Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 5)

“Now, as for you, pup, why don’t we start with the basics,” Geoff said, as he pulled another doughnut from the box, “Go ahead and sit for me.”

Chance hesitated, not wanting to give into the compulsions the collar was trying to drill into his mind, but he felt his butt try to hit the floor all the same.

“Now pup–remember what we talked about. If you don’t act like a good boy, and do everything I tell you to do, you aren’t going to qualify for the force tonight, and I’ll have to find someone else to take a stupid, worthless mutt like you instead. Now, are you going to sit like a good boy? Or do I need to go get the electric collar out of the car to help you out?”

Chance growled a bit, not even realizing that his teeth had turned slightly sharp, but went down on his ass.

“Good boy!” Geoff said, being extra patronizing, “Now eat up your whole treat–I like my pups big and fat.”

Chance tried to fight it again, but hearing that he’d been a good boy short circuited his brain for a moment. He swallowed down the whole doughnut, and licked the badger’s finger’s clean, before he was able to pull away, embarrassed at what he’d just done, and determined not to give in any further.

“Alright, now beg for me pup, tell me how much you want a treat from me.”

“Fuck you,” Chance said, “You’re fucking insane. You won’t get away with this.”

“You don’t think you’re my first recruits, do you?” the bader said with a laugh, “No, I’ve had these collars a very long time. My last partner finally got too fat to pass the fitness exam about six months ago, and spends his days stuffing himself with food, getting even fatter. Maybe you should go stay with him, if you don’t make it on the force? I bet he would like a little mutt of his own to play with–I don’t think he can even reach his doggy cock anymore. Is that what you want? You want to be some slave to my old, obese partner?”

Chance didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know whether the bader was even telling the truth…but what if he was? He certainly hadn’t been lying about anything else. Maybe…maybe being belligerent was the wrong way to get out of this…maybe he could just go along with it, just some of it…after all, it did feel so…good, being a good boy for master…

“Come on pup, beg for me. I want to hear you say what you want.”

“I…want to be your good boy sir,” Chance said, trying to keep the words back, but they just kept pouring out, “I want to be a fat pup, I wanna be on the force sir, a…a slutty, fat pup recruit for you…for you to abuse, and…” he finally managed to hush himself, but the badger was beaming with delight, and that just made it worse somehow.

“That’s a very good boy, now eat your treat,” The badger said, pushing another doughnut to Chance’ mouth, and he ate it, savored it, because he knew he’d earned it. “Tastes good doesn’t it? It tastes good being a good boy, right?”

Chance nodded. It did, and he could feel the doughnut sliding down his throat and settling in his stomach, and as it did, he felt a bit heavier–or was it just his imagination?

“I want to hear you say it.”

Chance looked from the badger, over to Dingo–over to Angus–and then back again. He could feel the collar around his neck, and it felt so tight, and heavy, and he…he didn’t want to make them mad anymore, it felt so wonderful, being a good boy, and isn’t that what he wanted to be, really? “I…I like being a good boy…”

“Whose good boy?”

“Y-Yours…sir,” he tacked on at the end. It seemed to be what the badger was looking for, and his he showed all of his sharp teeth with his next grin.

“And do you want more treats, mutt? Do you want to stuff yourself silly until you’re just another stupid, fat mutt on the force, doing everything I tell you to do, like a dumb, obedient animal?”

The badger pressed another doughnut to Chance’s lips, and he didn’t fight it this time, or at least, he tried to fight it, but it was so hard, and he could almost feel the collar tightening around his neck, threatening to click another notch and reduce him even further. He opened his mouth and ate it, there was another burst of pleasure, and he…he lost himself, for a while. The badger would issue orders, order him to do tricks, and while each one was more humiliating than the last, he found himself not caring at all. He was doing what Master said, after all. He was being a good boy. Finally, he found himself eating doughnuts off the badger’s cock, and then sucking on it, licking up all of the icing he could find, while Dingo, sitting a ways off, had his uniform pants down around his ankles and was masturbating slowly, watching Master do to his husband everything he had done to him the night before–and while he knew, deep down, it should horrify him, so much of Angus was just…gone. Master, and his collar had seen to that after all, sanding away the edges of his mind until there was nothing left beyond what Master allowed, rattling around in a mostly empty skull.

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 4)

Above him, Dingo was panting harder, as his pace increased, and Geoff focused on getting Chance out of his clothes, using the knife on his belt to make the process much simpler. After all, this pup wasn’t going to have any need for this sort of office attire, and they were all going to be too big for him anyway, at this point. He was still a bit annoyed that he’d pulled the collar tight when he’d put it on, but as he watched Chance going to town on the much larger Dingo’s cock, he found it pretty sexy, actually. By the end of it, he might even shrink him a little further.

Now that Chance was naked, Geoff squatted down, and he could see that Chance’ cock had already taken to the change–his human member was gone, and in its place was a throbbing red rocket, similar to Dingo’s, but not quite as large. Geoff got down close and started stoking it, listening to Chance whimper a bit as Dingo rammed his cock down his husband’s throat. “Feel that, pup? Feel’s good, doesn’t it? Much better than that old, ugly ass human cock ever did. I don’t even know why we put up with keeping your kind around–still, there will be one less of you soon enough.”

He saw a flash of anger in Chance’ eye as he said that, and Geoff smirked. There was quite a bit of fire in this one for sure. He was going to have to break him out of that one way or another–but most pups like this could respond well to some good old fashioned humiliation. Once they really understood who was in charge here, and just how low Geoff could make them sink, they settled down in the end. “Alright Dingo, that’s enough. I think it’s time we start putting this pup through some paces, see if he’s even worth training or not. Go get the treats out of the car, partner.”

Dingo wasn’t happy about having to quit fucking Chance’ face, especially as close as he was to shooting, but an order from Master was always more important. He redid him fly and headed for the door, leaving Chance gasping for breath, and Geoff next to him, patting him on the head. “You…you can’t get away with this, too many people are going to miss us.”

“Oh pup, trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this. But you’d be surprised what people will believe. The two of you selling your house suddenly, moving off to Hawaii for a fresh start–it isn’t that far-fetched you know. Besides, these collars have a way of…smoothing things out, over time. In a few months, no one will even remember the two of you existed.”

“That’s…that’s not possible, none of this shit is possible!” Chance said.

“Now now, keep that anger in check–after all, only the best pups get to end up on the police force, remember. Dingo was a prime candidate, but you…well, let’s just say that I don’t know if you can make the cut. A bit too…short, for one thing. If you want to end up with your husband, instead of dropped off in the drunk tank tonight as a lowlife, criminal mongrel, then you should do your best to be a good boy–besides, doesn’t being a good boy feel so much better, than being a bad one?”

The burst of pleasure was stronger now, and seemed to connect right to his new cock. Chance tried to fight it as best as he could, but he was beginning to wonder if there was a way out of this at all. Angus seemed…so far gone. The way he’d fucked his face…it hadn’t even felt like his husband doing it, just a stranger using him. Maybe…if he could just get the collar off of him, somehow, he would remember what was going on. Chance didn’t know if there was a way to reverse what the collars were doing to them, but that seemed to be the first step, if they were going to get out of this without the badger warping them into his own little slaves.

He heard the front door open up again, and Dingo came tromping through with three boxes of doughnuts in his arms–and one doughnut stuffed in his maw. Geoff saw that Dingo hadn’t been able to resist dipping into the treats they had brought over for Chance’ training, and he got up, “Dingo! Bad boy, those aren’t treats for you, and you know that.”

Dingo whimpered, his ears lowering, and he put the half eaten doughnut back in the top box. “Sorry Master, I was just…hungry, and I know I did a good job, and so I thought–”

“You dumb mutt, we covered this yesterday–who does the thinking around here? You, the dumb dog? Or me, the smart badger.”

“You do the thinking sir, sorry…”

“Leave him alone,” Chance said, at them both, “Stop…stop treating him like he’s some stupid brute, that you get to play with. He’s a fucking person!”

