Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 5)

Geoff led the way up to his apartment the next block over. It was small, but clean and efficient. As soon as they were inside, Angus was back on his knees, whining and pleading for Master to let him have another taste of his cock, but Geoff ordered him to strip. He wanted to see how his new boy was progressing in other ways. Angus did, still panting slightly, taking off his coat and tie, his shirt, slacks and underwear, standing completely naked in front of the badger, red cock jutting from its sheath, knot already slightly swollen. Geoff circled him, noting that he was quite a bit hairier than he’d been before, especially around his cock and ass. Short tan hair, giving Geoff a bit of an idea of what direction to push this new boy. He would be absolutely loyal to his master, of course–before too long, his need to serve wouldn’t even require him to wear the collar at all, but that wouldn’t happen until well after the physical transformation had completely finished. His face, too, was already looking less human. His ears had slid higher on his head,more pointed than round, and taken on the same tan coloring as the rest of his new fur. His mouth was also shifting, pushing out slightly into the hint of a muzzle, tongue longer and flatter, nose starting to blacken slightly. No tail yet, though–but soon. Probably after another hour or two.

“What do you want, boy?”

“I want to be your good boy sir,” Angus said, his ass wiggling a bit, almost begging for a tail to shake.

“Well, we should train you a little bit first, don’t you think? Teach you a few tricks? If you do well, I might feed you the bone you’re looking for,” Geoff said, groping the front of his uniform slacks. “But if we’re going to train you, you’re going to need some treats, don’t you think?” Geoff went into the kitchen, and returned with several flat boxes he had bought at the store earlier, in preparation. He opened the top one, revealing a dozen doughnuts inside of various varieties. “Do you like doughnuts, boy?”

Angus wasn’t quite sure how to answer, because all he really wanted at the moment was cock. “I…I guess so, sir.”

“Well, all of my good boys love doughnuts–after all, I like my partners to have some weight on them,” Geoff said, “Now kneel.”

Angus got on his knees, and Geoff broke off a bit of a doughnut, sliding it into his mouth. It was sweet and sugary, but it wasn’t until Geoff called him a good boy for obeying, and for eating his treat, that it took on a different flavor entirely. It tasted like love and victory. It tasted like his Master’s paw, and his cock, and his adoration and pride. Suddenly, he couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more than another treat–aside from his Master’s cum, of course. He licked his chops with his long tongue, and eyed the rest of the boxes as Geoff set them on the table near him. It was…a lot to eat, but he could do it for Master, he knew he could. He was a good boy, after all.

Geoff started putting him through a few paces, keeling and sitting, making him shake and roll over, ordering him to speak–or rather, bark like a proper dog, which sounded more like a proper pup each time he did it. The pieces of doughnut he fed him got larger and larger, Geoff eventually just shoving entire doughnuts into Angus’s mouth, watching him tear into them with joy, licking frosting from his now short, tan muzzle, looking up at him with delight after each one, knowing he was being good, and knowing that his Master was pleased with his obedience.

After a couple of boxes, Geoff got bored with the tricks, parked Angus on the couch and focused on feeding him. He felt so damn full, but every time he tried to stop, his Master would chasitze him lightly, and the shame would drive him to eat even more. As he did, Geoff would rub his gut, watching it expand with fat, his hips widening as well, the first little bit of a tail poking out above his ass before growing rapidly, his face now more dog than human in many ways–and it was time to start working on his mind.

“Now, tell me what you are, boy.”

“I’m a good boy!” Angus shouted, his voice muffled with a half devoured doughnut.

“Well you are that, but are you a human?”

“Y-Yes?” Angus said, hesitantly. He wasn’t quite sure why he hesitated, but that was the right answer, he thought, until he saw Geoff shake his head, and he realized he was wrong. “I…I thought I was though.”

“No, you aren’t a human. You do get confused though, don’t you? You aren’t a particularly smart boy, after all. You’re a dog.”

“I…I’m a dog…” Angus repeated, and Geoff fed him a doughnut, “Yeah, I’m a dog! Not…Not a human…”

Good boy. Do you know what kind of dog you are?” Geoff said, “You’re not a nice kind of dog–not a lab or a retriever. No–you’re a rough dog. A fighting dog. A mean dog, to everyone else but your Master, of course. No, you’re a dingo. Still a bit feral, rough around the edges–more than willing to snap at someone who looks at you the wrong way.”

Angus hesitated. That didn’t really…sound like him, did it? He liked being nice, and Chance told him he was a nice guy, and smart, and gentle…but Chance seemed so far away now, to him. So easy to…forget, almost. Master was probably right though, Master was right about most everything, and he knew that it he disagreed…that he’d be a bad boy, and he mostly didn’t want to be a bad boy.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 4)

It wasn’t the sort of bar Angus felt particularly comfortable in. Humans and anthros got along well, generally, but there were always spaces, and crowds, who preferred to be among their own. While it wasn’t legal to openly discriminate against anyone, if you wanted to self-select, no one was going to stop you. He stepped inside, and everyone stared at him when he did, making him known he was, if not unwelcome, at the very least a curiosity. Thankfully, Geoff was already there, sitting at a booth in the back, and he headed for him, sliding in across from him.

“There’s the boy,” Geoff said, smiling wide across his whole muzzle. “I was worried you might get cold feet.”

Angus shook his head, “I…look, I need to know…what was…since that night, something’s been happening to me.”

“Oh?” the badger said, still smiling, “What sort of things?”

Angus just looked at him, and realized that, most likely, the badger already knew exactly what was going on with him. He turned red in the face, realized this was a gigantic mistake, and started to get up to leave. He’d figure out some other way to deal with this, tell Chance what was going on, work through it–but he knew this badger wasn’t going to do anything to help him fix it.

“Leaving already? Sit your ass back down like a good boy,” Geoff said, and as hard as Angus fought it, he instinctually dropped back into the booth.

“You–that collar, it did something to me. I want you to fix it.”

“I don’t believe you, boy,” Geoff said, “I think you want something else more, don’t you? You want to put it back on. Feel that…pleasure some more. I haven’t had a dog with me on the force in quite a while, you know–my last partner ended up…well, he was worth more to me as someone else’s good boy, eventually. He was never as eager as you are, though. I had to hunt him down, but you came crawling back in less than a week,” he leaned closer, and Angus could smell his breath, flashing him back to that night on the side of the road for a moment, his own breath quickening, “in fact, I think this is a record. You want to be a good boy that badly, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Angus blurted out before he could stop himself, and all the shame he felt couldn’t mitigate the truth of the statement.

“Well, if you do really want that, here you go,” Geoff said, fished the collar out of his pocket, pulled the collar out, and laid it on the table in front of Angus.

“Can…If I put it on, can you change me back?”

