Method Roleplay (Part 4)

By the time Brett was getting ready to cum in his son’s hole, he’d been plowing him for close to half an hour. The hole, which had started out tight, was now plenty sloppy, with Brett’s copious amounts of pre-cum providing ample lube, while the rest ran down between Evan’s fat thighs. Evan wasn’t think about much beyond the simple pleasures of his father’s cock–just snorting and grunting, one hand tugging at his nipples while the other rubbed the head of his short cock poking out of his fat pad. He’d already cum twice, but that hadn’t slowed either of them down–Brett had just reached around, scooped up as much of his boy’s cum as he could, and used it as extra lube, before ramming his dick back into him. His boy, after all, wasn’t really good with self-control–something he’d spent a while reminding Evan off while they’d been fucking. His son could barely keep his hands out of his pants, even when they were out in public. It would have been embarrassing, he supposed, but Brett wasn’t one to feel much shame. If anything, he was fucking proud that his son was as much of a pervert as he was, right? Still, something was bothering him about all of this, but he was so horny that he could ignore it entirely for a while longer, and feel his balls start to swell slightly, getting ready to dump one of his huge loads deep in his son’s guts, which Evan had been begging for. He started fucking harder, Evan snorting and grunting in time with his father’s deep thrusts, and at last he drove in hard and pumped shot after shot of cum into him, gripping his boy’s fatty sides tight, his sweaty, hairy gut pressed to Evan’s slick back.

“I love you boy, daddy loves you so fucking much…” he said softly, leaning over and licking up some of Evan’s sweat.

Evan was only half listening, as he was close to his third shot, and with a shudder, he blew another load all over the front of the counter, and then collapsed onto it, feeling like he’d taken enough of the edge off that he could finally think again. The bathroom mirror had fogged up, and with one hand he wiped it until he could see himself–this…other self. This wasn’t him–it wasn’t Brett behind him. He could…remember listening to something, and even he hadn’t thought it would really work, but it had done something to them, and now…now they had to figure out how to get back.

Brett’s cock was softening, and he slid out, a gush of cum following him as he did, Evan groaning at the sensation of being empty again. “Fuck boy…that…” he stumbled back, legs shaking a bit. “God, why the fuck do I feel so fucking strange?” he muttered to himself.

“Because this isn’t real, Brett–we’re just…I don’t know if we’re imaginin’ this shit or what, but we gotta go back tah who we were before–ya remember right? Ya were young, not that fat, and–”

“Shut up boy, that was just…I was just bein’ thick I thought. That wasn’t real,” Brett said, looking down at himself, hefting his gut, “I mean, I…kind of remember, but…but then how…”

“It ain’t real daddy, we gotta git back,” Evan said, turning around and looking at Brett, hoping he’d be shifting back towards…who he’d been before. Evan couldn’t really remember who they’d been–not well at least–but he could almost tell that the closer they got, the better he’d remember. Still, Brett wasn’t changing–instead, his daddy looked like he was freaking out. “Dad–Brett. It’s gonna be ok, we can fix this.”

“Ya don’t–use my name, son, ya know better.”

“Brett, we aren’t roleplaying anymore, we’re done.”

“Boy, I am the man a this house, ‘n ya do what I fuckin’ say!” Brett roared, shoved Evan around and bent him back over, before giving his ass ten hard smacks, making Evan count them off and thank ‘daddy’ after each one. When he finished, he…he found it hard to believe how turned on he’d gotten, doing that–how turned on he’d gotten by all of this. But hadn’t he hated the idea of this? Hadn’t…someone, at least? He needed to calm down, but the air in the bathroom stank of sex and sweat and he was so fucking tight–he had to loosen up.

Brett left Evan in the bathroom, and his boy tried to recover from the punishment. He’d been a bad boy, he knew better than to use daddy’s name–why had he done that? He felt awful, and yet he also knew that these feelings, this body, all of it was a lie–but he didn’t know how to disentangle himself from it. Still, getting his ass pounded had gotten him hard–like usual. Maybe…maybe a little longer wouldn’t hurt, right? He looked at himself in the mirror and knew he should be disgusted–that the old him would have been disgusted by this. This had never been his fantasy–he’d wanted to be a twink, not some dirty chubby pig like this–and incest had always turned him off, but he could…see daddy’s face in his, and it was making his cock leak again, but he couldn’t afford to get swept any further away from his real life. The file had warned about something like this, hadn’t it? That’s what he needed to do–get to the file, and maybe he’d figure out a way out of this mess.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 5)

Everything had been going so well.

“I want a fucking answer, you fucking piece of shit–what the fuck were you doing to my fucking jock that it fucking looks like this?” Daryn held up the shredded underwear so Jasper could see it–but he already knew what it looked like–the waistband broken and mostly gone, about half the pouch remaining, several chunks gone and the edges frayed. He’d been stupid to take it, but he’d been so hungry, and he’d done so well for two months–hadn’t he deserved a reward?

He really had done well–even Mr. Wadsworth had said so to him. He’d lost quite a bit of his weight from that first binge, and with a…meager diet every day–a cup of piss water, a few cum soaked pieces of tissue–he’d managed to keep the worst of the hunger at bay, and still keep his wits about him, but it hadn’t always been easy. He’d fallen off the wagon a couple of times–never as badly as that first taste, but enough to know that if he wasn’t careful–and if he didn’t keep Daryn completely in the dark–then things were bound to get much more complicated.

The jockstrap had been taunting him for days at this point, just lying on the floor by the trashcan in Daryn’s room. It smelled…so fucking good, so fucking delicious, and it wasn’t like Daryn was going to miss one of his many, many jockstraps, right? So he’d taken it back with him into his room one night, and started devouring it, unable to believe how good it tasted, and how horny it made him. He savored it, portioned it out–a bit of waistband tonight, a little patch of crusty pouch tomorrow–maybe he should have just disposed of the evidence in one go, maybe then he wouldn’t be here, in this mess, with Daryn looming over him, throat dry, not sure what sort of lie he might even manage to tell.

“You want to know what this fucking looks like?” Daryn asked, “It looks like something has been fucking eating my jockstrap–that’s what it looks like.”

It…maybe a mouse, or something?” Jasper replied.

“And why in the fuck did I find it in your room, hidden under your fucking pillow? This is my fucking jock–you don’t take my shit, you fucking pig.”

