–”

“Hold on, hold on,” Brett said, “You can’t go out there looking like that, here, we’ll take care of you, don’t you worry, right fellas?”

The guys were still chuckling, but they all nodded in agreement.

“Here, first, let’s get you out of that soaked shit.”

Brett started pulling at his shirt, unbuttoning it. Another guy came around and started unlacing his shoes. Kenneth tried to get them to stop, but he was having a hard enough time just standing upright. He ended up sitting back on the bench, totally naked, Brett balling up his piss soaked clothes and chucking them behind the bench. “Now, between all a us, we got enough to make an outfit, don’t we guys?”

It didn’t make any sense to Kenneth, how it happened. None of the guys looked any less dressed than they had been before, but now, on the table in front of him, was a total outfit of grungy looking workwear. None of it was his size of course, since all of them were substantially fatter than he was, but it was there. “I…I can’t, just give me back my clothes.”

“You don’t want those, just put these on already,” Brett said, “Or you’ll be going home naked.”

“He pulled on the stiff, cum stained briefs with a sizable brown stripe up the back, and tried to suppress a gag. Then came the mud crusted hi viz shirt, and the tattered jeans held up by a camo suspenders that were well on their way to losing their elasticity. Two mismatched, but equally grimy boot socks, and a pair of work boots much too big for his feet. Lastly, the hi-viz vest he’d gotten from the bar, and to top it off, a camo baseball cap.

“There, don’t that feel better?” Brett said, and pulled him close, “Have another beer.”

“I shouldn’t, I’m so drunk,”

“Drink Kenny, we know how much ya can handle.”

He took the glass from Brett, and chugged the beer back, but something was off about this one. It was flat, it was warm. The color was a bit too pale, and the taste a bit too bitter. Kenneth drank it all down though, and when he was through, he licked his lips. It was weird, but he liked it. He liked it a whole lot.

“Like that one Kenny?”

“Yeah Brett, that one was different, what was that?”

“Right from the tap, Kenny,” Brett said, took the glass from him, put it under his cock, which he’d pulled out of his jeans, and he pissed into it, filling it up to the brim.

Kenneth looked on in horror at the realization of what he’d just drank–and that he’d liked it. He’d really liked it. He liked it so much that, despite his disgust, he took the glass from Brett and guzzled that one right down too, only for Brett to kiss him right after. This time, Kenneth kissed him right back, the taste of beer, smoke and piss on their breath making him hornier than he could ever recall being in his life.

Evan found his way out of the darkness, and burst out into the main bar. He was relieved, looking down at himself, that his body hadn’t changed–but his clothing had. Just like Sir had said, his work clothes had disappeared, replaced entirely by a leather harness, chaps, a filthy looking jock, and some leather boots. He reached up, tried to undo the clasp of the collar, but his hands couldn’t seem to free it.

Whatever, it would come off later, at home. He looked around, but Kenneth was nowhere to be seen here, so that left the patio. He managed to find his way there this time, and the place was packed with men, many of them smoking cigars. The smell of smoke and musk was making his cub cock throb–no, what the fuck was wrong with him? He pushed through, ignoring the cat calls and the occasional smack on his bare ass, calling out for Kenneth, and finally he found him, sitting at a bench with a bunch of roughnecks, laughing and belching like a heathen.

Then, he doubted himself. It couldn’t be Kenneth. The beard was too long. He was too fat. He wasn’t wearing the right clothes either, or at least, not the clothes he’d arrived in. Then again, neither was he. He was certain it was him though, somehow. It was the eyes, the mouth, and that stupid hi-viz vest that he’d gotten when they’d come into the bar. Something about the stuff they’d been given, it’s like it was changing them! He hurried over, grabbed hold of Kenneth by the shoulder and shook him enough that his husband looked up at him, clearly more than a little drunk. He could smell the alcohol on his breath, and something else, something acrid, something that Evan didn’t want to know about.

“Kenneth, we have to get out of here, come on, this place is fucked up.”

Kenneth just blinked a couple of times at him, his eyes narrowed, and looked a bit confused.

“Friend of yours, Kenny?” the man beside him asked.

“I…Evan?” Kenneth asked. “What are ya doin’ wearin’ all that leather shit?”

“Kenneth, you have to listen to me. Something about the bar, it’s changing us, ok? These roughneck fucks next to you are turning you into some beer swilling idiot. You have to trust me, and come with me, right now, alright?”

“Bud, why don’t you go ahead and fuck off,” the roughneck said, throwing one arm around Kenneth and leaning over him. His pit ended up right in Kenneth’s face, and he let off a moan, before leaning in and licking it. “Kenny here is perfectly happy right here with us, ain’t that right, Kenny?”

“Oh, fuck yeah Brett, fuck ya smell so fuckin’ good.”

“Kenneth!” Evan yelled, and pulled him back. “You have to believe me, we have to get out of here.”

Kenneth just blinked at him, “Do…do I know you?”

“You don’t know him Kenny. You want some more beer, man?”

“Fuck, only if it’s from yer special tap,” Kenneth said.

Evan just watched in disgust as Brett pissed in a glass, passed it to Kenneth, and his husband drank it all down. As he did, Evan swore he saw him grow a bit fatter, and hairier in the process. He licked his lips, belched, and groped his cock in front of all the roughnecks, laughing along with them.

“There you are,” a voice said behind him.

Evan turned around, and found the leatherman from the dark standing right behind him. Before he could run off, the man hooked a leash to the collar around Evan’s neck, and as soon as the latch closed, Evan felt that same pleasurable calm sweep over him.