Geoff laughed, “Listen to that pup, Dingo–he thinks you’re a person. Is that what you are?”

“No sir, I’m just a dumb doggy,” Dingo said, tail wagging, reciting what Master had told him about himself the day before, “A real mean one on the streets, but I’m just your fat bitch in the sheets sir, I’ll let you do anything you want to me, and I’ll thank you for it after.”

“That’s a good boy–you can finish that treat–but no more unless I say so.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dingo said, the doughnut muffling the second half of his reply, as he shoved it into his snout.

Spook Mart (Part 10)

When Ferris woke, he was in a cage. He was not the only thing in a cage near him–rather, he seemed to be in some massive room, filled with cages, and the cages, in turn, were all filled with a countless number of beasts. He couldn’t recognize any of them, they weren’t anything like what he had seen in his entire life, they all seemed massive, and hairy, full of teeth, glaring eyes, and sharp claws, and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking in terror.

He…could remember now, something he’d long forgotten from his youth, a dream he’d had as a child, a dream he had had over and over again. He’d be walking down a street–an alley really–lost and separated from his parents, calling out to them, and then it would sound behind him. A deep growl, so low it was more felt than heard, and when he turned around, it was there, the beast. A dog perhaps, but he had never seen it as a dog–dogs were friendly. No, this was something else, something feral and vicious, something that had sensed him cut off from the people who could protect him, something that wanted only to devour him, and nothing more.

He would wake, screaming, and his parents would console him, but the beast would always return the next night. Eventually, it faded, as these dreams do, he supposed, but it hadn’t faded from everywhere. In every cage, he could recognize them now, every beast from those dreams, caged up in his own mind, or caged up in the dream world, kept for him, for some terrible reason.

The nightmare in the cage next to his lunged at the steel bars, making it rattle, and he screamed, the beasts around him howling and snarling louder, drowning out his own voice, making it impossible to hear himself at all–and the fear, he had never felt fear like this. It was mindless. There was no controlling it, no tempering it or taming it, no rationalizing with it. He found himself reduced to an animal himself, shaking his own cage, but there was no door, and it seemed to be getting smaller, or tighter. He kept screaming, but all he could hear were the howls of the beasts, almost like they were all pouring from his own mouth, and then wall of the cage broke apart and he tumbled out of it and onto the floor outside, the cages surrounding him on all sides, but the fear was there, the fear would never leave him again, and he could…he could feel it changing him, warping him, somehow. He wasn’t right, he couldn’t stand up, he couldn’t speak, or scream or anything.

He could see it now, the nightmare. It had been feeding off him, draining his sanity and his soul, sucking away his rationality and his humanity, and when Ferris looked down at himself, in the midst of the cages, but he was no longer human–but he also was not a beast, not like them. He was nothing like them at all. He was soft and vulnerable. Fleshy and slow. No claws or teeth, no way to defend himself, because he was prey, he realized. He had always been prey, this whole time, but this was the first time he truly realized it.

“Stupid animal, coming to our realm in the night,” the thing said. It wasn’t human speech, but Ferris could understand it, somehow. “Still, such delicious fear–you’ve made me so very strong tonight–do you have more to feed me, little pet?”

A collar appeared around his neck then, choking him, and the nightmare approached him…and violated him. Ferris, perhaps, might have called it rape, but it was unlike any sex he had ever experienced–the thing wasn’t ruining his body, but choking out his mind, dimming it, ruining it, draining it–if he did nothing, then Ferris was certain he was doomed. It ended, and he felt for the tether, the last bit of himself connecting himself to his reality, to the waking world–but it was so weak. The nightmare dragged him back into the cage and sealed him back inside, and looked at him, at the fleshy, soft pig-like animal Ferris had become. “Not much longer now–soon you’ll be all dried up, just like all you mortals who make the mistake of coming here.”

The voice was clearer now, in his mind. He could…understand all of this, somehow, even the meanings in the snarls of the beasts surrounding him. The dream was corrupting him–and likely his tether as well. If he didn’t act soon, he’d be trapped here–and either be dead, or perhaps worse, doomed to wander as a nightmare himself, in this wasteland.

What fate befalls Ferris in the dream world?

He escapes the dream world, but the nightmare has warped reality around him.
He becomes trapped in the dream realm, a roaming nightmare to terrorize others.
He breaks free in the dream, and devours the dream spirit.
He is turned over to the beasts, and he is trapped in his own nightmare forever as their bitch.

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The Kingsford County Line (Part 9)

This is the end of the story as far as I ended up writing it–sorry again for the odd update schedule, life, etc. I’ll have some bonus posts tomorrow to make up for the gap.

The credits for the movie rolled. There were six actors, and all of them were naked, with Logan thought was very funny. The movie started, and an older man close to Grandpa’s age, and his grandson were in a bedroom together. The grandpa was tucking his grandson in…and Logan felt such a longing, when he looked at the grandson, at his chubby, smooth body; his small peepee; his short stature. That was what he’d wanted to see in the mirror, when he climbed out of the tub, that’s what he felt he should look like. The grandpa kissed his grandson goodnight, but then they started kissing longer, and the boy asked his grandpa why his peepee had gotten hard, and so the grandpa showed his grandson how good peepees can make you feel. In the room, Edgar had wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him close to him, rubbing his belly as Logan stared at the screen, rapt in faascination, and Edgar reached around and started rubbing Logan’s peepee again, making him shiver and moan.

The movie kept going. Soon, the grandpa put the grandson’s peepee in his mouth, and the grandson did the same. Then, the grandpa pushed his grandson onto his belly, climbed up, and put his peepee in the boy’s hole. When he saw that, Logan laughed, boucning up and down on the edge of the armchair. “I knew it!” he exclimed, “I knew you could do that with a peepee!” he leaned back, and looked at his grandpa with a suddenly serious expression, “Grandpa, I want you to put your peepee in my butthole, like that grandpa’s doing there.”

“Goodness boy, are you sure? Your grandpa’s awfully big, and you’re awfully tight.”

“I don’t care! Do it, I want to make your peepee feeel good.”

“Then you need to get it wet first. You remember what that grandpa told his grandson? Like a lollipop, but no teeth?”

“Yeah! I can do it…”

Logan wrenched himself out of his grandpa’s arms and got on his knees in front of him, licked his lips a few times, and then gave it a try, sucking on his Grandpa’s peepee as hard as he could, listening to him moan, knowing he was being such a good boy. With one hand, he reached back and started pressing on his hole, already so excited to feel his grandpa’s big peeepee in there…it was going to feel so good!

“Alright…alright, it’s wet enough,” Grandpa moaned, now get back up on my lap, and sit on my cock, boy.”

“Cock? I thought it was a peepee.”

“Boys like you have peepees, but grandpas and daddies have cocks.”

“O-Oh. Ok.”

It was the first thing he’d done in grandpa’s trailer that hurt, but he didn’t care, because after a minute, it felt so good he didn’t mind the pain, bouncing up and down on his grandpa’s cock, while grandpa rubbed Logan’s peepee. Logan groaned, and some strange white stuff sprayed out of his cock, shooting across the room. “Oh you fucker, you made a mess,” Edgar said, “Such a naughty dirty boy…”

“Oh…Oh, I’m sorry grandpa!”

“Heh, you can’t even stop yourself, came in here, and look at you now, just a boy desperate for grandpa’s cock. Been lonely for a long time boy–decades. I don’t get out much, and I’ve only seen a visitor after someone else has claimed ‘em, but you’re mine, you’re mine, and you’re gonna make me so fucking happy…”

Grandpa shoved Logan off his cock, sneding his boy sprawling across the carpet, but before Logan could do anything, Grandpa was on top of him again, ramming his cock deep, but now it really did hurt. Now, it wasn’t making him feel that good at all, and he started crying.

