Of Favors and Family (Part 4)

“Well Jeremiah, I’m gonna level with you. You’re a bit late with the blackmail, because your dad is already threatening the same thing, and honestly? His word in my favor is going to count quite a bit more than the words of you and your friends, whether you have a tape or not.”

Jeremiah went a bit pale at that, but didn’t say anything.

“But I’ll tell you what–maybe we can come to a compromise. You won’t have to go to war, and your dad will think you’ve gone to war. Wait a couple of years, come back, honorably discharged, and everything will be just fine.”

“How the hell is that going to work?”

“I grew up around here–still have lots of my family pack living up in the hills around here. They keep to themselves–I’m the only one around here who even knows where they live. You stay with them, and I’ll cover for you here.”

“Bullshit, I’m not going to live in the fucking hills with a bunch of dumb mutts!”

“Well, even if you stay here, you really think your dad is gonna stop trying to get you sent off? You’re going to war one way or another, whether I get you there, or someone else. You’re going to have to give up something, if you don’t want to die in Vietnam–because trust me, I know, when I send a boy off, if I’m sending him to die–and you wouldn’t last very long–and I have seen a great many young men in my office, and my accuracy would haunt you, trust me.”

Jeremiah was weakening, and Wade refused to budge. In the end, he gave in, signed the enlistment form, but didn’t get on the bus with the rest of the recruits at four in the afternoon. Instead, he called his friends, told them he was going into hiding, but to hide the tape in case anything happened to him, and then got in Wade’s car and drove off into the hills.

He’d told him to wait in the car. That had been close to half an hour ago, and Jeremiah was growing more and more suspicious by the minute that all of this was bullshit cooked up by this idiot recruiter to buy himself more time. They’d been driving for hours now, following twisting back roads up hills and back down into valleys, going deeper into the country than Jeremiah had ever been himself, where his nannies had told him when he was younger feral packs of hounds and wolves still roamed around, looking for trouble. Those had all just been stories of course, but there were old families out here–hell, Jeremiah knew he came from a few of them himself. All the hounds in the city could trace themselves back here one way or another, Wade too, he was sure. But why park here, and tell him to sit tight? He had no idea where he was, he had no way to get help. He was starting to wonder if he was the idiot for agreeing to these terms at all.

The sun was setting, but he couldn’t see it behind the ridge. He was already in shadow down here, the light growing dimmer with each passing minute. They hadn’t eaten all day long, and his stomach kept growling louder each time. Could he really do this? Live out here in the sticks? Now that he was here, it just seemed…so damn uncivilized. It…only had to be for a little while. Long enough for his dad to think he really was shipped off, and then he could come back down and just skip town for a while, live with some sympathetic family one state over. Just a couple of months, and then he could have a normal life again.

There was a rustle of brush, and then Wade turned the corner on the dirt road, hauling ass, hat in hand. He slid to a stop by the car, nearly losing his footing, then climbed in, fumbling with his keys.

“Are–what happened?”

“Shut the fuck up, and keep your head down.”

Jeremiah didn’t know what to think of that, until he heard the gunshot in the near distance, followed by a whoop.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Family issues, get your damn head down!”

The car started up, and Wade through it in reverse. A few overall clad cur-looking hounds bounded onto the road, holding rifles and shotguns, and leveled them at the car as it rolled back. Then, Jeremiah finally got down. They were lucky–none of the windows ended up getting busted out. Wade was sure it was meant more to scare him off than actually hurt him–he was, after all, family…just not as close to family as he might have been when he was younger. He’d been hoping for a slightly more sympathetic ear, but the great uncle who had been the local alpha a decade back had passed on, leaving his much more…aggressive son to take the helm of the family. The negotiation had started strong, until the alpha wanted to test the newcomer for the purity of his bloodline, and Wade had made…a misstep or two, and now he was rolling back down the road, night falling, cursing himself for being an idiot.

“What the fuck–are those the fucks you were going to have me stay with?”

“I never said it was going to be a hotel.”

“They were fucking shooting at us!”

“Well, usually they’re a bit more welcoming to family.”

Wade slid the car to a halt, now that he was sure the pack wasn’t following them, and sighed, wondering what to do now. There were a few other pockets of family around that he could check on, but he’d thought this one might be most…accommodating, and now that he’d riled up one part of the family, leaving Jeremiah with another chunk was liable to rekindle old feuds.

“I’m done with this–take me home,” Jeremiah said.

“This is not a deal you can back out off just because you’re a little uncomfortable now.”

“Look at those crazy fucks! I’m not staying with them!”

“Boy, if you go back now, your daddy will ship you off himself.”

“If you don’t take me back, then I’ll make sure that tape sees the light of day, as soon as I get word to my friends.”

“Yeah? And how the fuck do you plan on getting back there?” Wade said.

Jeremiah just glared at him, and then got out of the car. “I’ll fucking walk.”

Wade…had not expected that, and so he didn’t quite know what to say. Walking back was impossible of course–they were a good 20 miles away from town at this point, and he knew Jeremiah hadn’t been paying well enough attention to get back there. He couldn’t risk it though–and he also…well, he might be alright with the cocky brat getting a limb blown off in the jungle, half a world away, but the thought of him getting lost and dying in the woods (and with it being far more directly his own fault) wasn’t something he wanted to live with. Wade got out of the car, and started after him. “Hey–get your ass back here, we had a fucking deal boy.”