“I’m sorry, I just…I was hungry–” Fuck, did he just say that?

Daryn just stared down at him, and then sneered. Without saying a word, he shoved the jock into Jasper’s face, and unable to stop it–he’d never figured out how to stop it–he started drooling, knees shaking slightly, and Daryn mopped it up with the fabric. “I always wondered why you seemed to drool every time you looked at me, you know that? If you were so fucking hungry, all you had to do was ask nicely. So, let me hear you ask, fucker. What do you want?”

Jasper sealed his lips, unable to trust his words.

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” Daryn said, “I want you to be hungry, Jasper. I’f I’d known, I would have done a much better job feeding you.”

Jasper’s jaw dropped, and Daryn took the opportunity to push the half-eaten jockstrap into his mouth. “That’s a good little dump–go on and finish your meal, and then we’ll see what else I can feed you.”

It wasn’t hard, eating it. He’d already noticed that his teeth had changed in odd ways, becoming a bit serrated, better for tearing apart fabric and tissue, and his slobber made swallowing the thing down so easy. Daryn was so happy too–why had he been trying to keep this a secret from him for so long? Daryn was only too happy to feed Jasper a load of cum and piss next, and as soon as he’d tasted both of them fresh and from the source, Jasper knew he’d never be able to do without either ever again. June was still two months away, however–if he didn’t push back, then what would happen to him? To them both?

The next day, Daryn was distressed to see he’d wiped away a small chunk of the gains his prior temperance had earned him, and he went out, planning on telling Daryn he couldn’t do this anymore. That he was alright with being hungry, if it meant he could be himself again. Instead, he found himself on his knees, sucking down three loads from Daryn before his roommate had to leave for class. He sobbed on the kitchen floor, both because he was so full and satisfied than he’d ever thought possible, and also because he knew he’d likely lost his one chance at ever getting back into his previous life.

Still, his mind didn’t last long enough to really understand what he’d lost–with Daryn now making sure his dump was constantly fed, within a week Jasper had lost most of capacity for thought. He spent the day wandering the apartment on all fours, heavy gut dragging along the floor behind him, snorting and rooting around for anything his master might have left him to eat. After devouring the contents of his gym bag one afternoon–his cleats included–Daryn was forced to keep his pet kenneled up during the day, and he’d let him out when he got home each day, fed him load after load of cum and piss and the food scraps from dinner, before fucking the thing’s tight hole, and putting him back in his cage for the night. When June rolled around, neither of them could even remember the fact that Jasper had once been human–he was just a pet now, a dump really. Still, Daryn saved a lot of money on his five year lease–especially after Mr. Wadsworth corrected the mistaken “multiple tenant” fee and changed it to a pet fee instead. Yeah, Daryn figured they’d both be staying here for a long time–but Jasper was happy anywhere, as long as he always had a gut full of his master’s filth.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 4)

When every wad had finally be taken from the can and consumed, and after Jasper had also searched the surface of the desk and the floor for anything he might have missed, he realized he’d eaten everything. He’d just spent half an hour devouring his roommate’s cum soaked trash, like some fucking freak, and here he was, actively looking for more. He felt like he was going to throw up–no, that was a lie. In fact, what he felt was good. He felt somewhat full for the first time in over a week. No, but he knew he should feel like throwing up, that he shouldn’t want to keep any of that filth in his body, and so he stumbled up and went into the bathroom, knelt down in front of the toilet…and realized this was a much worse idea than he’d thought.

The toilet reeked of Daryn’s beer piss from the night before and this morning, and it hadn’t been flushed since. Jasper had added a load of his as well, but it was overwhelmed by the sheer force of Daryn’s stench, and he was so thirsty after eating so much dry filth. He’d tasted the wads of cum and that hadn’t been bad, right? Maybe just…just a little, so he could feel better. He started cupping his hands and using them to scoop water up to his mouth, but it was too slow–he grabbed his water glass from the counter and used that instead, bailing the water out and chugging it down, upset by how week and diluted it tasted, but hungry for it all the same. When he couldn’t get anymore into the cup, he shoved his face in and licked the bowl clean, screaming at himself to stop, to control himself, to do fucking anything other than this.

At last, it was the sound of Daryn’s key in the door which tore him away. He crawled across the hall and into his room, locking the door behind him as Daryn entered. Daryn…couldn’t see him doing that. He couldn’t know. What would he think, if he knew what Jasper had just done? He’d probably kick his ass, right? That…that seemed right, but he could imagine something else. Maybe he’d…take pity of Jasper. He was so hungry after all, and maybe a fresh load of piss and a load of cum right from the source would…would be better. The fresh cum had tasted so much more satisfying than the older ones at the bottom, hadn’t they? These were thoughts he couldn’t afford to entertain, so he climbed into bed, feeling sick with himself, and when Daryn demanded to know where he was, he managed to convince him that he was sick–and in fairness, he did feel sick, finally. Feverish, aching, his guts and body on fire.

“Well, what would you expect, for eating so much disgusting filth in one sitting? You’re lucky your new body is designed for this,” he heard an older voice say over him, “Don’t worry–you’ll feel better in the morning, though you’ll also find yourself a bit worse for wear. Still, one setback doesn’t mean you have to give in completely, right? I’m sure you’ll find the will somewhere to carry on.”

It was one of the most painful nights of his life, but eventually sheer exhaustion allowed him a few hours of sleep–not that his dreams offered much solace. The hunger was still there, along with all of the shame. He shouldn’t be doing this, this isn’t who he was supposed to be, and yet he felt so…well, when he woke up. The pain had lifted, the fever had stopped, and most importantly, the hunger which had been eating away at his sanity for too long now had abated. It was still…there, of course, but he could manage it now, right? One binge like that, and he’d be good for a while. He still felt a bit weak, however, because getting out of bed was more difficult than it should have been–and it wasn’t until he got to the mirror that he realized that more had changed in the night than he might have imagined.

It was the added weight which was the most obvious. After whatever confrontation they’d had, he’d weighed about 225–fat, but not too far out of the norm. Now, however, he had to imagine he was pushing at least 275, if not closer to 300–a fact made much, much worse by the fact that he’d shrunk another three or four inches or so. The fat was rolling off of him now, his gut becoming closer to a proper apron, and when he hefted it up, he was distressed to see his cock and balls had also continued shrinking, and were even a bit difficult to see in the pad of fat beginning to grow around them. His body was hairless now, and there was some…stink coming off of him that was difficult to describe, but which turned his stomach all the same–some vile mix of rot and cum and grime and…and he couldn’t stand it. Is this what he was going to be? He’d rather fucking die, wouldn’t he?

