Life Coach (Part 4)

“Please, I know…I know I’m fucked up in my head, to come up with shit like that, but you have to help me, you’re the only one who can help me, I see that now, I get it!” Shane said, on his knees in front of Evan, who was looming over him, the room full of hazy with the smoke from both of their cigars. Evan had been waiting for this. He’d known it was coming, but it hard to anticipate when, finally, someone would truly understand what they’d become.

A few months had passed, since his first session with Evan, but it already felt lifetimes away. It didn’t…it didn’t really matter anyway, since it had never been real anyway, Shane reminded himself. Sure, it…felt real to him, but that’s what made his own mind so screwed up–he couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He’d kept coming over here, demanding that Evan change him back, that he give him his old life back–back when he was stud, when his wife could look at him with laughing, when he didn’t feel compelled to suck the cocks of all the men who fucked her, no matter what it cost–but he saw the truth now, he hadn’t been willing to believe Evan, when he’d first tried to tell him, he’d been so skeptical, but what other explanation was there?

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses, Shane, it’s good to hear. Now get up and have a seat over here, let’s talk about your breakthrough. So, you finally realized that those old memories of yours, those ones where you’re some young, muscular hotshot asshole lawyer, those were all false memories, right?”

Shane nodded, a bit hesitant now that he heard it said out loud, but…but there couldn’t be any other explanation, right?

“It’s good of you to realize that, but why do you think you created those memories, Shane?”

“I…I don’t know. They’re just…there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, I happen to have a theory, you know. I think, Shane, that you created those memories so you could put the blame for your shitty life on everyone around you, and deflect that blame from yourself. I mean, if I was the one who changed you, then you aren’t responsible for you’re loveless marriage. You aren’t responsible for chasing all the cock you can find. You aren’t responsible for the fact that you can’t stop smoking those cigars you hate so much. You aren’t responsible for the fact that you can’t win a single court case, not without blowing the judge, the other lawyers, and sometimes the jury. That you’re a failure in every way. It’s hard for anyone to realize their a waste of space, a worthless person, but that’s what you are, don’t you see?”

Fuck, why was he so hard? No, not just hard–listening to Evan catalogue all his failings as a man, as a person–he had his cock out and was jacking off, just thinking about how…how much of a failure he was, and realizing that, he started sobbing. “Please, it’s…it’s too much! I’m…I’m almost broke, I can’t find any new clients. I don’t know what I was thinking, I–someone like me can’t do this!” He tried to keep speaking, but he broke down, still stroking his cock, and Evan got up and crossed over to where he was sitting, stroking his balding hand, running it through his bushy mutton chops.

“I know Shane, but this is what I do, you see. You were never meant to have a life like this, you realize that, right? A fuckup like you can’t be trusted with anything important.”

I-I don’t think anyone can help someone as fucked up as me though,” Shane said.

Evan chuckled, “Always the skeptic, to the end,” he said, “At least let me try.”

“Why…why would you ever want to help someone like me? Someone as worthless as I am?”

“Oh Shane, because this is what I do! I help people. Now come on–would you like to suck my cock? You always feel better after a load of cum, and you always get cranky when you haven’t gotten enough.”

Shane nodded. “Would…you fuck me sir? I’d…like that.”

“If you insist.”

Shane got down on his hands and knees, and Evan slid into him. It was so much easier, now that he’d finally accepted the truth. He’d fought for so long, but what other possibility was there, really? He was just a failure, there was no way around it, but that brought up another question–now what? He couldn’t keep going at this, he wasn’t meant for this for a life like this, but he wasn’t sure there was any life someone as worthless and stupid as him could ever possibly manage. He pushed the thought away, and focused on smoking his cigar, on how good his hole felt, how deep Evan’s huge cock could go, his own cock close to blowing, but he held back, not wanting to make a mess–he always felt so terrible whenever he made a mess, and he’d been trying very hard lately to only cum when someone had given him permission to do so. He wasn’t very good at it, and not many people would give him permission, but all the same, it was common courtesy. Evan finished inside him and stepped back–he felt empty, but better than earlier. Freer, somehow. He pulled his pants back up.

“Now what do I do,” he asked, “I can’t go back there, I can’t face that anymore.”

“Did you forget already? Evan said, “I’m a life coach, Shane. Just leave it all to me. We can find something for you to do that you can be happy with, I think. All you have to do is trust me.”

Shane tried to object, but Evan’s hands were already on his skull, massaging the thoughts from his mind, the world fading from view again. Everything was being pulled from him, and he let it go. It wasn’t for him to worry about, after all. He would only make things worse if he tried to interfere. Instead he let himself drift off into a void, hopeful that when he woke, his only hope was that his life would be something more suited to a loser like him.

Life Coach (Part 3)

What in the world was he doing? He wasn’t some…some fucking faggot! He tried as hard as he could to haul himself off his neighbor’s cock, but the man just grabbed him by his ears and drove deep, feeling Shane choke and gag on his cock.

“Now now, both of us know how much you like this Shane. The more you fight, the harder it will be for you, I promise.”