“Shut up! You think this is bad, heh, I can only imagine what those nasty fucks are doing to that nephew of yours. You should be thanking me–you’re going to have a good life here, keeping me happy. You’ll understand soon enough…”

The pain was bringing back other memories, and he remembered Tyler in that trailer, with those rednecks. What…what was he doing here? How much time had he wasted, and why…why was he letting his grandpa fuck him like this, and why was he enjoying it so much. He kicked and screamed, and managed to crawl away from grandpa, stumbling up. “No! No, I have to help Tyler. I have to call the police.”

“Heh, you should worry about yourself–not get back over here, before you make grandpa angry, boy.”

Fuck. Fuck, he didn’t want to make grandpa angry, but…but he needed to get help. He needed to get away from here, but he didn’t have any clothes, he didn’t have anything. He looked back towards the bedroom, but he’d never make it–all he could do is take a chance. He bolted for the door, slamming it open, and hit the ground running, and didn’t dare look back, not even when Grandpa screamed at him from the doorway, not even when his heart ached with guilt and shame, not even when he hit the edge of the trailer park and turned back the way he’d come. This place was insane, and he had a feeling he was going to be in so much trouble with grandpa when he got back home.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 8)

Sorry again for all the missed posts, and the double posts after the fact! Things are settling down (a bit) so hopefully the consistency will be back soon.

As he crept through the park, he began to realize how foolish this had all been–he hadn’t even let Howard know what was happening. He pulled out his phone, but the screen was cracked, probably from his fall off the truck, and he hadn’t been able to get service all day anyway, so it would have been next to usless working. All he’d really done is get equally lost himself–it wasn’t like he could just whisk himself back to the gas station–no, what he needed to do, first, was find that damn truck, and then find the police, and put these sickos where they belong.

The trailer part was structured around a loop, and at the back end of the gravel road, he spotted it–they had come in here, and they were probably in that trailer right next to it. Part of him wanted to investigate further, and see if he could save his nephew himself, but getting help wwould probably be a better idea, as much as he might want to be the hero. Should he knock on a neighbor’s door, or might they be in on whatever was going on? Without a phone, his options would seem to be, either, to ask to use someone’s and risk it, or to try and find the police station in town, wherever it might be. The first would save time–and who knew what those two might be doing with Tyler–but the second was probably safer. Still, he needed to figure out what was going on as quickly as possible, so he chose a trailer a little ways back which had seemed to be fairly well maintained, with the lights on, walked up to the door, and knocked.

“Just a minute!” a voice cried, male, sounding aged, and after a few moments, the door swung open, and on the other side of the screen door, wearing his a pair of boxers, was a man slightly older than Logan himself. He had a prominent gut, but the rest of him looked rather feeble and unthreatening, with a thick, but neatly trimmed white beard, glasses, and a small pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth, putting off a sweet scent that immediately set Logan at ease. but he seemed rather surprised at the sight of Logan, “Oh! Do I…know you? Don’t see out of towners around here very often.”

This, he thought, is a man I can trust. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but this is an emergency. I’m on a road trip with my brother and my two nephews, and while we were gassing our van, the two rednecks who live a few trailers down from you–they kidnapped one of my nephews! I…I followed them by riding on the back of their tow truck, as crazy as that sounds, but I need to call the police right away–do you have a phone I can use?”

“Oh my goodness, that does sound serious–yeah, Skip and Pa can be such troublemakers, I know just who you’re talking about, and we’ll get everything sorted out. I’m sure they don’t mean the boy any harm, though. Now come in, the phone’s inside. My name’s Edgar.”

“Thanks, Edgar. I’m Logan,” he said as the older man opened the screen and pushed it open for him, and as he climbed the stairs into the trailer, Edgar blew a could of pipe smoke right in his face, making him cough.

“Oh goodness Logan, I’m sorry about that–I smoke so often I forget I have it in my mouth sometimes.”

“It’s…it’s fine,” Logan said, clearing his throat, “I don’t really mind it that much, actually. In fact, it smells really…kind of sweet.”

“Oh, I’m too old to smoke the rough stuff anymore–sweet and young and soft, that’s what I like these days, you know?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Oh, now what did you do to your arm, boy?”

Now that he could get a better look in the dim light of the trailer, Logan figured that his earlier assessment that everything was fine might have been a bit hasty. There were no deep cuts, but his arm was covered in blood. “I…I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, and your face,” Edgar said, graabbing Logan’s chin in his hand and turning it towards him, Logan getting another face full of smoke in the process. “Did Skip do that to you?”

“No, it was…the older one.”

“I keep telling you to be careful around him, and you just don’t listen–well we’ll get you cleaned up, alright? Now get out of those clothes, they’re filthy, they have to be washed.”

“I-I think I really just need to use your phone…”

“The clothes, boy–you can use the phone later, but I won’t have those filthy rags getting my trailer filthy, and then you’re going to have a bath.”

Logan thought about protesting, but it was Edgar’s trailer, and he did want to be polite. He pulled off his shirt, doing his best to get catch the fabric on his bloody arm, his shoes and socks, and then dropped his pants, and without really thinking about it, he took off his underwear as well. Tsking, Edgar gathered up the pile of laundry and disappeared into the back of the trailer with them, leaving Logan naked, and feeling rather uncomfortable. He looked around, and saw the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchenette…but he really should ask permission first, shouldn’t he? He looked around the trailer a bit more, which was clean and rather spartan, though everything exuded softness, from the overstuffed armchair in front of the small TV, to the cushions on the chairs at the table, and he breathed a sigh of ease, the tension and terror that had been gripping him releasing slowly. His clothes were filthy, and a bath did sound wonderful, especially since all he’d had lately were low water pressure showers in grungy motel bathrooms. Tyler…he could wait a bit, right? Edgar hadn’t made it sound like he was in grave danger or anything.

He heard the sound of water running, and Edgar appeared again. “The tub’s filling up, now let’s take a look at that arm. Come here, over by the sink and we’ll see what that boy did to you.”

Logan followed him over, Edgar inspecting his arm under the light, before taking a fluffy washcloth and going to work, getting most of the dried and caked blood off. Like Logan had thought, it wasn’t as bad as it looked–but it was pretty bad all the same, with much of his forearm scraped away. Edgar didn’t say much, just smoked his pipe, pushing the smoke in Logan’s direction each time, watching his visitor inhale it now, a bit hungry for it, though Logan didn’t notice that the sweet smell was growing more and more appealing to him. When the worst of it was off his arm, Edgar turned his attention to Logan’s face, wiping the blood from where his lip had split, feeling the swelling there, watching him wince, though…his touch was still so gentle, just like the room around him, and Logan almost didn’t mind the fact that his touches brought a bit of pain–he…he just wanted Edgar to touch him, and…and be close to him. His cock had grown hard, but he hadn’t paid it any mind, but the old man saw it, and smiled. “Come on, boy–let’s get you in the bath.”

That was the second time Edgar had called him that. It was…strange, that he’d call him that, but he’d missed the chance to tell him to not call him that the first time, and now, his words felt so soft, he worried that if he asked him not to call him that, he might injure the old man. He was…so kind, and gentle. Logan didn’t want to do anything to upset him, of course. He followed him into the steamy bathroom, a large tub about half full of water. “Alright, get in and let’s get you all cleaned up.”

The water was hot, and bubbly–obviously Edgar had put something in to make it froth this much, and the room smelled sweet–kind of like his pipe smoke, but more bubblegum. It didn’t seem very appealing, but once Logan had settled down in the water, he gave a little gurgle of pleasure, He hadn’t taken a bath in ages–in his mind, baths were for kids, or something you did at spas, or something. Of course, his bachelor pad only had a shower, so it wasn’t like he could take a bath even if he wanted one. Still, this was…nice. In the back of his mind, he felt like he was getting off track. What about Tyler? He still needed to call the police, and tell them what had happened, or call the gas station, and try and get in touch with Howard, Jeremy or Dave. But all he really wanted to do was sink under the water for a bit. After all, it was just a bath. He knew where Tyler was, and he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Edgar got down on his knees next to the bath, and picked up a big sponge and dipped it in the foamy water, before pushing Logan forward and starting on his back. “There we go, let’s get my boy nice and clean.”