“Now now, I knew you were weak, Jasper, but I never imagined that you might be a coward.”

He turned around, and found Mr. Wadsworth in the room with him, sitting on his bed, watching his surprise register all over again. “What…why are you doing this to me? Please, I can’t do that again, I won’t let myself become…whatever fucking crazy shit you’re fucking doing.” Jasper knew that the words sounded idiotic, but his head seemed to be caught in muck as well, and it was hard putting thoughts into words.

“I’ve just been waiting for you to understand all the rules of the game, is all,” Mr. Wadsworth said, “and it is a game, you see. You can still win, if you’re smart, though I won’t lie–you are at a…significant disadvantage. But you see, your body only changed because it’s processing that alpha’s filth–if you manage to abstain, then you’ll recover in time. After that binge of yours, it would be a month or so, but you’ll be normal eventually, if you can hold out. If you make it to the end of your lease this June, then I’ll have had my fun, and both of you can go on your way, in your old bodies, like nothing was ever wrong at all. But lose too much of yourself and I might just keep you both for a long time.”

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 3)

It was early afternoon by the time Jasper stopped and decided to take a break from cleaning the apartment–mostly because his gut had begun to growl a bit. This seemed…a bit odd to him. After all, he’d eaten a sizable breakfast–much larger than he could ever remember eating before this–and while cleaning up the apartment he’d also found himself drawn back to the kitchen every hour or so for some sort of snack. It just…felt good to eat, all of a sudden, and while part of him knew this was wrong, that if he wanted to get his old body back he’d have to stop eating…at the same time, he didn’t want to threaten Daryn, right? If anything…wouldn’t it be better if he was fatter? Less muscular? Less…less of a man than him?

No, he pushed that aside. There was something really weird going on here, and as soon as he finished cleaning up for Daryn, then he was going to go find Mr. Wadsworth, and that old fuck was going to explain what exactly was going on here. This, he was certain, wasn’t the way things were, or should have been, and if that old man had anything to do with this…well, Jasper was certain he could figure out some way to make him fix it, even if he didn’t know what, really, needed fixing. Still, whatever this hunger was, it really was bothering him–he went back into the kitchen, and rather than the lighter junk food he’d been eating, he made himself a sizable lunch, and then devoured it on the couch while he watched TV. When he was finished, he leaned back and let off a nice long belch, expecting to feel full…but while his gut was straining, the hunger he’d been feeling wasn’t satisfied at all.

Distressed, he kept cleaning, and was nearly finished when Daryn returned home from practice, reeking of field and sweat, and he sat down right on the couch, naked, and started watching TV, demanding a beer from the fridge, which Jasper hurried to fetch for him. As he walked away from his jock roommate, however, Jasper had to wipe his chin–something had just made him drool spontaneously, and that growling in his gut was only growing more intense. He occupied himself with preparing dinner, bringing Daryn beer after beer as he knocked them back, and every time he got close to him, Jasper found himself drooling, starving for something but he didn’t know what. He took a plate out to Daryn when dinner was ready, and then devoured a portion five times the size in the kitchen at the table, but the food tasted…dull. It wasn’t what he wanted to eat, but what in the fuck was he so hungry for? Stuffed to the gullet and profoundly unsatisfied, Jasper spent the evening on some schoolwork and then went to bed, hoping his body would settle down in the coming days.

Instead, everything just got worse. Jasper spent the days in relative misery, desperately trying to fill some hole in his belly that he couldn’t explain or even discuss. He tried all kinds of food, anything he’d usually craved in his life, but nothing tasted satisfying. He tried to drink it away, but all that did was provide him with a massive hangover, and a furious Jasper later, when there wasn’t enough beer in the place for him to drink that evening. The drooling only intensified, as well–if he caught even a whiff of Daryn’s musk, his mouth would simply overflow, and his gut would twist into knots, but he didn’t want to eat Daryn. He found his salivation was triggered by other things as well–the nasty piles of sweaty gym laundry Daryn left for him to do, the smell of his piss left in and around the toilet, and the trashcan brimming with cum soaked tissues by Daryn’s computer.

He’d tried to contact Mr. Wadsworth, but the office said he was on a two week vacation, and that since he was out of the country, he was impossible to contact. Jasper doubted this somehow…it seemed like he’d talked with him once or twice since Daryn had fucked him, but he couldn’t remember where, when, or any real details. It was over a week of this, and Jasper was so frustrated he’d be willing to try anything. He could sense that there was something he could do, that the solution was somehow obvious, but it was almost like he was refusing to see it. That…that if he finally understood the problem, and the solution, that might somehow be even worse. One afternoon, while Daryn was out, he couldn’t take it any longer, and he broke down into sobs in the living room. “Please–please, just tell me what to do, I can’t take this anymore!” he shouted–though who he was talking to was unclear.

But the next moment, Mr. Wadsworth was standing beside him, smiling down at him. “Jasper, we’ve already discussed this several times. You know how to make it stop. You know what your body needs now. If you really want to fight it, then this is the price you’ll have to pay.”

“Please, I can’t…just change me back, please.”

“Now, now, I would never do that!” the older man said, “That would ruin my fun. Now come on, I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting right now. Everything you need is right in his room–just go give it a try! You can always stop if you don’t like it, right?”

Yeah…yeah, he just needed…a taste is all. One taste, to get it out of his system, and then he could keep fighting. He was just so tired now, and he needed it so badly. He went into Daryn’s room, to the trashcan he’d never bothered emptying, drool pouring from his mouth. He picked one up–still a bit sodden from a morning load, and pushed it into his mouth. He’d expected it to be dry, but the amount of spit his body was making actually helped it go down so…easily, and fuck, it tasted so good. He fell to his knees, grabbing wad after wad of tissue and cramming it into his mouth, swallowing it all down, horrified at himself, and yet he couldn’t fucking stop.