“The deal is off, faggot–I’m done. Once I get back there, the whole fucking town is going to know what a pervert you are, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Wade growled, and wished he’d brought his pistol along–not to hurt him, but a shot between his legs would do more to straighten the boy out than pretty much anything else. He felt the cuffs there on his belt…Jeremiah was younger than him, and probably a bit more fit…but he had a feeling he wasn’t particularly used to roughhousing. Wade on the other hand–well he had too much at stake to lose. He charged at Jeremiah’s back and slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground where they rolled about and tussled. Jeremiah was surprised that someone would dare attack him–anyone, and when Wade landed a paw across his face, leaving a nice scratch across his cheek–he just laid there, stunned. Pain, apparently, wasn’t something he was accustomed to. It gave Wade an opening, and he rolled him over and cuffed him on the ground, panting a bit…and his cock hard in his uniform slacks.

“You fucking piece of shit, get these fucking things off of me?”

Wade just watched him squirm there, and fuck, if it wasn’t turning him on something fierce. He’d only cuffed a few boys in the past, usually one’s he’d already broken in, or who were enjoying the treatment themselves, and every time, it had been…a rush. But what could he do? They were in the middle of the woods, night falling…and he wanted that ass, badly. He’d wanted that ass this whole time, but had been restraining himself out of a sense of respect for Jeremiah and his father–well, his respect had run out, and Wade had a feeling a good, rough fuck would put the runt in his place faster than words could anyway.

Jeremiah had managed to push himself up onto his knees, and Wade shoved him back down, snout first, into the dirt, and then got on top of him. Jeremiah began to struggle further, now that he could more…directly feel the older man’s erection, and he started to shout for help.

“Who the hell do you think is going to come save you boy?” Wade said, “Everyone out here is my kin–not yours. They won’t take too kindly to a racket like that–but I’ll be in the car and gone, and it’ll just be you out here, cuffed and alone…and shoot you in the back is the kindest they can be to an outsider like you–trust me. I know all the old stories…”

Wade tugged down Jeremiah’s pants and underwear, running one of his claws up the boy’s crack, feeling him shiver. He undid the fly of his pants, and his cock was already hard and out of its sheath–he thought about warming the boy up…but he didn’t deserve it, and honestly, Wade liked hearing them shout, and beg, and pull away from him. It made it all the more exciting. He pressed the head to Jeremiah’s ring, and felt the boy try and crawl away–he didn’t get far, and Wade bore down, sliding the head in, and then the shaft, shuddering with pleasure as jeremiah started shouting in pain and anger. Wade ground the boy’s snout into the dirt, hard enough to make him shut up, and started fucking him, driving his cock in deeper, inch by inch, with each thrust, panting as he did, feeling how close he was. “Maybe I should just take you home with me boy instead–keep you in my basement. You have a real nice hole, I have to say. Better than Ashton and Dusty–I’ll be sure to tell them that, next time I see them.”

Jeremiah was whining now, just wanting it to be over. It was…less sexy, but probably better. Wade pumped a little faster, pulled out, and nutted all over his ass, tugging his pants back up, watching the cum seep into the fabric in the twilight, before hauling the boy upright, and half dragging him back to the car, and shoving him in the backseat.

The fuck had helped clear his mind, and had also brought back some…memories, of fucking in these woods with his family, usually during family reunions that seemed to be happening less and less as of late. Still, when he’d been a cub, around Jeremiah’s age or a bit younger, he and his cousins had run off regularly to go “exploring”, though they spent most of their time exploring each other some days. But one memory in particular stood out to him–of his third cousin, Bart, once removed (that is, his great great grand aunt’s grandson–one generation older than he was) had caught him and another boy playing…and joined in. He’d…particularly enjoyed fucking Wade that afternoon, but he seemed to have a thing for cubs around that age–around Jeremiah’s age. He’d be pushing sixty at this point, but Wade knew he lived alone, and that he was on generally good terms with the rest of the family. He’d probably be more than willing to keep an eye on Jeremiah, especially if he could get a fuck out of it. Sure, giving Jeremiah to his family as a sex slave was going to…complicate returning him later, but he was low on options, and as far as he was concerned, Jeremiah deserved it.

He put the car in gear, and drove off again–thankfully, Bart’s shack wasn’t too far off from here–assuming he still lived there. Then again, Bart’s family had lived there for ages, though Bart was, as far as Wade could recall, the last of the line. He took a little too firmly to cock, to be able to pick out a wife and bed her for an heir–or maybe that had changed too, in the last few years. Still, he was an old hound, and particularly stubborn, as far as Wade could recall. He doubted much would have changed.

New You Resolutions (Part 9) [Interactive]

Duncan was holding his breath, listening to the audience of men in front of him laughing and whispering, discussing his fate, toying with the devices they were all holding, until he heard a ding above him, and the screen changed.