“My Good Boy collars can do lots of things,” Geoff said, “But you still want to put it on, don’t you? Even if I told you in was permanent? It doesn’t make a difference to you boy–so stop pretending like it matters, and put it on.”

“I…I can’t, I’m married, and I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Geoff just stared at him, and then down at the collar. It was clear that going back wasn’t on the table, at the moment, but maybe, if…if he was good enough, Master would change him back…later, right? He could probably do that, after all. He picked up the collar and held it in his hands. He hadn’t gotten to see it at all, that night, and he was surprised by how normal it looked–the ragged brown leather, well worn, and a tarnished silver buckle. It did smell strongly of dog, and the notches for the buckle, for some reason, ran the entire length of the collar, from right beside the buckle, all the way to the end of the foot and a half long leather strap. He ran it around his neck, but had a hard time securing the buckle, because of how hard his hands were shaking, he made it, and as soon as he did, that sense of complete pleasure washed over him again, and his tongue rolled out of his mouth, hanging down to his chin.

“That’s a very good boy, putting your collar on all by yourself,” Geoff said, “You feel better, having that on you?”

Angus nodded, rubbing himself through his pants, so happy to hear Master call him a good boy again. It had been so long–days!–without hearing that from him, and he could feel his heart thrumm with excitement, his dog cock about ready to burst. “Yes sir, thank you sir, for putting my collar back on! I missed it…” Angus said, and then leaned closer, “Can…can I suck your cock again, Sir? I…I mean, if you want…”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to have a beer with me first?” Geoff said, “I thought you said that you just wanted to talk to me about something, when you messaged me?”

Angus whined impatiently. He had said that, hadn’t he? Why had he said that! He hadn’t meant that, that was such a dumb thing to say.

Geoff laughed, “I only live a block from here, boy, so why don’t we go there?”

Angus nodded, and followed the badger out of the bar, the rest of the patrons looking at him knowingly. It wasn’t the first time Geoff had brought someone there in one of his collars, and they all knew that in a day or two, Geoff would bring them back around–only this time much later a night, and usually only wearing their new, favorite collar in the whole world, more than eager to let the rest of the patrons of the bar have their turn. But for now–he was Geoff’s, and as Angus followed him out of the bar, he didn’t notice everyone else grinning at him. The only thing he could think about was his Master.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 3)

His cock. The cock attached to his body. That wasn’t…the cock he should have, was it? He’d had sex with a couple of hounds before, so he knew exactly what he was looking at–where his normal, human cock should have been, he was looking at a bright red dog cock, sliding free of a sheath running up from his balls.

He heard the toilet flush, and quickly scrambled for a clean pair of underwear to throw on before Chance came into the bedroom and fell on the bed, and Angus took his turn in the bathroom. Safely alone, he pulled down the briefs again, and just…stared at it, and then felt it, prodding it as it grew erect, and all he could hear in his head was the badger calling him a good boy, and the tightness of the collar around his neck. It had to be connected, didn’t it? It wasn’t exactly unheard of for someone to change species, of course–but usually it required close contact with that species, and didn’t happen this…suddenly. He did still have to piss, though aiming was a bit strange. The cock was slicker than usual, and didn’t feel at all right in his hand. He managed to not make too much of a mess, and then went to bed, where the lights were already out, and Chance was snoring. He didn’t manage to fall asleep for a while, running the encounter through his mind, and he recalled the card the badger had given him, that he’d put in his pocket. He got out of bed, found it, and took it into the hall to read it.

Officer Geoff Braddock. That was his name. It had a phone number too. Hopefully it would go away in a day or two–he’d heard that these sorts of things usually did. But if not…he’d have to see him again, and figure out what he’d have to do to fix this.

The changes didn’t disappear like Angus had hoped. The next morning, he still had his dog-like cock, and managed to keep it hidden from Chance through the day, keeping his underwear on, and running errands before they both had to go back to work the next day. Chance could tell he was distant, and knew something had happened between his husband and the cop the night before, but it was obvious Angus didn’t want to talk about it…and he was honestly relieved. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, and that made him feel a bit guilty, since it was all, really, his fault for getting drunk when he should have stayed sober. But was that really all? Angus flinched in the afternoon, when Chance just laid a hand on his shoulder, and while he apologized for the reaction and said he’d just surprised him…there did seem to be something else going on. He didn’t want to ask though–he’d just get defensive. He’d have to trust that Angus would tell him when he was ready.

Work was easier, for Angus, than just staying at home. Having something to do made it easier to forget about what was wrong with him…though he was slowly realizing it wasn’t just his cock that seemed to have changed, even if that was the most prominent shift. There were other, slighter differences, things that he couldn’t quite be convinced were really different at all. His ears were slightly more pointed. The hair on his body was slightly thicker, especially around his crotch, and instead of the deep brown it was usually, it had lightened, almost into a tan color. He knew he should tell Chance about it–but hesitated all the same. Was it out of shame? Maybe a little, but part of him also…enjoyed it, more and more, as he was growing used to it. He would take out the card he’d gotten from Geoff, think about calling…but he didn’t. He almost didn’t want to know more. He just wanted everything to go back to normal–but it became increasingly clear, as the week wore on, that normal wasn’t going to happen if he did nothing. He either had to tell Chance and see if he could get some treatment–which meant being honest about everything–or it meant going to the cop, and seeing if he would help him get back to normal…though he doubted, somehow, the officer would want to. He had, every much, liked how good a boy Angus had been, hadn’t he? He had been a very good boy…and part of him wanted to be a good boy again.

When it became clear that things were not getting better on his own, and with Chance becoming more obviously concerned about what was troubling him, Angus broke down and called Geoff on Wednesday, after he left work. The badger didn’t pick up, and he left a voice message, telling him that he needed to see him, and not giving him any details. An hour later, he got a text back from the number.

Need more? I had a feeling you’d give me a call.

Should he tell him what was happening? No, it would be better if the cop just thought he wanted sex. If he told him about the changes, he’d probably hold the reason behind it for ransom. So he led him on, telling him he wanted more, telling him he wanted to be a good boy too, for him. They agreed to meet the next day, after work. Angus told Chance he was going to get drinks with some coworkers, and might be out late. He…hated lying to him, but really he was sparing him, right? He could barely focus the next day at work, all he could think about was the badger, and that collar. It had to have been the collar. Maybe it had been worn by some other dog, and that was why it had affected him like this. In any case…he just had to know, but secretly, he was wondering if he also wanted something else the badger was offering–the chance to…feel that again. To feel like a good boy. To…be a good boy. He caught himself at his desk, panting and rubbing his cock through the front of his pants, remembering how the badger had tasted. Remembering how…Master had tasted. He pulled his hand away, disgusted at himself, trying to strengthen his resolve. He finished the day, and then he headed for the bar where Geoff had arranged for them to meet.