The Alpha’s Pet (Part 2)

Jasper groaned as he woke up, surprised that he didn’t hurt more–he couldn’t remember much from what had happened earlier, but he could recall Daryn straddling him, and wailing on his face with both fists at once–what on earth had possessed him to get Daryn riled up like that? He…he knew better than that, didn’t he? He brought his hands to his face, and while nothing hurt…nothing felt quite right, either, but it was difficult to say what was off. So much had gone screwy since they’d moved into this apartment–he didn’t even quite feel like the same person anymore. Still, he should be thankful. A brute like Daryn could have done some serious damage to him–he’d have to be more careful…more…deferential in the future. Yeah–as long as he let Daryn get his way, things would be fine.

Then he sat up in bed, looked down at himself, and choked off a scream. This wasn’t his fucking body–what in the fuck happened? He’d been toned and ripped before, but now his body was pudgy and soft, with a small gut and wider hips. His cock was smaller, his balls were a whole lot smaller, he was missing most of his body hair, and he was even missing his fucking tattoos. No wonder his face had felt strange earlier, because his fucking beard was gone too!

“Well Jasper, it was a good contest, but I’m sorry to say that you lost.”

He looked over and found Mr. Wadsworth in his room with him, standing there like it was perfectly normal for a landlord to simply appear in the room of one of his tenants, especially with that tenant naked. Jasper didn’t know what to say, just sputtered a moment, and then looked back down at himself.

“Don’t worry–you’ll fit in just fine. After all, this space is much, much too small for two alphas, don’t you agree? You don’t want to be an alpha do you?”

“N-No…but what…how are you here?”

“Just be careful, Jasper. If you don’t keep yourself under control…well, you, might just find these changes have just started. Still, I can assure you, that the more tastes you got of the alpha here, the better you’ll feel…”

The voice was fading, and a moment later, he was alone again–with no memory of the man being there aside from a vague unease and the warning he’d left. Keep control of himself? What in the world could that even mean?

Jasper got up and found some clothes that fit him–in fact, it looked like all of his clothes would fit his new frame, which was a comfort and a relief. Maybe…maybe that had just been some fucked up dream or something. He did sometimes have…weird dreams about Daryn, but he pushed that away, and went back out into the common areas of the apartment, only to nearly fall to his knees at the scent. It was fucking…everywhere, and it smelled fucking amazing. What in the hell was it? It wasn’t food, it was…he knew it from somewhere, but from fucking where?

“That you Jasper? About time you got up, you lazy fuck.”

He managed to keep his head focused long enough to get into the main room, where he found Daryn at the table in the kitchen, naked, eating breakfast…but it wasn’t the Daryn he remembered. No, this Daryn was a fucking beast–at least three or four inches taller than before, with hair covering his body, and…and fuck, he could see his seven inch flacid cock just…just dangling there…

“…this fucking sty up today, got it? I don’t want–are you even fucking listening to me, you fucking idiot?”

It took him a moment to realize that Daryn had been speaking to him that entire time he’d been transfixed by his roommate’s massive cock. “S-Sorry, I…what?”

“I said, you’re going to clean this fucking place up, right? It’s a fucking mess.”

Jasper looked around, and saw that almost all of it was Daryn’s crap, but he knew better than to argue about whose responsibility it was, and Jasper assured Daryn that it would get picked up.

“Good–now I gotta get to class, and to practice. What are you doing today again?”

“Oh…uh, I have class too, and–”

Daryn walked up to him, looming over Jasper…and he realized he must have shrunk too, or else…fuck, why was his cock so fucking hard? “What are you doing today, dumbfuck?”

“I…uh…I’m cleaning up…sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Five minutes later, Daryn was dressed in some athletic gear, gym bag thrown over a shoulder, and he left without another word. Jasper just sat down on the couch, trying to wrap his head around what was going on. Had…Had they fought the day before? Wasn’t he different–a jock like Daryn? That seemed silly to him–he was too fucking weak to ever be a jock, right? Still, he didn’t have to just…take the abuse, either. This was all Daryn’s mess–Daryn should clean it up!

But in the end, he did as he’d been told, and skipped class that day to clean up the apartment. He tried not to think too hard about why he was doing it, or feel too bad about how he’d just rolled over and let Daryn boss him around. He tried not to think about how…hard he kept getting when he smelled one of Daryn’s sweaty shirts or jocks, or…or how he’d jacked off in the bathroom, after discovering Daryn had pissed in the bowl and just left it to stew. He wasn’t going to let this get out of hand. He was a person too, after all. Maybe not as…important a person as Daryn, but a person nonetheless.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 10)

There were a few surprises along the way, of course. A year and a half after they’d begun their release plan, they were ushered away for an unexpected cognitive session down at the lab. Neither of them was really sure why, and when they got there, they discovered that a third subject was already strapped in, and that they both were going to join him for a session. Harry managed to pick up that the other subject was a level three who had suffered a demotion as punishment, but what that meant for them neither of them knew, until the session began, and they found themselves introduced to their father, Edgar. He was surprisingly resistant, and neither of his boys could really understand why. He would get angry suddenly, or start begging, and the memory stream would have to reset, but after a long time, he started to give in and accept these two handsome young men as his own flesh and blood. After the extended session, the three of them were escorted to a new cell–a much larger one with a king sized bed–and after a long family fuck none of them could resist, they all fell asleep in one another’s arms.

Daddy put up quite a fight for a while. He wasn’t always much help in their work simulations on the farm, and he was prone to bouts of depression–staring at himself in the mirror as he slowly aged into his 60’s, hair turning white, his body losing strength, his beard and what remained of his hair growing long and bushy. He kept trying to tell his sons that they needed to fight back. That together, they could resist and escape. In the end, daddy had undergo further cognitive sessions before he finally gave in and allowed himself to be believe, before be allowed himself to be happy with his two handsome boys.

Of course, all three of them would have bad days, on occasion. Tanner would remember something strange, get a thought in his head that he didn’t deserve this, that he was being persecuted and treated unfairly. Usually his brother could give him a rough fuck, and the pleasure would push those bad thoughts away–and over time, they dimmed and all but disappeared. Harry, on the other hand, could turn…suddenly cruel, and violent. Tanner might break something, or mess something up, and his brother would fly into a rage, beating him and fucking him until his daddy hauled him off and forced him to calm down. And of course, whenever their daddy got depressed, his two boys could cheer him up by plowing him at both ends for a couple of hours. They all could sense that they needed one another–that they’d been meant to find each other, that without this family of theirs, they’d never truly be happy.