“Well, it looks like the audience has decided to give you a little mercy, Duncan,” the MC said, and Duncan felt a rumble in his guts. The screen above him said he would lose some weight and regain some of his youth, and he was, well, thrilled. Some of the fat on him melted away, his heavy apron reducing, the hair all over him regaining it’s former brown color–but the hair didn’t lessen at all–it was still incredibly thick, his long beard intact. The weight loss tapered off far sooner than he would have liked as well–leaving him around 300 pounds, with a solid gut, and thick moobs, and a wide ass of course. He wasn’t quite as young as he’d been either, ending up around 30 or so in age.

“This…this isn’t enough!” he said, shaking his gut with his hands. “If you can change me back this much, at least change me back all the damn way! This…this is almost worse!”

The audience was laughing again, and toying with their devices, when he heard a second ding, and another change popped up on the screen.

“Well, it looks like they audience thinks you should be a little more…grateful, for what they’ve given you, Duncan,” the MC said.

He looked up at the screen, and the second change said that he was going to start becoming an exhibitionist, who loved flaunting his fat, filthy, and hairy body for everyone to see, and as he read it, he felt his head start…swimming. He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to enjoy this! But when he shook his gut again…it felt good. He belched, and when the men laughed at him, he felt a burst of pride, and belched again. Then, without really thinking about it, he hauled off his tanktop, showing off his whole hairy expanse of a gut, and the men were all laughing and cheering him on…and it was…almost like the resh he’d felt in front of the camera before, when he’d been modelling. Almost…better in some ways. He started groping himself, hornier than he could really imagine from showing off like this in front of all these men, when there was another ding above him.

He felt the change happening as he groped his crotch, before he even looked back–his balls growing larger, his cum production constant, and perpetually horny, so he wouldn’t be able to resist groping and jacking off almost constantly. The last bit of himself that held any shame tried to drag his hand away from his cock, which was rapidly being dwarfed by the size of his balls, but he couldn’t. It just felt too damn good, and the first load of pre gouted from the head of his cock, soaking the front of his mesh shorts, and he could smell it, how pungent it was, and then it was too late–he was openly jacking himself off now, feeling the precum flowing almost constantly, soaking his shorts, running down his chubby thighs. He didn’t really hear the final ding–different from the rest.

“Oh goodness, looks like someone has made an offer!” the MC said, and one of the men from the audience climbed up onto the stage. He was the owner of a collection of fast food franchises–and he had plans for Duncan. His hands were shackled, something that frustrated him to no end, since he had to stop touching his cock, and the man–his new owner–led him away.

In the new year, when he awoke, he was in a cage in the store room of his new owner’s fast food chain, who came and let him out–but only after servicing his cock, of course. Then, he spent the entire day working the fryers in the back, hands shackled so he couldn’t touch himself, until the evening, when he was released and dragged back to his cage, where he ate his meal of cold fast food and jacked off–his old life forgotten, and his new life of servitude stretching before him forever.

As Duncan was led off the stage, the next of the four was pushed out onto it–Morg. He was massive now, easily six and a half feet tall, with a massive gut, body packed solid with muscle. He was wearing some of his clothes from his work, grubby from his labor, and wondering what all of this was about–but part of him…wondered if there was a chance he could change back, go back to being that college student, because he was…terrified by how much he enjoyed this, being this rough, aggressive, domineering brute–the brute who had spent the whole fall hunting down and raping the entire football team, one after another, turning them all screaming sissy bitches impaled on his massive cock…

The MC announced him, and the audience began to deliberate and vote–and Morg waited to see what they had in store for him now.

The next public poll is below, and the bonus poll for Patrons can be found through this link!

New You Resolutions (Part 8) [Interactive]

It was December 31st, 2019–the end of the year, New You Enterprises New Year’s Bash had arrived, and all of the attendees were mingling together, excited to see what sorts of fun they would be having soon enough, once the stars of the event were brought out.

The company had selected four men this year to receive their batches of life changing resolutions, and the attendees had been assured that the results were simply unbelievable–if incomplete. After all, there was still a few hours left in the year, and that meant the magic affecting the four young men was still potent–once midnight struck, all of them would be stuck in their new forms, whatever that might be, but the company liked to give the men it selected an opportunity to beg for mercy–though it was up to the audience of the ball to decide it they deserved it or not–or if they deserved a few final changes to really make their new lives properly…interesting.

The clock struck ten, and the lights in the room dimmed, two spotlights hitting the stage on the far end, where the attendees all gathered to look and see who the company would reveal first. An MC stepped out, to a round of applause, and introduced the companies first selection of the year.

“Hello everyone, VIPs, executives–thank you again for attending our little gathering this year. It’s my pleasure to begin the main event of the evening–but first, I would like to introduce you to our first recipient–Duncan Everett!”

Up on the screen on the stage, a slideshow began, showing old images of Duncan from years past, back when he had been the slender, handsome male model.

“Duncan has made some massive changes to his life this year, thanks to our help, but before all of this, he was the rising star of the modelling world, on the cusp of nailing down contracts with several major designers and modeling agencies all over the world. However, our company saw much different potential in this young man, and we are over the moon with the progress Duncan has made on his new self in the last year–why don’t you come on out here Duncan, let everyone get a glimpse of the new you!”