He tried to snarl a “fuck you,” but it just came out as unintelligible garble. Evan got the gist of it, however, and so he pushed his fingers to Shane’s temples, and the crippling pain wracked it’s way through him again. This time, either he was at least expecting it or it simply wasn’t as severe, because when Evan pulled his fingers away he was still conscious–and no longer gagging. In fact, he found himself so excited to have a cock in his mouth, that his tiny cock immediately let loose a meek pulse of cum into his pants, and he redoubled his efforts to please Evan, just happy to have a cock to serve.

In his mind, part of him was rebelling–he didn’t want to be a cocksucker! But…he couldn’t quite deny that he was a cocksucker, because he’d certainly sucked lots of them, and been fucked plenty of times as well. He’d often offer his clients, for a little extra money under the table, to help take some of the stress off their divorce, by giving them some assistance, and quite a few of them took him up on the offer. He may have also sucked off a few judges and attorneys, in order to get better verdicts for his clients, but that was all part of the job, right? On weekends, while Sandra was taking her numerous lovers, Shane was usually off somewhere, sucking cock through gloryholes or hooking up with random guys online, though that was harder. When someone saw his old, wrinkled, hairy face, not many people wanted to have sex with him–he had much more luck when he stayed anonymous, and with Evan. He loved slipping over here and sucking off his neighbor–he was the best fuck he had right now.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Evan said, and Shane immediately pulled away from his cock, stuck his cigar back in his mouth, and got ready for a fuck. Evan got down behind him, lined up his cock and slipped it in his hole, listening to his slutty neighbor heave a great sigh, “I told you not to fight me on this.”

Shane gasped at the tremendous surge of pleasure, his back arching, “Oh…Oh fuck, why does…does that feel so good?”

“Because you’re a fucking slut now,” Evan said.

“Why…How are you doing this to me? This isn’t fucking possible.”

“Well, you never did let me explain, and I don’t feel like going into it now. Still, I’d be careful disbelieving–after all, if I can’t change you, then that means you must have always been like this, right? Have you always been a desperate, small cocked slut, Shane?”

No–No, he hadn’t…but he…he couldn’t quite remember who he’d been before either, and it was too fucking hard to concentrate with that huge cock in his ass. So much easier just…just focusing on that, on bucking back, feeling his cock dribbling cum on the carpet. He’d…he’d have to lick it up later of course, he didn’t want to make a mess–and he loved cum. Couldn’t let it go to waste, no way, that would be terrible. No! He had to focus, focus on what really mattered! Evan had…had done something to him. He could remember that. He’d made him like this, given him this worthless cock, this…fuck, that felt so good, what he was doing back there! Unable to hold back, through thick clouds of dingy smoke he felt a huge orgasm rip through his entire body, feeling his flabby gut shiver and shake as a miniscule amount of cum flew out of him, and it wasn’t too much longer after that, when Evan filled his hole with a much larger amount of cum, and slipped out of him.

He fought it. He fought, but it was only polite after all. It’s…what a slut like him should do. Still on his hands and knees he backed up and started licking up his own, cum, feeling his ass leaking down the inside of his thigh. “Please…I’m sorry,” he said, tongue still pressed to the carpet, “”I get it! Just…just change me back, please.”

“Oh goodness, I don’t change people back, Shane. Goodness, I don’t change people at all! I’m just a con artist, remember? Why, I don’t understand where you’re getting this delusion of yours–you yourself said you had much too strong of a will to ever be hypnotized, right? So that means, that any power I have over you must be because you want to be weak. Because you like letting people dominate you. But if it makes you feel better, even if I could change you back? I wouldn’t. Because I love having a fat slut like you next door–if you were anyone else, then you wouldn’t get my cum, would you? Now clean the rest of that up and get the fuck out of my house, pig.”

Evan walked off, leaving Shane to finish his work, and then he got back up, and left, lighting a fresh cigar out on the doorstep, trying not to cry. What in the world had happened to his life, suddenly? He walked back over to his house, in time to see Sandra, in the doorway, waving goodbye to Devin as he left, looking fresh faced and happy. He could see the bulge of the young man’s huge cock, and…and fuck, he wanted it. As they passed, he turned to him and said, “I’ll pay…two hundred dollars. Let me suck it, please.”

The man laughed, and kept walking.

“Five hundred, please.”

“Faggot, ask me to suck my cock again, and I’ll pummel your face to the floor.”

“A thousand.”

That, apparently, was enough. However, he had to pay Devin upfront, before he could get a taste of the young man’s cock, and he hated himself for it, but he needed it. he needed it, and he had a feeling he’d be doing anything he could to get it.

Yeah, ya weren’t too sure ‘bout it, a month ago, were ya? Rolling up here, that prissy dad of yers telling ya a couple months here with me on mah ranch would be good fer ya. Didn’t think he knew what he was talking about, and sure, ya sulked for a while, bored without yerr video games and books and shit, but we’ve found better ways tah keep ya occupied, haven’t we?