All three of them began meeting with the head warden, to assess their fitness for release. It wasn’t too long after that, when the three of them were told that after six months of final cognitive and lifestyle work, they’d be released and could return to their family farm. All three of them were so excited that they could go home soon. None of them really knew where they were, or why they were even here, but they all knew that getting out was something to fight for. Now, in addition to cognitive sessions, filling in the last few gaps in their collective memories, they would have styling sessions as well. The two brothers had ended up looking almost like identical twins, aside from their difference in age, and the mutual styling didn’t help–giving them both shaved heads and thick beards down to their solid, hairy guts. The one thing different was their tattoos. Tanner was extremely excited when he got most of his body covered with images of pigs, since they were his favorite animal, while Harry had his arms and legs covered with an intricate motif of gears and machinery–fitting, since he was so good as a mechanic. Their daddy didn’t get much in the way of tattoos, but that was alright–he didn’t do much work on the farm anymore after all–he was there mostly to keep the family in line. He might have resisted at first, but now, family was the only thing that really mattered to Edgar–he’d die before letting something happen to his sons, or before letting one of them get any ideas in their heads about running off or leaving the farm.

At long last, nearly seven years after entering the facility, Tanner was released with his family, and driven a few miles away to their family farm. It was exactly like he remembered it, even though he also knew he’d never been there before. He ran to the pig stys immediately, excited to see all of his boars, hogs and sows. He was going to be in charge of the pigs–he could do that. That’s why he had tattoos of pigs on him, so that he wouldn’t forget what his job was, and he always had his brother to help him out if he got stuck, or if he had a machine that needed fixing. Harry always had grease on his fingers and face from tinkering with his machines, but Tanner always liked it–it made him taste sexier, when they two of them would take one of their frequent breaks from work to roll around in the dust or the mud and fuck each other’s brains out.

Every few months, their family would grow, too, as another member of their very large family was released from the facility to join their kin. It was always fun, getting to know the newcomers–what they liked, how they tasted, who they liked to fuck. They were usually cousins of Tanner’s and Harry’s, though occasionally another daddy would join the group to help keep the younger men in line. There were even a few cubs on occasion to help out with some of the easier farm work. Their roles on the farm were always clear, however, written and tattooed right on their skin, so none of them could ever forget their roles in life. They never had to want for anything, either–the facility kept them well supplied with food and other goods, and within the year, the farm was bustling and turning quite a substantial profit. Tanner, in the end, was happy. He hadn’t become the man he’d expected to be, but as he lay with his little brother at night, head nested in his musky pit, listening to the rest of his family snoring softly, he couldn’t imagine any kind of man he’d rather want to be.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 9)

He did, eventually, get led into an office with a warden he recognized, who in simple words explained to him that, as a one, his cognitive skills had been severely curtailed. “We do this to make your chances of recidivism lower.”

“Recida-what?”

“We don’t want you to get in any more trouble, Tanner. You don’t want to be in trouble, do you?”

Tanner shook his head, no, but something made him suspicious, made him feel like he’d been tricked somehow, but he couldn’t piece enough thoughts together to really form anything coherent.

“Now, why don’t we go meet your two. We’re very excited that you’re going to be helping us with a new release program, Tanner. We think this is going to be perfect for you–you’ll love it. I promise.”

“I just want to go home,” Tanner said, as he was escorted back to block C.

“You will soon. But first you have to be able to remember where your home is.”

“I know where…home is…” Tanner said, but the memory was foggy, “I think I does.”

“It’ll clear up in time,” the warden said, and opened the door to a cell. It was identical to the room he’d been in with Marcus, but someone else was in there, waiting for him. “Good morning Harry. This is Tanner–he’s going to be your one.”

“No, I don’t want a two!” Tanner said, trying to back up, “Twos are mean guys. Twos make me feel bad.”

The guards pushed him inside, and the other man approached him–and pulled Tanner into a hug. “Hey–it’s alright,” Harry said, “I’m gonna be here for you. I promise.”

“Harry will take good care of you, I know he will. He’s going to make an excellent two, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded, “Yes sir!”

“That’s good. Now, your bands will be linked from now on–Harry, I’ll let you and Tanner here get to know each other a bit, so you can have the day off from work, and an extra daily allowance.”

“Really? Thanks!” Harry said, his face sincere only because he didn’t seem capable of subterfuge. “Come on Tanner–we have the whole day for us!”

The warden left, and Tanner pulled himself away from Harry’s thick arms. He was big. But not nearly as large as Tanner was, but the idea of being under someone’s thumb again was filling him with anxiety. “Please don’t hurt me. I don’t wanna get hurt anymore.”

“Hey, it’s alright! I don’t like hurting people. I used to do that, but I don’t want to anymore,” Harry said, and stepped closer, “You smell real good, you know–you wanna have sex? We can fuck if you want. I like fucking.”

“You…you want me to choose?” Tanner asked, feeling a bit daunted by the possibility of having to decide something. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. “I…like sex. But I…kind of need a cigar.”

“You like cigars? I like pipes. Let’s smoke, and then fuck.”

Tanner thought that sounded like a good idea. He smiled, as Harry ordered him a pack of cigars–nicer ones than Marcus ever let him have–and after they’d both lit up and shared lungfuls of smoke for a few minutes, Harry guided Tanner’s mouth to his cock, and he got his first taste of his new two’s cum–the first taste of many more to come.

By the end of their first week together, Tanner had discovered that Harry was a very different kind of guy than Marcus had ever been. He didn’t order Tanner around as much, didn’t demand his complete submission. He was more than willing to listen, and would even take suggestions–though Tanner soon discovered that his new brain found the idea of deciding anything more difficult and terrifying than anything else. It was easier to just follow along and do what Harry told him to do–not because he had to, but…because Harry seemed to know what he was doing.

Other than that, his life was similar. The two of them would do their work in virtual reality once or twice a day, and then have the rest of their time to themselves. He noticed after a few days that the work sessions they were doing didn’t seem to be as varied as they had been with Marcus. In particular, they always took pace in the same location–a rather rundown looking farm in the middle of nowhere. The tasks were a bit more complex as well. They were taking care of virtual livestock and shoveling out manure, repairing broken down parts of the various buildings on the farms, or even fixing the trucks and tractors on occasion. Harry was the one who had to do the complex stuff like that, with Tanner fetching tools and helping him lift the heavy stuff on occasion. Taking one look at the complex mechanics of an engine made his head spin–he didn’t know how Harry could do it.