No one appeared for a moment, because Duncan had no interest on getting on stage. In the end, it took two stage hands to shove him out into the center of the stage, stumbling over his feet, looking nothing at all like the lithe, hairless, handsome young man on the screen above him. The entire audience clapped, impressed at how easily New You Enterprises had turned the young model into the massively obese, extremely hairy slob standing in front of them now.

The remainder of the year hadn’t been particularly kind to Duncan–as he’d kept aging up into his fifties, his metabolism had slowed down more and more, and by the beginning of December, he had finally crested four hundred pounds, much to his horror. The grungy clothes he’d bought back in January were still the only clothes he could manage to wear, and standing on stage there, in his tight set of mesh shorts, crusty and stained with hundreds of loads of cum, a wifebeater completely unable to hold his hairy apron of fat, he was…horrified at all of these handsome, well dressed men staring and leering at him, like a piece of meat…and yet, he also wanted them all–all of them, to surround him, and jack off on him, cover him with their jizz, so he could leave the party smelling even more like a cumrag than he did already. He took a drag off his cigar–the smoke helped him feel a bit calmer at least–he didn’t know how he could have gotten through this without them.

“Well Duncan, is there anything you’d like to say to our audience here? Anything you would like to ask them? If you beg, they might even be willing to give you some of your old life back, you know…”

Duncan looked out at the men, unsure of what to say, what might induce them to feel a bit merciful towards him. “P-Please,” he croaked, still not used to how raspy his voice sounded after the hundreds of cigars he’d been forced to smoke over the last year, “I…I took it all for granted, I know that, but I…I didn’t ask for any of this. This isn’t who I am! I don’t…I just want…people to look at me without being disgusted by me again, I just want to be normal again.”

Some of the men in the audience laughed, and others just shook their heads.

“You sick fucks!” Duncan shouted at them, “I–This year has been like hell. I…I wasn’t a good person, is that what you want me to say? So maybe I was a jerk at times, but I didn’t deserve this, no one deserves this…”

“Well audience, the choice is in your hands–use your voting devices, and decide what fate is in store for Duncan here.”

Alright, that last poll was fairly evenly divided between the various options, so I thought I would break it down a bit, for each character. The poll below has a few different kinds of choices in it. “Before” choices will bring back some of the character’s qualities from their prior life. “Extra” choices will enhance or intensify some of the changes already made to the character. Lastly, “Partner” choices will have someone from the audience claim the character as their own, and make some additional modifications to their lifestyle. I plan on mixing and matching options together from the various categories, depending on what’s popular, so there will be multiple winning options, as before in this interactive. Patrons have their own poll as well, over here!

New You Resolutions (Part 7)

The list that Hugh had in his hand had the following resolutions on it:

Instead of gaming, I resolve to spend my time working out, and masturbating to kinky gay porn from now on.
I resolve to swap ages with my father, and he will become my son. I will also take over his job and role in life.
I resolve to become submissive to my new son, and service his every need and demand, no matter how perverse and humiliating his demands might be.

This had to be a joke–was this some stupid thing his dad had come up with or something? He knew that his dad was pissed at him for not doing something with his life (something that Hugh was in the middle of trying to figure out!) but this weird shit was uncalled for. He stormed upstairs and showed the list to his dad, demanding to know what this was all about, but his dad didn’t seen to have any idea–but that didn’t stop Hugh from getting angrier and yelling at him–at least until Carl shouted at his son to shut the fuck up–and he did.

Hugh tried for a moment to keep talking, but he suddenly felt such a wave of shame at what he’d been saying to his dad, that he couldn’t muster the anger anymore, as his father tore into him, telling him he needed to get his act together, that he needed to grow the fuck up…and he was right. Carl ended the argument by telling Hugh to clean up his room at the very least…and much to their mutual surprise, Hugh…complied. He went downstairs and cleaned his room for the rest of the afternoon, trying to figure out why…he was so hard all of a sudden. He took a break to look at some porn, but the usual sites wouldn’t load for some reason–they kept diverting him to new ones, kinky sites showing muscular men being dominated by smaller guys, and Hugh found himself watching them, obsessed with them, imagining himself a big guy like that getting ordered around by his father…

He shot before he even realized what had happened, and was horrified at the thoughts going through his head–just like the strange list had told him to do. He finished cleaning his room, and tried to start up his game again…but he couldn’t focus. He…needed to get rid of some more energy first, and so he started doing some calisthenics in the basement, until dinner was ready, and then kept working out after dinner too, stopping only to watch more strange videos, and jack off.

He didn’t play video games for days, and then weeks. He found himself drawn back to the gym, lifting weights, wanting to get bigger, and stronger–stronger so he could…could be even more humiliated, like the videos he found himself obsessing over now. His father’s control over him was growing stronger as well, as his dad discovered just how much he could make his son do…and much to Hugh’s horror, he found himself urging his father on, suggesting more and more humiliating things he could make him do. By the end of the school year, Hugh was thick with muscle, and had taken over most of the household maintenance–cooking, cleaning, repairs–doing most of it while only wearing a skimpy set of underwear, his father laughing at how ridiculous he was, before ordering him to give him a foot massage, or suck his cock like a good boy.