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 2)

Was he really suggesting what Angus thought he was suggesting? It wasn’t a…terrible suggestion, he supposed, and Chance would probably understand, right? It was better than paying thousands of dollars in fees, and maybe even jail time–and losing his job in the process. “I…I can help you out with whatever you need, officer.”

“That’s just Sir, to you, mutt.”

“Yes sir.”

“Turn around, and get on your knees.”

Angus was thankful that Chance couldn’t see this, at least, given they were behind the car in the dark. In all honesty, Angus was usually the one who was the top in the bedroom, but something about this situation was actually turning him on a bit as well. He carefully got down on his knees, looking up at the badger now, and had to admit he was quite handsome. Muscular and thick, despite his somewhat short stature, and with a thick gut, broad chest, and muscular, furry arms. The cop gripped the flashlight in his snout, undid his fly, and let his cock–just as short and thick as the rest of him, poke out. “Well come on then, get to it–and if you can’t do the job, maybe we’ll see if that husband of yours can do better.”

Angus did the best he knew how to do, though he wasn’t exactly enjoying it–and he hoped that Chance wouldn’t get brave, suddenly, and decide to see what was going on back here–if he couldn’t hear anyway, through the still open from window. Occasionally, a car would fly past them, and he would tense, the badger giving him a smack or poking his claws into the back of his neck, to encourage him to focus. “Come on now, be a good boy–the faster you work, the less likely anyone is going to see you.”

So Angus focused, and found a rhythm, while the badger slid one of his hands into a pocket of his pants. He slipped one of his favorite toys into work with him, because he’d had a feeling, as he usually did, that he might get a chance to have some fun tonight–and this was turning out to be quite a bit of fun. The man was already eager, and plenty willing to obey–but he’d be a proper good boy in no time–and so would that cute husband of his, too.

Before Angus noticed anything at all, the badger bent over, wrapped a strap of leather around his neck, and secured it in the back. Angus tried to yank away, but…didn’t. Instead, he felt an odd sense of pleasure numbing his mind–not unlike being a bit too drunk, but also quite a bit different. “Yeah, you’re going to be a very good boy from now on, won’t you?”

The words “good boy” lit something up in Angus’s brain this time, that it hadn’t done before. A direct, hot ,erotic pleasure and ride at doing what his Master told him to do, and doing it well…but he shouldn’t be feeling that, should he? He focused on sucking the badger’s cock instead, hoping that when he was finished, he would take it off of him…but did he want it to come off, really? It felt kind of comfortable, actually…like it belonged around his neck, and it made him feel good to wear it, didn’t it? Showing it off, letting everyone know that…that he was owned? He felt his cock straining the front of his jeans, but with his wrists secured behind him, all he could do was thrust forward–that, and leak profusely into his underwear.

“Guess somebody likes being a good boy,” the badger said, “That make you feel good, mutt? Sucking your master’s cock?”

“Yes sir,” Angus said, still stoking.

The badger didn’t last long after that, and he filled Angus’s mouth with a load of cum, and told him one more time that he was a very good boy, and that pushed Angus over the edge. He felt his cum spill out into his underwear, soaking the front of his pants as he panted, licking his lips of the badger’s cum, feeling proud at having done a good job like a good boy should. He looked up at the badger looming over him. He…wanted more. Wanted to keep being a good boy for him.

“I figured you’d just need a little motivation,” the badger said, reached down, and unhooked the collar from around Angus’s neck. As soon as it came lose, that feeling of eager devotion melted away into a deep, horrific shame. Had he really just done that? Sucked off a police officer on the side of the road, and enjoyed it? The badger hauled him up to his feet, turned him around, and unlocked the cuffs from his wrists. “Now that you’ve sobered up a bit, you should be good to go, right?”

Angus nodded..

“I couldn’t hear you, boy,”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good–you have a nice mouth. Not sure what your arrangement is with that hubby of yours, but if you want to be my good boy some more, here–” he fished a card out of his pocket, and handed it down to Angus, who took it, and wishing he didn’t want it as much as he did.

Angus got back up, went around the car, and got back in. “Are…are we free to go?” Chance asked.

“Yeah–I took care of it.”

Chance didn’t want to ask, and Angus didn’t really feel like talking about it. He drove very carefully the rest of the way home, still feeling how wet the front of his slacks were slick with his own cum, and still tasting the badger’s on his breath. Could Chance tell? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to offer any details. They got home. Chance stumbled in first, and Angus followed behind him, heading right for the bedroom so he could strip out of his soiled clothes, while Chance went into the bathroom. Angus hadn’t cum that hard in…well, a very long time. He dropped his pants and then his underwear–and when he looked down, he had to muffle a cry of surprise.

Boy’s Daddy [Flash Commission]

Now that, Evan thought, was a boy he would like to get his hands on. Couldn’t be older than 25 at the most, but maybe even a little younger. Dressed like he wanted people to look at him, but hanging on the wall like he didn’t know what to do once he had the gaze. Blonde hair, probably not natural, toned body, and he’d caught the boy looking at Evan more than a few times tonight. He knew how to cruise, if nothing else, so he wasn’t a novice, but he knew how to make you think he might be. Evan’s tastes, on the other hand, were a bit rougher than this boy might be ready for, but that could be fun too. Evan tugged down on his leather vest, straightened his muir cap, and went over to the bar, bought a couple of drinks, and took one over to the boy. He took it and drank it–trusting, which was never a good idea.

They didn’t say much to one another, the boy didn’t seem very interested in what Evan might have to say. Instead, he just pulled ‘Daddy’ (as the boy called him, not even bothering to get Evan’s name into the dark corridors of the bar. Sex wasn’t kosher here, but that had never stopped anyone before. Things got heavier, and the boy was supple, giving into Evan’s dominance, but never breaking. The boy was so damn hot–Evan couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this into anyone, but as horny as he was, his cock was…unresponsive. The best he could manage was a half mast, and the boy’s hole was too tight for him to penetrate. The boy was nice enough about it, but from the smirk on his face, Evan could tell what he had to be thinking. Evan was going to break it off graciously, but instead, the boy shoved him to the wall with surprising force, hauled down Evan’s pants, was the boy’s cock was inside him before Evan even really realized what had happened.

It had been a long time since Evan had been fucked, and it hurt–the boy was too new to know how to break someone in, or too self-centered to care. Evan let him have it though–because it did feel surprisingly good, and the boy blew a load in him quickly, gave Daddy a parting kiss, and then slipped away. It wasn’t until his pants were back up, and he felt something leaking down the inside of his thigh, that Evan realized the boy had fucked him raw–without even asking. It had been hot though, all the same.