Outside of work, they fucked a lot, ate a lot, and smoked all the time. Tanner liked Harry’s pipe–the tobacco always smelled so sweet, the way it mixed with his cigar. He wanted to switch, but Harry wouldn’t let him–he said he always got so turned on, seeing tanner with a thick cigar in his mouth. The sex was more equal too. Harry did like to top–and Tanner liked to bottom–but on several occasions, usually after some pleading and begging, Harry would let Tanner fuck him as well. Beyond that, they watched a lot of porn, and a movie or two on occasion, but it was hard for Tanner to focus on a narrative. Porn was easier. There were some guys, and then they fucked–he didn’t have to try and understand a story to get what was happening. He just had to get turned on, and suck Harry’s cock.

Each week, the two of them would be escorted back to the lab for more cognitive work. Tanner was terrified the first time–he didn’t want them to make him even stupider, but when they assured him that these sessions were just to help Tanner and Harry get to know one another better, he went along willingly. As long as Harry was there too…he felt a bit safer, at least. These sessions, unlike the first one filled with painful shocks, were more like…dreams, but very vivid ones. He was always there with Harry in them, but they felt more like memories, than anything. After a couple of sessions, while chatting with the warden afterward, they finally realized why they got along so well–they were brothers! How both of them had managed to forget this fact eluded them, but knowing they were with family made them both very excited–and made their sex much hotter too.

In fact, both of them found themselves becoming obsessed with the other’s musk. All it would take was one whiff of the other’s smelly pits or ass crack to drive them make them horny–and neither of them could really stand to be apart for very long. Soon, the brothers were inseparable–never straying more than a couple of feet away from one another, knowing that as long as they were with their brother, they would never have to be alone again.

One significant change from before, however, was that neither of them was in control over their hormones any longer. Their bodies were certainly changing, but in more…subtle ways than before. Perhaps the most obvious shift was that they both were growing older–their hairlines receding, wrinkles appearing around their eyes, a few flecks of grey tinging their beards. Harry stopped around his early fifties, while Tanner looked quite a bit older, with quite a bit more grey in his beard and hair. He might be the older brother, he figured out, but Harry was the one who was always going to be in charge–just like things ought to be.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 8)

They took Marcus first, and an hour later, the warden and guards came to escort Tanner back to the conference room for his own hearing. It was the same set of five as before, including Jackson, but none of them seemed surprised by the changes which had been forced on him over the last year, since the last time he’d sat before them.

“As you know, Tanner,” the head warden said, “We’re discussing your status as a provisional level one subject. At the end of this hearing, we will either determine whether to continue provisional status at some level, or classify you permanently. We are particularly interested in your experiences as a level one under Mr. Ambrose. How would you describe your last six months?”

“It was terrible. I hate that fucker.”

“I see. Please elaborate as best you can.”

“He made me do all the fucking work! He hated me, he’s always hated me, apparently, despite the fact that I made us both fucking rich as provisional candidates. He’s lazy, he’s cruel, and he’s selfish, and I hope you fucking make him my fucking one after this, so I can fucking show him what it’s like.”

“We have already made an assignment in Mr. Ambrose’s case, but we won’t be sharing that decision with you,” another warden said, “but tell me, what would you like to see happen to him?”

“I’d want us to switch positions. I want fucking revenge, alright? I want to show that fuck how good I was before, and how fucking cruel I could have been. I’d fucking ruin his fucking holes…his fucking body.”

“See?” Jackson said to the panel, “He can only deal with this through the frame of tit-for-tat,” then turned to Tanner, “Do you think you deserved anything that Mr. Ambrose did to you, for your past behavior?”

“Fuck you,” Tanner said to him, “This is all your fucking fault anyway, you fucking told me they wanted to see fucking strength, you fuck, and now look where I fucking am! Look what this fucking place did to me!”

Another warden looked at Jackson, who shrugged, and chuckled, “I told him to show strength of character, and he wildly misunderstood what I meant. I may…have primed him somewhat.”

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you! I don’t fucking deserve any of this fucking shit! I’m going to tear this fucking place apart, when I get the fuck out of here, you’ll fucking see. You fucks are going to fucking regret messing with me.”

“Well, I think we’ve heard enough to make a decision,” the head warden said, “he obviously still demonstrates a complete lack of understanding, compassion, and empathy. I suppose that leaves us with three options. We can continue his provisional status and hope he comes to some sort of epiphany, which appears unlikely. Or we can designate him a one or a zero.”

“You know my thoughts on this,” Jackson said. “He’s hopeless. Break him as a zero and be done with it.”

“I highly doubt that further attempts at education will assist him,” another warden said, “He’s…particularly resistant to any form of self-criticism. Still, I don’t think he is without use. After all, he did submit. Remove the ego and he’ll be harmless.”

“I tend to agree, but more time in the provisional program will definitely be wasted on him,” one of them said, and the rest of the panel nodded.

“Alright–will each member of the panel announce your vote?”

“One.”

“Zero.”

“One.”

“Zero.”

“Subject will be designated a one, and placed on a release plan. Any resistance will be met with automatic, and permanent, placement at the zero level.”

“Well, at least make sure the fucker stays the fuck out of civilized society, at least,” Jackson said.

The head warden thought a moment, “That can be arranged.”

“Wait–that’s it?” Tanner said, “That’s all I fucking get?”

“Subject is approved for pilot release plan Gamma as a level one subject. Solitary detox won’t be required, his current shape is workable. Guards, please take him to the lab for initial cognitive treatment.”

“No–No please, I’m sorry! Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it, I swear,” Tanner shouted, as the guards dragged him from the room, “I don’t know what you want from me!” He didn’t get anything else out before the guards tranquilized him, and his entire body sagged between their arms.

The lab was close to the conference room–a white, sterile room filled with doctors in lab coats. He was strapped to gurney, wires and needles poking into him, all focused on his brain. He was certain it should have hurt, but he couldn’t feel much of anything, but he tried to stay awake as best he could, he fought, against the sleep overwhelming him, but when the first shock ripped through his mind, he howled and collapsed back, unconscious.

