Max’s First Cam Show (Sketch)

Gay Spiral Stories is trying something new, and will start running story challenges for authors, where they can submit stories based on a prompt. This first one is called “The Very First Time,” and this is the story I wrote for it. If you enjoy it, I’d appreciate it if you head over to my story on the site there and give it a good rating! Thanks for reading as always.

It was an idea that he’d always toyed around with on occasion. It would cross his mind while looking at himself in the mirror, flexing, or when a guy would cruise him as he walked down the sidewalk on the way home from work. Max knew that he looked good, and he also knew that he liked having guys look at him–so why not try it? Of course, it was a big step, going from amateur exhibitionist to full blown camguy, but with the lockdown and his sudden unemployment, he had quickly gone from idle musing to careful consideration of the idea, now that rent was due in a couple of days, and he was a few hundred bucks short.

He’d been looking around at various sites, trying to figure out which one had the best payouts, and the one that kept being recommended by models was a site called porncam. Well, recommended by some. Others wrote these long screeds against it, said they were exploitative and manipulative, but here were comments like that for every site. In the end, Max poked around, made an account, and one evening decided he might as well give it a try–he turned on his camera, opened up a room, and waited to see if anyone would bite.

Sure enough, guys began to trickle in. Some just lurked, but others complimented him, helped him get adjusted to the system since he was new, and were generally appreciative of him and his body. He flexed, he stroked himself, he flashed his killer smile–but he knew that he wasn’t making enough doing this. He got a little cash from each guy who viewed him, and the longer they viewed him, the more he would get, but there had to be a way to juice the system a bit, right?

So he asked in the chat room. One of the lurkers piped up, and said that if he really wanted to make some cash, he’d have to turn on auction mode, but the mere suggestion of it set off a relative firestorm between guys in the chat. Max had a hard time following the line of it–accusations were thrown around, guys left the chat, other guys came in, and he was left at a bit of a loss. He investigated it, and found some information in his profile page about it.

Apparently, auction mode allowed viewers to pay to see specific acts by the model. They could offer any amount of money, and if the model behaved to their satisfaction, then he would get that amount–minus a transaction fee, of course. It sounded easy enough–after all, it wasn’t like he couldn’t say no if someone wanted him to do something really weird or gross. He decided to opt into the program, and a new set of waivers and privacy policies popped up–way too long to read though. He accepted them, and when he went back to the cam view and the chat window, he saw a new box had appeared on the side, listing the current auctions.

“God damn it, they’re gonna ruin another one,” one guy said, and exited the room.

“Fucking hell, worst thing this site came up with,” said another, but stuck around.

Max’s attention was drawn away from that by a chime, and he saw that a new auction item had appeared–for $50 dollars, he had to put clamps on his nipples and play with them for ten minutes.

It wasn’t his thing–he’d never really been one for pain play or anything like that–even for fifty bucks. He looked around for a way to deny the request, but there wasn’t a button for that or anything–and then he noticed something next to his keyboard–two wooden clothespins that he was sure hadn’t been there before. Before he even realized he was doing it, he grabbed them, clipped one to each nipple, and bit his lip in pain. What the fuck was he doing? He tried to pull them off, but all he ended up doing was tugging at them and twisting them while moaning and groaning, the men in the chat room egging him on–with more and more guys coming into the room.

“Oh man, a new auction boy? This is fucking great!”

“Yeah, I don’t think he even bothered to read the TOS. What a dumb slut.”

Another auction popped up–this one for $100 dollars: beat your balls with a ruler fifty times, and make sure you count them out loud.

No–he wasn’t doing that–he went to close the window, but all he got was an error message, telling him that the window couldn’t be shut due to an administrator setting. Fuck that–he’d just pull the computer cord out, but before he could try, his hand grabbed the wooden ruler that had appeared beside the keyboard, right where the clips had appeared before. He stood up, and while he held his cock up against his belly with one hand, he used the other to give his nuts fifty solid whacks, groaning out the count as he did, and by the time was finished, three more auction items had appeared–each worth more than the last.

The next item: Shave your head, eyebrows, and facial hair off.

“No, please…” Max begged over the cam, but that just seemed to rile the men in the chat up even more, and Max was helpless, his body leaving the computer to go get his electric razor, and he went to work. He cried as he did it–his beautiful hair! It was a perfect golden brown, a nice wave that fell back a bit past his shoulders–several boyfriends had told him it was one of his best features. He took a wide swath off the top, and burst into sobs, unable to do a thing to stop himself, sheering away his short beard as well, and finishing it all off with the shaving blade and cream that appeared in front of him. When he was done, he hardly recognized himself in the image on the computer–how in the fuck were they doing this? Why couldn’t he say no?