Yeah pig, lean back, take another long drag off that cigar. Ye’re learnin’ real good, real quick. Might as well put that brain power to good use before we ruin the rest of it–can’t have a pig smarter than it’s owner, right? Yeah, you have permission pig, I know hearin’ me call ya that makes ya hard in an instant. Now that ye’re startin’ tah show all that weight proper-like, the name fits a bit better, don’t you think?

Too bad ya ain’t hairier–I love a hairy pig. Still, once we get a few dozen more tattoos on ya, ya’ll look like a right nasty pig anyway. Tug on those tits a yers, yeah, that’s it. Yeah, everyone can see ya pervin’ out, but ya like that, I bet. Don’t worry non, all the neighbors know ‘bout mah pigs–ya’ll get to know a few of them a bit better before too much longer. Hey, there’s Buck–go on pig, wave to Buck–that’s good. Buck’s wife might think he’s a good Christian shithead, but he’s one dirty minded bull when he comes over here, trust me.

Fight all you want boy, but there’s no escape. The sooner ya give in, the better it will be. The more ya’ll enjoy it. The hotter we can make ya before that city slicker bro of mine comes back tah pick ya up in a few more months. Oh don’t worry, ya ain’t gonna be goin’ home with him or nothin’–but we gotta make sure he don’t remember ya bein’ human or nothin’. Nah, he’ll stay with us for a few days, plowin’ mah new pig, becomin’ a bit of a bull himself, ‘n then ya’ll really be mine–ya’ll like that, trust me.

Buck’s still watchin–how about we give him a show, pig? Drop trou’ ‘n bend over–and I want him tah hear ya squeal all the way over there, or ya’ll be sleeping with the pigs tonight–I know ya don’t wanna sleep with them anymore, right? Then me a good pig, and give a good fuckin’ show, ya hear me?

Source: cigarcub33

Life Coach (Part 2)

Shane woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed that, at the same time, felt…right. It was smaller than usual–just a twin bed, in fact. But the room–he recognized the room, for sure. He was back in his house, but he was in a room which he thought had been a guest room, but which his brain was now telling him was…his room. But that couldn’t be right–he slept in the master suite in his house with his wife–but that thought was so embarrassing he felt his cheeks turn red immediately.

He’d never once slept in the same bed as his wife! She had taken one look at his puny cock on their honeymoon, and laughed him onto the couch. He’d never even fucked her once–she’d told him that he wasn’t man enough, and she was right. He had the money, he had the career, he had the confidence out of the house, but in here he was whipped, and he hated it, but there was no getting out of it now. He rolled up in his bed, and looked down at his tiny, half inch cock and raisin sized balls–some part of him unable to believe it, but he’d looked at the same equipment his whole life, why was he finding this so hard this morning?

Even then, the cock was only one piece of a larger problem. He stood up from the bed, and was certain he should be standing taller, but he’d always been short–just shy of five feet five inches–and his flabby body wasn’t doing him any favors either. He’d always found his body disgusting though–all of the hair everywhere–it was almost as thick across his back as it was across his chest. The muttonchops on his face only made his head look fatter and wider–why did he keep them cut all bushy like that anyway? He picked a cigar from the humidor and lit it up, feeling a bit better once he got some smoke in him, and then he got dressed–Sandra demanded that he be dressed at all times in her presence–it lessened the chance that she might have to lay eyes on his disgusting body, as she called it.

She was downstairs in a robe, when he got there. When he entered the kitchen, she informed him that she had a new lover coming over in an hour, and that Shane would have to get the door, because she would be getting ready when he arrived. That small part of him did a double take, but it wasn’t like his wife was willing to forego sex just because her husband’s cock was a microdick. No–she took lovers all the time, as many as she wanted, and…and he let her, because it made her happy, and sometimes he got to watch–provided the man she was making love to was alright with it. He ate some breakfast and read the paper–his lazy Sunday routine–and when the doorbell rang, he got up and answered the door, finding a young man on the other side, wearing little, his massive cock bulging in the front of his jeans.

“Oh, uh, hi–I’m here for Sandra…” the guy said, “Who…are you?”

“Oh, I’m Shane–her husband. Come on in, she’s upstairs getting ready for you.”

“Oookay,” the young man said, “Actually, I think I’m just gonna go…”

“No, please,” Shane said, “Come in! It’s fine, we have an…arrangement.”

He was obviously still skeptical, but he stepped inside anyway. Shane got the young man’s name–Devin–and then led him upstairs, where Sandra was in the master bedroom, nearly naked. “Oh there you are Devin–you’re late. I hate having to wait, you should remember that. Get undressed.”

Devin looked from her to Shane, but he pulled off his tank top, displaying his thick pecs and solid abs, but paused with his jeans. “Is…why is he still here?”

“Oh–Shane here has the tiniest cock I’ve ever seen–he can’t even get inside me. You’ll have to forgive him, he hates asking. Shane–is there something you’d like to ask Devin?”

Shane cleared his throat, somehow feeling even smaller than his new height made him, “Oh, uh, I’d like to…to watch, if that’s alright with you.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. I–I’ll stay out of sight, you won’t know I’m here.”