“Sorry guys, my cub here ran off on me. I hope he wasn’t giving you any trouble,” the leatherman said.

“Nah, nothin’ we couldn’t handle, right Kenny?”

“Yeah…sure Brett…” Kenneth said.

“Come on, cub, let’s go finish what we’d started earlier.”

Evan tried to push back on the dreamy haze enveloping him, but couldn’t seem to fight it. It just felt so good to let go, and let Sir walk him through the bar, show him where to go, back into the darkness.

“That was a very naughty thing, running off like that cub,” the man said, pulling the leash tight when they returned to the spot where they’d met. “Still, I’ll take some of the responsibility–I should have leashed you sooner, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so willful. We’ll take care of that though, don’t worry.”

“Please…I…I have to get out of here,” Evan managed to say, but couldn’t even manage to pull away.

“Now why would you want to do that? Hot little muscle cub like you, walking in here looking like this. You knew what you wanted, didn’t you?”

Evan tried to resist, but he could feel the memories twisting and warping in the dark, just like the wristband had earlier. He thought he’d come with someone, but he’d come alone. Dressed in his leather gear, hot young cub, dirty jock and boots. Yeah, he was hot, but…but he wanted something. He was looking for something. “I found…I…”

“You found a Master, cub. You found a man to collar you. A man who’s going to own you.”

“No…” Evan mouthed, looked up, perhaps to plead, and found himself staring directly into the man’s silvery eyes. He’d been right. They were bright enough to reflect. He could see himself in them. Twenty eight years old, shorter than he’d like to be, but broad and muscular, with a bit of a belly. His harness pulled tight across his hairy chest, pits stinking. He can finally grow a full beard, and he never wants to have anything else, ever again. He looks tough, sure, but there’s something inside him, something he’s always known. He wants to be dominated. He wants to be owned, and controlled, and enslaved. Evan knew that there should be something else there, someone older and wiser, but that was all there was. That was the truth, whether he liked it or not.

The leash tugged him down, he fell to his knees, where he belonged. He pressed his face against Master’s leather crotch, smelled it, felt the warmth, and shuddered. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you for choosing me, for making me your slave,” he said.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Master said. “Now clean my boots, cub.”

Evan knelt lower, pressed his tongue to the leather of Master’s boots, and felt his cock shudder, leaking into his filthy jockstrap. He could feel Master’s gaze resting on him, judging his work. Master let out a quiet little groan, almost like the act of Evan licking his boots was like licking his cock. Knowing that even this could pleasure his Master, Evan dug in, licking up the length, feeling the boot…shudder under his tongue.

“Fuck, that’s good cub, you know how to make a leatherman happy,” Master said.

Evan beamed with pride from the compliment. He’d wanted a Master like this all his life–he wasn’t about to disappoint him now.

“Come on Keggy, wakey, wakey…”

The warm stream hit Keggy’s face, and he let out a moan. His head was pounding, but that didn’t stop him from opening up his mouth, almost by instinct, so he could swallow the piss that was hitting him in the face. He managed to crack open his eyes once the stream stopped, and looked up at Brett looming over him. He was lying somewhere cramped and uncomfortable, with a crick in his neck, and his back. He rolled up, sliding a bit, and realized he’d fallen asleep in a stand up shower. “Fuck, did I sleep here last night?”

“You know the rules, Keggy. You stay over, you sleep in here. I don’t care how many ‘accidents’ you have at home, I don’t need my trailer smelling like a urinal.”

Keggy looked down at himself, at his clothes, which were drenched and stinking. The crotch of his pants were exceptionally wet, like they’d been soaked recently. It all stank of piss, and fuck if that didn’t get his cock hardening against the wet denim. “What…happened last night?”

“Same thing that happens every gear night. You got drunk off your ass, and drank loads of piss and cum from half the guys at the bar. You had a lot of fun.”

That sounded right, but there were no actual memories to go with it. “Think I blacked out.”

“Not surprising. We were both wasted when we got home. You were begging me to get you off, but that dick of yours wouldn’t get hard for shit–mine either. Workin’ just fine now, though. Wanna fuck?”

Keggy wasn’t quite sure if he did or not, but Brett rolled him up onto all fours, his head in the shower and his knees outside it, tugged down his soaking wet jeans, and pushed the head of his cock against his hole. It slipped right in, and Keggy moaned. Brett fucked him slow, reached around, under Keggy’s big gut, and gripped his cock too, fucking and jacking him at the same time. Keggy bent down and started licking the floor of the shower, tasting Brett’s morning piss on it, humping into Brett’s fist at the same time.

“Nasty fuckin’ piss pig, lickin’ it up from the floor of my fuckin’ shower, yer fuckin’ nasty.”

Keggy couldn’t hold it much longer, once Brett started berating him, and he came, blowing a huge load all over the floor of the bathroom. Brett backed him up, keeping him on his cock, so Keggy could lick up his mess, and then focused on fucking his hole, harder and rougher now that they were both warmed up, until Brett came inside him. He pulled out and stood up, catching his breath, while Keggy got up the last bits of his cum, and managed to push himself up after, right in front of Brett’s filthy mirror. He looked at himself, at the long graying beard, the piss soaked clothes, his thick hairy forearms and massive ball gut. It didn’t…seem familiar, but his memory was a blank. There was something he should remember, wasn’t there? Something, or someone, important?

“Alright, get outta here Keggy. I got shit to do today.”

“Wha?”