The clips that had come off went back on–this time with weights. He was ordered to fuck himself with a dildo, and talk dirty to all the men watching, telling them how much his little whore hole wanted all of their cocks inside him. Then, at long last, the auction queue was finished–which meant he was done, right? Without giving anyone a chance to add something else, he closed his cam, sat back, and tried not to sob.

It didn’t feel real–any of it. Why hadn’t he been able to stop himself? The terror quickly became anger. The site had fucking tricked him! He hadn’t signed up for any of that shit. He had relatives who were lawyers–he’d sue them until they were broke. But before he could do any of that, a notification popped up on the screen, alerting him that a private show had been purchased by an anonymous viewer–and before Max could do anything, his cam had turned back on.

“Please, leave me alone, I don’t want to do this anymore,” Max said into the cam.

“Hey now, I paid good money for this session–you’re going to do everything I tell you to do pig, and you’re going to love every second of it,” the man replied–and then he started giving orders, and again, Max was powerless to resist.

Over the next few weeks, Max found himself becoming quite popular on the site. As hard as he tried to stay away, he would find himself thinking about it, reliving the humiliations inflicted on him, both hating them, and also finding them more and more erotic. The men were wearing him down slowly, he realized. Had they planned this all along? He began to recognize some of the names, and realized most of them were the ones who had convinced him to open up auction mode in the first place, which Max discovered was impossible to back out of, once you had opted in. In time, the quarantine lifted, jobs came back, but by then, in was too late for Max. He’d found himself a new job–a better job. His true calling, you might say. He was even getting offers from men to fly them out to him for weekends, or even for full weeks, so he could service them in real life–and Max was finding it harder and harder to say no. They’d wear him down eventually–they always did. Then the real auction would start–and Max would fly off to his new home, and the men of porncam would have to find a new whore, and start all over again.

Horny Hugh (Part 3)

WARNING: This chapter includes some abuse, pain play, and snuff elements. If that’s not your thing, I’d suggest moving on to something else.

“Goodnight, babe, I’ll see you in a few days,” Josh said to Kyle outside his apartment. The two of them had just shared a fun night out at the bars, followed by a nightcap and sex at Kyle’s apartment. Now, Josh was heading home–he was leaving on a business trip for a few days, and Kyle was already missing him, throwing him a pouting lip which looked a bit ridiculous on the buff fellow he was.

“Yeah, alright–but give it some thought, eh? What I asked about?” Kyle asked, trying not to sound too pleading.

“I will, I promise,” Josh said, leaned in and gave Kyle a kiss goodnight, before heading off down the hallway.

Kyle stepped back into his apartment and shut the door, heaving a sigh. He’d been anxious to even ask the question, but Josh had taken it well. It was a big step, sure, but Kyle had never felt this way about someone before, and he just hoped Josh felt the same way. It wasn’t a marriage proposal, but asking him to move in felt like the next logical step in their relationship–not to mention it would help them both out with the finances. But now it was late, and Kyle was ready for bed. He took a quick shower, climbed in, and it wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep.

Now, since his encounter with Hugh a week before, Kyle hadn’t thought once of that strange fellow who had hit on his boyfriend. The same could not be said of Hugh, who, after his fling with Sam, had found himself obsessing more and more over Josh–and in turn, Kyle. Hugh knew, of course, that if he wanted Josh bad enough–and he did want him very bad–that he would be his, no matter what, especially with the new powers that had been revealing themselves to him over the last week. But the more he thought about Josh, the more he found himself stewing about Kyle, about the disrespect he had shown him in the bar, about how he didn’t deserve a beautiful, handsome man like Josh. That he needed to be punished first, and then, Hugh would sweep in and show Josh what a true lover was like.

But Hugh had wanted something special for Kyle. He’d been taking little peeks into Kyle’s dreams, and into his mind, for the last week or so, getting to know him better–what he hated especially. The things that turned him off more than anything else in the world. See, Hugh had made a discovery over the course of the week as he’d been playing with guys at the bars and bathhouses around town–Hugh had discovered that he could draw out someone’s fetish entirely and store it inside him, and then, when someone else blew him, he could feed that fetish to the new person–though it was usually quite a bit stronger after Hugh had held onto it for a while, toying with it, improving it. So for the last few days, Hugh had gone hunting, and he’d found three men with fetishes and lives that were the perfect torments for Kyle. He was going to hate what he loved now, though by the end of it, Kyle wouldn’t want to be anyone different.

And so, Hugh slipped his way into Kyle’s dream…though he was looking quite a bit different from how he had looked back in the bar, when Kyle had confronted him the first time. He was still human, mostly, though the more Kyle looked at him, the more he noticed that certain things about him seemed off. The horns, of course. They were longer though, and their color was darkening from something between ivory and grey, to more of a charcoal. The skin around them on the temples didn’t look great either–there was clearly an infection of some sort spreading across the skin, veins of blue and black spreading out from the roots of the horns across Hugh’s scalp and face. Hugh smiled when he saw Kyle in the dream, and the same was happening to his teeth–they were darker, and also much more pointed than they should be.

He was naked in the dream, and the proportion of his limbs was a bit off as well–legs too short, arms a bit longer than they should be. Hugh was hunched over slightly, legs wide, fingers longer and the nails were almost…claws. “Found you…” Hugh said, though it wasn’t so much that he was speaking in the dream, so much as the words appearing in Kyle’s mind. In any case, this dream was way too fucked–he tried to wake up, pinch himself, slap himself, but nothing would work. “Oh, don’t think you can get away from me so easily,” Hugh said, “Not until you’ve had your treat.”

Hugh was clearly referring to his cock–and that was something Kyle had no interest in getting anywhere near. It was big, for one thing–eight inches? Nine? It was the barbs that were confusing, and the fact that the head was…it was too bulbous, almost like it was storing something in there. It was a dark purple, and almost pulsating. “Come on now, I’ve found such good treats for you. Get over here, maggot, and drink up.”

Kyle turned to run, but the void around them offered no traction. As fast as he ran, Hugh crossed the space between them in a couple of strides, shoved Kyle to the ground, and flipped him over onto his back. Hugh straddled his shoulders, and gripped Kyle’s face with his clawed hands hard enough to draw blood. He screamed, and Hugh took the opportunity to thrust his vicious cock into his mouth. Kyle struggled, but every time he tried to pull his face free of the cock, the barbs would catch in his mouth and throat, threatening to rip him apart if he resisted. Eventually, he relented, and allowed Hugh to rape his throat for what felt like hours, choking and gasping for breath the entire time, tasting his own blood in his mouth until Hugh finally came–and when he did, it was unlike any load Kyle had ever tasted before.

It tasted like ash. Like old cigarettes. As Hugh pumped the filth into him, he stared down at him, eyes yellow, wide and manic, while he licked his lips with a tounge a bit too long to be normal. “Oh yes, oh drink the fuck up, you fucking pig. I’m going to enjoy this, and when I’m done with you, he’ll be mine, he’s going to be all mine…”

Kyle was choking now, for real. He kept trying to draw breath, but there was nothing to do other than swallow more and more of the vile cum into his guts–if it was even cum at all. Eventually, he passed out, darkness overwhelming him–and then, when he was certain he was dead, he awoke in his bed, thrashing and gasping for air, but he was alone.

He was alone, it was morning, and there was absolutely no way he would be getting back to sleep before his normal morning alarm went off for work. He laid in his bed for a few minutes, trying to calm down, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. He’d never had a dream as vivid as that had been, and as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was somehow certain that it had been…real. But that wasn’t possible. Of course it wasn’t possible.

At least if he got up early, he’d have time to get to the gym before work. He hauled himself up, and after taking a shower, getting his breakfast ready, and dressing for the gym, he felt normal, mostly. With his bag over his shoulder, he took a sip of his usual morning shake, and he grimaced. It didn’t…taste right. He took another few sips on the way to the gym, and less than a third of the way through, he felt certain he was going to vomit–he had to pull into a parking lot so he could throw open the door and hurl onto the pavement. He stared at the shake on the ground, wondering if he should call out…no, just get the gym, and workout. Now that he’d thrown up, he felt fine other than the fact he was still hungry.

But at the gym, all he could think about was that hunger, but at the same time, just thinking about food made him want to hurl. He’d never experienced anything like it in his life, and he was so out of it, he couldn’t even really make it through his workout. He was craving something, something he couldn’t quite pin down–and it wasn’t until he left the gym and saw a couple of guys smoking cigarettes on the sidewalk outside that he realized what he was craving. He wanted to smoke.

He shook his head–no, he was past this! He’d been a smoker for years, since he was a teenager, and quitting had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He hadn’t had a craving in ages, and now, all of a sudden, he’d woken up aching for one? It…made a little bit of sense, he supposed, but he’d fought through all kinds of craving before. He’d just have to fight through this one too. It was easier, really, knowing what it was at least. It didn’t quite tell him why he was so hungry though. In any case, he had to get to work. He arrived, got through the morning well enough, but by lunch, he was nearly doubled over from cramps in his guts. It had never been this bad–if smoking a cigarette would make him feel better…maybe he should at least try it.

He used his lunch to go to the convenience store, bought a pack of cigarettes, smoked one–and it did help, much to his disgust. It took the edge off his hunger, but it didn’t stop it. He needed to eat something, but when he walked to a restaurant, just the smell of the food made him nauseous. Instead, he smoked the cigarette down to the butt. Then, when he should have just dropped it and snuffed it out on the sidewalk, he popped the still burning butt into his mouth, gave it a chew, and swallowed it down.

He realized what he’d done a second too late, feeling it slide down his throat, and he was horrified. Had anyone seen him do that? Looking around, he was relieved that no one had seemed to, but he did feel a bit better, in all honesty. Putting the strange incident behind him, he returned to work, but the gut cramps got so bad he had to relent and leave work early. The hunger was worse, and he could still…taste that cigarette butt, and he wanted more, but this time, smoking it wasn’t enough. He had to force himself to not eat it when he was done with it, but stamping it out on the sidewalk seemed like such a fucking waste. He’d go to the doctor tomorrow, though none of this made any sense to him at all. He got home, and found a sizable package waiting for him, though he hadn’t been expecting anything. He took it inside with him, put it on the table, opened it up–and the contents only confused him more.

Inside, it was like someone had taken the contents of a bunch of ashtrays, dumped them into ziploc bags, and mailed them all to him. There were a few coke bottles too, filled to the brim with a dark, syrupy liquid he couldn’t quite place. There was a letter too–he opened it up and read it:

“Here’s your latest supply–hope you fucking enjoy it you nasty fuck. Been collecting everything from the bar ashtrays as usual, and everything from home. As a little plus, a guy at work on the crew keeps all of his spit in coke bottles. You told me once how much you like the shit, and when I told him your deal, he was more than happy to fork over a few full ones. Looking forward to your next vids, ashtray.”

Who the hell would send him something like this? It didn’t make any fucking sense. He went to throw the whole box in the trash, but before he could even pick it up, the cramps returned, stronger than ever, and he was doubled over on the kitchen floor, panting for breath. He was so fucking hungry, and just…just thinking about all of that fucking ash in those bags, maybe…maybe just a little. Just to take the edge off.

No! What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t want to eat that shit, that was fucking vile. But it wasn’t that he wanted to eat it, exactly–it was that, somehow, Kyle knew that he had to eat it. If he didn’t, the cramps would get worse, and…and he could somehow tell that the cramps were only the first stage of worse withdrawals to come, if he didn’t give in and…and eat. He told himself he’d just have a little. Just get rid of the worst of it, and then he would call the doctor and figure out what in the hell was wrong with him. But as soon as one of the bags was open, he couldn’t contain himself–he dumped all of the ash, the cigar and cigarette butts, the match ends on the table, and he started licking it up, chewing it all down. It was disgusting–he was disgusting, fuck, he was a disgusting ashtray of a human, fucking hell…

He looked up at himself, and his face was coated in soot. Why was his cock so fucking hard through all of this? Was this turning him on? It was turning him on, knowing that he was nothing more than a receptacle for men’s cast offs, not good enough to smoke the shit himself, only subsisting on the remnants. He wanted to throw up, but instead he took a fresh bag, a bottle of tobacco spit, and sat down in front of the computer, where he filmed himself eating and drinking and masturbating for the next hour, adding it to the collection of other videos he had of himself doing the same filthy shit. Videos he could not recall making, but there he was, devouring all manner of filth. He sent the new video to his benefactor first, and then uploaded a couple more–trying to stop himself, but…but he had to. He had to show everyone what he was, didn’t he?

He let off a belch, and a little cloud of soot erupted from his mouth. He knew he should feel sick. He had to eat something–real food, but he was stuffed. It felt like he’d just had the most satisfying meal of his life, and there was still so much in the box to enjoy later. It was too late to call anyone for help–and he didn’t think he’d be able to admit what he’d just done to anyone either. Exhausted, he crawled into bed, still covered in ash and tobacco spit, and fell asleep almost immediately.

But then, he was back in the void, and Hugh was waiting for him. “Looks like someone had a nice meal today,” Hugh said to him, and laughed, a tail swishing behind him that he hadn’t had the night before.

“You…you did this to me, what the fuck did you do to me?” Kyle demanded.

“I’m just giving you a few new things to focus on, since you won’t have your relationship with Josh for much longer, not when I’m through with you both. I just want to make sure you’re happy, and out of the way for good. Don’t you like being an ashtray? I found that especially for you–the man I took that from didn’t really want to give that up, you know. I had to give him something better, just to calm him down.”

“You’re fucking sick! Just…just make me normal again. You can’t fucking do this to people, how the fuck are you doing this?”

“Let’s not waste time with silly questions. After all, I still have more for you to drink up, Kyle…” Hugh said, and stepped forward. The head of his cock was still swollen large–though the swelling had gone down some. “Get over here and suck it.”

“No–no, I’m fucking waking up! I’m not doing this again, I’m not, I’m n–”

That was all Kyle got out, before Hugh’s tail wrapped around his throat, and squeezed enough to leave him lightheaded and gasping for air. “Less talking now, I’m done talking.”

The prehensile tail dragged Kyle down to his knees in front of Hugh’s cock, and started fucking his face on the barbed member, slamming Kyle’s face into Hugh’s crotch over and over, the massive cock drilling deeper and deeper into his throat with every pound. He clawed at the thing around his neck but it just constricted tighter, until he was seeing spots and certain he would pass out. Then, Hugh came, pumping another load deep into his guts, and when he was finished, the tail relaxed, and Kyle collapsed.

“See you tomorrow–just one more dose…” Hugh said with a chuckle, and then Kyle passed out, and woke up in his bed again, this time in the middle of the night. He sobbed in his bed, exhausted and terrified, wondering what in the world was going to happen to him this time. What in the world was Hugh? He’d been certain, in the bar, that those horns had been fake, but…but all of this was too real now. When the sobbing subsided, all that remained was hunger, but he didn’t dare indulge in his new found vice–he was too ashamed. Sleep eluded him however, until he got up and grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his nightstand. He chained smoked a couple on the balcony, eating the butts down when he finished them, and when he had calmed down at last, he went back to bed, and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

He couldn’t possibly face work the next morning. He called his boss, letting him know that he wouldn’t be coming into the office, and was too sick to work from home too. He felt better now that he didn’t have to go out, but now he was stuck in his apartment, with that package, with nothing to distract him from the cravings gnawing away at him. They were stronger today, without a doubt. He needed to go see a doctor, but he couldn’t bear the thought of confessing any of this to someone. What could they even do? There wasn’t exactly a treatment out there for demon-men invading your dreams and making you crave filth like this. He passed the time smoking instead, which kept the hunger at bay, though it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. He finished the pack of cigarettes before noon, and was faced with a new dilemma–go get more, or…or eat. He was so fucking hungry now, and the hunger was beginning to win out over his shame. He relented and dug in, chewing down a few cigar butts, relishing them, washing them down with murky spit from the bottles, letting it run down his chin and onto his chest, rubbing it in there, using it to lube up his cock, licking his fingers, recording and jacking off for his patrons, showing them all how much he appreciated their gifts.

The horniness was more powerful today too–he stroked as hard as he could, trying to climax, but it was like the hunger was keeping him right at the edge. He ate more, stuffed himself, and when he was certain he couldn’t eat anymore, he finally came–but what came out of the head of his cock wasn’t cum–it…it was smoke.

Hanging there in the air, around his cock, forming a consistency somewhere between fog and some strange goo, he pushed his hand through it, and felt nothing as he passed right through it. This was it, he told himself. He eaten all of that shit, and how he was hallucinating, and now he was going to die from it, right? He could only stare as the smoke from his cock began to congeal, becoming a hand that wrapped around his cock–and then he could feel it, as it stroked him off, more and more cummy smoke coming out of his cock pooling in the air around the end of the hand until it was an arm, until the arm was connected to a body, until a face appeared at the top, and legs below, and Kyle was staring up at a massive muscle bear that had somehow been formed out of his own smoke-cum, right in front of his eyes.

He felt one last long pulse from his groin, and the man pulled a cigar out from Kyle’s urethra, stuck it in his mouth, where it flamed to life–along with the man’s eyes. “What…what the fuck are you?” Kyle said, standing up from his office chair and backing away from the smoky figure standing in the midst of his living room.

“Me?” the man said in a deep, raspy voice. “You made me, Ashtray–who the fuck do you think I am?”

Kyle didn’t know, but he did know one thing–despite his massive orgasm, his cock was still hard as a rock, and looking at this man, so different from any man he’d ever been attracted to in his life, he found himself…aching for him in ways he couldn’t really explain. He took a tentative step forward, reached out, and tried to grab the man’s thick cock, but his hand passed right through it, the thing becoming smoke as soon he would have touched it, and forming once his hand had passed back out. “How…how is any of this happening?”

“God, you’re fucking stupid,” the man said, “It’s a good think you’re just a fucking ashtray or I’d feel sorry for you.” He reached out, grabbed hold of Kyle’s nipple and gave it a rough twist, making him cry out and pull away from him. “You made me because you need someone to use you, Ashtray–it’s as simple as that. You can’t touch me, but I can touch you all I want–and I’m going to be touching you a whole fucking lot.”

He grabbed hold of Kyle and threw him onto the bed, and then climbed on top of him. Kyle tried to kick him off, but his feet went right through the man’s torso–he scowled at Kyle, took the cigar from his mouth, and slammed the lit end right into Kyle’s forehead, making him scream, the smell of seared flesh in his nose while the man ground it there. “Stop fucking fighting, Ashtray–you’re going to get used, and the sooner you just accept it, the sooner you can start enjoying it.”

He rolled Kyle over, climbed on him, and forced his cock into his hole dry, Kyle trying to crawl away, but the man’s hands were like a vice, cinders kept falling from the cigar over him and scalding his back, while the man laughed. “Look at you, you fucking loser. Can’t get a real man to fuck you rough like you want, so you make your own sadistic fucks instead. Filthy fucking thing, no good for anything other than taking the waste men leave around, their ash, their cum–you’re fucking worthless, and you fucking love it, don’t you?”

Kyle couldn’t reply, he was trying to leave, trying to not think about what was happening to him, trying not to accept the fact that part of him was enjoying this, it was craving it, it needed this just as much as it needed the ash, and the cigarette butts, and the spit. The smoke man came, and not too long after that, his cigar finished–he forced open Kyle’s mouth, made him eat the last bit of it, and then he dissipated around him, settling all over the apartment in a fine layer of soot. Kyle was left to nurse his wounds and his burns. The man had gripped him hard enough to bruise, and the burn on his forehead was…severe. He did what he could to bandage it, but the more he thought about it, the more he…he wanted more. His hole was raw, but his cock was still so fucking hard, harder than he could recall it being ever in his life. He’d…needed that. He’d deserved that. The smoke man was right, he’d never been able to find someone to treat him like that in real life, someone he couldn’t resist even if he wanted to, and now…now he could make someone like…like that whenever he wanted.

He knew this was Hugh’s doing, that he was in his mind, warping him, making him want things he should have never desired in his life. He hated being degraded. He was proud of his life, of his job, of his body, of how he was always in charge. But now, that life seemed so far away, so distant, like a haze of smoke had settled over it and rendered it impossible to distinguish. Now, he wanted to be used. So he jacked off again, but this time, he thought about it, about who he wanted to create. The same man as before, almost. But taller. Bigger cock. Clad head to toe in leather. Thick bushy beard. He had to eat more–he couldn’t cum if he wasn’t full, but after gorging himself, he stroked off, and he didn’t stop stroking when he started cumming, didn’t stop thinking about who he wanted to abuse him, and rape him, and humiliate him, and use him all evening long.

“Fuck Ashtray, now this is what I’m talking about,” the man said, looming over him, ripped right out of his imagination. The man put a boot on Hugh’s neck, and drooled dark spit onto his face while he gasped for breath. “We’re going to have some fun tonight I think–that’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell me what you want.”

“Use me, please Sir, use me…” Kyle said, garbled as his throat was crushed under the man’s boot.

A few hours later, battered and bruised, coated in ash and soot and spit, Kyle was in his bed, exhausted. His smoky creation had lasted longer this time, a few hours, long enough to beat him into shape, long enough to fuck his mouth, his ass, and his mouth again. Long enough that Kyle’s doubts and anger had been overwhelmed by the sheer ecstasy of it, but now, in the aftermath, bed gritty with ash, he was horrified with what he was allowing to happen. He couldn’t keep doing this, could he? He realized, when he was done, that the camera on his computer had been filming the entire scene, the massive leather brute throwing him around like a rag doll and punching bag, broadcasting live to all of his fans, urging the beast on, wondering how a loser ashtray like him could find a perfect leather sadist like that to abuse and humiliate him.

But he was exhausted. Exhausted, but he didn’t dare sleep. Hugh was waiting for him–he’d said there was one more thing he had to give him, and Kyle was terrified. This was already awful. He hated all of this, it was everything he’d always hated, and now he was living his worst nightmare. If he could just stay up all night, maybe he would be safe. He just had to not sleep. And not jack off. Not…make himself some new sexy beast of a man to abuse and humiliate him all night long. Then he wouldn’t sleep a wink, he was sure of that. Maybe a pipe smoker this time, older, fatter, dirtier, using him like a urinal…fuck…

He spent the next few hours caught between hunger, horniness, and exhaustion–but exhaustion did win, eventually. He could have sworn he only meant to blink, but then he couldn’t force his eyes open again. When he could finally see, he found himself not in his bedroom, but back in that inky void, Hugh waiting for him there, tail longer and thicker, his skin…flaking, or maybe peeling off, revealing something raw and angry underneath. Scales perhaps. Kyle didn’t want to look to close. He didn’t want to know anymore of this than he had to.

“You kept me waiting tonight,” Hugh said, “Were you enjoying your new skill? Looks like you made a daddy who treated you right,” the monstrous fellow of his dreams came close, brushing a clawed hand across Kyle’s bruised face. “Don’t worry–they won’t kill you. You’re rather…durable now. After a good night sleep, you’ll be good as new, no matter what kind of damage they inflict–though I do like that burn there…” he added, and pressed a claw against the raw wound on Kyle’s forehead, making him wince and flinch away.

“Please, make it stop. I don’t want any of this, I…I just want to be normal again!” Kyle begged him, dropping to his knees. “I’ll never see Josh again. I’ll forget all about him, all about you–please, don’t make me do this anymore.”

“I’m just trying to help you, Kyle,” Hugh said, close enough that he could smell his breath, feel the lash of his long, blackening tongue on his cheek, “I just want to help you be happy–don’t worry, you’ll be happy soon enough. Tonight is a bit of a trade. You give me something of yours, I give you one last gift–and we’ll be even. You’ll never see me again.”

He felt something tighten around his cock, looked down, and saw that the head of the demon’s cock had swallowed his own. He tried to pull away, but the head clamped down harder, making him feel like he was about to pull his own cock off. “What the hell are you doing? Let go of me.”

“Sorry Kyle, but first I need something from you–I need to make sure you stay out of my way, and the only way that’s going to happen, is if Kyle disappears. So you’re going to give me all of yourself.”

Kyle felt the head of Hugh’s cock throb, and it…sucked on his cock, and he moaned, trying to stay on his feet. It wasn’t pain that he felt–it wasn’t anything physical at least. It felt like…a strawberry milkshake, when you’re trying to suck a berry through the straw. Only he was the berry–his mind, his identity, his relationship to Josh–all of it. Hugh sucked again, and he felt some of it slip away from him, leaving just…a hole. He knew that something should fill it, but he didn’t know what–just the vague outline of…of something. Another pull, and more of him disappeared, Hugh pulling him close, holding him up while he watched the confusion on Kyle’s face grow as he sucked down more and more of him, storing him in his cockhead, just like he’d stored those other men, which he’d fed to Kyle.

When he was satisfied that he’d pulled out enough, Hugh let the man fall, his cock slipping free of his own, and on his knees, the man looked around in horror. “I…Who…What just happened? Who are you?” He asked, looking up at Hugh in terror, “Why…why can’t I remember anything?”

“Don’t worry, I can help,” Hugh said, and pressed the head of his cock against the round burn on the man’s forehead. With a thrust, he shoved his cock into the man’s head, driving right into his skull, the man going limp while Hugh fucked his brains in his dream. Eventually cumming and emptying out the final gift he’d prepared for Kyle into his skull. He let him fall to the ground, a limp doll, and sneered at him before slipping back into the void. Hugh had what he needed now, and Kyle wouldn’t be an issue anymore–well, Kyle didn’t exist, not anymore. The man lying on the ground with a hole in his head, in his dreams–he didn’t have a name. He did have a purpose though, and that was good enough.

When he awoke, he couldn’t do much of anything for a moment, his head ached so badly. His body as well, like he’d come down with a cold overnight, his bones and joints aching. All he could do was moan and toss in the filthy, ash covered bed for most of an hour, until the pain in his skull settled down, his body eased up, and he could finally throw his legs over the side and stand up.

He…didn’t feel right, somehow. His head felt empty–emptier than it should be. He should have a name, right? He…he couldn’t remember one though, but he could remember a…a job. A thing, that he was. Ashtray. It wasn’t a name–it was a category, but did he really need something more than that?

Ashtray went into the bathroom and pissed, before looking at himself in the mirror. This seemed wrong as well–he could…almost remember another reflection. A younger one. A sexier one. But this…this face. He was old. Easily in his fifties, if not sixties, though he couldn’t remember how old he was. A thick beard across his face, stained yellow around the mouth from years of smoking, caked with ash. He was balding heavily, with just a fringe of too long hair around the temples and down the back. The face was lined with wrinkles, and when he opened his mouth, he grimaced–a good number of his teeth were gone, and the rest were…not in great shape at all.