“Fuck no, you fucking creep, get the fuck out of here!”

Shane blushed red, but did as the young man said, and retreated outside the bedroom door, closing it behind him. There was lots of laughter for a few moments, and then that segued into moans. Shane was left outside the door, smoking one of his cigars–almost sucking on the rough leaf–rubbing his crotch through his pants, feeling his tiny cock stiff like a nipple thinking…thinking about that young man, how big his cock must be, what…what it might feel like. Maybe…maybe he’ll let him watch some other time, maybe he can find out what kinds of things he might like, or give him some money, next time.

Wait–what the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right at all! He wasn’t some…flabby short pushover with a cock small enough for the record books. This–something had happened. Something had changed, but what? He stalked away from the door and back to his room, where he lit a cigar and tried to focus on something beyond the moans of the young man he could hear from down the hallway. What had he done yesterday? There was that new neighbor, and he’d gone over to say hello, but after that things got…hazy, and he couldn’t quite remember anything of the visit at all. Still, something in his gut told him that if he wanted answers, he’d have to go there, and so he left the house and went next door, where he knocked on the door. After a moment, Evan opened the door and looked down at his short neighbor, and smirked. “Well hello Shane, back for another session already? I must say, you look like you’ve made tremendous progress from yesterday. Why don’t you come inside?”

His body, something was wrong with his body. he stepped inside, and before Evan even got the door shut, he was on his knees–waiting. Waiting for Evan to turn around, slowly unzip his fly, his huge cock flopping out, and Shane swallowed it to the hilt.

Life Coach (Part 1)

“Look, all I’m doing is providing a service. I’m a lawyer, it’s my job to represent my clients to the best of my abilities. Besides, in my opinion, when it comes to divorce, misandry rules. Do you know how hard it is for a guy to get custody? Kids need their fathers too. All I do is level the playing field,” Shane said and took another sip from his beer, looking over at his new neighbor, trying to judge his reaction. Still, he was used to getting flack for his job from people–but he didn’t want approval, he wanted cash, and cash is what he got, which is why he got to live in this nice neighborhood.

“How does Sandra feel about what you do for a living?” Stewart asked. He was an older gentleman in his late fifties, a bit of a potbelly with a thick, mostly white beard. He’d offered his neighbor over for a beer, since they hadn’t been formally introduced yet, although he was beginning to have second thoughts he even wanted to know him.

“Why would it matter what she thinks? I buy her the jewelry, the handbags, the perfume. She’s happy,” he said with a smirk, “If anything it’s a warning. If she wants out, she’s not going to be getting anything out of me, that’s for sure.”

Definitely didn’t want to know him at all. Evan let the silence between them expand, hoping Shane would take the hint, but he didn’t.

“So, what do you do, Evan?”

The older man stayed silent a moment more, before replying. “Well, it’s a bit hard to explain, really. The closest thing, you might say, is that I’m a life coach.”

Shane let out a laugh, “You? A life coach? Don’t you think you might want to look like, you know, a better role model before that? No offense, but I wouldn’t really think someone who looks like you would have good advice for how to live your life.”

“Well, my clients would disagree–they bought me this lovely house right next to yours, after all.”

“Well, you must be good then.”

“I’m very good at what I do, I think. My services are rather unique, in fact. I’m less a life coach, and more…well, it’s difficult to explain. I can help people who’ve reached a dead end find…a way out, you might say. Most of it works a bit like hypnosis, but–”

“Wait, hypnosis? You have got to be kidding me, that shit’s not real!”

“Oh, well, hypnosis itself is a rather limited tool, but what I do–”

“No, seriously, you’re just a fucking con artist?”

Evan bristled a bit, “You would do well to remember your manners. It’s not nice to insult the host.”

“Look man, I’m sorry, but you can’t really expect me to believe that you can actually hypnotize people, right? I mean, that shit’s for college parties.”

“Well, like I said, it isn’t hypnosis per se, but rather…well, why would I even bother talking to a skeptic like you?” Evan smiled, “Someone like you would have to see it to believe it, right?”

“Heh, I suppose so. Still, I can’t be hypnotized, so you’re out of luck.”

“How do you know? Has anyone tried?”

“Ha! Do you know the kind of willpower it takes to succeed in my line of work? You don’t get to where I am by letting people walk all over you and control you,” Shane said, looking his new neighbor right in the eye. Evan didn’t reply, he just met the gaze, and locked it. After a few seconds Shane started feeling a little uncomfortable, the hairs on his body raising up slightly–he tried to pull his eyes away, tried to blink…but he couldn’t. All he could do was keep staring at Evan’s eyes…sinking in deeper and deeper, like the tension in his body, the energy, was being sucked out of him. The bottle of beer tumbled from his hand to the carpet as he slumped down in the chair, his mind furiously trying to push back, trying to resist, but it was too late. His head just felt so…empty all of a sudden. He was so tired, and yet he couldn’t quite fall asleep.