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of washing myself…you don’t have to…to help.”

“I know, you’re a big boy who thinks he can take care of himself,” Edgar said, but he didn’t stop, and Logan didn’t press the point, because…because he liked having the man touch him. That seemed…odd. Logan had never really liked being touched, but everytime his instincts told him to cringe, when the older man touched some other place, he instead felt…good. Soft, and good. “Alright, let’s shampoo that hair–close your eyes, you don’t want to get any in there.”

Logan obliged, squeezing his eyes shut tight while Logan massaged the soap into his scalp, telling him he was being such a good boy, and so patient, even thought Logan was squirming a bit, wanting to open his eyes, but he’d keep him shut, because…because he’d said so, because he didn’t want to disappoint him, right? Edgar took a small glass and used it to rinse the soap from Logan’s hair, and told him how good of a boy he was, keeping the soap out of his eyes, and…and Logan heard himself giggle.

He flung his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. What the hell was that? Edgar just laughed and rolled with it, soaping down his shoulders and front, running the sponge under the water over his belly and under his arms, which again, made Logan giggle. “That…that tickles!”

“Oh? Is someone a bit ticklish?” Edgar said, and pushed his hands into Logan’s armpits, wiggling his fingers, making the grown man lose himself in a spasm of giggles and sqirms, water splashing everywhere as they both laughed, the room full of smoke and steam, “No, Edgar! Stop!” he said.

“Call me grandpa, and I’ll stop!”

“No! That’s…that’s silly, you aren’t my…my grandpa!” Logan managed to stutter out in the midst of the man tickling him, but his chest and jaw hurt from laughing, “Alright! Alright, grandpa, stop! Grandpa!”

“Haha, that’s my good boy,” Edgar said, pulling his hands away, letting Logan catch his breath, still giggling a bit, smiling wide up at Edgar. “Alright, now get on your knees in there, let grandpa wash the rest of you up, boy.”

“Ok,” Logan said, and repositioned himself on his knees in the tub, and Edgar sponged him lower, around the outside of his thighs, his butt cheeks, and then the inside of his thighs, which made Logan shiver again.

“Ticklish?” Edgar asked., setting his pipe to the side with his free hand.

“N-No…no, just…funny, grandpa…”

“Funny good, or funny bad?”

“Funny…funny good.”

Yeah, that’s a good place, isn’t it? Your peepee?” Edgar asked, sponging Logan’s hard shaft under the water, then under to his balls, and between his thighs.

“Really good Grandpa, feels really…good…” Logan sighed, humping his cock into the sponge.

“Do you like how Grandpa makes you feel? How grandpa makes you feel good and soft and clean and happy?”

“Y-Yeah, grandpa, you make me feel really good, oh…oh grandpa…”

“That’s a good boy, my good, good boy,” Edgar said, letting the sponge float to the surface, wrapping one hand around Logan’s cock, stroking it slow, his other hand slipping under the water and around behind him, between his cheeks, lightly pressing against Logan’s ass, listening to his groan. “Do you want Grandpa to make you feel super extra good, boy?”

“Y-Yeah…” Logan moaned, a quiver of doubt in his voice, not quite sure what he was doing or why, but he didn’t want to stop. “Grandpa, why…I don’t…”

“Shush boy, everything’s fine, you’re happy and safe with Grandpa, I promise. Give Grandpa a kiss.”

“W-what?”

Give Grandpa a kiss.”

Edgar leaned over the tub, locking lips with his boy, and his doubts caved after a moment, Logan turning towards him as he humped into his grandpa’s hand, letting his grandpa shove his tongue deep in his mouth. It tasted of smoke, and was so soft, he didn’t notice that grandpa’s finger had slid into his ass until the pleasure surged through him like a bullet. “Oh…Oh Grandpa!” he cried into the older man’s mouth, but it was too late, he was shaking and cumming, spraying his cum into the bath water. They kept kissing a few minutes, until Logan had come down from his pleasure, Grandpa’s finger still probing his ass, and Edgar pulled his hands out, wiping them with a cloth, before picking his pipe up again. He took a deep inhale of smoke, and kissed him again, feeding him the smoke straight this time, and it was like Logan had never breathed fresh air before, the way he sucked it from his lungs. After a minute of sharing their air, they pulled away, both of them panting.

“I…love you, grandpa.”

“I love you too, boy…but we should get the rest of you cleaned up.”

“But….but I want…I want you to make me feel good again, like that.”

Edgar chuckled. “I’ll tell you what–let’s finish your bath, and then we can watch a movie that’ll make us both feel good.”

“Movies can make you feel good?”

“You’ll see. Now sit back down, and lift up a leg so I can wash it.”

The rest of the bath proceeded largely without incident, aside from another tickle attack on Logan’s feet, which again sent him into spasms of giggles and laughter, water flying everywhere as he kicked and splashed, but finally they finished, drained the bath, and Logan stood and climbed out, but froze when he saw his reflection.

“Grandpa? Why…I look…” he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. What he saw was…how old he looked. With his grey hair, and wrinkled face. His sagging gut and tits covered with hair. His goatee and receding hairline. That…that was what he’d always seen in the mirror, sure, but…somehow, looking at himself, he saw just how many years he’d put on, without even noticing, and…and he hated it, but that wasn’t quite right. After all, he loved how grandpa looked, he looked…looking at him made Logan really happy, in that good way, in the way that made his peepee hard, but that wasn’t how he wanted to look! That…that wasn’t how grandpa wanted him to look either, he bet. “Why am I so ugly?”

“Oh, don’t worry about how you look right now, you’ve had a rough day–all you need is your beauty sleep,” Edgar said, as he started towelling Logan down from head to toe, paying special attention to his boy’s peepee, of course, his boy leaning against him, feeling how soft and comfortable his grandpa was, how much he loved being close to him, how much he loved touching, and being touched by him. “Now, we were going to watch a movie, right?”

“Yeah…but…”

“What?”

“There was…Wasn’t there something else I needed to do?”

“Like what?”

Logan searched his head, trying to remember, but couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it–just let grandpa take care of the hard stuff, alright?”

“Ok, sounds good, grandpa. But what movie are we watching?”

“Oh, it’s one of my favorites–I’ve watched it lots of times.”

“Really? What’s it about?” Logan asked, as they went back into the living room.

“It’s about a grandpa and a grandson who love each other very much, and who love making each other feel good and special.”

“Kind of like us!” Logan exclaimed, with a laugh.

“Exactly like us! That’s why I know you’re going to love it.”

Grandpa put the video in the player, and turned on the TV, then went over and sat in the armchair. “Now come on boy, come sit in grandpa’s lap, and let’s watch together.”

Logan sat down between his grandpa’s legs on the chair, and felt his grandpa’s peepee poking him in the butt, but he didn’t mind…thinking about his grandpa’s finger in his hole, and how good that had made him feel…maybe…maybe that’s what peepees were for…even? He felt like he should know that, and yet the idea felt so staggeringly revolutionary to him, that even if that wasn’t what peepees were for, he…he kind of wanted to try it anyway.

ChatChange – Jock Slave (Flash Commission)

Thank you for using ChatRandom! You’re now being paired with a new chatter…..Partner found, welcome DirtyTubbs56!

DirtyTubbs56: Hey bud, how’s it hangin?

CollegeJock97: Fuck, put a fucking shirt on, would you? No one wants to see that.

DirtyTubbs056: Heh, how about this? Wanna see my big ol’ cock boy?

CollegeJock97: What the fuck, why won’t it let me close the window?

DirtyTubbs56: Sounds like someone didn’t pay for the premium membership. Guess you’re stuck with me for a little bit. Come on, whip out yer cock too–helps the time pass by real easy.

CollegeJock97: I’m not showing your my cock you fat, dirty faggot.

DirtyTubbs56: You know, I wasn’t too different from you when I was younger. You should watch what you say boy.