The next few days, as Evan went about his normal life, he kept…noticing things. Little details about himself that seemed a bit off. He’d just turned 31, but he’d always been proud of how gracefully he’d been aging–not that he necessarily looked young, but that he looked, well, hot. He looked mature, without looking, well, old. Each time he looked in the mirror though, he kept seeing something off–a few grey hairs in his beard, his hairline receding a couple of centimeters, a little extra paunch around his waist that made his pants feel a bit too tight. On their own, nothing would have caused too much alarm, but all together, it made him feel, well, out of sorts. It didn’t help that his cock still wasn’t performing as well as he was used to. He jacked off a few times, and while he was plenty horny, his cock just never seemed to get quite as still as it used to. The next weekend, he decided to go out again–what he needed was a fresh conquest, something to help him feel alive again. He put on his leathers, and headed for the bar–but he hadn’t gotten his first drink before the boy from before was on him.

He was…flattered, to say the least, and more than happy to have a second chance with the young stud. They had some beers together, and then headed for Evan’s place, where he had decided he was going to give the boy a night he wouldn’t soon forget. But like before, in the bar, all of his plans went sideways. He’d wanted to shackle the boy to the bed, but as soon as the boy saw the setup, he ordered Evan into them instead, face down. He hadn’t wanted to, but the boy could be…convincing. Once tied down, the boy had explored his closet, and Evan soon found out the boy was not the novice he had expected. He whipped him, paddled him, used all manner of toys on his hole before fucking him again, ordering Evan to beg him his boy for his cock, and while it wasn’t the scene he’d imagined, like before, it was…hot as hell. Exhausted, he passed out on the bed, the boy’s load still in his ass, while his boy cooed at him, telling him what a good daddy he was going to be.

When he woke the next morning, he was no longer shackled to the bed, but he found that he was still bound in a set of irons he kept in his toy chest. The chains on the hands and legs were long enough that someone in them could walk, and do most basic tasks, but not long enough to run or escape easily. The boy was sleeping in bed with him, and Evan woke him up, asking the boy to release him. Instead, the boy told him to get started on breakfast for him–he was going to sleep in for another hour or so.

He wanted to insist the boy give him the keys…but he didn’t. Instead, he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, where he started making breakfast for the boy–frustrated, but more horny than anything else. He still hadn’t cum during all that session, and while his cock was stubbornly soft, he was aching with need all the same. The boy wandered in, yawning, as Evan finished up the meal, took a seat at the table, and let Evan serve him. Before Evan could sit to join him, the boy told him to get under the table and take care of his morning wood first. Again, he wanted to resist, but he couldn’t stop himself–he got under the table and sucked the boy off while he ate, swallowing another load from him. After, the boy had him clean off his feet until he finished eating, and when he was done, he got up, and got dressed.

“Boy, aren’t you gonna let me out of this?” Evan asked, but his voice sounded…strange. Raspier, and older–and weaker.

“I’ll be back in a few hours, daddy–your collection is good, but I need some…special stuff from my stash. We have all weekend together–don’t you worry. Clean up the kitchen, have lunch ready for when I get back, and if you finish before that, you can fuck yourself with a dildo for a while, alright?”

After the boy left, it was the first time Evan saw himself in the mirror–and now he knew for certain. The boy’s cum…it was fucking with his body, making him look older–his hairline now receding even more, his beard half grey, and he looked to be in his forties. He wanted to run, or get help, but instead he shuffled in and cleaned up, and fixed lunch, and then fucked himself until his boy got back, and the boy didn’t leave again until Sunday night, when his daddy was finished. He gave him a proper whipping as a send off, the old leather fag begging his boy for more, to hit him harder, until with a series of full body spasms the old fuck came, a measly few drops of cum dribbling from his permanently soft cock, onto the floor of his house. After that, the boy fucked him one final time, and then let his new, wonderfully masochistic daddy down. Evan thanked his boy for allowing him the pleasure of serving him, that he was so lucky to have a boy as strong, and smart, and young, and fit as he was. Then the boy left–and Evan was alone with his aching body, a back full of welts, and no idea of what to do next.

Still, he was retired now. That gave him plenty of time to have young men around. He especially loved inviting over boys, giving them lessons on how to abuse a daddy’s body properly–but he always made time for his boy, when he wasn’t busy. After all, the boy had so many daddies to attend to–he couldn’t get to them all on a regular basis. Evan could be patient though–because a weekend with his boy made the waiting all worthwhile.

Pugsley’s Bachelor Party

Commissioned for @pugsleypig – Hope the big day goes well!

When Pugsley told me that he wanted a bachelor party–I knew what he really wanted. After all, he wouldn’t have asked me if he hadn’t had something in mind. I told him I’d organize the perfect party for a pig like him–that he just needed to show up at my apartment on Saturday, at two pm sharp. He arrived a bit early, he’s conscientious like that.

He was wearing his usual clothes: camo tank, shorts, boots and hat–I told him to strip out of those, he wouldn’t be needing them. Then I gave him his uniform for the party–a black leather waistcoat, crotchless and assless rubber shorts, a black bowtie, white cuffs on his wrists, knee high socks and black dress shoes. He was, I told him, going to be the waiter and service at his own bachelor party–thankfully, I had the good instinct to lock up his cock before telling him this, so I could watch his cock strain in it’s tight cage. Then I sent him into the kitchen to start cooking–guests would be arriving at seven, and he needed the appetizers ready to serve on the dot.

He worked hard–he always does. I watched him a bit, and then went to prepare another room for the poker game I had planned with a few acquaintances of mine–Pugsley might have thought it would be his friends coming by later, but I had something a bit better in mind. Seven rolled around, and as the men arrived, I made Pugsley answer the door and greet them all, and when he saw them, I could see him struggling with disgust and arousal at the same time. They weren’t, after all, his type. All four were older, in their forties to sixties, hairy, chubby, several of them smelling of smoke–not the fit, military men he usually fantasized about serving. He served well all the same though. After I got everyone seated at the table for the game, he brought out appetizers, and the men started berating him, groping him, ordering him around, and I saw he was properly enjoying himself.

For the first few hours, while we played the game, he focused on keeping everyone’s beers full and cigars lit, their feet massaged under the table, their plates supplied with food. Once everyone was a bit drunk and enjoying themselves, I moved onto the next part of the party–paused the game, and told Pugsley that it was time for his bachelor gifts. I went over to a bookcase and took down a small jewelry box, opened it, and handed the small stone inside to the first man in the group, one of the younger and fitter fellows by the name of John. Pugsley had noticed, when he’d entered, he’d smelled more strongly of smoke and booze than the others, and he was quite a bit more drunk already.

“Alright, Pugsley–my four friends are going to give you some very special gifts now, and you’re going to be a good pig and accept they all gladly, right?”

He nodded, but he still didn’t quite understand what I was talking about. John cleared his smoky throat, and said, “Alright pig–I’m gonna be giving you my two pack a day cigarette habit, and my alcoholism. I usually drink a six pack every night–so you’d better get used to it.”