“Funny how the ones who think they’re in control are the easiest to put under,” Evan said, pushing himself up from his armchair and walking over to where Shane was slumped on the couch. The closer he got, the more intense his gaze became, until it was the only thing Shane could think about, the only thing he could see. He barely noticed Evan unbuttoning his dress shirt, and examining his muscular, gym toned body, opening the fly of his slacks and pulling out his six inch cock from his pants. “It feels good, though, right? Not being in control? Letting people walk all over you, you fucking wimp? Feel how hard you are, how much you’re enjoying this–how humiliated you are. You’ve been taken down by a short, fat old man, and all you can do is get harder in my hand.”

Shane couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on, but…but he did feel good. Is…is this what losing control felt like? Did it really feel this good?

“You know, I don’t really have room in my schedule for another client, but I think I’ll take you on, pro bono. I think you should explore this side of you, don’t you? See what happens when you let go of all that need to control, when you let other people dominate you, take over your life. Is that what you want? Do you want me to control you?”

Shane wanted to say no, he did, but his mouth wasn’t working right. All it could do was…was gasp and moan, his rock hard cock leaking all over Evan’s hand, even as he desperately tried to form the word. Evan kept up the attention, leaning closer, their eyes mere inches from each other when Shane finally exploded, cum splattering all over his suit, and he finally managed to utter a word in the midst of the afterglow, a quiet, barely audible, “Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Evan said, “Now let’s get to work–we have so much to do tonight.”

Shane didn’t really know how to describe what happened next. Evan put his fingers on both his temples in a strange configuration, pressed hard, and it was like electricity fired through his brain and body, and everything went black.

*Knock* *Knock*

Yes Daddy, it’s me.

Oh, I know you weren’t expecting me today, but isn’t that what makes it fun? No, you don’t really want to leave me out here on the doorstep where just anyone might see us, do you? That’s what I thought. Strip once the door’s closed–we should make this one quick, before your son gets home, don’t you think? He does get home in another half an hour, right? If you’re a good daddy, I should be gone by then.

Damn Daddy, I swear you’re getting sexier by the day. Those hours at the gym sure are paying off, and that PA sure has healed well. How does it feel daddy? Felling your boy run his finger along there? You’re so hard, and dribbling already, but what’s Daddy rule number one?

That’s right, “No cumming without my son’s permission,” very good.

You know, I think we’ll do your daddy tits next. Doesn’t feel good, me tugging on them? Get this things pierced and start pumping them–everyone will be able to see them through those tight shirts you’ve started wearing. Has your son noticed yet? No? Too bad–he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Still, we’d better hurry daddy–bend over. You don’t want him to catch us together, do you? Wouldn’t want him to learn about the brother you’ve been keeping on the side.

Well, half brother–fuck, you’re so damn tight Daddy!–we don’t look much like each other, do we? Here I am, lithe and muscular, just the kind of son you want plowing your daddy hole, right? Here daddy, move over here, like this–yeah, that’s good, I love looking at you when I’m fucking you.

What was I saying? Oh, but him. He’s so fat, and short, and just kind of ugly. Ugly like you were, before you learned about me, right? Before I started helping you be a better daddy? Think about him, walking through that door, seeing you like this. Has he noticed anything yet? I’m sure he’s noticed his dad turning into one hot hunk of fuckmeat, but beyond that?

Still no idea about me though? Fuck, I bet he’d be jealous of us–I mean, I’m such a better son than he is, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you like to make him jealous?

Protest all you want, but I see how hard you are, saw that daddy dick throb at the thought. How about I make him want to watch us? Imagine that fatass over there, stroking his tiny piece of meat, wishing he was as good a son as I was, wishing he could treat you like a daddy should be treated. Heh, he wouldn’t be your favorite son for long though, soon he’ll be more like a slave for me to enjoy–I might even let you fuck him, if you beg me for permission, after being an extra good daddy.

You can see right through me–yeah, that’s what I had planned all along, you got me! I think that’s the garage door daddy–I’ll sit here, you sit on my dick, and when he comes through that door, I want you to explode–and then I’ll get to work on my step-brother, and the three of us can start having some real family fun together.

Trust me, none of these fuckers are going to make it to the end of pledge week, I can assure you that. Oh sure, we like to lead them on for a few days, but you can always tell the losers from the pack right at the beginning, they sure as hell aren’t cut out for this frat–we’re the fucking elite on campus, and we can’t have losers like them dragging us down. We’ll have them beaten to a pulp and they’ll run away with their tails between their legs–we don’t haze lightly around here. Still, I don’t know what’s up with that drink of theirs–one of them told me some upperclassman on campus gave them the brew as a good luck charm, telling them they’d get in for sure if they had some. Whatever, if someone else wants to use our reputation to make a few bucks what do I really care? But no silly drink is going to save their skins.

For pledge week, all of the new meat has to live out behind the house in a small shed we reserve specifically for the week. There’s no privacy, it’s cramped, but the real goal is to start weeding out the runts like these ones. We make sure the real pledges know who has a target on their back, and after a couple of days they’ve been hazed, beaten and ridiculed so hard by their fellow pledges they all drop out before too long. Trust me, none of these three can take that, not to mention everything else we’ll be throwing their way soon enough–they’ll be gone for sure.