Over the summer though, is when the rest of the changes hit. Every few days, his father would lose a year, and Hugh would gain one, and as he grew younger, his father would grow more petulant, and more and more lazy. Soon, the game system was back out, but it was Carl using it now, taunting his son (or brother now, really) with it, telling him that if he worked really hard, maybe he’d let him use it for an hour each week–but Hugh knew there was no chance of that. As he grew older, he only grew larger and larger, even bigger than his dad had been before, but while he could appear imposing, inside…he knew he was weak. He was just a big muscle slut enslaved by his fat, lazy son, and as humiliated as he was by the fact, it also turned him on to no end. Come August, he took over his father’s position as coach at the high school, and the entire role came perfectly naturally to him, like he’d been doing it for years, but seeing all these young sweaty men, all Hugh really wanted was for them all to dominate him, just like his son had. Still, he had the whole school year, right? Maybe…maybe he’d be able to resist. All he had to do was make it to the party at the end of the year, and maybe–maybe he’d be able to convince this company to give him his life back.

Alright, this is the end of the setup–let me know what sort of ending you might like to see for our four characters here. I might not use the winning suggestion for every single character-if some of the other options are popular, I might use those where it makes sense with the characters here. The public poll is below, and the patron only poll can be found here.

New You Resolutions (Part 6)

The list of resolutions that was included in the letter from New You Enterprises to Professor Leroy Herron was as follows:

I resolve to slowly lose my academic knowledge, my cognitive ability, and literacy.
I resolve to put my cock into permanent chastity, behave submissively to all men, and consider myself as a subhuman faggot.
I resolve to no longer use the toilet, and only wear diapers, which I will be unable to change myself.
I resolve to remove all of my hair permanently, and cover myself with humiliating tattoos.
I resolve to abandon my family, and instead serve dominant men as a sex slave for the rest of the year.

Leroy, naturally, found this entire list to be so ridiculous, so scandalous, that it had to be some joke, right? Some prank pulled by another professor in the department, or perhaps by a student. He certainly had no intention of doing any of these things. He went to throw the list in the trash, but as he did, he noticed that a small package had appeared on his desk while he’d read the letter and the list, something that he was certain hadn’t been there before. Hands shaking slightly, he unwrapped the package, and inside, he found a metal chastity cage, and a single diaper.

How had this gotten here? He didn’t know, but he certainly wasn’t going…to do this, was he? And yet, hands still shaking, he undid his pants, dropped then to the floor, stepped out of his shoes, and began working the chastity cage around the base of his cock. He…he had to put it on. He…he deserved to lock up his cock after all. Only men were allowed to have their cocks out, and free, and he…he wasn’t a man, not really. Not…anymore.

He fought the thoughts invading his mind, but his hands refused to obey him. The device clicked and locked–there was no sign of anyway to open it or remove it–aside from, perhaps, going to a locksmith and cutting it away from him…but he wouldn’t do that. No, the cage had to stay, and…and he still had to put on the diaper, right? He picked it up, and tried to put it on him, but for some reason couldn’t quite figure it out. He…he needed someone to do it, a man to do it for him. He was…too stupid of a faggot to put on his own diapers.

There was a knock on the door suddenly, and before Leroy could say anything, the office door opened, and the same student as before was in the doorway, eyes a bit puffy, but when he saw his professor with his pants down, cock locked in a chastity device…he just looked confused instead. “I, uh, I just wanted to…apologize…” the young man said, but didn’t get further than that.

“No, uh, I…I’m the one who needs to apologize,” Leroy said, the words tumbling from his mouth, and he got on his knees. “Of course you can go on your vacation, and see your family, I…I’m just a stupid faggot, I can’t tell you, a man like you, what to do, please forgive me for what I said earlier!” He go crawled forward, panting his head at the student’s feet, who just gaped at him, at his stern professor literally begging him for forgiveness…and as he watched it, something…brewed up in him, and he shoved his sneaker into Leroy’s face.

“If you’re really sorry, then…then clean my shoe, faggot!” he said, almost barking at him, his cock hardening as he watched Leroy obey him, licking at his sneaker, moaning as he did, cock trying desperately to harden in the tight cage, but it refused to budge. He cleaned one shoe, and then the other, and then…begged the young man to help him. He couldn’t get on his diaper, you see, and…and maybe he would be willing to help. The student agreed, but only if the professor would suck him off afterwards. He ended up getting several pictures of the professor, wearing just his diaper, a load of cum sprayed across his face and beard–and promised him it would be all over campus by the evening, so everyone would see just how much of a worthless faggot Professor Herron truly was.

Horrified at what he’d just done, a diapered Leroy fled to his car after the student had left resolved to drive home, but as he was sitting there, he felt piss flood into the front of his diaper…and he realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t let his wife and children see what he was becoming, he…he needed to go somewhere else, anywhere other than there. He ended up getting a room at a cheap motel off the highway, sitting alone in the room, trying to figure out what to do, trying to look up more information about New You Enterprises, but finding nothing. Over the next week…he found himself in a hopeless spiral. The male staff members of the motel soon discovered the faggot living there, and would humiliate him day and night, making him stew in his filthy diapers until they would change him at last, before the smell could be noticed by other guests. He shaved off his hair, and started…drawing on himself with sharpie, fantasizing about the tattoos he would get…soon enough, but what he wanted most…what he needed, was a master.