The stone in the man’s hand glowed, and a ray shot out at Pugsley, striking him in the chest, and he felt new needs rise up in his chest. He’d been ambivalent about the smoking before–but he had a new need in his eyes–taking a bit of pity on him, I tapped the ash off mine into his mouth, making him thank me for it, and then took a longish butt from the table and worked it into his ass–he’d be feeling better soon, as the nicotine seeped into his system.

John passed the stone to the next man, Craig, who was by far the most heavyset of the men in the group, with a large apron of hat hanging down between his thighs. “Alright pig, I’m going to give you 300 pounds of fat, but in exchange, you’re going to give me a six inches off your height.”

Pugsley looked at me, wondering if that was allowed, but the stone glowed, another ray shot him, and in a matter of moments, the rubber shorts hand split apart on him, the buttons on the waistcoat popping off, the bowtie cutting into his flabby neck. He clawed at it until he got it undone, and heaved for breath, looking down at his five and a half foot frame, now packed with over 500 pounds of fat, hanging off him in massive rolls. A much slimmer, and taller, Craig passed the stone on to the next fellow, Rex. “Well, I’ve always had real bad B.O., you see, and a problem with belchin’ and fartin’–so why don’t you take those pig? I think they’ll suit you.”

The stone glowed again, shot out and struck Puglsey, and he belched immediately, his flabby frame shaking, making all the men laugh. He could feel the sweat rolling off him now, in all the cracks of his body–he reeked, but there was nothing he could do about it. Lastly, Peter took the stone, who was the oldest fellow, with a thick white beard. “Alright Puglsey–I’m going to give you…say, thirty years of my life, and also this impotence I’ve been struggling with a lot lately. A pig like you doesn’t need to use your dick though, right?”

I think he wanted to cry, as the years piled on his new body, his fat sagging further, hair receding and turning white, and we all heard to clink of the metal cock cage falling to the floor–his already meager cock had shrunk back so far into his flab, that it had simply fallen off. We all laughed, and turned back to the game, Pugsley trying to recover and keep serving, but he kept choking back tears. I heard him whispering, “It’s just…for tonight, just for a bit.” He’d seen me take the stone and put it back in the box–he probably thought he would get to give back his gifts–instead, I ushered all the men out into the night, making the new Pugsley thank all of them for their nice gifts for his wedding the next day–and then we were alone, and he finally let it out, sobbing in fear.

“I can’t–I can’t show up like this, I can’t–you…you can fix this, right?”

I shook my head, “I thought you wanted to serve, pig? This is service–you should be thanking me for giving you this opportunity. Besides–you’re still in there, the real you. If he loves you, he should be able to love this you as well, right?”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re going to stand at that alter tomorrow–in that ill-fitting tux, and in front of all of your friends and family, you’re going to have to ask him to love you. To prove that he’ll love you, no matter what. If he means it? Then he will. And if not…well, you can always come back here, and serve me instead. I’ll always have room for a dirty, fat, worthless pig around here, you know.”

He sucked me off, and I sent him on his way in the same short, tank and boots he’d arrived in–though he could barely fit any of the ensemble now. I knew he’d go through with it, because he knew I was right–if he loved him, truly loved him, he’d love him no matter how he looked. Besides–in 24 hours, after the ceremony, I’d fix him right up, good as he was before–and send those gifts into the void for good. But he’d know if he’d found a man–a man who could truly love a pig like him, no matter what.

The Body You Deserve (Sketch) [Commission]

Flash Commissions are ongoing! Here’s another one, which was commissioned by Crazy Diamond. You can find more details here.

“Need another drink, boy?”

Erik looked up from where he was having a conversation with a couple of friends at the man who was looming over their table. Erik did nothing to hide his obvious disdain that a guy like this–chubby, hairy, old, and reeking of cigar smoke–would have the absolute nerve to think Erik–young, slender, hairless, and perfect in every way–would so much as talk to him, much less take a drink from him. “No thanks. I don’t usually waste my time on old slobs like you,” he said, and his friends all tittered.

The bear just rolled his eyes–it was hardly the first time he’d been shot down in his life, and moved on. The twinks gossiped for a bit about him, unable to believe someone like that would ever think one of them could be in their league, and then moved onto other topics. Just as they were about to go back to the dance floor, someone tapped Erik on the shoulder roughly.

Erik looked back, half expecting the bear to have come back to try again, but it wasn’t him. It was an older fellow, muscular, and he had a glass in his hand–the same glass the bear had had a second ago. “That was rather rude of you, I think. Now, that nice man offered you a drink, and you should be gracious and accept it.”

Erik was about to tell this guy, whoever he was, to fuck right off as well, but instead, his hand reached out, took the glass from him, and Erik chugged it, while the stranger and his friends all watched in slight astonishment. Erik could hardly believe it himself–he wasn’t exactly one to tolerate being told what to do, ever, but he couldn’t stop drinking it until the glass was empty. It tasted…odd. There was definitely alcohol in it, but it wasn’t quite like any drink he’d had at this bar before. He put the empty glass down, and the man nodded, “Good–I’ll see you later,” he said, and then slipped off into the crowd.

No one said anything. Erik was red in the face–he hated being humiliated like that. He got up to tell the man off, but when he did, his guts knotted up and cramped, and he ran off towards the bathroom instead, where he doubled over in pain. The spasms in his stomach were spreading now; it felt like his whole body was on fire, being stretched out and deformed somehow. After a few minutes clutching a sink and moaning, the pain began to subside, and he could stand again–but he froze when he saw the face looking back at him in the mirror.

It wasn’t his face. He blinked, and the face blinked as well. It was the face of…that bear, the one who had offered him a drink. He looked at the chubby cheeks covered with a thick, greying beard, the heavily receding hairline, and then down at his body. The clothes he had on were filled to bursting with his thick gut and hefty chest, the waistband of his once skinny jeans groaning before the button burst, his gut sagging out another couple of inches. He could smell himself too–not just the aura of cigar around him, but also his sweat and body odor wafting around him. He had never been more disgusted in his entire life.

That drink–it had to have something to do with that stranger. He had to find him, and figure out how to get his body back! He rushed out of the bathroom, staggering out of his much too small shoes in the process, his shirt beginning to rip apart as he moved. There was no sign of the man in the bar, so he headed for the patio out back, where the crowd was thinner, and sure enough, there he was–standing by the wall with his body–his real body, in the bear’s now much too baggy clothes.

“You!” Erik said, his deeper voice booming across the space, “What the fuck did you do to me!”

“There he is, Roy, I told you he’d find us–come on over here–I think you have an apology to make to Roy here, don’t you?” the stranger said.

“You piece of shit, give me my body back right fucking now,” Erik said storming across the patio, his shirt finally giving up and tearing apart, leaving his hairy gut hanging out over his much, much too tight jeans. He looked from the older stranger over to his own body–and saw that whoever was in it now (the fat bear, he presumed, who the stranger had called Roy) was enjoying the hell out of it, and had a thick cigar clamped in his jaw. One part of him was disgusted, but another part of him…craved it. He licked his lips, eyes locked to the cigar in front of him, his cock getting a bit hard at the sight of his one time body smoking.