***

Alright, so maybe things haven’t gone quite according to plan. It’s weird–we told all the freshman football jocks to break these three fuckers…but it almost seems like it happened the other way around. All of the jocks are suddenly these meek little bitches, doing whatever those three demand. There’s been some other strange things happening too–the three guys weren’t much to look at before, but all of them have packed on quite a bit of muscle…even as the freshman jocks have all lost a bit of size. Hell, I saw one guy, Kyle, in the shower–I swear he had a eight inch cock, but it’s less than an inch now. He’s packed on weight, and his uniform doesn’t fit right, like he’s a bit too short for it now. Whatever–I had a talk with the three of them, and all of them suggested they go ahead and move into the house with us. Doesn’t bother me any, we’ll beat some sense into them, and show them who’s boss soon enough.

***

No, this shit’s too fucked up. I have…some of the other guys have lost it, fuck, they’re just they’re fucking slaves now! And the Masters–fuck, they’re so…so fucking big now. I mean, of course they should get the house to themselves, of course us slaves should all live in the shed but…I swear things should have been different. I can remember them being different. I…I was in charge, and I can be still, if I can just keep my wits about me. Figure out what the fuck was in that drink, what’s letting them…suck the fucking life out of us, literally! Oh shit, here they come, to decide who gets to stay with them in the house tonight. God…I don’t want them to, but I can see them looking at me. If I have to spend another night between them, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 5)

One moment, Julian was there, and then the next, he wasn’t–or maybe he still was feet away from him, but Ray just couldn’t see him. The calm ebbed away, and the sheer terror of what Julian had just told him sank into his bones. After everything he’d seen today, after everything he’d just been through, he knew this was no bluff. If Noah went home–hell, if Noah stepped out of the house–then Ray knew he was done for. He’d be the one taking the fall. He’d be the one going to prison, and he had no doubt that Julian’s control of him ran deep enough that his time there–as a registered sex offender and pervert–would be horrific. He heard the water turn off in the bathroom, and he thought about his basement. He almost never used it–it had been a workshop at one point, but he’d never had much time for his long list of projects, especially now after his divorce. What in the hell could be down there, that Julian thought might help him? He knew he didn’t have time to go investigate, not with Noah about to step out at any moment, but he also didn’t know how to get Noah down there without alerting him that something was awry.

The bathroom door open, and the stench of fresh piss immediately derailed Ray’s thoughts, sending his cock to half mast. Half of him wanted to lunge forward, but his rational mind won out, and he took a few steps back, staring at Noah in the doorway, just as filthy as before. “What..Did…did you even take a shower? I heard the water running–”

“Yeah coach, I took a shower,” Noah said, matter of factly, but it was clear he hadn’t given himself the kind of shower he’d intended to. Either he was simply oblivious–which was likely–or Julian had ruined his mind in more ways than Ray might have thought. Then again, those two possibilites weren’t mutually exclusive either.

“Noah…Noah, look at yourself.”

The young man did, staring down at his sweaty body, freshly soaked in his own piss, and it was clear he was trying to make sense of what was going on. “I…I turned on the water. I even remember getting…under it, it was warm, and…and delicious…oh fuck…did I?”

He took off towards the stairs, away from Ray. “Noah–Noah!” Ray shouted and took off after him, “Noah wait!”

“Fuck this!” he shouted, “This shit is fucked, I just want to go home!”

Ray didn’t know what to do. He had to keep him here, he had to, no matter what. That was the only way he could buy himself enough time to figure out how to expose Julian and get his own life back. A thought occurred to him, and he hated himself for even considering it–but what choice did he have? Noah…Noah would understand, once all of this was over, why he did it, wouldn’t he? He’d have done the same thing if he was in Ray’s position.

Noah got to the door, was trying to work the locks with his trembling hands, and Ray didn’t stop–slamming into him, shoving him up against the door, his entire body pressed to Noah’s. The smell of him, especially the fresh piss, nearly drove him out of his mind, humping his cock against Noah’s ass. For a few moments, Noah kept trying to work the lock, but his hand slipped away as he groaned, allowing his coach to spin him around, grab his face, and pull it into his chest, feeling Noah lick up his sweat and chew at his nipples.

Focus, he had to focus. The basement, get to the damn basement! He fought the urge to just give in there, and fuck the pig right on the floor, seed his ass all over again, maybe…maybe even give him a shower of his own, since the little bitch liked being stinking wet so much. He pulled away, shocked by his own thoughts, but now that Noah had gotten another taste of his coach’s filthy body, he was advancing, drool dripping down his bearded chin, eyes slack. “Coach…fuck…why?” he muttered, but he couldn’t stop–and Ray backed away, leading him towards the back of the house towards the laundry room, and down the stairway into the basement below.