“Go on, get home.”

“I…” Keggy said, “I kinda…don’t remember…don’t I live here?”

“Man, you did get drunk last night. We live in the same goddamn trailer park, but hell if I’m gonna live with you man. I don’t mind playing with a urinal on occasion, but ain’t no one wanna live with one–I guess, except you.”

“Ya don’t gotta be an asshole,” Keggy said, and Brett chuckled.

Brett stepped close, like he was gonna kiss him, and then spit in his face. “Ya wouldn’t have nearly as much fun if I fuckin’ respected you. Yer a filthy fuckin’ piss pig. Now get the fuck out before my place starts stinkin’ like yours.”

Fuck, he was hard again. He stumbled his way out of Brett’s trailer and out onto the gravel, looked around, and saw he was in a mobile home park. Now that he was out, he did…almost remember, a place. He shuffled off, and found a trailer he imagined he recognized a few lots down. The key fit, he opened the door, and the stink of the place assaulted him. He took a deep breath, cock even harder, and sighed. Fuck, nothing smelled quite like home.

Something told him this was wrong. He stepped inside, looked around at the filthy space, walls and carpet stained with all the times he’d pissed on them–sometimes even on purpose, and felt that this couldn’t be right. He remembered living somewhere else. Somewhere clean. A house. A suburb. There was another hole, person shaped. He ran his tongue around his mouth, trying to feel for a name, but all he came up with was the taste of piss and old beer.

Beer–yeah, he could go for a beer. That would help the hangover. Might even help him remember whatever it was that was missing. Beer always helped, and fuck was he thirsty. He went to his fridge, opened it up, and found it packed full of cheap beer. He didn’t remember buying it. It was just always there, somehow. He thought he should be hungry too, but that didn’t seem right. He couldn’t really remember eating anything. He was too thirsty all the time to eat, after all. Beer, piss, and cum. What more could a urinal like him need, really? He popped open a can, chugged it down, grabbed another, and chugged that one too, letting off a long belch. He thought again about what was missing, but the beer had just clouded it over again. No matter–that was easier anyway. He sat down in his recliner, feeling the seat squelch under him, the stink of old piss wafting up around him. He hauled his cock free, aimed up, and pissed all over himself there in the chair, thinking about what Brett had said, how he’d treated him.

“Stupid, worthless fuckin’ urinal, fuck…” he muttered to himself, as the stream stopped, his cock hardening again in his hand. “Fuck, I’m disgustin’…nasty…sittin’ in my own fuckin’ piss…”

He stroked himself off again, and felt better. Once he got a few more beers in his belly, he got a good idea. He had the rest of the day free, after all. Didn’t have to go back to work until Monday. Plenty of truckers at the truckstop down the road. He could camp out in the bathroom, plenty of ‘em loved a hot mouth to piss in, and Keggy loved gettin’ treated like a urinal, like a fuckin’ object. Maybe that night, he’d head back to The Alley with Brett, but he’d see. Mostly, he was thirsty, and beer only sated him so much. He grabbed his keys, climbed in his truck, which was just as piss soaked as everything else Keggy owned, and drove off down the road to the truck stop to slake his thirst properly.

Evan didn’t know where he was when he woke up, at first. He was on something rather hard, for one thing. He pushed himself up, and saw that he’d fallen asleep on a carpeted floor, with a sheet of leather thrown over him for warmth. His whole body ached, but whether that was from sleeping on the floor, or from the punishments his Master had put him through, both at the bar in the dark, and at his home, once they’d left. That’s where he was, he supposed. He looked next to him, and saw a sizable bed beside him, covered in leather sheets. He needed to take a piss, but when he went to try and find the bathroom, he was stuck–his collar was chained to a hook on the wall, keeping him right next to the bed whether he wanted to or not.

“Sorry for the extra security,” a voice said, “but I didn’t want you running off again.”

Evan looked up, and saw the leatherman was looking down at him from where he was lying on his bed, still in full leather regalia–boots, hat and all. Had he slept in it? That seemed like a curious level of commitment. “I…I just need to pee, Sir.”

“Ah, right. Forget about that sometimes,” he said, reached down and unclipped the lead from the collar. “That doorway over there.”

Evan got to his feet, still in his own leather gear, much to his surprise. At some point though, his jock had disappeared. He went to the doorway, and found the bathroom. He took a piss in the toilet and then went back out into the bedroom, where Master was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. Evan was feeling a little nervous now, in the light of day, in a strange home. “I…I think…I’d like to go home now, Sir,” he said.

“The man smiled, and beckoned him over to where he was sitting. “And where would home be, little cub?”

Evan knew that there had to be an answer to that question, but there wasn’t one. He couldn’t remember where he lived. There was a hole there, shaped like a house, like a job, like a person. “I’m not sure…but–”

“Did you like how I made you feel last night?” he said, running a gloved hand down Evan’s chest and belly.

Evan shuddered, and felt his cock rising, pushing against his jock. “I…I did, but…sorry, Sir, but…did you sleep in your gear last night? I…I could have undressed you, you know…”

The leatherman looked down at himself, and chuckled again. “I think you’re misunderstanding, cub. This isn’t gear–this is me,” he said, took Evan’s hand in his own gloved fingers and tugged it over, so it could rub across his jacket. “This is my skin now. I don’t really remember when it happened, or how. I love it though. Feeling you lick my boots last night, fuck, you have a real hot tongue, cub.”

“You…could feel that? I thought, but I didn’t…”

“I could. I can. I’d like to feel it again, even.”

“Wait, how is that even possible?”

Master shrugged.

“Is…do you have…a cock then? Is that why you, uh, said what you did about the bathroom?”

“Yeah–haven’t pissed in a few days. Kinda weird, but also convenient. I do have a cock though. I didn’t want to pull it out last night, I was worried it might…scare you off, but here,” he said, and with his gloved hands, he dropped the fly of his leather pants. Something pushed out, something pulsing and leathery. It was a cock, but it too, looked more like an extension of his clothing, than something that came from underneath. It was thick, and long, and drooling something off the end that wasn’t quite cum. “Go on cub, have a taste.”

Evan stared down at the strange cock, disturbed. “I…I don’t…” he looked up, and found himself caught in the man’s silvery eyes again, and he sighed.

“You love leather, don’t you cub? The feel of it on your skin,” he said, running his gloved hands down Evan’s body, watching the cub shudder at his touch. “You loved worshiping it last night, didn’t you?”

“I did, I…but…”

He got up, maintaining eye contact, and pushed Evan back, so he was lying on the bed, belly up, and then climbed on top of him, pressing his leathered body down on him, giving him as much contact as he could. It was so warm. He could feel it pulsing, it was his skin, it was alive, even if it didn’t make sense. Master’s cock was pressed against his own, his hardon throbbing. “I am leather, cub. If you want to worship leather, then worship me. Be mine. Give yourself to me. Doesn’t it feel good, just submitting? Giving in?”

He ground his leather crotch against Evan’s own cock, feeling how excited the cub was. “I…Sir…I don’t think I can hold…”

“Don’t hold back. Cum. Release all that fear, all that reluctance. Cum, and accept that your only desire is to worship me–to worship leathermen.”

Evan’s cock exploded, pumping cum between his flesh and his Master’s leather cock. He fell back, mind reeling from the sensation, from the desires coursing through him. Master worked his way up, until he was straddling Evan’s neck with his thighs. “Clean up your mess, cub, and then service me.”

“Yes Master,” Evan said, and licked his cum off his master’s leather skin, relishing how it made him shudder, and then took his cock in his mouth. The taste was leathery, but also musky, still recognizable as human. His reluctance was forgotten, his cock already hard again. Master rolled him over after a couple of minutes, and then fucked his hole with his big cock. He expected it to be a rough, uncomfortable fuck, but it wasn’t. It was heavenly, unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life. Eventually, Master came, flooding his guts with his strange seed, but Evan no longer cared. This was the most phenomenal experience of his life, and he wouldn’t give this up for anything.

“Thank you Sir, that was amazing,” he said, when the leatherman rolled off him.

He grabbed hold of Evan and pulled him close. “It sure fucking was. Can you feel it inside you boy?”

There was an odd heat that he could sense. Evan reached around with his hand, touched his hole with one hand, and gasped. It wasn’t skin, not really. It was leather. Supple, soft leather, warm to the touch, and so, so hungry. “What…what did you do to me?”

“You’re a cute cub, but I think you’ll look better as a leatherboy, don’t you think? Gonna take a few more loads to make that happen, and you’ll need some more gear, but what do you say? Wanna go all the way? Be a leather freak like me?”

Evan nodded. “Yes Master–fuck, yes…Yes…”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the leatherman said, “Now, let’s get you properly dressed, boy.”

That night at The Alley, the leatherman and his leatherboy were quite a sight, in their full leather regalia. There were a few differences of course. The boy had a thick leather collar around his neck, and a simple leather ball cap on his head. He hadn’t yet earned the right to wear a muir cap like his Master, after all. That, and his pants. There was no fly on the front–Master decided to keep his boy in a codpiece for now–he didn’t need his cock slipping out and causing problems. That, and a zipper down the ass of his leather pants, so Master could get at his hot boy’s leather hole whenever he wanted–and he wanted it, a lot, from then on.

Frat Daddy – Interlude #3 (Carter’s Rebellion)

This interlude was a commission, and involves a bit of a time jump. Don’t worry, we’ll return and pick up Coach Mason’s tale another time. I’d also recommend reading the first interlude, which has the beginnings of Carter’s journey. If you’d like a commission like this one, you can find out more details here!

Fall was slowly shifting to Winter around the two houses. The leaves had fallen and been raked up by the boys, classes were gearing up for finals, some were eyeing the oncoming Winter break with a nervous glance, since it was unlikely that the Frat Daddy would simply allow the boys to return home to their families without some humiliating expectations of behavior to follow. But other boys were struggling for other reasons–and one of those boys was Carter. These last few months had been a whirlwind, from losing his hair, to finding himself under Daddy’s paddle and whip, finding himself beaten down and built back up again by Sarge on a regular basis in the dungeon. Some weeks, he felt like he could take on the world. Other weeks, he ached from the bruises, welts and cuts on his body, from his muscles and bones working through another growth spurt, and wondered how he could want this, if he was broken for wanting it at all. Other weeks, all he could do was stare at the other boys, frustrated that he couldn’t take his budding sadism out on them, as Daddy did to him. He’d look at himself in the mirror, miss his hair, no longer knowing what he wanted, or who he wanted to be. Just a mass of sensation, rudderless, no consistent identity from one day to the next.

Maybe that was why it happened. Or maybe, it was the dreams that had been plaguing him most every night, the visions of being stripped and hung in Daddy’s dungeon, flesh and soul peeling away from him with every strike of the lash until there was nothing left of him, just a dull buzz of…something in the back of his mind, something trying to pull him together. Or maybe it was Daddy wishing for him to understand, to see what Daddy saw in him, consciously or unconsciously. But whatever the reason it happened, one Friday morning, wondering if he’d be able to spend another weekend with Daddy again, wondering if he wanted to spend another weekend with him, he found himself mostly thinking about his hair. He’d be lying, if he said he didn’t miss it. He understood, somewhat, why Daddy did it…but at this point, hadn’t he proven to him that he was more than just his hair? Couldn’t Daddy at least let him grow it out again, instead of keeping his scalp shaved down every single day? It didn’t help that his beard wasn’t growing in as thick as he would have liked. His blonde coloring just didn’t stand out enough, making it look like thin, long, peach fuzz.

He looked away from the mirror, and felt something familiar brush against the back of his neck. When he turned back around, he was shocked to see his hair! It was growing in again, faster and thicker than it had before, still that perfect golden blonde that so many girls had gone wild for in high school and college, before Daddy had taken over. He ran his hands through it and gave it a tug, but it was real. How was this even possible? Looking at himself, he noticed that his beard was also filling in and growing. It finally passed through that awkward fuzzy stage and became a thick, blonde beard that reached down to his chest.

“D-Daddy?” he asked, but the room was empty–most of the other boys in the house were eating downstairs or in class. He looked back at the mirror, and then down at himself. If Daddy hadn’t done this, then…had it been him? As a little test, he thought about being bigger–thicker and taller really, and he felt his body surge outwards and respond to him, packing on muscle, his harness growing tight against his body. As he ran his hands over himself, another boy, named Ryan, came up the stairs and into the communal bedroom–and froze when he saw Carter in front of him. “C-Carter?” he asked, “Your…hair, man, how…”

Could he…change others? “Ryan–get over here and bend over, I’m fucking horny,” Carter said with a grin, and watched as Ryan did exactly as he ordered, bending over the side of his bed, and allowing Carter to pull his plug out with a pop. Ryan almost never got fucked in the house–he was too careful, but Carter had gotten him a few times. But now, he’d just…given up! Given up, because Carter had ordered him to. The rush he felt then–the sensation of power and domination over another. He loved fucking Ryan’s hole then, but nothing compared to watching that boy obey him without a single question. “Feels good, doesn’t it Ryan? You want me inside you more often, don’t you? You want me inside you as much as you can get me, got it?” he said, and Ryan started moaning and panting louder, pushing back as Carter fucked him, until he came deep in his ass–but when he pulled out, Ryan turned around, cock hard in his jockstrap, and begged him for more, his eyes betraying a terror and frustration that his mouth couldn’t articulate, but Carter was so lost in the pleasure of control that he didn’t even notice it. “Come on Ryan, let’s go see how the boys downstairs are doing. Maybe if they get me horny enough, I’ll fuck you again, would you like that?”

“Yes Sir, more than anything,” Ryan said, following along meekly as Carter went downstairs, eager to have some fun with the boys before Daddy came over in the evening.

Ethan had finished his dinner, dressed himself in his gear, and selected a cigar. With one last look in the mirror to ensure he was holding himself to the same standard he held his boys to, he went downstairs to his dungeon and crossed through the tunnel between his own home and the frat house next door, mulling over his decision again. He’d had most of the boys over at least once at this point, sometimes one on one, and sometimes together, enough to have introduced them all to the specialized plans that Daddy had for their budding manhood. Carter though–he was the exception. While he hadn’t come over every weekend, Daddy had devoted a potentially unfair amount of attention to the budding masochist over the last few months. While he wanted him again this weekend, for his own selfish ends as well as for Carter’s growth, he had decided against it. Carter had hit a wall over the last couple of weeks, one that Daddy was familiar with. He was wrestling with himself, with what he wanted to be, and it was best to let him rest for some time, to sort it out in his own time. If he pushed him too hard, it wouldn’t help anything.

He came out of the tunnel in the gym under the frat house, and that was the first indication that something was amiss–there was no one down there working out. Usually, on a Friday night, many of the boys would be down here working off their dinner, some of them working out while they smoked to take the edge off their horniness without having to fuck–or for the couple of boys in chastity at the moment, because they couldn’t. But there was no one. Guarded, he climbed the stairwell that led up to the living room, and found himself looking at the entire house of boys, all of them clustered around Carter, who was sprawled on a chaise, every single boy in the house worshipping him, with Ryan on top, fucking himself on Carter’s cock, moaning in ecstasy.

“Boys, Line up!” Daddy called, and that was enough to jolt them to their senses. Most of the boys did as commanded, some of them looking a bit…confused or scared, like they’d been caught in the act of something wrong. Carter did not line up with them, but instead stepped forward, his long hair and beard soaked with sweat from the hour long orgy he’d instigated with the rest of the house–well, commanded, really. Carter had been waiting for this, hoping his Daddy would be proud of him, but what he saw in Daddy’s eyes wasn’t appreciation, it was the sort of scowl he reserved for the boys who truly misbehaved. “Carter, what is the meaning of this? Where the fuck did that hair come from? You know that is a violation of the house dress code.”

“I…I grew it, Daddy,” Carter said. “I…I thought it was you.”

“Tell me what happened boy,” Daddy said, and Carter did–told him about how he’d grown his hair, about the power he had over the rest of the boys, the same sort of power that Daddy had himself.

“Can’t you see Daddy? I’m a man now! Like you said I would be one day, I’m…like you. I can help you!”

Daddy sighed. “Carter, come here–stand with me and look at the boys in the line.”

Carter did as he was told, but wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“They’re scared, Carter. They’re scared of you.”

Carter looked again, and he understood then. None of them would meet his eyes. Some turned away, out of fear or shame, or perhaps both. “Well, they should be afraid of me,” Carter said. “They should be afraid of both of us.”

The slap shocked him. It wasn’t the first time Daddy had done so, usually when Carter mouthed off in the dungeon, but never publicly, and never quite that hard. “No–that is not what we do. That is not what I do. We do not use fear, not here, not between us. Power, yes, but never fear. Get downstairs, Carter–we have to figure out what’s going on here, and how to stop this…power of yours.”

“What? No!” Carter said, “I…I thought you would be proud of me.”

“Carter,” Daddy said, resting his hands on his shoulders, “You are still so young, and so new. Gifted, yes, but you are wading into waters far too deep for you to handle yet. I’m not angry–I understand, but you need to listen to me. We have to fix this, alright? I cannot allow what you have done here tonight to stand. Now come with me, and we will sort this out.”

Ethan inflected that last sentence as an order,, with a sliver of will from the amulet around his neck, but he felt Carter shrug it off without much effort. “Let go of me,” Carter said in response, and the force of it caught Daddy off guard. He removed his hands, and Carter stepped back. “You’re weak. You were always weak. I’m stronger than you, I bet. Why don’t you get down on your knees and kiss my feet, Daddy? Maybe a few days servicing me will help you appreciate my power a little better.”

The young man was strong, but Ethan felt the command slide off him without him so much as flexing a knee. When he didn’t bend, he saw the kernel of fear that Carter had been hiding in his eyes grow a bit larger, and he took another step back.

“I said kneel!” Carter said again, but again, Daddy was unbent, even as every boy in the line off to the side collapsed to their knees at the force of the command.

“This is not power, Carter, this is a tantrum. Get downstairs now, or I will drag you down there myself.”

Carter found that he had to flex all of the will he could muster just to shrug off Daddy’s command–he would lose if this kept up. He had to get out of here. He bolted for the front door, and was out and down the steps before Daddy could make it onto the porch.

“God damn it boy, get your ass back in this house!” Daddy shouted at him. Carter felt the pull, but sprinted harder, dragging free of it. There, on the street, a motorcycle. Had it been there, or was this a wish of his own? He didn’t know how to ride it, but with a wish, he was dressed in leathers and a helmet, hopped on, and sped off down the street. He made it a few blocks before he had to pull over, rip the helmet off, and sob. He would show him, one day soon. He’d show Daddy just what kind of man he was. He’d be back, and when he did–Daddy would be the one kneeling before him, begging for forgiveness.

Ethan stood on the porch and watched Carter roar off down the road. He probably could have caught him, brought him back, but he decided not to–it was more important to tend to the boys and make sure they were ok, in any case. Back inside, the boys were rattled, but mostly resilient. Daddy canceled training that weekend, and spent the next couple of days with the boys, focusing more on making sure they felt cared for, smoking together, lying around with them, seeing to their course work, talking with them. Many asked about Carter, about what Daddy would do about him, but Daddy told them not to worry. Carter had needed space from him–but apparently, he’d needed more space than even Daddy had anticipated. One way or another, he would be back. All Daddy could hope, was that when he returned, he’d come back with a new understanding. Otherwise, there might not be a choice, other than to fight.

He sat with the amulet and meditated with it, trying to uncover how, or when, Carter had been given that strange power. In the end, nothing revealed itself which was troubling itself. If Ethan couldn’t understand how he had gifted Carter his power, then that meant he would have to be ready for it to happen again with the other boys. The weekend passed, and Carter didn’t return. Daddy spent the evenings out on the porch with a whiskey and a cigar, ready and waiting to see that motorcycle come back–but it didn’t come. After a week, Ethan began to wonder if he might be gone for good–or that perhaps something else had happened. In any case, there was nothing he could gain from worrying over it. In the end, he hung up the vigil, and things settled back down into a new normal.

Thanksgiving was coming closer, and Daddy and the boys were getting ready for the feast–none of them could return home to see their families, Daddy said, and while many were disappointed, they had found themselves growing closer to one another, and to Daddy–enough that to some of them, this felt more like their family than their old one ever had. It was Monday night andEthan had been out late shopping. Sure, he could just make the food appear if he wanted to, but he didn’t like to rely on it for the mundane. He believed it was better to retain a bit of humility, as a reminder. When he pulled up in front of the house, there was the bike. It had obviously been well travelled over the last few weeks, the wheels coated with dust and mud. Still, Carter wouldn’t have parked it here if he’d planned on jumping him. That either meant he’d come to his senses, or he’d grown powerful enough that he thought he could take Daddy without the element of surprise.

The door had been unlocked–not surprising, with Carter’s power. Daddy took a few minutes to put the food away, and just listened. He couldn’t hear much, but he could smell smoke wafting up from the dungeon below. Once the groceries were stashed away, Daddy took a cigar from his humidor, lit it, and went downstairs to meet his lost boy.

Carter was there, sitting in the bondage chair, a cigar in one hand, and a glass of whiskey balanced on the arm rest. He looked about as rough as the bike did–hair greasy and unwashed, longer than it had been in the house, reaching almost to the small of his back. His beard had grown out as well, down to his belly–or rather, a gut. Carter looked up at him as he entered, and Daddy saw that Carter was not the same boy that he’d been when he’d left. He was older–not as old as Daddy, but easily in his thirties. His skin weathered from hours riding under the sun. He shuffled his feet, and downed most of his glass of whiskey. “Hi…Daddy,” he said, finally.

“Welcome back, boy. I was worried about you,” Daddy said, and pulled over a chair to face Carter.

“You…didn’t come after me. If you were worried, why didn’t you look?”

“You needed space,” Daddy said. “Me chasing you wouldn’t have made you stop running, and it wouldn’t have helped the rest of the boys either. They needed me here more than you needed me coming after you.”

Carter looked a bit pained, like the reason was so obvious now, and the fact that he hadn’t seen it only made him feel worse. “Are…they all ok?”

“Yes, for the most part. I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see you, but they’re ok.”

“I came…I mean…I tried, I really did,” Carter said, and the first of the tears fell then. Daddy held back–but it was painful to watch all the same. “All I wanted was to be like you. To be strong like you are. I thought…if I could do it to others, then I must be, but god, I fucked up, I fucked up…”

“You did.”

“Not just the house, out there. I thought it was complicated here, but out there–fuck.”

Daddy nodded.

“You were right. I wasn’t ready. I’m just a kid, but the more I felt that way, the older I got, and I…I don’t know if I can go back, it won’t let me go back.”

“You can’t go back, Carter. There’s no erasing what you did. All you can do is go forward.”

“Please, I want to be a boy again. Help me try again, I’ll be better, I’ll listen this time.”

Daddy chuckled, and took a drag off his cigar, “But if you went back, you won’t know why you needed to listen, would you?”

Carter’s head sank. “So…I’m stuck? Like this? For good?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Daddy said, and stood up. “I can try something, I think–but you have to trust me, like you did that first day–can you do that? You have to want this to be right, more than you want to feel ashamed, and guilty, and depressed. You have to believe that I can offer you something else.”

Daddy walked over, and started fastening Carter’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the bondage chair, then slipped a blindfold over his eyes. He went to the wall, took down a pair of scissors, and bundled up Carter’s hair into his fist. “What do you want me to do, boy?”

“Please Daddy–cut my hair. I…I haven’t earned the right to wear it yet.”

“I will boy–but listen to me. When I cut this hair from you, I will sever you from your power–this power. Concentrate on that. It will be sealed away inside you, until you are allowed to grow this again, properly. And when that power is sealed, you will be renewed, do you understand? You will be a boy again–you will be my boy again.”

“Yes Sir, I understand Sir.”

Ethan cut through the hair–but it was harder than the first time. The grease didn’t help, but the power was resisting as well. He had to draw on his own, push it down into the blades of the shears, but they finally cut through, and Carter let out a sob of relief. Daddy kept cutting, working around the strap of the blindfold, and when he’d clipped as close as he could, he shaved Carter bald once again–but he left the beard. A token, perhaps, but in all honesty, it was vanity. It looked good–and the boy would need something to remind him of this.

He removed the restraints, led Carter in front of the mirror, and took off the blindfold–and Carter gasped in relief. He was young again. Himself again. He collapsed to his knees, and kissed Daddy’s boots, thanking him for another chance. Daddy got down with him, and pulled him close, giving him a kiss, running his fingers through his still grungy beard. “I’m proud of you,” Daddy said.

Carter didn’t say anything back–he clearly didn’t understand how Daddy could be proud of him, after what he’d done.

“You came back, boy. You came back–but more than that, you were man enough to admit that you’d been wrong. You surrendered to me not because you had to, but because you want to. And that shows that you are stronger than nearly every man I have ever met–and you’re still just a boy, for now. But one day, I can already tell, you’re going to make a great Daddy yourself. Maybe even a Frat Daddy like me.”

“I…Thank you Sir, I’d…be honored.”

“But first, there’s the small matter of your punishment, I believe.”

“I’ll take whatever you deem necessary Sir.”

“Oh, you’ll take a beating from me, yes. But first, I think the other boys have a right to first crack at you. Get up–you’re going on that cross. Every boy in the house is getting a flogging lesson tonight–and you’re the meat–got it?”

Carter gulped, but they both saw his cock jump at the thought. And once all the boys in the house had gotten a chance to take a little bit of their frustration and shame out on the now powerless Carter, they were all more than happy to take him back into the fold. And for Thanksgiving, they were all thankful for Daddy–but none more so that Carter, at Daddy’s right hand. He knew what he was now, without a doubt. It would take time, and training, and practice, and diligence, but he’d be a Daddy too, one day–it was the only thing he wanted to be. The only thing he could be. But he’d do it right, and he knew that with Daddy guiding him, he’d grow to be the best man he could possibly be.

Use It or Lose It (Part 5)

Six inches now–almost half the man you were. What did you say back then? Fat dirty slobs who couldn’t get any action?

The note was taped to the bathroom mirror, but Randal could see the results well enough right in front of him. The nice clothes he’d put on were gone, replaced by grubby sweats and a t-shirt–both heavily stained with what he suspected was his own cum–and probably that of other men too. He’d been able to see some of his old body left in him before, but now, all of that was gone for good. He’d lost most of his muscle mass, and had packed on at least a hundred and fifty pounds of fat instead. The scruffy beard he’d started growing was now a shaggy mass, and his hair was balding severely, almost past the crown of his head–much of it now grey where it had been a younger black. His body hair, on the other hand, had greatly diminished, leaving his fat body looking much smoother than before. In fact, all of him seemed…a little less masculine. His angular face was rounder, he was an inch or two shorter, and his ass had gained at least as much size as his belly.