He started advertising on line, streaming videos of himself, begging anyone to be his master, looking for a dominant man to show this worthless diapered, sissy faggot his proper place in life. Mostly, men would just ridicule him, but eventually, someone took an interest in him–and so Leroy transferred all of the savings he had in his personal accounts to the stranger, bought a plane ticket with the remaining pittance, and drove off, ready to begin his service as a faggot for the year–if not for the rest of his life.

Alright, I’d like to do one more recipient of a set of resolutions, and then I’ll start wrapping things up with the end of the year party for all four of our lucky resolution winners. Who would you like the final target to be? The public poll is below, and the bonus patron poll can be found here!

New You Resolutions (Part 5) [Interactive]

“Look, I’d just like the week to go visit my family is all, some of the other students can keep an eye on the research while–”

“It’s simply out of the question,” Professor Leroy Herron said, looking over the top of his glasses at the grad student in his office, asking him for a winter vacation. “And frankly, the fact that you would even think of broaching this with me, makes me wonder if this sort of…career is a good match for you at all.”

The student stammered a moment, and then ducked back out of the office, realizing that he might have just put his entire PhD at risk. Professor Herron was not someone, after all, who was known for kindness and mercy. He was the preeminent scholar in his field, of course (though in reality almost all of his research had been done by overworked and burnt out grad students, which Herron could slap his name on, jetting to conferences all over the world while his grad students and post docs took care of his classes. Everyone knew it was unfair, and yet, a recommendation from him, or better yet, a phone call, was one of the only ways to get a tenure track position anymore, assuming one even opened up. Still, Leroy couldn’t care less. He had to do the same work when he was a grad student–this was just how the system worked. For him, it was working well, so why would he want to change it?

It any case, it was time for him to head home for the day. He was stuck dealing with some administrative busy work through the winter holiday, but after a couple more days, he’d be finished, and he could just relax at home with his wife and kids, while his students kept an eye on the projects in the lab. He stood up and stretched, scratched his beard and small gut he’d picked up from his mostly sedentary lifestyle these days, grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, and noticed something by the door to his office that he was certain hadn’t been there moments before. A small envelope, golden in color, just lying there on the ground. Wondering if, perhaps, his student had dropped it while he was leaving, he went over, picked it up, and say that it was actually addressed to him:

Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.
Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!
Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!
Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises

Leroy had no idea what to make of this letter–it sounded ridiculous. Most likely it was some stupid ploy by his grad students, something to make him ease up on them, or what have you. He’d even heard talk of a possible graduate student union being formed on campus, but as soon as he found the instigators of that, he’d have them thrown out of their programs in days. Expecting to just have a laugh, he looked at the included list, but his expression first went to confusion, and then to horror, at the various tasks put to him by the industry for the next year.

As before, you can vote for up to four resolutions below. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well. I will usually use three to five of the most popular selections in the next chunk of the story.

New You Resolutions (Part 3) [Interactive]

College was supposed to be better. That’s what Morgan had always told himself. That’s what teachers had told him, what his parents had told him, what his friends had told him. That college would be better. In college, he’d be accepted. In college, everyone would understand him, and support him. College was the future. College was everything that high school wasn’t. As it turned out, though, everyone who bullied him in high school ended up going to college too–not the same college of course, but the same kinds of people. The jocks, the bigots–every flavor of bully was still here, and somehow, this was worse.

He’d gotten through the first semester, but it had been hard. Hard to have that illusion shattered, hard to realize that everything was going to be this hard, forever, probably. That there would be more days when someone shouted “Queer!” and “Faggot!” at him than days when no one did. That if he wanted to be who he was–and he most certainly wasn’t about to give the assholes the satisfaction of not being out and proud and weird and all the wonderful things he loved about himself–he was going to have to deal with all of it, always, and there was no way he’d be able to avoid it. That high school wasn’t the problem–the problem was people, and there was no way to get rid of people. That things never really get better, even if they do get easier–or rather, it gets easier to deal with them.

It didn’t help that he was thin, and somewhat frail. It didn’t help that he had a bit of a lisp, that he liked bright colors, that he was a bit of a slut (not that there was anything wrong with being a slut either, he would tell himself). It didn’t help that his response to getting picked on was to just get louder. Bolder shirts, bolder hair, lipstick and eyeshadow. He liked it, in a way. He liked how much he confused them. He liked how he knew they wanted him, that the big football jocks knew he could suck their cock better than any of their girlfriends. Knew that they wanted him to suck their cocks more than they wanted their girlfriends. He knew that they hated themselves more than they could ever really hate him, and that was a small touch of justice he could use as a buoy to guide him.

For the moment though, there was peace. The year was new and fresh. He was new and fresh. Campus was quiet and empty of everyone. He lived a few blocks away, renting a room in a nearby house from an older couple who were nice enough, even if he confused them as well. College might not be better, but he could be better. He could face anything. It was with this resolve in place, that he found the odd golden envelope on the floor of his room in front of his door, like someone had slid it under in the night. Confused, he opened it up, and found himself looking at a letter addressed to him–and with it, a short list of resolutions.

Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.
Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!
Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!
Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises

Morgan read the list next, and gasped. This…this had to be some kind of fucking joke, right? There was no way he was going to do any of these things! What Morgan would soon discover, though, was that he had no choice in the matter at all.

Alright, here’s another list of possible resolutions for Morgan to contend with over the next year. Each person can vote for up to four, and I’ll use 4-5 of them to craft the next part of the story. The patron only poll can be found through here–votes in the Patron poll count twice as much, and I’ll usually use at least one option that’s popular with patrons that doesn’t get as much attention in the public poll. Thanks for reading, and for voting!

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 3)

The man in his bed pulled his head back up and looked at him–and he saw it now. He’d changed, like everyone did, but it was him. The cheeks were rounder, he had tattoos on both shoulders, and he was much, much hairier than he’d been before, but it was him. It was his own fucking dad. He tried to piece together the night before, tried to remember anything about how this could have happened, but it…wasn’t there. That wasn’t uncommon, really. Usually he half-recalled what happened the night before, while he was in the bar, but the more he changed inside, the less he became himself, the less he remembered the next day. After all, the person who’d done it didn’t exist anymore, except in the bar, he supposed. The only night he remembered was that first one. Everyone remembered the first one, forever. He’d have dreams sometimes, when he hadn’t been to Pigtown for a while. It would be like he was back there again, and when he woke up from them, sheets soaked in cum…he knew he wouldn’t sleep right until he went back again.

“No–that couldn’t have been you, it…he was so big, and…and fuck, his cock…smelled so good, feeding me his ash…” Ashford was rocking gently now, lost in the memory of the night before–the night he’d never be able to forget, and a night Carter would never be able to remember. Carter didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, so he did what he would have wanted, what he hadn’t had anyone to do for him, the morning after that first time. He climbed into the bed with him, and pulled him close, into a hug. Ashford tried to pull away for a moment, but then he shuddered, and started sobbing into Carter’s chest.

It was not the sort of position he was expecting. He had never seen his father cry, not even at the funeral for Carter’s grandmother. He held him awkwardly for a while, waiting for him to collect himself. He calmed down slowly, sobbing less, and sighed. “You…smell like him still. You smell good.”

Carter pushed him away then, not at all comfortable with his father saying something like that to him. “Dad, what the fuck were you doing there last night?” he asked, getting off the bed, “How the fuck did you even find Pigtown?”

“I fucking followed you is how!” he said, “I’ve been worried sick about you. You think I couldn’t tell something was wrong with you?” He shook his head, and then said, “What…was that place?”

“It’s…Pigtown.”

“I know the fucking name of the place! What the fuck…what the fuck did it do to me?”

Carter didn’t really have a good answer to that one. His dad was the first person he’d met who had gotten in without…wanting to get in.

“What…the fuck did it do to you?” his dad asked, looking over at him, “You were…huge. And…”

Carter was happy his dad didn’t finish the thought. He had zero interest in hearing about how he had fucked with his father the night before, and who he’d been when he’d done it.

“Look, you’ll feel better when you get some food in you, alright? Then…then we can talk about it,” Carter said, and headed for the door, “and…I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know about any of this.”

Carter had left the room and was out of earshot, and so he didn’t catch his dad’s soft reply, “Don’t be sorry…I…I wanted it.” Ashford hugged his legs to his chest, and fought the urge to start crying again. Why could he remember it all so well? He’d been so drunk, and yet, so clear headed at the same time. He’d wanted everything, all of it. He’d begged for it. He reached around and felt his back, certain he’d feel welts there, but there weren’t any. Checked his shoulder, where he could still feel the sting of that bear’s cigar burning into him, but nothing. He was untouched, mostly. At least, all the pain he could remember–there wasn’t a literal scratch on him. Maybe…it had been a dream, or partly a dream, because this was real. He threw his legs out of the bed and stood up. Even without a mirror, he could see he was different–not as different as he had been in the bar, after those three leather bears had dragged him inside and forced him to drink and smoke all that stuff with them, before he’d ended up in the backroom with him, with Carter–or at least, with the brute Carter had been.

As unfamiliar as this was though…it felt right. He could remember how he’d been before this, but he could remember this new body better. He went into the bathroom, feeling like he was going to puke again, but didn’t–he would have felt better if he had, he thought. He wanted it out of him, all of this, he didn’t want to remember that, he didn’t want to be in this body, he didn’t…want to keep thinking about how fucking sexy his son was, and contriving ideas to get him to fuck him again, maybe while he was smoking a cigar. Maybe he’d even feed him his ash, if he asked nicely…

The Three Daddies and a Spoiled Brat (Caption Sketch)

The four of us were on our way to Jeb’s parent’s cabin for the weekend, and we were getting there late, so we stopped at a bar along the way to get some food, and a drink. Now, I’m the only one of us who was under 21, but I had my fake ID with me. I don’t fuckin’ know how that old cunt knew it was fake, but when she refused to serve us…I got pissed, and maybe I said something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t fuckin’ faze her though–she just stared at me, and I felt this…chill run down my spine, and then she looked at my three friends, and told us to get the fuck out of her bar. We…did, but as I was leaving, she whispered to me, “If you want to act like a spoiled baby, you might as well be one.”