He flipped on the light, but went down backwards, so he could keep an eye on Noah, and make sure he followed. Everything went smoothly at first, but Noah stumbled about halfway down, tumbling right into coach, knocking them both down the rest of the flight where they landed on the dusty ground, Noah on top, and he went back to licking him clean, grinding his own hard cock against his coach’s thigh, while Ray tried to recover from his daze. Looking around, him trying not to think about how fucking good Noah smelled right now, he could see that his basement was no longer a workshop–no, at some point it had been converted into a very well equipped sex dungeon. He just stared at the racks and tables, unable to imagine how all of this could have gotten here without him knowing it, but there was Julian, in the center of the room, holding a metal collar in his hands. A short chain was attached to it, leading to the cement floor where it was attached. Julian set it down, and vanished once more.

The cruelty was welling up in him again, he could feel it. He forced his way out from under Noah, who crawled after him towards the center of Ray’s new dungeon until they reached the collar–he allowed Noah to chew and suck at one of his armpits, while he picked the metal collar up and examined it with his other hand. It had an open padlock hooked in it, all he had to do was get it around Noah’s neck, close the hinge, and lock it. Could…he really do this to him? Did he have a choice? Trying not to think too hard about it, he slipped it around Noah’s neck, the young man barely aware of what he was doing but powerless to stop him anyway, and then he clicked the padlock into place.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 4)

The coach was behind him, and he hadn’t looked around–but he heard Ray stand up, and he whirled around, fear locked in his eyes, but when he saw his coach, he relaxed a bit. “C-Coach? Oh god, did he get you too? Is he here?”

“Is who here, Noah?” Ray asked, happy to avoid the subject of why they were both naked in his kitchen.

“Master Porter, is he here?”

“He was, but he left.”

Noah swore, and then broke down into tears, shivering and shaking, “Oh fuck, it’s not fucking over, why can’t it just be over!”

“Noah, it’s just us!” Ray said, “I saw him leave.”

“He doesn’t leave,” Noah shouted, “We just can’t fucking see him!” He stood up and put his back to the wall, looking all around the room, “We can’t see him, but he’s always there, of fucking Christ! Just leave me alone! I said I was sorry, please!” He screamed the last words at the empty room, to nowhere in particular, “Please, please…”

Ray was torn. He wanted to comfort him, but he also knew that if he got too close…he didn’t want to get trapped in a cycle like the one he’d just experienced. Instead, he got Noah to focus on him, and together they did a breathing exercise he’d taught the team to help them calm down and focus, in order to recover from a mistake. About five minutes later, both of them felt marginally better.

Noah looked out the window, and started to laugh, “My parents are going to be worried sick, I should have been home hours ago.”

Ray wasn’t sure what he meant. “Noah…you’ve been missing for about three months.” Noah just stared at him, and Ray wasn’t sure what to add. “It’s June, Noah. School ended a few days ago. No one has seen you since March.”

“But I just…I remember walking home, and then Master was there and I had to follow him. Then…then I was here,” Noah said.

“You don’t…remember anything?”

“Oh god, I have to get home!” Noah said, and headed for the front door, “My parents, they must be worried sick.” He grabbed his own clothes and threw them on as quickly as he could, and then headed for the front of the house.

Ray hurried after him, “Noah, wait! You…hold on, you can’t go, please, just listen to me,” Ray said, and managed to get between him in the door, but too close. Both of them caught a whiff of each other, and quickly backed away, the sudden flame of desire reignited. “You can’t…go home looking like that.”

“Noah looked down at himself then, and saw his body. What he was wearing, his gut. He grabbed the flab, unable to believe it was real. “I…when did…”

“We can figure this out Noah, please, just trust me.”

Noah looked up at him, “Please coach, just let me go home…don’t help him.”

“I’m not helping him.”

Noah didn’t say anything, but it was clear he didn’t believe him.

“Noah, you have to understand. He’s trying to frame me for this! If he can implicate me instead, then I’ll go to jail, and that fucker will get his job back, and who knows how many people he’ll do this to. Please, Noah, just trust me on this…help me.”

“I just want to go home,” Noah said, crying again.

“I know.”

“Can I at least call them?”

Ray shook his head. “I can’t trust you Noah. I can’t trust that you would tell the truth. I can’t even trust that I would tell the truth, if the police knocked on the door right now. We have to stay here. Look, let’s…let’s take some showers, and that’ll…help. Then we can figure out what to do, alright?”

Noah looked at the front door behind his coach, and then nodded. “I guess…I shouldn’t show up smelling like this.”

Ray smiled, and at a distance, showed Noah to the bathroom, heard the water start up. He turned to head for his bedroom, only to find the hallway blocked by none other than Julian Porter. Ray tried to shout, tried to run at him and attack him, but Julian spoke first, “Calm, Coach.”

Immediately a perfect euphoria swept over him, and he nearly fell to the floor as his muscles lost all their tension. He only managed to stay upright by leaning against the wall beside him.

“That’s better. We wouldn’t want to disturb Noah, now would we? The boy’s in such a fragile state, after that…brutal fucking you gave him down there. I had no idea you could be such a beast!”

“You…did this…to us…” Ray managed to say, but his tongue didn’t want to work that hard.