[Premium user DirtyTubbs56 has activated ChatChange]

CollegeJock97: What the fuck is chatchange?

DirtyTubbs56: You’ll see boy, now hold on a second.

[Change applied]

GrungeJock97: Oww! How the fuck–it fucking shocked me!

GrungeJock97: And why…what the fuck happened to my screenname? B?

DirtyTubbs56: Well I gotta say, it looks accurate–how old is that jock you have on boy?

GrungeJock97: Fuck, this…this thing? I’ve been wearing it all year so far

GrungeJock97: Why did I write that? I mean I have but I wasn’t wearing it, and my room, fuck it reeks so fucking good in here all of a sudden, makes me so damn horny.

DirtyTubbs56: Well then whip it out boy, let’s see what you got.

GrungeJock97: Fuck, you fucking did this to me, what the fuck did you do? Change me back, you fucking sicko.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck boy, been wearing these whities of mine for months–bet you’d love to give them a sniff, wouldn’t you? Look at the color on ‘em–ain’t they pretty. Hold on, gotta get up here for a sec, show ya the shit streak down the back.

DirtyTubbs56: Eh? What did you think of those? Damn, did checking out my dirty undies just make you leak all that? Now who’s the sicko around here?

GrungeJock97: I can’t fucking help it!

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck, reminds me of when I was younger, sneaking underwear from the locker room, especially the coach’s, if I could manage. You like older guys, don’t you boy? Fat old pigs like me?

GrungeJock97: Fuck no, you…no, I won’t do this, I fucking won’t.

DirtyTubbs56: Well it wasn’t really a question anyway, no worries

[Change Applied]

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, that fucking hurt! Fucking stop it! What did you fucking do this time, daddy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen:Why the fuck did I type that? You’re fucking with my head, aren’t you daddy?

DirtyTubbs56: Just made you a little more appreciative is all. You should be thankful, shouldn’t you? That I’m turning you into a whore for dirty old men like me? Come on, tell me what you’d do to me, if I was in that dirty room of yours.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, I don’t wanna say daddy, don’t make me do this, please sir.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me boy, that’s an order.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck–fuck, I’d…I’d sniff your pits, and clean your whole stinking body sir. Suck your cock, and eat out your ass if you wanted, I’d…fuck, feeling you on top of me, fucking my dirty hole makes me so hard just thinking about it

DirtyTubbs56: How about my feet boy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: I fucking love dirty feet sir, I’d lick them clean–the…the stink of ‘em makes me cum harder than anything.

DirtyTubbs56: That’s a much better attitude boy–but I think we should punish you for some of your rudeness earlier, don’t you think?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: No sir, please, I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want, you don’t have to change me anymore, please

DirtyTubbs56: No–see, I think you’re still a bit too proud of yourself. Your youth, your body. But living like this, well, it won’t last for long, trust me. All those hours spent alone in your room, masturbating to your own heady stench–it doesn’t leave much time for working out, does it? But you can’t stop–and the more you lose, the more you want it back.

[Change applied]

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, that…fuck, what the fuck, I think I’m going to be sick…

DirtyTubbs56: Just accept it, just let it wash over you. You’ll feel so much better soon, trust me, you don’t know it yet, but you’re going to love this. I thought the same thing, but this is so much better than you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: I’m, fuck, I’m old, and I’m so fucking fat! Change me back you fucker! You can’t fucking do this to me, you fucking can’t do this, I was

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, why the fuck can’t I remember? I…I remember getting in the locker room, yesterday, but I wasn’t playing, I…fuck, that’s right, I took a fucking haul, five rank jocks from the locker room. I…know the janitor, and he’ll give me fifteen minutes to raid the place if I blow him, and it’s fucking worth it every time. Can’t do it too often though, but fuck, you should fucking smell these things.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck man, they look so filthy, I can almost smell them through the screen!

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck yeah, I watch them at practice too, usually, wearing my favorite ones, even a jersey or two, while I’m under the bleachers, jacking off. Just fucking wish I could get close to them, you know? Really show those young studs what an old pig like me has to offer.

DirtyTubbs56: I bet you’d do anything for a stud like that.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: You fucking know it! I…fuck, I know you fucking did this to me, but everything feels so fucking…far away now. And fuck if I don’t fucking love this.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me what you want, pig–if you really want to go back, I could be persuaded if you ask really nicely–though I might need a favor in return.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, all I really want is all those fucking jocks around me, fucking me, pissing on me, using me as their fucking pig slut, fuck now that would be the fucking life!

DirtyTubbs56: Well I can arrange that too, you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Wait, I didn’t mean it, not really, I was just fantasizing!

DirtyTubbs56: You sounded pretty serious to me.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck you, fucking change me back, I’ll do anything you want, I’ll find you and blow you, please

DirtyTubbs56: Nah, I like your idea better.

[change applied]

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: Fuck, what’s happening, why

DirtyTubbs56: Huh, he vanished–must not be living in that room anymore.

[Find user – FilthySlavePig4Jocks]

[User found. Local internet device found–connect user to device? Y/N]

[Y]

[Connection reestablished]

DirtyTubbs56: There you are–fuck, look at you, looks like those jocks sure did a number on you.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I…I can’t be in here, this is Master Coach’s office if anyone finds me I’ll get punished so bad

DirtyTubbs56: No worries, I won’t keep you for long, I just wanted to see what those jocks did to you–and fuck, what the hell didn’t they do. Is that the mascot?

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I’m property of the team, they tattooed me to show it. Keep me shaved all the time, lock up my cock where it belongs The team uses me whenever they need to, and…and I love it. Thank you, thank you for doing this to me, I didn’t know I needed this so badly, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m so happy–this was where I always belonged I just didn’t know it.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I have to get back in my pen though, if anyone finds me they’ll put me in the box and I hate the box.

DirtyTubbs56: Alright pig–get back in your pen–and you’re welcome.

[End Connection]

[Find new User? Y/N]

[Y]

The Kingsford County Line (Part 3)

The three bikers left out the door, leaving Howard on his hands and knees, licking cum from the filthy tile floor, and Jeremy finally shot his third load, and Doug felt mostly sated for the night, and pulled away. Jeremy still hadn’t had enough though–his cock was on fire without a hole to shove it into, and when he saw his father turn around, his ass dribbling cum, he lunged forward and rammed into him like an animal, pistoning and thrusting, while Howard lost control all over again, spraying another load himself across the floor. It was only after Jeremy came for the fifth time that he was able to regain some of his senses, pull himself free from his father, and wonder why nothing he’d just done seemed to be bothering him in the slightest. It didn’t seem to be bothering his father either, who was pushing back onto his cock just as fervently, head still pressed to the tile and eating up the last of the cum from his own final load. Jeremy pulled out and stumbled back, muscles shaking from the exertion, his cock still throbbing with need, and he looked over at Doug behind the counter. “What…what the fuck did you just do to me? What happened?”

“Kingsford County happened. Don’t worry, it’ll feel like home soon enough. Still, all that fuckin’ worked up an appetite–how about you? Why don’t we binge for a bit, and you can plow me again once you’re good and drunk–I like my men with a hefty beergut, you know? Don’t worry, you’ll only end up as big as me if you want to…” Doug said, shaking his gut again, Jeremy feeling it tug at his attention, tug at his cock, tug at his sudden, visceral need, and he ran. Ran around the end of the aisle and burst out the door and back into the parking lot, but only after did he realize he’d just left his father inside. Still–he couldn’t go back there, he couldn’t go back in there. If he did, he had a feeling he might never get out of there again. He shoved his cock back in his pants, and ran back over to the car, where he’d told Tyler and Dave to wait while he went and saw what was taking his dad so long–and he discovered something even worse. They were gone. Both of them.