He didn’t know where he was, when he awoke. He wasn’t even quite sure who he was. He was mumbling, but it was gibberish–he wasn’t quite sure how to find the words he knew should be in his head…but everything felt so jumbled up all of a sudden. Two doctors unstrapped him from the table and helped him stand up on his shaking legs–he tried to ask them questions, tried to ask them what had happened, and they assured him that after a few exam he would get his answers. They made him walk. They had him write his name, but that was difficult. He couldn’t quite grip the crayon they gave him, and remembering letters…he ended up scrawling “Toner” across the page, and even though he knew it wasn’t right, they seemed satisfied, and directed him to the next task. He knew the puzzles should be easy–putting shaped pegs in like holes, stacking blocks, basic math, but every challenge required all of his focus and attention and even then he couldn’t finish half of them.

“Think we did too much?” one of the doctors said.

“This is what the wardens requested.”

“He’s pretty stupid, even for a one.”

“Yeah, but trust me–in Gamma, he’s not going to need wits.”

“Please–tell me what happened. Why is thinking so hard?” Tanner managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth.

“Just a couple more tests, Tanner, and we’ll have a nice chat–I promise.”

Where Boys Become Men (Part 7)

Tanner tried to speak, but with a prick he felt exhaustion overwhelm him. One of the guards caught him in his arms and helped him fall to the floor, but Tanner remembered nothing, until consciousness returned to him, and he found himself lying on the ground, close to an hour later.

“Excellent,” the doctor said, “you’ve got the hang of it.”

Tanner tried to stand up, tried to speak, but his sleepiness was still wearing off.

“You lied to me,” Marcus said, “Why did you lie to me?”

Tanner tried to force out an excuse, but found his tongue was tied up somehow.

“You’ll find that it’s impossible to lie to any superior from now on, Mr. Wilkins,” the doctor said, “Try being honest–it’ll come naturally to you soon enough.”

“Tell me why you lied,” Marcus repeated, and words spilled out of Tanner’s mouth, almost unbidden.

“I didn’t want to look like an idiot, for ending up lower than a meathead like you.”

“Meathead?” Marcus said, glowering at him.

“Please–let’s move on. We’re already a bit behind,” the doctor said, and motioned to the main room, where there were two large chairs against the wall. “Both of you, please have a seat, and I’ll load up a simulated work session.”

The chairs were quite comfortable, Tanner found, until the bands appeared, securing his arms and legs to the frame, and a helmet descended–covering his head and blocking out all light and sound. He felt a prick from his band, a wave of euphoria, and then…he was somewhere else. A wide field of dirt stretching in every direction, two shovels, and Marcus standing beside him.

“This is a basic simulation,” the doctor’s voice came as some disembodied spirit in the empty air, “While the facility does utilize hard labor for most subjects, you both will be taking part in our virtual beta program. Each day, you both will enter a simulation and be given a series of tasks or quotas to complete. Your credit allowance for the day will be determined by how well you succeeded in the simulation. Marcus, as the Two, you will receive the entire allowance and be able to decide how to spend the funds. You can retain complete control of the funds, or divide it as you please. Also note, that you retain complete authority over your one within the simulation as normal. Now, to end the simulation, as a team you will need to dig five holes in the ground, three feet in each dimension. Guidelines will appear on the ground to guide your progress.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Tanner said.

“Come on, let’s get to work, I guess,” Marcus said, handing Tanner a shovel.

Together, they each started digging a hole. Despite the simulation being virtual, it felt completely real–Tanner could even feel his sweat, and smell Marcus’s musk on the still air. Marcus finished first and sat for a moment–Tanner went to join him, but Marcus shook his head. “No, you keep digging–you’ll get a break when we’re done.”

Tanner couldn’t disobey the command, and so he kept digging, and digging, and digging. Marcus would help, but more and more he would relax a bit, shouting suggestions and orders to Tanner, obviously enjoying his position of authority for a change. Eventually, they did finish–the simulation ended and the helmets removed themselves from their heads, the straps allowing them to stand. Tanner found that his muscles actually ached like he really had been in that field all day, and he stood on shaking legs in front of the doctor.

“Well done. You are both required to complete one simulation a day, but you may volunteer for more if you so desire. Please keep in mind that your actions in the virtual reality will impact your physical forms–we monitor your behavior and provide hormones based upon that. Hence, why you both feel the effects of physical exertion, despite having not moved at all. Marcus, you will find your first allowance in your account–spend it wisely. I will check in over the next few days to make sure everything is going smoothly.” The doctor and the guards left, leaving them alone again.

“Get on the bed, you fucking asshole–we’ll see who’s the fucking meathead before too long,” Marcus said, and the sneer told Tanner than his situation may have gone from bad to worse in ways he would have never imagined. Indeed, Tanner had been utterly oblivious to the extent that many members of the gang had resented him, but Marcus in particular had always felt he deserved a bigger piece of the pie, that Tanner disrespected him on a regular basis, that this was exactly what he deserved.

The days settled into a routine rather quickly. The tasks they were given through the VR system were all oriented towards physical labor–digging holes, hauling heavy rocks, cutting lumber, clearing brush–all without much meaning or any context at all. Early on, Marcus helped somewhat, but he always forced Tanner to work longer and harder than he ever did. Back in their apartment, he toyed with the idea of forcing Tanner to quit smoking to save credits, but decided to give him a meager supply of the cheapest variety–never quite enough to scratch the itch Tanner had grown accustomed to satisfying. Marcus would determine their hormone packages, their meals, their entertainment.

It was clear after a month, to Tanner, that they were both changing again. He was taller and packing on even more muscle than before, while Marcus had begun to soften slightly, putting on a slight gut. Soon, Marcus was doing almost no work at all in their simulations, forcing his “workhorse” and “meathead” to do everything, threatening him with punishment if he missed the quota meant for them both. Tanner tried to object, early on, but each time he resisted Marcus would devise some humiliating new punishment or desire for him to try and satisfy, and he learned to bear the burden as best he could, but kept the hatred nurturing in his heart all the same. One day, the table would turn, he told himself. All he had to do was wait, put up with it for now, but once the wardens saw how Marcus was treating him, they’d show him–then Tanner would be the one back on top.