He realized, after a bit, he’d just been standing there, staring, for several moments, but he didn’t quite know what to say anymore. He looked from his old body to the stranger, who had an expectant look on his face. “Well?” the stranger said to him, “What are you waiting for? Apologize. You were quite rude back there, don’t you think?”

Erik turned to his old body, unable to control himself, just like before, when the man had given him the drink. “I…I’m sorry…for being rude. Now can I have my body back please?”

“I don’t think that was polite enough. This man is your superior, right? At least, you seemed to think so before. Isn’t this man’s body so much better than yours, in every way?” the stranger asked.

It…was true. Looking at his old body now, he was…enthralled. He’d always taken it for granted before, but being outside it, he could properly appreciate it. He got down on his knees, horrified, and said, “I’m sorry sir, I…I was so rude before, I didn’t think. Please forgive me sir…” He sounded so weak, and yet that just made his cock even harder in the front of his very tight pants.

“I don’t know if that’s enough–do you think he needs some punishment, Roy, to remind him of his proper place?” the man said to Eriks old body.

“I think so,” Roy said, and hearing his own voice, hos old voice…it made Erik melt a bit, it was so sexy to his ears.

Together, they dragged Erik up and shoved him against the wall. Then, the stranger handed Roy a flogger, and he started beating the old bear, focusing on his fat ass, and after two strokes, the jeans split apart, leaving Erik–in his now fat, old body–completely naked on the patio. It didn’t stay naked for long though. As Roy beat him with the flogger, things started changing about them both. New clothes appeared on them, replacing their ill fitting ones–a leather harness and tight shorts for Erik, and a full leather suit on Roy’s now young, slender frame. Lust overtook Roy before too long, and he stepped up, unzipped the ass of Erik’s leather shorts, and fucked him, his cock growing longer and thicker, topping out at ten inches, as his frame filled out with even more muscle. Erik moaned in delight as his one-time body fucked his new one, and he grew taller and fatter, until he was six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds, covered in grey fur, and utterly devoted to serving his master, inhabiting his old body. When Roy came in Erik’s hole, the final changes came, sealing them in this new life: a collar around Erik’s neck, and a steel chastity cage riveted around his tiny cock.

Roy tugged the lead connected to his massive slave’s collar, and rewarded him with a breath of smoke, before giving him the half smoked cigar he’d been smoking and lighting a new one for himself. The stranger was nowhere to be seen, but Erik no longer cared–he was right where he belonged, serving his master, in the proper body he deserved, and which Erik had wasted for too long.

The Fetish Gun is Loose! (Part 4) [Interactive]

Looks like the winner was out older bear into diapers, humiliation, and watersports. Let’s see what he does when he gets hold of the gun…

Earlier, in the club…

Had Anthony really seen, what he’d just seen? Even now, it was almost impossible to believe it, even though it had happened, right there across the upper floor of the bar. He had been stashed back in a dark corner, watching that man pick up and toy around with that odd gun he’d found in that booth. Then, he’d shot himself with it, and after…he’d been different. Really different, but Anthony hadn’t really been able to remember how different–it was like the earlier version of the man had been scrubbed from reality, and replaced by the freak in the booth–massively hung, wearing a singlet…but that had just been the start of the insanity. He’d just…eaten someone, with his fucking cock. He pulled himself further back as the man stood up, hauling along the heavy, monstrous thing hanging from the front of the singlet, and went down to the dance floor–he was so taken with the sight, he didn’t realize, for a moment, that the man had left the gun behind in the booth.

He moved quick–grabbed the gun and retreated back to the booth where he’d been, stopping only to grab the piece of paper that had fallen from the table to the floor, which turned out to be a summary of the gun–and it’s five features. It would have been unbelievable if he hadn’t just witnessed it in action. The shit he could do with this thing–the possibilities already had him hard in the front of his pants.

Anthony had a few quirks of his own–though they mostly had to do with other people, than himself. He loved humiliating guys more than pretty much anything–but most of all, he loved forcing guys into diapers and making them piss themselves. He didn’t get to enjoy his fetish very often, because finding guys to go along with it was…difficult. But with the gun, it wasn’t going to be a struggle at all. He turned the setting to A, and then went to the edge of the balcony, where he could look down at the crowd below.

The silicone guy was down there, with half a dozen guys clambering for his attention. He must have used setting B–and as tempting as it was to shoot him…he set his sights on someone else instead, as he dragged his obsessive group of hanger ons away from the dance floor and towards the dark back of the bar. Instead, he spotted someone better–someone he knew. Rick was an “A Gay”, always muscled, always on trend, and always desired. He was in the middle of the dance floor now, wearing just a skimpy thong showing off his substantial junk bouncing as he danced to the music. Anthony leveled the gun at him, held an idea of what he wanted in his mind, and shot him with a ray of yellow, watching it sink into his skin, the thong shuddering…and growing into a thick diaper.

Rick noticed, and was horrified, but he couldn’t stop dancing. People were noticing, pointing, laughing–and then he started pissing himself. He couldn’t stop the flow, and there was so much of it–it overflowed the diaper and ran down the insides of his thighs…and he was so turned on, by becoming the laughing stock of the entire club, that he started groping the front of his diaper, his cock hard, milking himself to orgasm in the warm, saggy diaper. Anthony shot him again as he did, and Rick’s perfect body began to melt and distort. He wasn’t muscled anymore–now he was more chub than anything else, his perfect hair lank and greasy, crooked teeth leering around him at the men laughing, groping harder, loving how everyone could see just how much of a loser he was now, and he came, loudly and obviously, before a bouncer dragged him off the dance floor–but Anthony intervened before they could kick him out, and pulled the much changed Rick into a corner, shoved the loser down to his knees, and soaked him down with his own piss, before making him suck him off right there in the club.

“What do you think now, hotshot? Think you’re the coolest fucker in the club now? Can you even remember was a hot piece of meat you were before?” Anthony said.

Could he? Rick could remember, vaguely, who he’d been–but thinking about that only made him even hotter, knowing that he’d fallen so far, into this nasty piece of shit, stuck in diapers, humiliating himself in the hottest gay bar in town. “No sir, I’m a filthy, diaper wearing loser. Can…can I suck your cock sir?”

Anthony made Rick beg for his cum, plead for it, tell him exactly what a loser he was and how much he loved it, making sure everyone around them knew exactly what kind of pervert he was, and what he wanted–and Anthony finally milked his load onto Rick’s face, and told him to leave it. Then he grabbed the gun and twisted the dial–he wasn’t done with Rick yet, not by a ways.

This time around, we have a bit of a twist! There are three standard options, but the fourth one is special–the more people who vote for backfire, the more likely it is that the tables will end up turned against Anthony next chapter, in different ways, depending on which one of the top three gets the most votes. So mind your vote!

Uses setting C to turn his diaper man into a literal, corruptive diaper he forces another jock to wear.
He uses setting A to add more humiliating fetishes to Rick’s mind.
He uses setting D to create an incestual relationship between them, with Anthony as Rick’s domineering father.
Backfire! – The ending total percentage of this option (combined between both polls, not averaged) is the possibility of the top option among the other three backfiring on Anthony.

Here is the twitter poll

Here is the patron only poll

Voting ends on Thursday!

Remembrances – Episode 2 (Part 9)

Pete nodded, “Fuck Unc, fuck me, fuck…my loser hole…”

“See? He’s grateful for it. He deserves it–unlike you. But don’t worry, you can watch…sometimes. When I feel like it. But I don’t think you’re going to get this cock in your ass very often anymore at all. But you’ve found….other ways, haven’t you?”

Harry’s hand fumbled for the humidor, found a thick, 90 ring cigar, ones he kept in there for…special moments like this. He licked the end, and then leaned forward, sliding it into his ass, fucking himself with his cigar while Wilbur fucked his boy and he watched, wishing it could be him in either position, wishing he hadn’t been foolish enough to challenge him, wishing he’d been better, wishing he hadn’t simply been…replaced. “Please…please, I’m sorry…” Harry muttered.

“What? What was that? You gotta speak up, Harry, I can’t hear you over the sound of your son begging me for more of his uncle’s cock.”

“I’m sorry!” Harry shouted, “I’m sorry Wilbur, I’m sorry, but…but please, I need you inside me, please, I know I was wrong, I’ll be good, I swear, but please, you have to…do what you want to me, take whatever you want, but I love you Wilbur, I…I love you…”

Harry felt a surge of pleasure as he rammed his cigar deeper into his ass, and his flaccid cock leaked a dribble of cum from the head. It was as a good as an orgasm got for him anymore, that he could remember. He looked over at Wilbur, at Mr. Elroy, at his son, but they weren’t paying him any mind. He wasn’t important. He was just a weak, impotent old man. Wilbur kept fucking until he came deep in Pete’s hole, and then slid out, Pete pushing himself up with a grunt, face red, hating how his Uncle Wilbur could make him feel so weak, and yet he…loved it somehow.

The vision of Wilbur faded, and Mr. Elroy was there once again, and he walked over to Harry, still helplessly siding his cigar into his hole, deeper and deeper, feeling slightly sick from the surge of nicotine in his system, leaching into his ass. “I accept your apology, Harry. But I think you understand now, that things are never going to get better for you–for either of you. If you cooperate, I can make sure you are at least…happy and cared for, but you will never be anyone of importance. You’re mine now. I can make you whatever, and whoever, I desire you to be, and you will believe it. Do you understand that now?”

“Yes sir, I do,” Harry muttered.

Mr. Elroy bent over and slid the cigar free of Harry’s hole, making him grunt. “Good. Now, I think you do deserve a treat, because all difficulties aside, your son was…a delightful meal. And we haven’t even gotten to your grandson yet, have we?”

Kyle. He hadn’t thought of him once since he’d gotten into this. His younger brother, or at least, he’d been his younger brother…ages ago now, it felt like. Those memories were dying on the vine, faster and faster now, but he could remember his grandson’s face…though it was blurry, like his son’s had been, before he’d arrived.

“No–not him, you can’t…”

“Oh, I most certainly can. After all, the three of you are family–whether you like it or not, your fates are tied together. As soon as you stepped into this room, Harry, you sealed all of your fates together. You’re all mine, and you’ll all be mine until your all just husks, and I’ve taken everything from you that I can get. Still, that won’t be for a while yet–after all, I do so enjoy playing with my food, and my last meal was quite…sustaining, though the three of you are mighty hearty yourselves. No, Harry–I think you’ve learned your lesson well enough, and I think you and your boy here have earned yourselves a little time alone together–some father son bonding–won’t that be nice?” Mr. Elroy looked over at Pete, hauling himself up and pulling his grimy pants back up. “He’s such a handsome brute after all–you always thought so, didn’t you?”

The memories came back, a new version of their time together. Now, though, while they had often wrestled…in was Pete who always would win, or at least, nearly always…because Harry wanted him to win. Because Harry loved how weak he felt, his own brutish son overwhelming him, and when Pete had fucked him that first time…they even dropped the pretense of wrestling. Pete knew his father would do anything for his cock, just like Harry would do anything for Wilbur’s. More than once, the two of them had fucked him together, trading ends back and forth, and when Wilbur had died, his son was the only one left who understood him, who knew how to…treat Harry right. He’d learned from the best after all–and while he’d never been one for school, Pete had learned everything he’d needed to know about being a selfish, brutal top from his favorite uncle.

The memory faded, and Harry looked around his apartment, but Mr. Elroy was gone. It was just him in his favorite chair, and his son on the couch, both of them smoking cigars in the quiet afternoon. Pete gave a stretch, showing off two very hairy armpits from the ash covered wife beater he had stretched over his massive gut. “Well Pa, looks like yer settling in well here–and that nurse a yers seems like a swell fellow. Reminds me…a bit of Uncle Wilbur, you know?”

Harry nodded, not sure what to say. Should he try and talk some sense into him? What was the use? Mr. Elroy might not be here…but he knew what would happen if he tried to fight this. Where would he go, if he did escape? “Yeah, he treats me pretty good,” Harry said.

“Think I’ll bring Ky over tomorrow to say hi too–don’t think he’s had a chance to visit yet, but that boy…he don’t understand how important family is, I don’t think. Doesn’t really take after you the way I do, right Pa?”

He hefted himself up, lumbering over to him, and he smelled him, the stench of stale cigars and his fat body, booze and food and laziness, and he wanted to say he wasn’t turned on, but he was. He…remembered how proud he’d been of him, when he’d had so much potential, and yet something about seeing his brawny young son turn into his fat piece of trailer trash…he loved it in a way he couldn’t explain. “I’ve tried a couple a times, tah show him, but he just doesn’t have much interest in wrasslin’. You don’t need any encouragement, do ya Pa? Haven’t gotten mah dick sucked in a few days now, ‘n sure could use a hot mouth like yours. Take those teeth out–feels real nice without ‘em.”

Harry felt the resistance ebb away. What could he do? Even though his son was a fat piece of shit, he still was stronger than Harry was–and Pete had never been one to take no for an answer. He set the cigar aside, pulled out his teeth while Pete hauled out his cock, and fucked his father’s face in the living room for a few minutes, until he came. Neither of them said anything about it afterwards, they just turned on the TV and watched the news for a while until Mr. Elroy returned, and announced it was time for Harry to take his pills–and asked Pete if he’d like to stay for dinner.

“Nah, I should get goin’,” Pete said, “Ky’s probably wonderin’ where his deadbeat dad has gotten off to. Need to keep the boy fed, right?” He winked at Harry, and he felt his gut twist all the same, thinking about what was in store for his brother soon enough. “Can’t wait tah bring him by here tomorrow, I think he needs to be more involved with his family from now on.”

“Yes, recovery goes so much smoother when the whole family is involved, in my experience,” Mr. Elroy said, “The afternoon is best for Harry’s schedule–we’ll be expecting you around two or so.”

“I don’t…think I want any visitors tomorrow,” Harry interjected.

“Nonsense Harry,” Mr. Elroy said, “You always have time for family. Don’t you want to get better?”

“I feel fine.”

Mr. Elroy and Pete shared a look.

“Always a stubborn son of a bitch. Don’t worry, we’ll be here tomorrow,” Pete said.

“Excellent–I’m sure it will be great to see you both.”

Pete shook Mr. Elroy’s hand, and then left, still smoking his cigar on the way out. Harry could only wonder. Wonder if there was anything of his father–his real father–buried anywhere inside of him, just like he was…or was there nothing left? After all, Mr. Elroy said that the only reason he was here was because of his connection to Harry–was Mr. Elroy keeping his mind intact for that reason? Maybe…Maybe there was a chance still. A small one. Maybe with Kyle’s help they can be free of this. “Now, dinner I think,” Mr. Elroy said. “Given how difficult you were today, you’ll only get your cane tonight. I feel like watching you struggle–this is always more fun when you struggle.”

Remembrances – Episode 2 (Part 8)

“He’s…fuck, ya can’t do this to ‘em, ya can’t do this tah us, it ain’t right!”

“Right?” Mr. Elroy said, “Right doesn’t have anything to do with it. This is about what I want, Harry.” He gave his belly a pat, and belched, “Gotta say, he was tasty though. I think he still has a little potential in there for some leftovers later, but we drained him pretty well.”

“I didn’t…This is yer doin’, I ain’t doin’ anything!”

Mr. Elroy laughed. “I could only do it because you let me in, Harry. But that’s water under the bridge at this point–I gotta say, that meal made me hornier than hell though.”

Harry expected Mr. Elroy to use him like he had earlier, but instead, he walked back over to Pete, tapped his shoulder, and his son woke up, looked at him, blinked a few times, and then said in quiet disbelief, “U-Uncle Wilbur? I thought…you’s were dead!”

“Not yet boy,” Mr. Elroy said, gave Pete a hand and pulled him up into a hug, “How about a wrassle, boy? Could use a little fun with my favorite nephew.”

Harry tried to speak, tried to stop it, but it felt like he was frozen and forgotten. He couldn’t move–all he could do was watch as Mr. Elroy helped Pete out of his grungy clothes, took off his own, and then the two of them started grappling. It wasn’t long before they hit the floor, rolling around, both of them hooting and hollering, but Pete wasn’t in the same shape he’d been in when he was a rough twenty-something, playing around with his uncle, naked in the bedroom, not quite sure why his cock kept getting hard, until Wilbur showed him what to do with his cock and a man’s hole. Mr. Elroy was toying with him–Harry could see it, and he kept flashing him looks from the floor as he maneuvered his son into a pin, making Pete cry for mercy.

“You give up, boy? You know what that means, don’t ya?”

“Yeah Unc, yeah, just let go my arm!”

Mr. Elroy did, and then spread Pete’s ass cheeks and wormed one finger in, and then two, watching Pete squirm. “You forget the magic words? Seems like ya ain’t lost in a while, boy,”

“N-No sir, I ain’t a loser, ya know that.”

“Heh, you are today, and every other day too, if you don’t get your shit together and fight like a man ought to. Now say it. I wanna hear ya say it. Don’t forget–the words were your idea, boy.”

“I…I’m a loser.”

“The whole thing boy! Say it! Say, ‘I’m a stupid, fat, filthy, faggot loser.’” Mr. Elroy pulled harder on his leg, making Pete moan and smack the floor with a free hand.

“Stop it!” Harry had found his voice again, but Pete didn’t seem to hear him. Mr. Elroy, on the other hand, looked up at him with a grin.

“I thought you liked to watch, Harry,” he said, “Go on, pull that worthless cock of yours out. I want to watch you try and jack off, I wanna see if you can get it hard at all.” Mr. Elroy leaned closer to Pete’s ear, “And I can’t hear you boy, fuckin’ say it.”

“I…I’m a stupid, fat, filthy faggot loser…” Pete moaned, as Mr. Elroy pushed a third finger into his ass.

Harry pulled his cock free of his jeans, and felt how small it was, how dull it felt in his hand. He was horny–so damn horny watching this, and yet his cock felt nothing at all. “Please, please stop this, he didn’t deserve this…”

“If you really want me to stop, Harry, I’ll stop,” Mr. Elroy said, “But I don’t think that’s what you really want. You’re just jealous–you were always jealous of me. But he would have, you know. If you’d just offered, but you were too much of a coward. All those years, wrestling with your boy, and never once had the guts to get what you really wanted from him. All you did was watch. Well that’s ok, Harry–you can watch plenty. I’ll have your son over here every day, and I’ll fuck his fat hole in front of you, and you can just watch to your heart’s content. Now, how does that worthless cock of yours feel? Getting any satisfaction, watching your best friend get ready to pound your worthless son’s fat ass? Sure you can’t even get it to half mast, for us?”

Harry stroked a bit harder, but it was clear his cock wasn’t responding to anything at all.

“If that doesn’t work, you can always play with yourself somewhere else, that you’ll enjoy more.”

Harry didn’t quite know what Mr. Elroy meant, but his hands and body were already tracing familiar patterns, shucking the suspenders from his shoulders, leaning forward and tugging his jeans and underwear down past his ass, the fingers of his hands feeling around for his hole and sliding inside, and now, Harry moaned. Moaned while he watched Mr. Elroy finger his son right in front of him–saw Wilbur fingering his boy in his old room, saw himself watching, wishing, jealous and turned on all at the same time. Wilbur finally slid his cock into Pete’s ass, and he moaned in humiliation, but allowed his uncle to have his way with him, Harry worming more of his hand inside his ass, pressing against his inflamed prostate, feeling more pleasure and delight there than he had from his cock in ages. “Fuck Wilbur, fuck–fuck me next,” Harry muttered, “Fuck me just like that.”

Wilbur turned towards him, mouth turned up in a sneer. “You? Why would I want to fuck you, when I can fuck your boy, Harry? Why the fuck would I waste my cock on a broken old man, when I have this fat loser hungry for my cock day and night? Right faggot? Are you hungry for your uncle’s big cock?”