There was no sign of a struggle, and the doors were all unlocked. He opened the door and looked in the back, but Uncle Logan was gone too. They couldn’t have just disappeared, right? They…they knew better, didn’t they, than to just take off without saying anything? He realized the bikers had left before them–had they done something to them? Logan wouldn’t have let something happen to them, unless…unless something happened to Logan. But then again, it wasn’t like his dad or he had been able to put up much of a fight against them inside. He looked around, but the station was deserted from what he could see. “Tyler?” he shouted into the night, “Dave?…Uncle Logan?” He ran around the pumps, and hooked around the side of the building–it was dark, but he could see someone there, sitting with their back against the wall, shaking and shivering in the dark. He ran over and found Dave there, soaking wet and stinking of…piss? What the fuck had those bikers done to him?

“Dave? Dave! Can you hear me?” Jeremy said, giving his brother’s friend a shake, “What happened? Where are Tyler and Uncle Logan?”

“They…they took Tyler. Logan…he tried–” was all dave could say, before he clamped up again, eyes welling up, “The smell, fuck…smelled so good…”

“Who? Those bikers? Did they do this?” Jeremy asked, but Dave wasn’t replying, just rocking gently against the wall. He grabbed Dave by the arm and hauled him up, half leading, half dragging him back to the van, when he saw his dad stumble out of the station doors, legs wide, face coated with cum.

“Sorry…Sorry Jeremy, had to clean up after…after Doug in there too. Fucker got cum all over his fuckin’ chair, and I didn’t want him to have to just sit down in it, you know?”

“Dad!” Jeremy said, running over, “Those fucking bikers took Tyler! And I don’t know where Uncle Logan is, I can’t find him.”

Howard didn’t seem to be listening, he just lurched over towards his son, throwing himself at him, sending Dave tumbling to the dirt where he curled up in a fetal position. “Jeremy…would…hey, fuck me again, like you did in there. Real rough. Fuck your old man, really…really fucking give it to me. Never knew my son was a real stud like that, you know?”

He didn’t have much of a choice, did he? Jeremy pushed him away and slapped his father across the face, but it didn’t seem to help much. “Dad! They’re fucking gone! Don’t you fucking get it? Those fucking bikers must have taken them!”

“Nah…nah they…they wouldn’t…would they? Don’t think they’d do that. It’s me they want, they know I’m the best…best pig around here.”

“Dad, get in the damn car, we have to find them!”

“Sure sure, but what about that fuck son? Fuck me again, and we can do anything you fuckin’ want,” Howard said, leaned in and tried to kiss Jeremy, who side stepped him. Howard fell forward, trying to keep his balance, but fell to the dirt on his hands and knees–but instead of getting up, he undid his jeans and pushed them down, showing his ass to his son…and Jeremy…he wanted to, he really did, but he had to stay focused, he had to…to try not to think about what had just happened in there, what he’d done.

“You don’t want that ass–trust me, he’s taken.”

Jeremy looked over and saw Doug at the door. He must have finally lumbered over to the door, his massively fat apron still…still hanging down over his jeans, swaying a bit.

“Get back in here, we aren’t finished yet, not by a long shot.”

“No…No, those bikers, they took my brother. And my uncle.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, that’s none of your concern anymore,” Doug said, giving his fat a slight jiggle, Jeremy focusing away, but he could…feel it, feel that ache. “You’re mine, I claimed you. Now get in here–I’m fucking starving.”

No–No, he–he had to find his family. But later, maybe. Eventually? It was hard to really understand what happened to him every time he saw Doug’s gut heave again.

He grabbed his dad by the arm and hauled him up, dragging him over to the car, Howard stumbling with his pants and underwear around his ankles, and Jeremy shoved him into the passenger seat, as Doug pushed his way out, yelling and cursing, but he was too slow to stop him, Jeremy knew that. He grabbed Dave and helped him up from where he’d fallen, and shoved him into the back of the van, climbed in the driver’s side and started the engine, hearing it give a strange, grinding whine that it hadn’t been making before, but he floored it, and sped off into the dark. Still, he couldn’t…couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rearview mirror, where he could still see Doug silhouetted in the light of the station, until the road turned a bend, and he disappeared behind him in the dark.

The Kingston County Line (Part 2)

Yesterday went to hell, so here’s a double length post to make up for it!

He knew the answer to his own question as he looked them up and down–these guys were doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. All three of them were probably in their midthirties, more in shape than out, and wide, square shoulders, and none shorter than six foot three. What in the hell was he doing even asking guys like this a question like that? The one the attendant had called Butch, the biggest, and meanest looking of the three, his body so thickly coated with tattoos even his face had thick blocks and swirls of black on his cheeks and forehead, pulled a dark leaf, near black cigar from the pocket of his worn leather vest, a lighter from the other, and took a moment to light it, puffing it to life with an odd gentleness. How long since he’d seen someone smoke indoors in a place like this? Decades? It was such a strange sight, that it was almost comical to him, and the joker in him blurted out, “I don’t think you can smoke in here,” and immediately regretted it.

“Definitely new around here,” Butch mumbled with a chuckle, and then stared Howard down, “I think you’ll figure out soon enough that, here in Kingsford, we can smoke wherever the fuck we want to, bitch.”

Howard tried to retort, but his throat was frozen shut, his eyes unable to look away from Butch’s. He heard Doug let out a despairing moan, “Aww come on! You know he should be mine! Let me have him, ya’ll don’t have to be so damn greedy! Besides, I know you came in here for my fat ass, Butch, don’t tell me you aren’t gonna give me a good reaming now just cause someone new came in the door!”

“Slim, smack Dougy for me,” Butch said without breaking eye contact, and one of the bikers–neither of which was at all slim, turned and slapped the attendant hard across the face, dark chewing tobacco spittle flying from his mouth. “Thanks, Slim.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“Dougy, you can watch if you fuckin’ want, I guess, but I sure as hell don’t want your ass now, none of us want your nasty, loose hole, you’re just fuckin’ easy, and you know it. No, not when we have someone new inside the county line,” Butch stepped closer, puffing on his cigar, until he was toe to toe with Howard, and then took the cigar from his mouth, leaned down until he less than an inch from his face, and exhaled a thick plume of dark grey smoke right at him.

He didn’t want to breathe in, but the sudden surprise made him jolt and inhale anyway, pulling the rank smoke into his lungs…but more than that. He felt the soot stick to his face, to his eyes, cloud up his mind. He swayed on his feet, as Butch took a second deep drag off his cigar, and again leaned in, but this time he was ready–Howard…opened his mouth, allowing Butch to lock their mouths together, feeding him the smoke directly into his lungs, the two of them sharing smoke even as Butch ran his knife down his bare arms, making Howard shiver, before using it to cut the buttons from his shirt, one by one until it opened up, revealing his hairy belly beneath. At this point, Howard wasn’t thinking anything at all, his eyes blank and staring into the middle distance, jaw slack, but more than happy to take another load of smoke when Butch fed it to him, while he undid the fly of Howard’s jeans and pushed them down, helping him shrug off his now buttonless shirt, the father now naked aside from the tennis shoes. His cock was rigid, but Butch had no interest in that–he spun him around, bent him over at the waist, and got down on his knees, taking another drag off his cigar, this time spreading apart Howard’s ass, and pushing the hot, acrid smoke right into his ass.

The effect was immediate–his hole loosening, but more than that–a strange, desperation pushed it’s way into his hazy mind. Though Howard had never once in his life entertained being with another man, suddenly, the only thing he needed, more than anything else, was a cock buried deep in his ass. Howard kept feeding him smoke, four or five more loads, and each time he didn’t believe the desperation could grow, but it did all the same. By the third lungful of smoke, he heard himself begging, almost outside of his body, pleading with the bikers to fuck him, to rape him, all of them, that he needed their cum, he needed their smoke, he needed them all inside him, all at once, if possible. When he needed a fuck so bad he was nearly sobbing, Butch finally decided he was ready, lined up his thick, nine inch cock, and slipped it inside Howard’s now welcoming ass, teasing him, holding his hips tight in his gloved hands to keep the older man from impaling himself on it, making him quiver and beg for every inch, until Butch was nestled in deep.

“First of many, bitch, first of so fucking many, don’t you worry,” Butch said to the quivering man, “Now, tell me, how much do you want my brothers’ cocks shoved down that hungry throat of yours? How bad do you need them to rape your throat rough and hard?”

“So…so badly, more than I’ve needed anything, other than how much I need you inside me right…right now.”

“That’s good–because their cocks deserved to be worshiped, don’t they? Look at them, think about me. We’re the only kind of men you desire. Rough, violent, willing and happy to treat a desperate pigwhore like you how you deserve to be treated. The only people who can give you, what you know, in your heart, you need, and deserve. Men like us, we deserve to be worshiped, deserve your service, isn’t that right?”

“Yes…yes sir, fuck, they’re so…you’re all the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen, please, please let me serve you, please give me your cocks, I need them, I want…I want to give you pleasure, do whatever you want to me, use me however you want, just…just please…please.”

Slim and Leon, the third biker, were more than happy to give the pig what he was asking for. Both of them released their own cocks from their greasy jeans–Leon’s was a more modest five, but heavily pierced, with a thick gauge PA and a jacobs ladder, while Slim’s was ten inches and again, hardly slim, with a meaty foreskin. Howard didn’t know where to start–he hopped from each cock, back and forth with Butch started fucking him, drawing his cock all the way out before slamming back inside him with enough force to impale his face on whatever cock had his attention at the moment. And inside his head, Howard scrambled for any kind of foothold he could find. What was he doing? These…these men were raping him, and he was just going to let it happen? No, he wasn;t just letting it happen, he wanted it to happen. He wanted them to be even rougher, he wanted it, he needed it. How could he have not known this about himself? How was he just discovering this part of him? It felt…it felt like that smoke–it had been more than smoke. It had planted something inside of him, something that was growing…or festering. Butch came inside him, and he felt that…thing, it latched onto him, wrapping itself deeper into him, watered with the cum filling his bowels. Butch pulled out, motioned to Slim, and the massive man took his place, burying his even larger cock in to the hilt.

Butch had been gentle, compared to Slim. Even as loose and pliable as he’d become, he still groaned and moaned in pain, even as he tried to focus on worshiping the cocks in front of him, cleaning his own filth from Butch’s tool, tasting his own humiliation. It was then that he realized that his own cock had been wrapped around his own cock this whole time, and he’d already cum once–he hadn’t noticed because the force and pleasure of his own orgasm hadn’t compared at all to the pleasure of his service at the cocks of these rough, abusive bikers, these gods, as he was coming to see them now. His gods.

“D-Dad? Dad!”

Some small fragment of whatever spell was holding him snapped, and Howard flung his head away from the cocks, and found himself staring at Jeremy, his son, who must have come in to look for him, when he hadn’t returned to fill up the car.

Did I fucking tell you that you could stop?” Butch asked, grabbed Howard by the iar and yanked his face back around, cheeks burning as he continued nursing the head of Butch’s cock, tasting the last bit of cum dribbling from his balls. “Looks like it’s your fucking lucky day Doug, we have a two for one.”

Jeremy pulled his eyes away from the disgusting scene of his father’s willing rape, and looked to where Butch had turned, finding himself staring at the gas station attendant behind the counter. He had hefted his huge gut up onto the glass surface, like a shelf, and squatted down so he could access his puny cock buried there in the folds–it was one of the only ways he could reach it at his size. The young man, however, found his eyes locked to something else–the massive man’s undulating belly, as he jacked his cock. It was…it was huge. Jeremy had never even seen anything like it in his life, and…and suddenly, what he wanted more than anything else, was to just stare at it. Or…or even touch it. It was only after he’d registered that as a thought, that he realized he was walking forward, past the bikers fucking his father at both ends and around behind the counter, where he found himself grabbing onto Doug’s flab, shaking it, watching and feeling it jiggle against him. Doug pulled off his uniform, revealing his monstrous upper body, smooth aside from a moderately thick trail running the impossibly long distance from belly to chest, and he got down, yanked down Jeremy’s shorts before he could do anything about it, and began slathering it from root to tip with his dark spit.

It was like a jolt of caffeine shot directly into his bloodstream. Suddenly, Jeremy was so aware of everything occurring around his cock, that he was completely unaware of anything else. He began thrusting his cock into Doug’s fat mouth–awkwardly, but the fat man knew how to handle strangers fairly well–he’d certainly seen his fair share of them, since this was usually their first stop in Kingsford County, and he took the opportunity to lick his black slobber all over Jeremy’s balls as well, which only intensified his need. When he pulled away, Jeremy didn’t even really notice–he simply kept fucking the air, completely unaware of what was going on around him as Doug dropped his pants to the floor, bent over in front of him, and helped guide the young man’s cock into his hole, where Doug needed it most. All it took was that first deep thrust, and Doug let out a loud, long moan, his balls pumping a huge load of cum across the seat of the chair where he’d been sitting.

“Fuck yeah! That’s what I’m fuckin’ lookin’ for. You love pounding a fucking hole, don’t you boy? Best fuckin’ feeling in the whole goddman world, ain’t it? Go on, show me how much you love it, give it to me like Slim’s giving it to that pig!”

Jeremy shot his first load after about a minute, but Doug coaxed him to keep going, that no young stud like him was satisfied with just one load in a fat hole like his. So Jeremy just kept going, his mind still on a livewire as he fucked, no longer even caring that his father was still getting reamed by the bikers feet away from him. Slim had finally finished, leaving Leon to pick up sloppy third, grumbling about the fact that he had to go last, now that Slim had stretched the hole to “fuckin’ oblivion,” as he said. Butch told him that if he didn’t want it, he could just skip his turn entirely, but Leon still wanted to cum. Jeremy shot again, but still couldn’t bring himself to stop, and was close to his third load when another face came around the corner–a filthy looking chubby hick, smoking a short, thick cigar, who surveyed the scene with mild interest before turning to Doug.

“Ah see yer a bit busy. I’ll git what Ah need ‘n leave cash on the counter?”

“Fuck-Fuckin’ fine, Pa, whatever.”

The man browsed the beer for a bit, settled on a cheap twenty-four pack, left a few bills on the counter and left with the beer under his arm like nothing strange was happening at all. It wasn’t too much longer after that, when Leon finally finished up, and pulled out of Howard’s hole.

“Good job, pig,” Butch said, patting him on the head. Now get down there and clean up that cum of yours you shot everywhere like a good pig, got it? Come on boys, let’s see what we have outside, and then we can round up the rest of the gang for a roadside pickup, eh?”

“Sounds good to me, Butch.”

“Fuck, everyone’s gonna be so fuckin’ happy to have another pig around here.”

The Neighborhood Bitch (Flash Commission)

It’s crazy, is what it is. No one on the block seems to think it’s the least bit strange–but it sure as hell isn’t normal! My wife and I moved in here a couple of weeks ago, and were so busy getting everything unpacked, we didn’t have much of a chance to meet the neighbors–but the ones who came by seemed nice and normal. The one neighbor we didn’t meet was the one who lived across the street–and when we asked about them…no one seemed to have anything to say, really. But there I was, on my my new porch enjoying the evening, when I see the guy leaving the front door…and following him, wearing just a collar and a lead, is some freaky fucker pretending to be a dog!

They walk down the drive like whatever shit they’re pulling is completely normal, and I’m not about to stand for something like this. I charge across the street, howling at them both to cut the faggot shit out, and he just looks at me with surprise for a moment, and then…irritation. Without saying anything, the creepy fucker pulls out this…medallion from under his shirt, and as soon as it catches the light…it’s like everything in my mind flies away, and all I can see is that shining light. I fight it though–and when the medallion goes away, and my…head tries to tell me this is normal, and I should accept my nice neighbor and his…pet, I decide to take matters into my own hand, and I slug the faggot across the chin, like I always did with the fags back in school.

Now the dog-man didn’t take too kindly to that, and leapt on me, both of us rolling around on the ground. Then the medallion was back out again…and this time I knew what was happening, as I stripped off my clothes and got down on my hands and knees on the sidewalk…and the fucking dog-man mounted me! Right there in the middle of the street, in view of all of my new neighbors, and I was just thankful my wife was at the store so she couldn’t see it. The man said something about making me the neighborhood bitch…but then everything faded away again, and when my head was clear, I was alone in the street…but I had to crawl back to my house naked before I could manage to stand upright again.

I think the fucker is fucking with us, with our heads. With everyone on the damn street! Nothing…has been right since that evening. My cock…seems smaller, and it refuses to get hard, much to the frustration of my wife, who usually likes a good fuck every evening. I think…word has been spreading too, about what happened, but it wasn’t until today I realized something was really wrong. I went over next door to borrow a tool I hadn’t been able to find in my boxes. Jerry, the guy there had been nice so far, seemed on the level with everything…but when he got close to me, and…I think he smelled me. He sneered at me in the garage, called me a bitch…and when he did, I couldn’t stop myself.

I took off all my clothes like before, got down on my hands and knees, and he fucked me right there, hard and rough like the dog-man had…and fuck, if it didn’t feel so fucking good! I was moaning and panting, begging for more, and when he shot in me, it was like everything was normal again. I got dressed, we said nothing more of it, and I borrowed the tool like I’d hoped…but he still had that sneer on his face the whole time, like he knew my secret.

Every guy on the block has been the same! They’ve all called me a bitch, and fucked me…and hell if I wasn’t thinking about it still, wishing I could get hard, wanting…wanting all of them to dump their seed in my bitch cunt. I…I have to see him, I have to get him to fix this, I can’t keep feeling like this, I can’t!

He didn’t fix me. He just made everything worse. Now, at home, I have to…do all of my business outside, in the yard. I can’t wear clothes in the house, and I crawl around like a fool. I think he’s been talking to my wife too, because she just treats me like some mutt–feeds me out of a bowl, gives me a naked walk in the evening…and she’s talking to all the guys in the neighborhood, flirting with them right in front of me…and sometimes she even brings one home, and fucks them in our bed…and I’m not jealous of them, but of her–I…I’m the bitch, I should be getting their cum, not her!

My body is changing too–my dick really is smaller, just a nub now, and I can’t tell if I have balls anymore or not. My body hair is all gone–it just fell out over the last week, and I feel…fatter, somehow, especially around my hips. I can’t talk anymore, I just bark and yip like a fucking animal, and she treats it all like the most normal thing in the world. At least…after fucking her, they usually fuck me too. I’m…the neighborhood bitch after all, I get used by everyone…and I like it, fuck, I live for it, and I’m so fucking ashamed of it, I don’t know what to do with myself.

It can’t be true.

It fucking can’t. I’m…I’m a man, I know I am, I was.

I can’t be pregnant, I can’t.

But I can feel the thing inside me…I can feel it. My cock disappeared, and it…it turned into a pussy, and fuck, the first time I got fucked, it was the biggest orgasm of my life, and I hadn’t cum in months…I just wanted more, I wanted every man I could find to fuck me. The neighbor, with the medallion, told my wife (my owner now, I suppose–she doesn’t even remember being married, and the ring is gone from her hand) that I was probably in heat, and to be careful. But every man in the neighborhood fucked me anyway, I couldn’t say no, and now…now I’m some pregnant bitch, and everyone knows it…and I think it’s his.

The guy with the medallion, the way he looks at me, the way he…fucked me, that one time…it has to be his, and I feel so fucking dirty…but I want to feel him in me again, I want them all in me, I don’t care anymore. I’m a stupid bitch, and that’s all I will ever be now.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 6)

“Come on, get up,” Geoff said.

Angus stood up, but it was harder than it should have been. He could…see his gut sticking out from his waist, and it seemed so much larger than it had been, but it also felt…right, somehow. They went into the bedroom, and stood in front of the mirror on the wall. Angus was shocked. It wasn’t at all the reflection he was expecting, his body mostly covered with tan fur, his fat gut hanging surprisingly low, his face misshapen, more muzzle than mouth now, teeth…sharper than he remembered them being.

“You look like a mean dog, don’t you?” Geoff said, “I wouldn’t want to tangle with you on a dark night in an alley.”

“I…I guess so, sir.”

“Go on, growl, bare those teeth for me.”

Angus did, and he even scared himself a bit–not only because he did look a bit fierce…but also because it felt kind of good. It made his dick jump. Not as much as when he obeyed Master, of course, but…but Master was right, he did look like a mean dog.

“Yeah, that’s it–I don’t have to worry about you though. Around me, you’re just a good little puppy dog, aren’t you? You’d never bite the paw that feeds you,” He pulled out a doughnut he’d brought along, and slid it into Angus’s mouth, watching him devour it. “Yeah–that’s a good boy. Still, you could be a bit more imposing, I think. Let me see that collar.”

Angus was a bit worried that he might take it off him, but all Geoff did was loosen it a couple notches, making it feel loose around his neck–though it didn’t stay loose for long. In the mirror, he watched his frame start to swell, all of him growing evenly, until he was a few inches taller than before, and almost too wide to see himself in the mirror. He looked down at Master, and was surprised by how small he seemed to him now–he must have towered over him by a foot and a half or so…and while he knew he was probably stronger than him, and could take him in a fight, he stamped out that idea as quick as he could. He’d never hurt his Master, never in a million years–no, but if his Master didn’t like anyone…well, Angus knew what he could do to them.

“Yeah, that’s fucking hot, look at you,” Geoff said, “A big stupid, feral mutt, that’s what you are.”

“I…I thought I was a dingo…”

“Shut up. Get on your knees boy–I think you’ve finally earned this bone.”

Angus dropped to his knees as fast as he could, while Geoff pulled his cock free, and Angus started slobbering all over it. He had to be careful of his fangs now–they were much sharper than they’d been before, and Master had to slap him upside the head when he scraped his cock on them by accident, but he got the hang of it before long, and it tasted even better than he remembered. That, or he could just taste it better. His eyes seemed a bit dimmer somehow, but every other sense was ratcheted up–smell in particular. He found himself snorting in his Master’s scent, wanting to know it, and never, ever forget it.

Geoff got tired of his boy’s muzzle after a couple minutes, and ordered him to bend over the bed instead. The badger watched the dingo’s tail wag high in anticipation, knowing what was coming next. Geoff fucked him, and it hurt at first, but soon he was panting hard and pushing back, his own cock leaking onto the bed sheets beneath him. He never wanted this to end, he never wanted his Master to stop fucking him, even though he was equally desperate to feel the badger seed his load deep inside him. The badger’s thrusts quickened, and then he came deep, Angus letting off a howl of excitement, his own cock exploding, knowing he’d been a very good boy even without Master having to say it. He cleaned off Master’s cock afterwards on the bed, and Geoff pet him, running his claws through his soft tan fur, watching the brown highlights come in on his back, his tail filling out. He wasn’t quite finished, but would be by morning.

As they laid there, he filled his newest pet in on his new life. He didn’t work in an office anymore, and certainly wasn’t married to any human. No–he was Geoff’s partner on the police force, the meanest police dog on the force, at least until they got home. Here, he was Geoff’s chubby fuckhound, desperate to do anything for the badger’s cock. Parts of him tried to fight, but they were fading quickly. By bedtime, Angus was mostly gone–he was just Officer Dingo, now. He curled up beside his Master’s bed, where he always slept, and was snoring before too long, Geoff looking down, admiring the handsome boy he’d claimed for himself. This one, he really did want to keep for himself–it was a pity he came with so many strings attached. He’d dealt with harder cases before, though–it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He dug out Angus’s old wallet from his pants, memorizing the address before burning it, and the clothes, in the fireplace. They’d pay his one time husband a visit tomorrow, with another one of his special collars. Who knows? Maybe he’d get a couple of pliant pets for himself by the end of tomorrow night. Of course, if the husband didn’t come along easily, there were always other solutions as well.