He was disgusting. He was the kind of man he would have sneered at before, whom he would have considered lower than dirt in his, and in God’s, eyes. He was that low. He realized that now. He was worthless–he hated looking at himself, and yet, in some twisted way, that line of thinking was only making him…even hornier. He hadn’t jacked off since leaving the church, and the need was rising. He reached under his gut and found his cock…and trembled at how short it suddenly felt. Not only was it quite a bit shorter than before, his new gunt swallowed at least an inch. The five inches left for him to stroke was new–as was how skinny it seemed. His balls, too, were shrinking–they were closer to his body and didn’t swing as much as he was used to–still, it shouldn’t stop him from getting off, right? But much to his surprise, it was difficult to get off. His arm got tired, but the need to cum was only getting stronger. It wasn’t strong enough to change him–yet–but if he didn’t cum soon…

He saw the note and yanked it off, but before he could wad it up he saw something written on the back:

P.S. I don’t want to make this too easy for you. If you want to get off–you’re going to need…assistance from now on. Living, or rubber, should do. Check your nightstand, faggot–I think you might recognize it. Go fuck yourself.

Afraid of what he might find, but more afraid of what might happen to him if he doesn’t cum quickly, he heads into the apartment bedroom and to the nightstand. In the top drawer, where he’d usually kept his bible, there was now a flesh colored dildo and a container of lube. Like it might bite him, he reached in and pulled the cock out, worried about how large it was. The thing had to be ten inches long–and as he held it, he realized that the dildo was probably ten inches long exactly, just like his old cock had been. In fact, the dildo was exactly like his old cock–a complete replica.

He couldn’t think too hard about this, or he’d never get it done. Besides, the sight of it…had made him so much hornier, and hadn’t he always kind of wondered what it must have felt like, whenever he slammed that big cock of his into a tight pussy? He squeezed some lube on the head and shaft, laid back on the bed and started trying to force it into his hole, but the head was just too large to fit in easily, and his horniness was making him impatient. He had to work some of his fingers in first, stretching at the hole, before he could finally manage to impale himself on the dildo successfully. It hurt, he screamed, but one hand couldn’t leave his cock. He stroked faster, ignoring how much his weaker arm was burning, and forced the dildo in deeper, feeling his ass begin to adjust, the pain disappearing and being replaced by a deep satisfaction. He was a faggot. He could do this. This is what he was made to do! He slid down further, and started fucking himself on it, stroking faster, and even after he shot he kept fucking himself until he got hard again, and blew a second load, his fat body shaking and soaked with cum, lube, and sweat. At last he collapsed back, dildo still buried deep in his ass, and the first sob escaped his lips.

He’d lost. He had to admit it. He’d been wrong, and he’d lost. He didn’t know what that witch had done to him, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight it. He’d lost his body, he’d lost his family, and he’d lost his faith. He’d been wrong to lie, and he’d been wrong to lose himself to pride and anger like that in front of her. He’d assumed he was superior, when clearly, he had badly misjudged the situation. He would have to talk to her. He would apologize, and he was certain that she would put this right. He’d certainly learned his lesson, or so he’d thought. Still, there wasn’t anything he could do until he got to school in the morning, and so he left the dildo inside him for the rest of the day. It was comfortable–he had to admit that. By the evening, it seemed normal that he’d have to fuck his loose ass to get off–after all, what would keep an old fat faggot like him happier than an ass full of cock?

I’d fired that stupid bitch of a secretary the week before–I’d never liker her much. Sure, nice legs and a good ass, but she refused to put out, which is the only damn reason I hired her–that’s what secretaries are fucking for. But when she started getting “ideas” about the business (and let’s be honest, no idea a woman has about business can be good, right?) I fired her on the spot. Still, turns out the bitch had been doing her work, so I had to hire a temp while I do a search for a better candidate to match the position.

I told the temp agency to send over a hottie, but what I got instead was a fucking flaming faggot! I could tell he wanted me too, because he was looking at me the same way I would have been looking at him if he was some sexy bitch. I confront him…and what I want to do is pound him into the dirt and fore his ass, but what we end up doing instead–fuck, the faggot somehow convinces me to let him suck my cock at my desk. Worse, he’s damn good at it, and he seems like he “needs” it, so instead of calling the agency I decide–what’s the harm in keeping the faggot around for a while, right? If he wants it.

Well, it’s been two weeks, and I can say that decision was a terrible one, but I…I can’t stop now. I swear, I spend all day at the office, fucking his holes, morning to night–and worse, I think…I think I’m changing too. I mean, some of the changes are nice, like how muscular I’ve gotten lately, and I don’t even necessarily object to all the body hair, but these nipple rings make me feel like a fucking slut, especially everytime the faggot tugs on them, and while it’s still plenty for him…I think my cock is actually getting smaller, and it’s harder and harder to get hard for him without…without tugging on my nipples, or…or playing with my ass.

And now…now I keep staring at his bulge…wondering what it would feel like, to have him in my daddy hole. God, did I really just call it that? It’s gotten so hard to think lately, about anything other than sex. It’s a good thing that faggot has a good business instinct, or I’d be fucked for sure…yeah…yeah, fucked. Maybe…just once. Just to feel what it’s like. Yeah, I only need it once, just for curiosity. It’s not like it’ll turn me into some slutty daddy, begging for his young cock all day long. Yeah, I mean, I might…fantasize about something like that, but I’m too much of a man, a real man, to ever let that happen to me.

Source: lustbox

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.