“Oh, let’s not focus on the past, Ray! You need to realize, that Noah here is never going to want to stay here. He’s going to want to get home, and as soon as he does, I promise you, he’ll tell his parents everything about how you’re the real abuser here. And like you just worried, if the police question you? You’ll spill the bean yourself, and then you’ll be going to jail for a very, very long time. And trust me, in jail? You’re going to spend a lot of time begging for cock, I guarantee it.”

“Ya…fuck…”

“Don’t worry Ray, if I wanted you to go to jail, I wouldn’t have gone to this much effort. No, what you need is right down in the basement. You’ll know what to do.”

A Plea For Help (Sketch)

I don’t know what the fuck’s the matter with him. Nothing I do seems to fucking help! Ok, look, let me start at the beginning. Look, you know Jasper, you’ve known him for years, since he was a kid, hell, you’re his fucking uncle for Christ’s sake! Good all american kid, played every sport that ever existed, and was fucking killer at all of them, ever since he was five. Always working out, cared about his body, just like I raised him. I wasn’t about to have some lardass for a son, you know how I feel about fat, worthless fucks like that. No, I was gonna raise my son right.

But then, a few weeks ago, I come home from work a bit later than usual, and I come in and I find Jasper in the kitchen, standing at the fridge, stuffing his face. He was so fucking focused on eating that he didn’t even hear me come in, and he looks up with his eyes wide, something chocolate smeared around his face, and he knows I’ve caught him red handed. I tear into his ass, reminding him that his wrestling coach has ordered him to shave off two pounds so he can slip down into a lower bracket by the next Saturday, and the kid is crying–fucking sobbing really, trying to tell me that he can’t help it, and I can see his eyes flicking to the fridge, again and again, and I know he’s fucking lying to me, and it’s fucking disgusting, what I just witnessed, and I tell him I’m putting him on a strict diet from now on, that no food’s coming into my house without me knowing about it.

But fuck, if the next day I don’t come home and find him right there again, face in the fridge, stuffing himself. And I look in there, and in the freezer, and at the cans and bowls and containers littering the floor, and it’s all this shit I’d never allow in my house–ice cream, cookies, heavy cream–I don’t know where the hell he gets off, buying this shit, but I’m fucking disgusted, and I berate him again, and he apologizes, swears it won’t happen again, but fuck, every day now, he’s there, stuffing his fat face.

He sure as hell didn’t drop the pounds for that wrestling match, and I was so embarrassed to show my face there, that I didn’t even let him go–I grounded him in his room, telling him to think about what he’s done, what he’s doing to his body. I was relaxing down in the den, having a beer, when I hear something in the kitchen, and fuck if my boy’s not in the fucking fridge again, and it’s full! I threw out all the shit he’d bought, and I know he didn’t leave the house. Needless to say, I’m not fucking happy–and so I decide that if he wants to eat it, then fine, he should fucking eat it–all of it.

He keeps eating, pleading with me to help him stop. He keeps trying, and so I start, just, shoving food in the pig’s mouth as fast as I can, and fuck, if when I’m pressed up against that fat fuck, if I don’t feel his rock hard cock pressing up against my thigh, like a fucking faggot! Yeah, you can imagine how I felt about that, right? So I send him to his room again, and later, I go up to have a talk with him, and I hear him in there, fucking jacking off, fucking calling himself a disgusting, nasty pig while he’s at it…and this…I’m not proud of this. I jacked off too, listening to him. Something about listening to him humiliate himself, fuck if it didn’t turn me on something fierce, way hotter than anything that mom of his had ever done, and I can’t stop thinking about it, about that growing gut of his, about those meaty thighs, wondering how they’d look if they were…even bigger.

Look bro, I need help here. I can’t keep doing this by myself. I’ve been stuffing the pig night and day at this point, but he’s still not fucking big enough to be a proper fuck. Hey now, don’t give me that look, you don’t–no, come here! Come here and look at the fat fuck, bro! Look at your fucking pig of a nephew! Yeah, ain’t that a fuckin’ sight? Fuckin’ disgiusting. Go one, you can call him a pig, call him whatever the fuck you want, it’s just a fucking disgusting animal, a fucking toy, right? Right. See? I knew you’d understand once you saw it.

But we gotta get it bigger, don’t you think? But…fuck, it’s holes are so fuckin’ nice, bro. I can’t fucking feed it and fuck it at the same time, and it’s getting too big to feed itself at this point. So look, here’s what I propose–let’s take turns. You feed, I’ll fuck. Then you fuck, and I feed. Perfect fucking system, am I right? No, hey, calm down, I know you’re not a faggot! I’m not a fag either, but fucking a pig doesn’t make you a fag, you know that. Besides, I can see that tent there in those short of yours, you want to at least feel what it’s holes are like, right? Now come on–I’ll feed, and let you get a taste. Trust me, once you fuck this pig of mine, ain’t nothing gonna feel as good again, and with your help, we can get this nasty fuck over 700 pounds by the end of the week! What do you say? Thanks bro, I knew I could count on you–now make that piggy squeal for me, I love it when that fat faggot squeals.