Still, he hated himself more. This massive body which should be able to pound Marcus into the dust, and he couldn’t lift a finger to oppose him. All he could do was beg for his cock, beg for cigars, doing anything to try and please his master in order to get a bit more allowance for himself. He felt inhuman, and seeing Marcus expand in size, growing flabbier each day as he ate massive meals for himself, leaving Tanner subsisting on protein mash, it was somehow worse than the solitary had been, being trapped with this fucker day in and day out. He counted the days down to their two hearings–knowing that even if things didn’t get better, they would hopefully be different.

Where Boys Become Men (Part 6)

All Tanner could do with his mouth was shout and scream incoherently as the two guards who had escorted him in, carried him out, hauling him like a sack of trash down several corridors until they arrived at the solitary ward, and heaved him onto the floor of a cell, shutting the door and abandoning him there. It was several minutes before feeling returned to his body and he could stand again, looking around at where he had been deposited. It was a small dorm similar to where he’d lived with Jackson the year before, but somewhat smaller and with fewer furnishings. He tried the door, but it was locked and sealed tight. Lastly, he tried his band, looking to see if it could tell him anything, but it too had gone dark, just like before. There was a TV with a decent movie and porn selection, there was a tablet with a digital library, but beyond that, he was alone.

The first few days were almost pleasant. He hadn’t had privacy is ages, not truly. He had a small humidor which refilled with a supply of cheap cigars each day. He could do whatever he wanted, within a very small scope of want. By the end of the first month, he felt like he would go insane. The guards wouldn’t speak with him when they delivered his meals. He had a one hour socialization session with his new warden each week, but all that did was remind him of what awaited him after these next six months.

Three months in, he’d figured out which guards were willing to be merciful, and would agree to fuck his ass when they brought his meals. It wasn’t much–but at least it was contact. At least he had a few minutes every few days where he felt good, where someone would want him, at least for a moment. By this point, the hormones he’d purchased for himself had been scrubbed from his system, and he looked essentially as he had on his first day in the provisional block–hulking, hairy as a caveman, and terrified to death. The changes that came next were less obvious. Up to that point, he’d mostly stuck to watching movies and reading–he preferred reading, because getting lost in a book helped the hours move faster than watching something broken into definite two hour blocks. But as the last few months wore on, it was harder to focus on the text, he would run across words he should have known, but which had disappeared from his memory. It was frustrating, and so he largely abandoned the tablet, watching movies–but more and more, he found himself watching the porn channels, masturbating all the while. The room reeked of smoke, sweat and cum now, but he barely noticed any of it–or bothered to shower much at all, the scents around him only fueling his sexual drive further. Physically, the changes were subtle as well. His cock was shrinking somewhat, back to a more modest four inch size, but on his frame it looked puny, if thick as a beer can. His muscles had filled in further, as had his gut–and his hands and feet had grown as well. Even his face seemed different–more angular under his beard, with a heavier brow and his hairline receding slightly. He hated his reflection–both because he was so objectively ugly now, but also because he found his image so…fucking arousing.

After six months, which had felt like a miniature hell, Tanner was willing to do anything, to go anywhere, as long as he didn’t have to be alone anymore. He had an introductory session with his warden, but he found it difficult to follow everything the man was talking about. As a provisional level one, the older man said, he would be placed in a six month cohabitation and dual training with a provisional level two, in order to better judge their capacity for reform. After those six months, he would have a second hearing with the warden panel, and they would determine whether to continue the provisional relationship, or designate him as a permanent two or one for and moved into a formal reform and release program. Tanner spent much of the conversation simply begging the man to let him see his parents, or his lawyer, telling them that what they were doing was illegal, was inhumane, but the warden showed no sympathy. “I’m afraid, Mr. Wilkins, that you won’t be seeing your parents again. You knew that was a risk when you signed your release forms.”

“I didn’t!” Tanner cried, “I didn’t know any of this, I didn’t know!”

“I’m afraid ignorance is no excuse. Guards, please escort Mr. Wilkins to his cell–an assistant warden will meet with you both later today to provide a more detailed orientation.”

The guards hauled Tanner off again, and led him to another area of the facility–C Block. If Block A was order, and the provisional block was anarchy, block C was silent. There was no one anywhere in the hallways, no common areas–just row after row of doors, looking more like a concrete hotel than a prison. He was escorted to his new room and pushed inside, the door shutting behind him, and he found himself, again, in a small apartment like he’d been in solitary, if slightly larger than before. His heart rate quickened, now that he was back in a place like this, terrified that he’d be alone again, but a young man emerged from the bathroom, and he nearly cried–he wouldn’t be alone at least. If nothing else, he had company. Then, looking at his roommate’s face a moment longer, he realized that he knew him.

“M-Marcus?”

“Holy shit–Tanner? Is that you? You ended up here too? What the fuck! Everyone in the gang was certain you’d be headed for the top.”

Marcus had entered the provisional block around the same time as Tanner had, but they hadn’t met until a couple of months in, when seeing how viciously he’d fought one of Tanner’s goon squads one morning, he offered Marcus a position in his growing enterprise. If Tanner had been the light–offering protection, greasing wheels, organizing patrols–Marcus had been the dark. As one of the leaders of the offensive squads, he’d spend the day shaking down everyone who had refused Tanner’s gracious and reasonable prices for safety. They chatted a bit, catching up. Marcus had been pulled out of the provisional block a few days after Tanner, but he told him that the system had started to crumble as soon as Tanner had left–the gang had broken into factions warring outright over territory and control–Marcus had been glad to escape the fallout, only to end up being assigned as a provisional two.

“How’d they grade you?” he asked Tanner, “You must be a two at least.”

“Yeah–same as you,” Tanner lied, and moved to another subject.

It wasn’t too much later that their door opened and a younger man in a lab coat entered the small space, with two sizable guards. “Marcus Ambrose, and Tanner Wilkins, correct? I’m Dr. Logen. I’ll be overseeing your provisional period here in C block. Now, I’ll be turning on your bands, and giving you an introduction to what your time will be like here for the next six months or so.”

The screens on both of their bands lit up again. Tanner examined his, but it had almost no functionality at all, beyond the ability to order supplies for credits–of which he had none.

“Now Marcus, as the provisional two in this relationship, you will find that you have ample means of controlling and disciplining your provisional one.”

“One? Who’s the one?” Marcus asked.

The doctor raised an eyebrow, and looked over at Tanner, “He is, of course. I’m going to put him to rest for a bit, while I go over some of the details with you.”