I felt weird for the rest of the drive. We all did, really. No one said much of anything, and we were all hungry, and I felt dumb for making a scene, and for being called out by some old bitch. We got to the cabin and started unloading, but as we did, I noticed that something was off about all of my friends. They seemed…older. Mitch had some grey hair in his beard, and his hair was receding. Nate’s beard was a bit longer, and he seemed chubbier than he had before. It was about that time, that I realized the crotch of my jeans felt warm, and when I looked down, I realized I had pissed my pants without even noticing.

Horrified, I ran inside to the bathroom, stripped out of my pants and got cleaned up–hoping no one had noticed. It took me about…half an hour? I walked back out, and found all three of my friends on the couch–fucking making out with each other like a bunch of fags! That, and all of them were white haired, and had stripped down to their underwear, showing off their hairy, chubby bodies, and I was so stunned that I fell down–and I couldn’t stand back up, no matter how hard I tried, and…and I fucking started to cry.

My three friends on the couch in the cabin, shifting

Jeb told me everything was ok, but before I could stop him, he put me in a diaper! I couldn’t even speak, everything came out as gibberish, and I watched all of my daddies having sex…and I got jealous. I got hard in my fucking diaper, and started groping myself, and when Daddy Nate saw, they gave me a spanking for being a naughty baby, and put these damn mitts on my hands! I just wanted to be a big boy like my daddies, but I was so naughty, all I could do was work myself into a fit of horniness.

Me the next morning, after falling asleep finally, still hard as a rock in my diaper

Thankfully, after the weekend, we all changed back–mostly. I…still have to wear a diaper, I can’t control it, and the only people who can change it are…are my daddies. Whenever I’m with them, they get old again, but they hate it–and they’re all avoiding me, but I don’t have a choice! I…I need to go back, and beg her to fix this, but I’m terrified. Terrified…she might just make it even worse. But what choice to we have?

New You Resolutions (Part 1) [Interactive]

Alright, I haven’t been particularly happy with how “Home for the Holiday’s has been progressing, mostly because I kind of lost the thread on where I wanted the whole thing to go, and haven’t really been satisfied with it since. In any case, I had an idea I liked better, so I’m going to go with that instead! Something to ring in the new year a bit better. A mysterious company has been gifting people lists of resolutions–ones that they have to follow in the new year, whether they want to or not. I’ll probably do three or four different vingettes, kind of like what I did with Spook Mart a few months back, and each vingette will cover what their resolutions were, and how they ended up at the end of the year. Hope you enjoy it!

Duncan hated New Year’s more than most other holidays, and the main reason, was that, come January, the gym was flooded with so many fat asses and sorry looking losers that getting through his usual workout would often take an hour longer than usual. And so, it was with that in mind that Duncan was up early, at five, getting dressed in his gym clothes, to go out and beat the crowd as best he could.

Duncan worked as a model, and so his physique and good looks were part of his job. He knew how much work it took to look like he did, and he also believed that most people didn’t have the kind of resolve necessary to really get what they wanted. No matter how much they wanted to be thin and muscular, they’d just fall of the wagon by the end of the month (and a few might even get pushed off by Duncan himself, with a few snide glances in the locker room, or out on the gym floor). In any case, he certainly didn’t have any resolutions for himself–as far as he was concerned, his life was going perfectly! All he had to do was keep pushing on, land a few more big campaigns, and he’d be set.

He went out into the kitchen of his apartment, and before he could make himself his usual pre-gym breakfast, he saw something odd on the counter top. It was a small envelope, the paper rather classy, looking almost like a fancy invitation or something. He was certain it hadn’t been there the night before, when he’d gotten home from that New Year’s party hosted by a designer he was cultivating. He picked it up, and saw the front had no address, just his name on it, and in the corner, a monogram for something called “New You Enterprises.” He’d certainly never heard of such a thing, but thought it might be something from an agency that had been slipped to him during the party, that he’d forgotten about. He opened the envelope, and inside was a letter, and a second piece of paper that he set aside. The letter read:

Dear Duncan,
Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.

Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!

Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!

Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises

Duncan reread the letter, certain it had to be some kind of joke. It sounded idiotic–what kind of idiot company would just go about making up resolutions for other people, especially people who had no idea who they were? He crumpled up the letter, and went to do the same to the other piece of paper that had been in the letter, but his hand…refused to crumple it. Instead, he picked it up and read the short list, growing more and more horrified at what was listed there. They couldn’t possibly be serious–this wasn’t a list of resolutions, it was self-sabotage! He certainly had no plans to do anything on the list–unfortunately, Duncan was about to discover that he was going to have to do everything on the list, whether he wanted to or not. But what were the resolutions on Duncan’s list?

Alright, below are eight options for the resolutions that Duncan found on his list. You can select up to four options below, and I’ll pick three-five of the winners to inflict on Duncan, depending on how they all work together. The winning option of the Patreon poll is guaranteed to be in the mix, and Patreon votes count double! Here’s the patron only poll, and here’s the public poll: