Alpha and the Boys (Caption)

Due to various circumstances, I have to delay the next couple of parts of Winter Vacation to Sunday and Monday this week.

It was a small change in his life, but it was a good one, he supposed. Doug hadn’t exactly lived the most active of lifestyles, rather, he quite enjoyed being sedentary. But it wasn’t doing anything for his health, or for his waistline, and so at his doctor’s, and his wife’s, urging, he’d started walking. Three or four times a week, he’d take off from his house and go down to the sizable park a mile away, do a circuit, and then walk back. It had been a couple months since he’d started, and while he hadn’t lost any weight, he did feel better. It was one late spring day, warm enough to wear shorts and regret it later, that he got to the park, and decided to take a quick breather on one of the benches beside a large field.

There were three young men in the field, throwing around a frisbee, none of them wearing shirts despite how chilly it was, and as Doug sat there, he found himself watching them play. It was difficult to pin down how old they were exactly–they all seemed a bit too old for college, but he certainly got a fraternity sort of vibe from them. Still, there wasn’t a college anywhere nearby, so he had no idea why they were playing here, in this park. Several times he intended to get back up and continue his walk, but each time something would distract him–a bead of sweat rolling down a chiseled chest, the thick thigh and calf as one of them jumped to make a catch, the glinting teeth of a smile. Doug’s cock was hard, tenting out the front of his short, but he barely even noticed, and just kept watching and staring, even if he couldn’t quite figure out why, exactly, he was still doing so.

The young men finished their game, all of them covered in sweat, and to Doug’s surprise, they walked over to where he was sitting. Had they all noticed what he was doing? He went to stand up quickly and move away to avoid anything embarrassing, but one of the men blocked his way with a laugh. “What’s up man? Saw you watchin’ us. You wanna play?”

Doug laughed, assuming it was a joke, but none of the three men laughed with him. “I mean, I haven’t played anything it years,” Doug stammered, “But, uh, thank you for the offer.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! We can help, you know. Come on–we’ll show you.”

Doug wasn’t about to take the three young jocks up on their strange offer, but his feet turned and followed them anyway, walking behind them as they left the park, walked a short distance and arrived at a house, where he assumed the three of them lived together. Once inside, all three of them immediately stripped out of their shorts, leaving them wearing nothing other than their hats, their jockstraps, and their sneakers.

Doug realized, then, how hard his cock was, and didn’t know what to do. Why were these young men turning him on so much, suddenly? He’d never felt a gay bone in his body, but he…wanted these men, in a way he couldn’t quite fathom. “I…you know, maybe I should leave.”

“Hold on now, I thought you wanted to join us?” The one in the yellow jock said, and he tossed Doug a black jockstrap, “Go on–see if it fits man.”

The other two nodded along, and he noticed each of them was wearing a necklace. From a distance, they had seemed innocuous, but up close they were chains padlocked into place. He looked at the jock in confusion…but then he started undoing his shoes while the three men watched, took off his shirt, shorts and underwear, and when he was completely naked, he pulled on the jockstrap.

“Ooo…no, that doesn’t fit at all, does it boys?” the leader said, and the other shook their heads.

“Sure doesn’t, Alpha–look at how tight that big gut a his is stretchin’ that strap!”

“Yeah, ‘n that puny old cock ain’t even fillin’ the pouch none,” the other said, with a guffaw.

The words stung–and at the same time, turned Doug on. He shoved his hand in the pouch and started working his cock, but it seemed…wrong. His cock was smaller, and completely soft–and also harder to reach. His gut seemed larger than it had been…and was it hairier too.

“Come on, you dirty fucking pervert–get out of that thing before you stretch it out.”

Doug did as he was told, and when Alpha shoved Doug down onto his knees, he stuck his nose right into his yellow jock, snorting and huffing, still working his soft cock over, but as horny as he was, it refused to harden at all.

“Looks like the pervert’s having some trouble–Red, help him out, would you?”

Red hefted Doug’s ass up, and slipped his thick fingers into Doug’s ass–and then his entire fist. As he worked over Doug’s prostate, an orgasm finally came, and he spurted a few globs of cum from the head of his puny cock.

“Alright pervert–you’d better get on home now, where you belong.”

“N-No, wait Alpha, can’t I stay a little longer? I…fuck sir, you and the boys are so hot…”

“Well, you’ll just have to watch us through the windows with the rest of the perverts–now get the hell out of here.”

Still naked, and barely understanding what he was doing, or why, Doug left out the front door, still completely naked, and went next door–which was in significantly worse repair. Inside were all the other perverts. Old, disgusting lechers just like him, crowding around the windows, aching to see Alpha or the boys playing, always jacking their worthless cocks, only able to cum when Alpha summoned them for some humiliating chores or to be a sex toy for the evening for his boys. Doug…clung to himself for a little while, but soon he was just another nameless pervert, like the rest, aching only to serve his Alpha and the boys, and perfectly content to watch, until his next chance came.

Biker Trip (Sketch)

“Sure you don’t want to come? Rides like this are always better with a buddy,” Colt said, as he washed his Harley, while Neil watched from his own driveway next door.

“I don’t even have a bike, Colt.”

“That’s not a problem. I can find you a loaner.”

Neil shook his head, a bit confused why his neighbor was even offering. Well, a bit put off, really. He was pretty sure Colt was gay…and inviting him on a two week cross country bike ride? That seemed a bit…sketchy. “Hope you have a good time, Colt,” he said, and went into his house.

Colt chuckled–he was going to get one of his sexy daddy neighbors to ride with him, whether they wanted to or not. He rinsed off his bike, and then went into his house, found his special pipe and tobacco blend, and lit it.

Then, he went back out onto the porch, sat in his chair, and let the smoke waft away through the neighborhood, waiting for anyone to take the bait.

“Gah, fuck!” Neil said, standing at his desk where he’d been doing some work with the window open, looking down at the massive wad he’d just shot all over the papers laid out in front of him.

He’d been working just fine, and then…he’d smelled that…whatever that scent was, and he’d just…he’d never thought about anything like that before, on his knees in front of Colt, wearing biker leathers, begging him for his cock. Something…something was tugging at him, telling him to go back down and outside, but he resisted, got his clothes back on and sat back down, trying to make sense of the odd event. He could still…smell that odor, whatever it was. Was it smoke? He got up and went to the window to shut it, but froze, looking down at what was happening in Colt’s driveway.

On the other side of Colt’s house, that was where Blake lived. They weren’t close–he was another corporate fellow, working at another company in town, but they were good acquaintances. There in the driveway, however…was Blake and Colt. Colt was in his full leather gear, like Neil had seen in his fantasy, and Blake was on his hands and knees next to the bike, one hand under Colt’s boot, and his tongue making long, sweeping licks across the tire of Colt’s motorcycle.

He was horrified, yes, but more than that–he was jealous. Before he could really think about why, he bolted from his office and down to the front of his house, hurrying over to where Colt and Blake were on the driveway. “Wait…wait…I…I do have some vacation time, Colt, I could go!”

Colt just smiled around his pipe. “Thanks, but Blake’s going with me, right Blake? He’s been telling me how eager he is to get a taste of life on the road.”

Blake nodded, and looking at him, Neil noticed that Blake…looked different. A thin beard on his face, his body filling out slightly, a leather vest appearing over his shoulders from one moment to the next. Was…was it really too late? No–no, he wanted to go. He wanted to taste it, just once. He hurried over, hands shaking, dropped to his knees and started fighting with the zipper on Colt’s leather pants. He would show him. He’d show him how much he wanted this–but Colt pushed him back onto his ass with one gloved hand. “Pig, what makes you think you have permission to suck my cock?”

Neil gave a snort. Pig. Was…was he a pig? He didn’t care–as long as Colt was looking at him, as long as he could smell that sweet smoke. “Please sir, please let his pig suck your cock, let me show you I’m worthy, please…”

Colt grinned, squatted down, took a long draw off his pipe, and blew the smoke into Neil’s face, watching it go slack, the front of his pants darkening as he pissed himself, snorting and grunting in sudden excitement. “I suppose you can come too–but since I already have myself a roadboy–you’re going to have to settle for the role of filthy biker pig.”

One week into their trip, and they’d reached their destination. To Squeal–it was fucking heaven. Nothing but filthy bikers as far as the eye could see. Colt and his roadboy, Flake, were off introducing themselves, Colt smoking his pipe, the bikers around them pawing at his boy, before bending him over one of the hogs nearby and plugging him at both ends. Squeal…couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. Flake got so many good fucks, and as horny as Squeal was, he knew he was only ever going to get the leftovers–sometimes literally.

He’d been packing on weight ever since they’d left, and Colt had told him, while Squeal was eagerly eating out his crusty asshole one night, that by the time they got home, he was going to have Squeal so fat he’d be too big of a pig to ride ever again. As horrified as that made him, it also…fuck, thinking of being that big was making him horny, and hungry. He let off a long fart, and felt a little wetness in the back of his stinking, piss soaked underwear…and he knew he needed a fuck quick. A short distance away were a couple of fat, ugly pig bikers–but he bet they’d know how to treat him just right.

Max Meets Junior (Part 9)

“Oh…sir, thank you sir…” Jules groaned, gripping the table as his employer fucked him, Junior standing beside him, kissing his stepfather, toying with his nipples, massaging his belly as he fucked slowly, and then faster, taking what he wanted, making Jules moan louder with each thrust, showing him that he wasn’t simply employed here, that he was owned, and that he was happy being owned. Then, he came, and he came deep, and when he slid his cock out, he was surprised to find that a couple extra inches had appeared, bringing the length slightly past ten inches.

“I realized I hadn’t been fair to you before, and you’re doing so very well, adjusting to all of this, that I wanted to be sure to reward you properly, Daddy,” Junior ran his hand up and down his softening cock, “I do so want you to be happy, Daddy, because if you’re happy, then I’m very, very happy.”

What was he doing? He was standing in a dining room. Not his dining room, he’d never been in here before. He’d just stuffed himself, sucked off a houseboy who he thought might have been a previous co-worker of his, and then fucked him to a second orgasm he could now see splattered across the floor beneath the table, all while his stepson had been encouraging him. This was wrong. He knew this was wrong, and at the same time, he didn’t care. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was that he liked it. He liked that it was wrong, he liked that if anyone had seen this, if anyone normal had seen what he’d just done, they would be disgusted with him. He liked that, it was turning him on, and his cock was still hard in his stepson’s hand, it was still hard, and Junior knew it, and he was smiling, and that hunger in him was still there.

“What do you think Daddy? How about some time by the pool? I love how the sun feels on my skin, don’t you?” then he leaned in a bit closer, to his ear, “And we could fuck in the open, we could fuck in the open, and someone might see us…”

He liked that idea. He liked that idea a lot more than he should, but he liked it, and his stepson led him out into the sun by his hard cock, and they fucked all afternoon long, and by the end of the day, by the time he’d stuffed himself all over again for dinner, by the time a very similar Sunday had come and gone, he had forgotten all about that old, dreary, one bedroom apartment. All about that old Max. This was his life now, but what he didn’t know, was what it was going to cost.

***

Come Monday, Max finally returned to work after his somewhat impromptu vacation away. He heaved himself out of the car–a massive breakfast already straining under his belt–and he realized he had no idea what he was doing here. He hadn’t received any sort of training for this position, and he imagined that being head of HR came with all sorts of responsibilities he had no expectations for…until he got in the building, and found himself already walking a somehow familiar path to the elevator, pushing the button for a floor much higher than usual, and arrived at his office somewhat late, but no later than he usually was–his staff waiting for him for their weekly meeting to discuss the problems of the week, and Mac found it much easier to fake the position of leader than he had expected. In fact, he began to suspect that he wasn’t faking it at all, as he delegated the tasks among his team members, reserving a few for himself–and by the time Junior arrived at his office to take him out to lunch, he was reasonably confident that he had nothing to worry about after all.

He spent a few minutes making out with his stepson in the privacy of his office, before they excused themselves and slipped out for lunch–he told his staff that he’d only be gone an hour, and Junior snickered softly–in fact, they didn’t return for two hours. Junior had insisted they go to a buffet and had proceeded to stuff Max to the gills, and he heaved himself back into the office–Junior taking a few minutes to suck him off under his desk, before letting his stepfather get back to his work, and after a few days, it began to feel like an old routine–and his rapidly expanding waistline seemed to agree. Each day, his suits fit a bit tighter, the gaps in his shirts between his buttons growing steadily, but he couldn’t seem to resist any sort of food–especially when it was Junior plying him. On Thursday, Junior was especially pleased with how much he’d eaten, and so when they returned to his office, instead of immediate sex, Junior opened up a database on Max’s computer that he hadn’t noticed before.

“A little gift, I got for you, daddy,” he said, “A database with information about every employee in the building–I know you have one you use for work, but this one is contains some extra information you might find…relevant to certain interests of yours.”

Indeed–it contained a wealth of information. In addition of headshots it contained complete physical descriptions of the employees–even the length of their cocks–as well as information on their sexual history and interests, their extracurricular hobbies, and even, in more than a few cases, blackmail material. “I don’t understand…how did you get all of this?”

“I have my ways, daddy–you should know better than anyone. Now, why don’t you thank your stepson properly today? My ass is aching for your big cock…”

Of course, Max had to taste Junior’s ass first, his stepson bent over his desk while he got down behind him, spreading his cheeks with his hands, burrowing his tongue up his chute until it had loosened nicely–then he stood up and gave him a long, slow fuck. Junior ended up cumming across his desk, and Max was more than happy to lick it up for him after he’d shot his load inside Junior. However, he still wasn’t quite sure what to do with Junior’s special database–until the next week, when he passed an intern in the hallway, and his heart was struck with a need he had never experienced before in his life.

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 2)

“Alright, and we can get your neck real quick…20 inches, alright. Shoulders…18 inches. And now your sleeve…28. Hmm…this is going to be a challenge. Alright young man, just two more. First, your trunk…let’s see…27”, and lastly your inseam…28”. Huh, would have expected you to be taller, like your daddy. Oh well, I suppose a little man like you still has some time to grow, right?” Howard said with a grin, and then turned to Mr. Rawlins. “Well sir, I can see why you brought him here, but I just don’t think–”

“Oh hush now Howard, you’ve been plenty helpful. Leave me with my boy, and we can sort the rest of it out.”

“Oh…uh, very well. Just call me if you need help.”

“I certainly will. Thanks much, Howard,” Mr. Rawlins said, dismissing the help and then coming close to James, who was still boggled by his reflection. He’d watched himself closely while Howard had taken those last measurements, and in each case, the man hadn’t pulled the tape tight to him…it was more like his body had changed to fill a certain dimension. His neck had thickened, double and triple chins descending to fill out the tape there. But most obvious had been his trunk and inseam, his body shortening from his six foot height with each one, until he was probably a foot shorter, maybe five foot two at max. “Well little man, what do you think?”

“You…How did…I don’t understand…” James started to say, but looking at his new form, he was simply at a loss for words. His clothing hadn’t grown with him at all, his t-shirt stretched to the limit, his jeans bursting at the seams, the collar nearly choking him, and turning his face a bit red. “Daddy…daddy what did you do to me?”

“What do you mean, boy? I didn’t do anything to you. We’re just getting you fitted for your new uniform. You start the third grade next week–aren’t you excited?”

James nodded his head, but hadn’t be been going to college? No, how could he go to college? He didn’t know much of anything–he could only read those small books daddy had for him in his room, and he wasn’t very good at math yet–he still had trouble adding sometimes. No way could he be ready for college. Looking at himself in the mirror, he did look rather…fresh faced. While he knew he was almost twenty, and he looked grown up, some part of him still looked…very young. He turned away, finding it uncanny, and found himself staring at Mr. Rawlins instead…and he felt, strange. This big, old man who had so disgusted him with his smoking earlier now seemed…safe. Fatherly. Someone he could trust…maybe even…love?

“Still, you have nothing to worry about. Doesn’t your new uniform fit nice? Doesn’t it make you look handsome?” Mr. Rawlins asked, and James turned to the mirror quickly enough to see his ill fitting clothes start to shift and squirm. the t-shirt which could barely stretch over his belly and chest expanded and split down the middle, becoming a light grey dress shirt tucked into a pair of dark shorts with a massive waistband but didn’t quite reach his knees. Below that, grey, woolen socks crawled up his thick calves, and the sneakers he was wearing darkened and shimmered into nicely shined dress shoes, and as a tie snaked its way around his collar, a vest and coat pulled themselves up over his body, before finally a smart looking cap popped into existence on his head. He looked like a young kid going to one of the fancy prep schools, and he did look rather handsome. “See, didn’t the nice men do a nice job on your uniform? You look rather dashing, wouldn’t you say, little man?”

He came up behind James, and what started as a pat on the back became something rather more intimate, as Mr. Rawlins explored James new body with his firm hands, running them up under his coat and around his belly, his beard grazing the back of his neck, and making James’ peepee tingle in the strangest way, and he blushed a bit in the mirror, being this close to his daddy. “Thank you daddy, it’s very nice,” James said, “I like it.”

“Well, if you really want to thank me, how about you give your daddy a kiss?” Mr. Rawlins said, spun James around and leaned down, pushing their lips together and shoving his tongue into James’ mouth. James wanted it to feel good–he really did. He wanted to enjoy the taste of tobacco on his daddy’s lips, and the feel of his rough beard on his soft cheeks, but it was wrong. All of this, all of it was just so wrong, and in a moment of muddled clarity, not even certain why he was doing it, he pushed Mr. Rawlin’s away and dashed off as fast as his short, chubby legs could carry him. “Boy, what do you think you are doing? Get back here this instant!” he heard his daddy should, and guilt–oh the guilt, but he had to get away. Daddy–no, Mr. Rawlins–he’d…he’d done something to him. He hadn’t been this dumb, or this fat, or dressed like this earlier, had he? The further from the smoke he got, the clearer it seemed he could think, but he couldn’t get out–all of the shopkeepers were on daddy’s side. He had to hide. He passed the children’s section and darted into the racks, eventually ducking under and hiding in the middle of a thickly stocked circular one, doing his best to keep his huffing breath quiet, and just think.

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 1)

This story is a rather old one, and a rather infamous one, which caused a bit of a ruckus over on the old NCMC when I first posted it there. It got removed (for fair reason) and I never bothered to post it anywhere else, though I thought I had posted it here at some point! In any case, it involves a lot of diapers, and rather severe mental age regression, which is the reason it got removed to begin with. If that’s not your thing…well, don’t read it.

It started simply enough–James was out shopping at a department store looking for some new clothes before the start of his university classes the next week, and wasn’t finding much he liked. He had just about resigned himself to finding nothing there and heading for the next shop, when he smelled something that made him panic a bit–smoke. He looked around, wondering whether something had been set on fire and if he should try to warn people, but he didn’t see anything like that, and when he caught another whiff of the smoke, he realized that it didn’t quite smell like smoke…well, that wasn’t the best way to put it. It didn’t smell like, “something is on fire” smoke. It was sweeter, and he could recognize it from some of the seedier pubs he’d crawled past with some of his friends after finals. Someone was smoking a pipe or a cigar in here–but this was a department store, right?

He took another look around, and sure enough, he could see the haze thickened up around the suit department. Curious to see who would be so brazenly breaking the law about smoking indoors, he headed in that direction, and from a bit of a distance, spotted the culprit–an older gentleman in the middle of getting measured for a suit. He was a sizable gentleman, well, sizable was a nice way of putting it. He was fat, and quite fat at that, and rather old, probably in his sixties or so, with a horseshoe of white hair and a full but neatly trimmed full beard. The shop assistant had just finished measuring him, and was helping the man back into his anachronistic suit, all perfectly starched and pressed, and after a couple of minutes, James realized that he’d simply been staring at the man blatantly the entire time like a fool. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his mind was feeling as hazy as the room around him. He needed to find someone to get the man to quit smoking.

He saw another attendant working the suit department, and James strode over to him. “Hey,” he said, “aren’t you going to do something about that?”

It took a few seconds for the attendant to realize someone had spoken to him–his eyes were distant and a bit glazed over, but finally he blinked a few times and noticed James standing next to him. “Oh…I’m sorry sir, is there something I can help you with?”

James rolled his eyes, “Yes, you could get the guy to quit smoking for one. Don’t you people know it’s against the law?”

“Oh…” the attendant said, “Well, that’s Mr. Rawlins. He always smokes when he comes in here.”

“And you just let him?”

The assistant just stared at him for a few moments, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Yes…we always let Mr. Rawlins do…anything he wants…” he said, his voice trailing off, and then his eyes glazed back over and he forgot James was there entirely, going back to sorting his suits.

“What in the world is going on here?” James said to himself. Everyone in the store was acting strange, and he suddenly wondered if he shouldn’t have even gotten involved. It would have been smarter to have just left, and taken his business elsewhere. He turned around, ready to leave, but saw that the way was blocked by Mr. Rawlins’ himself, fully dressed and smoking his pipe.

He was big. Bigger than James had first thought. Certainly he was fat–but he was also tall, and the way he loomed over James somehow made him feel like a little kid looking up at the principal. He stammered for a second, looking for words, but his voice failed him, and he just lapsed into silence.

“Hello there, young man. I don’t remember seeing you here before. Do you work here?”

“Oh…uh, no sir…I’m just a customer. I uh…should you uh…be smoking in here sir? I thought…well, I just…isn’t that against the law?”

Mr. Rawlins let out a booming laugh which was somehow infectious, and it seemed to James that his earlier concern was somehow childish. Of course Mr. Rawlins could smoke in here–Mr. Rawlins could do anything he wants.

“Tell me, little man, what were you shopping for today?”

“Oh…uh…just some for some new clothes for school.”

“Did you find anything you like?”

“Not…Not really…” James said.

“Yes, well, I imagine it would be difficult finding clothes to fit a husky boy like yourself.”

Husky? Who even used that word anymore? Besides, James was anything but husky–he was as thin as a rail.

“Well, come on, my little man, and let’s see if we can’t find something that might fit that frame of yours so you’ll look good when you start school next week.” Mr. Rawlins held out his hand for James, and without really knowing why, he took the gentleman’s hand and let him lead him towards the fitting station. “Howard,” he said, addressing the man who had measured him earlier, “I’d like to fit my little man here for a school uniform. We’re having a hard time finding something in his size.”

Howard, that same glassy look in his eye, smiled. “Well of course Mr. Rawlins, anything for you, sir.”

“Good man. Alright young man. Get up there and Howard will get you all measured for your uniform.”

Something wasn’t right, and yet, he was here for school clothes right? It was just lucky for him that Mr. Rawlins and Howard were here to help him find something in his size. He got up on the stool and looked at himself in the mirror, but it seemed like his reflection was perfectly normal–his usual, slender frame. But then why had Mr. Rawlins called him husky earlier?

Howard got his fabric tape and came over to James. “Alright young man, how about we get some measurements? Lift up your arms for me.”

James did as he asked, and Howard pulled the tape around his chest, noted the measurement, and then did the same around his waist. “Alright, looks like a…48” inch chest, and a 50” waist. Goodness, you are a big boy, aren’t you? Mr. Rawlins does love his little men big, doesn’t he?”

James did some mental math in his head when he heard the numbers, but his head was moving so slow. After all, he’d just barely started multiplication in school, but still…48 and 50 seemed like rather big numbers. Hadn’t he had a 28 inch waist last time he’d measured himself? But in the mirror, there was no way he could have a waist that small–he’d been eating too well and for too long for that. Indeed, he could see that his chest was thick with fat, with two big moobs hanging down, pushing out his t-shirt, his apron of a belly dropping a couple of inches below the bottom. He felt suddenly embarrassed to be wearing something so ill fitting in front of Mr. Rawlins, but the old man was staring at him with such lecherous eyes, he didn’t think he cared.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 8)

I stumble back into the room, where my brother and daddy are lying on the bed and the floor…no, not my brother, he’s my…my cousin. I have to remember that, I have to try and remember how things were, but it’s so…hard to think about everything, all I want to do is sleep. I know that if I sleep, everything will make more sense, but I need to get to Gabe. If I can get to Gabe, he had a plan, he knew something about all of this and what to do. I’m just a dumb whore, but he’s my brother! Sure, he’s…mean, most of the time, but he’s smarter than me ‘n daddy combined, so he’ll know what to do for sure. As I walk to him, I stumble and have to catch myself on the wall, trying to keep myself upright, but it’s so…hard. I can feel my skin burning, my body burning. I’m changing again, but I can get there, to the bed. I push my way there and collapse beside Gabe, shaking him, trying to wake him up…maybe I can wake him up with the amulet…but I don’t have it!

I look around for it, my sight blurry, but I see it over by the wall where I stumbled, but it seems so far away now. Still, it’s my only chance…I lunge for it, and fall…but I’m just so tired, and I can’t reach. I’ll…sleep now. Sleep for a while, and when…when I wakes up, everythin’s gonna make way more sense, ‘n Gabe’ll know what tah do, cause mah brother Gabe…ain’t no one in the woods ‘round here smarter ‘n Gabe…

I don’ know which one wakes me up, the shock tah mah collar or the heavy, steel toe boot tah mah gut, but I’m coughin’ ‘n sputterin’ on the cold floor, lookin’ up at my brother Gabe loomin’ o’er me with a cruel sneer on his face, the same sneer he always gits on his face when he’s beatin’ up me or Pa. But wait–wasn’t…there was somethin’ different before, I know it, but I can’t focus well enough tah figure it out–mah brain ain’t made fer thinkin’, like Gabe always says–I took after Pa, after all. Only thing I’s good fer is fuckin’ like a good little whore pig.

“Lazy fuckin’ bitch,” Gabe says, and hocks a wad of spit across my face. “That’s enough fuckin’ sleep for you, we got customers, ‘n they’re all eager fer yer holes. Remember, if I hear another fuckin’ complaint about ya talkin’ back, or knickin’ someone wit’ those teeth a yers–ya know what’ll happen, right?”

“Yer…Yer gonna pull out the rest a ‘em bro, I know.”

He follows that up with a kick tah mah nuts, makin’ me groan, “That, ‘n I might take those jewels a yers too.”

I nod, and he leaves my room–and I’m tryin’ tah think, tryin’ tah ‘member what was happenin’ before I fell asleep, cause it was so…important, but I can’t think a anythin’! Still, this ain’t right, I know it–Gabe…he ain’t my brother, not really. I…I gotta git outta here, find mah uncle–he’d know what to do, he’d remember everythin’. I head for the door, but git stopped short when the chain catches mah shock collar and tugs me back–the chain hammered intah the concete floor, next tah the ratty mattress where I sleep, ‘n eat, ‘n everythin’ else. I’s afraid tah look down at mahself, but nothin’ shocks me…really. Not the heavy steel cage welded ‘round mah cock, leavin’ mah balls hangin’ free fer easy kickin’. Not the faggot tattoos all o’er mah pale frame. I know it ain’t right, but it feels…good, all the same. Then the door opens, the first john pushes his way in, ‘n it starts, ‘n it don’t stop fer hours.

That’s how Gabe advertises us ‘round these parts–two full service faggots, cocks locked, ‘n hungry fer anythin’ ya wanna give tah us. I been doin’ it mah whole life, as long as I can remember–gettin’ fucked, drinkin’ piss, lickin’ out nasty bodies, gettin’ whipped, punched ‘n paddled. I like most a it, even. Still, it’s a couple hours later that I see it–the glimmer along the wall, buried in some of the dust and filth around mah room–’n I ‘member the amulet. If I can git tah it–I can figure this all out, I just know it. I can put things back the way they oughta be, once ‘n fer all, fer all a us–I think I can remember how things should be at least…

That session ends after a few more hours, and Gabe comes in wit the hose, orders me ‘gainst the wall, ‘n hoses me down in chilly water–then tells me he’ll have food fer us once he’s done wit Pa. He leaves again, ‘n I’m alone–I just fuckin’ hope this chain is long enough. It ain’t quite–I end up flippin’ ‘round ‘n usin’ mah toes tah grab the chain a the amulet, but I git it. I git it, ‘n it’s…warm, ‘n I can remember more, a little bit, at least.

Gabe come back in a few minutes later, ‘n I put ‘em under, tell him tah unlock mah collar, ‘n then fall asleep on the mattress while I sort some shit out. I leave the room…’n the cabin, fuck, it’s fallin’ tah pieces, looks like no one done a lick a work ‘round here in ages, but in the livin’ room, I see him, still lyin’ there. It must have been most of a day at this point, ‘n I can smell it, mah uncle sittin in’ his own mess, right there on the sofa…and I remember what he said, when I demanded the truth. That he didn’t love me, not really. That he was just gonna make me a slave, like Gabe’s done tha me already, but I don’t wanna me a slave anymore! No–I may be a dirty whore, ‘n I fuckin’ love cock, but I…I wanna do it fer me, now. Cause I want to, not cause someone makes me. But more than that…I want him tah love me. I want him tah love me like he promised. I want him tah need me, I want him tah want me. He’s…mine. He’s gonna be mine, ‘n we’ll be happy, I can make sure a it.

My Uncle’s Amulet (Part 6)

He’d done this to me. It wasn’t my dad, not really. It was him, my uncle. He’d done this to both of us. I tried to tell myself that, but…but it rang hollow. My uncle wouldn’t do this to me–he was the only man I’d ever met who treated me like a person, who I believed, deep down, genuinely loved me. He took a cloth from over the mirror, came over, and cleaned the makeup off my face while I leaned on him, and then kissed me. I could…taste the smoke on him, and I loved it–I craved it, I was tugging at his fly as quick as I could desperate to have him inside me, because he was the only man who could fuck me…and it felt amazing. It was like my ass was made for his cock, and nothing else–and he was more than happy to give it to me.

The next forty-five minutes flew by–he fucked me in every direction, from every angle, and I lost count of how many orgasms I had–both in my ass and in my cock. By the time he finally filled me up with his own load, I was quivering and aching and so full of pleasure I never wanted him to leave, I never wanted it to end. I asked him to hold me in bed, and he did, caressing me gently, my head on his chest listening to his heart beat.

“I wish…I wish we could stay like this,” I said.

“We could have, boy–but yer the one who said no. Yer the one who wouldn’t cooperate.”

The memory came back again, fainter than before, but their all the same, and I pulled away from him, horrified. “No–No, you did this. This was you, not him.”

“Ya know that ain’t true, boy–I’m the one who loves you, you know that.”

It was a lie, he was lying…I knew it, and yet I wanted to believe it. I couldn’t believe that the man I’d just been with, the only man in the world who treated me gently, who treated me like a person, would also be the one to put me in this position to begin with. I was the stupid one. I should…I should have agreed to do it, I could see that now, and yet…like an echo, Gabe’s voice was still there in my mind, warning me not to trust him…and I didn’t. I loved him, I wanted to be with him, but I didn’t trust him an inch, no further than I trusted my daddy. “I…I don’t…can’t you just…put everything back? I can’t think like this, I don’t know what I want anymore.”

There was a pounding on the door, and his daddy burst in, “Time up, fuckers–come on. Whore needs to eat, get a bit of rest, ‘n then we got the night shift.”

“Last chance, boy,” my uncle said quietly to me as he got up, “Because I know yer daddy’s only gonna get meaner from here on out–trust me, and I’m not gonna make the offer again.”

He headed for the door…and I could see the look in daddy’s eyes. He was horny, and when daddy was horny…that meant I was in for a beating. I…I knew I didn’t want this, I knew it, and my uncle was the only way out–even if I couldn’t trust him. “Wait! Wait–fine, I’ll do it, but…daddy first, and then I’ll…I’ll help you.”

My uncle looked back at me and smiled. “Sounds like a deal, boy.”

My daddy was just confused, looking between us, and asked what kind of deal we were even talking about, but my uncle interrupted him, told him he was getting sleepy and tired, and before I knew it, daddy was standing there, a bit of drool hanging from his mouth. “Alright Evan–come on. You want revenge on yer daddy here? Then you get to have the honors. Besides–you should have a chance to practice.”

My uncle pulled the amulet out again, but this time he pulled it off–but kept his hand looped in the gold chain, holding it out to me. I walked over, slowly, one eye on my daddy…still convinced he might snap out of it and beat the shit out of us both, but I got there, and took the amulet in my hand…and when I did, fuck, the power of the thing, it’s impossible to describe. I’d felt…powerless for so long, but with this thing, I could do anything I wanted…but what did I want? I knew what my uncle wanted, I could see it in him, but I was so confused now. Still, my daddy…he was bad. He’d done bad to both of us, and he deserved to be punished. I could do that–no, we could do that, together.

“Say it Evan–say what you think would be a good…punishment for your daddy here.”

“I…I want him to be a whore. A faggot whore, like he made me. I want him to spend all day getting fucked by dirty fat fucks like he makes me do.”

My uncle laughed, and beckoned my daddy over to us, “You hear that bro? Hear what your bright, magnificent son thinks about you know? Get on your knees fucker, you fucking whore, and get to work.”

My daddy dropped between us, and started sucking on our cocks, while my uncle worked the magic over him, telling my daddy what his new life was going to be like–and I added a few things in there too, but mostly…mostly I was just enjoying the sensation of being in power for once. I felt like all my life, this fucker, he’d controlled me, and now I had a chance to get even. I could make him love the taste of a filthy ass, like that disgusting biker I’d rimmed. I could make him a urinal for hire–offering men a place for their piss at ten dollars a bladder.

“Alright Evan, good work,” my uncle said, “But every whore needs a pimp right? And I know the perfect guy for your daddy to work for–let’s go see how my idiot nephew i doing.”

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 9)

Apologies for the sudden ending on this one. It was either cut it off here, or continue the thing for an entire month. Hopefully I’ll expand it into a proper something at some point!

I didn’t expect him to get up for a couple of days, mind you. Bruce had been through something rather extreme, and I was rather forgiving, so long as I had easy access to his holes to pleasure himself. I woke up that afternoon raring with energy, and I headed right for the gym…where I found a rather sordid affair had developed around the bench where I’d had my way with Bruce the night before. The manager had cleaned up the cum well enough, but the scent had lingered, and any man who wandered too close had been caught in the scent. There were five or six of them clustered around there, jacking off, sucking off, fucking…and as soon as I stepped inside, their heads swiveled toward me, and I joined them for a few minutes, before getting started on my own workout.

Like I said, I had never worked out in my life before this–I’d been a bit tubby, in fact–but this new body of mine, it seemed to have absorbed more than just Bruce’s energy, but quite a bit of his body’s experience as well. Lifting…fuck, feeling this muscular frame lift and move and force and sweat–it got me so horny that I’d have to pull the nearest man over and fuck them every few minutes, the all of them swimming in my scent, enamored with me, hungry for me and only me. I…I spent most of the weekend there. It was such a rush! The men all serving me, eagerly, and when I returned to the office the next week, I called a meeting for all of them men in the office, and within minutes, I had convinced them all how necessary it was to serve me as well.

Home, gym, work–those were the places I existed. Warping men, intensifying my stink, growing my harems. It really was a shame about Bruce–he never could manage to get out of bed, after everything I’d taken from him. I’d been rather hopeful that he could be my muscular brute fucktoy–but instead, he became another pig for Jack to care for and fuck while I was away. Adam was developing nicely, and within a few weeks he’d managed to pack on half the weight he needed to service me again. He was…so close to his goal, when he caught up to me. Now…well, now all of that was gone.

It was my boxers, which had been my mistake. I’d left them stashed in the alley, and when he’d come back for his underwear, he’d found them, and tracked me down. It had been difficult, since I’d covered myself up in so much else, but for a proper stinker, no scent is too faint to track. I’d come home from work and found him waiting for me, and as soon as I caught a whiff of him…fuck. The real fucking thing. I’d just been toying around at the edges, I wasn’t a real stinker. He had me naked in less than a minute, pulled on his underwear–the underwear I’d tried to claim as my own, and forced me to suck out all of the mess I’d made in it over the last few weeks. I…I don’t know how I did it, but I did. When I’d finished, and scent of myself was gone from them–they were his again.

I’d hoped he’d just leave me, but he had something else in store, I discovered. He dragged me out of my apartment, and told me to say goodbye to my men–I wouldn’t be seeing them again. He hauled me down into the basement and shoved me into the trunk of a car and drove off. We made one stop, somewhere, a few minutes, and then we kept going until we pulled in somewhere else, and he hauled me out of the trunk, and into a tiny little studio apartment…and he got me dressed.

A dark brown jockstrap. Camo pants. Grungy wifebeater, a filthy, holey t-shirt three or four sizes too large, a flannel, and a coat over that. Work gloves on my hands. Socks and boots on my feet–big enough to fit my larger size, surprisingly. Lastly, a hard hat…and then…and then he started to jack off. I’d never seen a man pump out as much cum as he did, but he came, and he coated me in his cum–and I mean he coated me in it. It dried quickly, soaking into the clothes he’d forced onto me, and then…and then he’d just left, and now…now nothing will come off.

Something about his cum, it’s stuck every zipper, it’s adhered the cloth to my skin. I can’t even haul off the gloves, forcing me to grope the front of my new pants until I cum in the front of them. Now, though, there’s the voices. I can…I can hear the men in the clothes, their lives, their minds, their desires, warped and twisted by the stinker. They’re getting so loud now, I can barely hear myself…and I think that’s the point.

He told me that for him, the clothes can make the man, and he’s remaking me. He padlocked the door shut, and told me he’d be back when I was finished. I…I don’t remember my own name now. I could a few hours ago, I’d almost forgotten it and had been reminding myself, but it had slipped. It had slipped, and the rest of me is slipping away too. I’m…I’m telling myself the story. I’m telling myself what I did, to try and remind me, but I…I don’t know if I can again. Instead, I smell construction sites, and grungy bathroom gloryholes, and piss and cum on my stubbly lips. I’ve grown a gut, and I think…I think I’m shorter too. Not too much longer, and I’ll be gone.

The one thing of mine that I can still hear clearly, though was this, the last thing he told me: “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 8)

The gym closed at ten, but a little chat with the manager, and he agreed that Bruce needed to continue his workout, so he left the key with me, and I promised to return it to him in the morning. Bruce, on the other hand, was inconsolable. When he realized he was going to have to keep working out all night long, until I was satisfied with the state of his shirt, he pleaded and begged me to let him go, to let him rest, to let him stop for a moment. He was having a hard time walking, his legs were shaking so badly, and I realized that I had worked him nearly to the point of exhaustion. Still, the shirt…it was close. It wa stronger than it had been when I’d first smelled him, in fact, but at this point my greed was getting the better of me. In the end, I told him he could have an hour nap in the sauna, sweating out some of his misery, and then it was back on the floor to keep at it.

He could barely lift anything, at this point, and so I put him on an exercise bike for a couple of hours, sweating him out a bit further, keeping him plenty hydrated, and when he tried one too many times to get a break by telling me he had to piss, I started just making him piss his shorts on the bike–and let me tell you, when I caught a whiff of that, mixing with his sweat? I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out for much longer. It was three in the morning when I decided he could finally stop, and that I was satisfied. He tore that tanktop off and handed it to me with a sob of relief that he could finally stop, and I pressed it to my nose, inhaling his stench, ripped off my own shirt and pulled his on, feeling his damp sweat against my skin, and it was like all of the energy he’d put into it began to flood into my body. I was tired too, at this point, but like a strong cup of coffee, suddenly I was awake. I was more than awake, I was eager. He could barely move, but I didn’t need him to move–I just needed to bend him over the bench, tear down his piss sodden shorts, and slide my cock into his tight, virgin hole.

He couldn’t even flinch from the pain–if anything, the cramps in his legs were probably more painful than my fuck was. He’d wanted me to fuck him, after all. He’d been begging me for it for hours–because he knew that when I fucked him, it would be over. He wouldn’t have to workout anymore. However, I was far from done–the longer I wore that tank, the hornier I got, and the stronger I got, and the longer I could go. I remember glancing over at the mirror, and I could see my body swelling with muscle right in front of my eyes–I took a quick break from my fuck to haul off Bruce’s shorts too, and pull them on, shuddering at the piss wet mesh, but I could feel my ass begin to tone up, my thighs and calves too.

When the manager knocked on the door the next morning, wanting to be let in, I was still fucking. Bruce had gone slack hours before, his cock shooting the occasional load–dry by now–just from the friction of rubbing against the leather bench. I had packed on close to forty pounds of muscle–I was even larger than Bruce had been when I’d put on the tank. I made the manager wait a few minutes until I’d shot another load–I’d long since lost count–and when I pulled out, the…sheer volume of cum which flowed back out of his ass, pooling on the floor under the bench…fuck, I realized just how much control I’d lost. I went to the door, opened it…and as soon as the manager smelled the stale air of the gym, his eyes glazed over, he gave a snort, and he started groping the front of his shorts, horny beyond belief, his rational mind slowly shutting down.

I dragged him over to the bench, where he was more than happy to start licking up the puddle of cum from the floor, and I hauled Bruce upright on shaking legs, but he could barely stand. He just wanted to go home, but I still wanted to fuck–still, I couldn’t very well keep fucking him here, right? Even with my musk, I was sure that would get a call from the police at the very least, and I had no real interest in dealing with that. I…I was afraid that if I dealt with that how I knew I could deal with it…then this power really would go to my head. Instead, I got Bruce dressed in some spare clothes the manager had lying around, and then helped him home. Home to my apartment, of course. I knew, from Jack, that he’d just track me down if I left him. He needed me now, and I sure as hell wanted him. Best to just…simplify things. My home would be his home from now on.

It was hard going, down the dawn lit sidewalks. Not to conspicuous, I think–most people probably thought I was just helping my drunk friend home, though why we were dressed in gym gear, especially in weather this cold, was probably a bit of a mystery. The excitement and rush of the clothes was beginning to wear off, and I was starting to realize just how exhausted I was myself. Upstairs in my apartment, I heaved Bruce onto the bed, gave him one last fuck, and then dragged him under my smelly covers and climbed in with him–him naked, me fully clothed in all of my gear, boots and all, hugging him tight,m whispering sweet nothing into his ear while he groaned, telling him how happy he was going to be here, telling him what a privilege it would be for him to serve me and thanking him, of course, for my new gear.

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 6)

As it turned out, I needed him pretty much every morning before I left for work, and every night after I got home. Usually we would fuck in the alley–I liked smelling the trash around us, melding with our own musk as he served me, but on occasion, when I was particularly horny, I would have him come up to my apartment with me, where he’d have the privilege of sharing my bed, provided I could fuck him all night long. He never seemed to mind, of course.

I…I knew my life was unravelling, and yet, at the same time, everything seemed to be going so…so well. I was just so happy, all the time. Enjoying myself. Even as everything around me slipped–my hygiene in particular–no one at work seemed to notice, or if they did notice, no one wanted to say anything…I couldn’t really tell which it was. I mean, I looked…fucking awful. I hadn’t done laundry in weeks, I was wearing the same two or three suits for days in a row and I fucking loved it. I loved how they smelled on me. I’d stopped shaving and cutting my hair, I was still wearing my massive boots everywhere around the office. I did almost no work on any given day, and spent most of it just masturbating, usually openly in my cubicle. My co-workers would come by, though they were obviously trying to avoid me, and I was even caught a couple of times. The look in their eyes at the sight of me stroking off into these filthy briefs–I could see their disgust, but with quite a few of them, I could see a…hunger too.

I could smell it even, I could smell…so much, suddenly. I could smell things that ought to be impossible. I could smell weakness. I could smell what my co-workers would moan like, with their mouth around one of my filthy socks. I…I could sense, somehow, that I was meant to dominate them, they were meant to serve me. I found myself feeling particularly resentful towards Adam, my manager. He smelled so weak, so lowly, and yet he was supposed to have control and power over me? I knew guys were going to him, telling him what they were seeing, complaining about me, but he was refusing to do anything about it. He was afraid of me–he was afraid, because he wanted me, but he didn’t know how to feel about that. So, I decided I’d better go over to his office and tell him how he should feel about it.

He was resistant, but once I’d gotten my boots off, and thrown my socked feet up on his desk, a couple of feet from his face, he wasn’t able to stop himself from lurching over it and shoving his nose up against them, snorting and huffing my stink, and a few minutes later I had him on his knees between my legs, grinding my nasty underwear into his face, and making sure he properly understood who, exactly, was really in charge around here. From that day on, I made sure Adam came to visit me regularly throughout the day to pay proper tribute…but it wasn’t enough for me, honestly, to only own his ass for eight hours. I kept thinking of my derelict–of Jack, I should say, since I did, finally learn his name. I thought of how…eager he was to be with me, how he’d walked across the city to find me, how he never complained about the cold as he waited for me. But I could see in Adam’s eyes that he was only pushing through me, not toward me. He would get home, to his wife, to his children. He would pretend none of this was happening. He would pretend he didn’t want me as much as he did.

So I brought him home with me that weekend. He tried to object, he tried to tell me that he couldn’t, that if he didn’t go home, his wife would have questions. So, I made him call her. I made him call her and tell her exactly what he had been doing for me at the office. I listened to her disbelief turn into rage. He told her she could have the house, that they could handle the divorce eventually, and then, I took him home and I introduced him to Jack. You should have seen Adam’s face, when I told him to wait for a moment at the door, so I could fetch the old derelict from the alley, all of us riding up together in the elevator, and the stink of us both…Adam could barely contain himself. He thought he’d be servicing me all weekend, but no–no, I had him service Jack. Obey him. Worship him. Warping his mind until the old, grungy fucker was the only man he wanted in the world–aside from me, of course. But I felt he no longer deserved me. That he would have to prove his commitment before he’d be allowed to lick my feet clean again. On Sunday afternoon, while the two of them were occupied, Adam’s face buried in Jack’s asscrack, snorting and grunting like the pig he was going to be, I went down and had a chat with the building manager. Sure enough, he had a few vacant units in the building, and he was more than happy to let Adam sign a new, year long lease for the empty unit on my floor, and the two of them moved in together that evening–and I made sure Jack had very clear instructions for the sort of care and attention he should expect from his pig–and clear instructions for how his pig should be cared for as well.