Ashtray knew that something was wrong. That something had changed, but he didn’t know what. The worry nagged at him, but not as much as the hunger and the horniness did. He…he had to talk to someone about it, maybe they would know. So he ate–he devoured a few bags of ash from the shipment a couple days before. It was…pleasurable, to some extent, but he ate it because it was his duty to eat it. He was an ashtray, after all. What other purpose could he serve? When he was full, he masturbated, thinking…thinking about someone. Someone who would…help him understand, and remember what he was sure he had forgotten. But all he could think about was that image in the mirror, his old, feeble body. The smoke poured from his cock, and formed an older man, quite fat, covered in hair, wearing some shabby clothes and smoking a massive pipe.

“I…Sir…I…I don’t…know what to ask, really, but I don’t know who I am? Do…do you know who I am?” he muttered, falling to his knees before the figure, who just scowled down at him.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are. I do know what you are though–you’re an Ashtray–is that not good enough for you?”

The figure shoved the hot bowl of his pipe against Ashtray’s nipple, holding it there until he cried out from the heat. He spit in his face and then dragged him into the bedroom, throwing the old, fat pig onto the bed, and forcing his fat cock into his ass.

Ashtray decided that it didn’t really need to know who it was. Or more likely, it would have to accept that there wasn’t going to be an answer. It was an object, at the end of the day. It served the filth that men sent it, chewed it down, and ejected it back out into their most violent, perverted fantasies for it to suffer under. It would always be a waste–there wasn’t anything more for it beyond that. There couldn’t be. And so, it accepted itself, as best it could, as the fat pipe bear finished inside it’s hole, hauled out, and started working his fist inside him next. It would be a good ashtray.

Hugh smiled, watching in his own dreams, stroking the head of his cock, swollen now with the contents of Kyle that it had sucked out. Josh would be back in a day, and Kyle would be there to greet him–a Kyle, at least. But Josh would be Hugh’s before long. He would be his forever–after all, it was time that Hugh helped himself.

Horny Hugh – Part 2

When Hugh had finished with Evan–now only known as the bar’s regular urinal–he had gone back out into the bar, his cock aching for someone to fuck. This was a rather new sensation for Hugh, whose attitude towards sex was generally ambivalent at best. It wasn’t that it wasn’t enjoyable–it was just…difficult. When you watch porn, you always saw guys behaving so naturally, without inhibition, and Hugh found himself so inhibited, all the time. He overthought everything, caught up trying to understand pleasure rather than experience it. There was…something inside him that wanted it, because he kept trying despite his general failures, but it was like he kept getting in his own way.

It just so happened that there, at the bar, was someone that Hugh wanted to fuck desperately. The man’s name was Josh, and he was just…so strikingly handsome, that the first time Hugh had seen him, he’d wanted him more than any man he’d ever met. Of course, Hugh knew he had no chance–not with a perfect man like that, and so he’d kept his distance, and his desire, in his heart. That hadn’t stopped him from fantasizing about Josh on a regular basis, his fantasies often taking turns that he would have never considered for someone else. It was like…Josh was a key to something. Or, not Josh himself (after all, Hugh had never even spoken to him before tonight, only given him the occasional unreciprocated cruise across the bar on nights they were both there) but the idea of Josh, some perfect…human object to fulfill his desires on. Perhaps that was why he had stayed away so far. The idea and the fantasy could have never matched reality, and the overthinking, inhibited Hugh knew that. Tonight, however, that inhibition was gone–and so he walked right on up to where Josh was standing at the bar, and hit on him–hard.

“Hey sexy, wanna touch my horns?” Hugh said, leaning in.

Josh looked at him, confused, and then at the horns pushing their way out of Hugh’s head, and the look turned to disgust. “What the fuck man, it’s not Halloween for another six months.”

“Come on, I wanna fuck you.”

Josh backed up, but Hugh came around and cornered him at the bar, leering at him–until someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

“Is this guy bothering you, baby?”

Hugh spun around, and found himself looking up at a massive figure–easily six foot four, close to two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. This guy was a beast–it looked like he lived at the gym.

“He’s just drunk, Kyle, let him go.”

Kyle stared at Hugh, and then leaned in slightly, “Leave my boyfriend alone man, he’s not interested,” Kyle said, and shoved Hugh back into the crowd, before moving in and putting one meaty arm around Josh’s waist. Hugh stumbled back and kept himself upright, but the sight of Josh with someone else gave him another feeling he wasn’t quite expecting–jealousy. Violent, vicious jealousy. Not only was the fantasy not the reality, it was so far from what Hugh had wanted that he could barely square it with the lust guiding him. The disconnect and the anger was so strong, that it broke some of whatever mental fever had come over him since his interactions with Evan over the last few days, and he pulled himself back. It wasn’t worth it, he told himself. Josh couldn’t be worth it. Some of him even believed him. But he cast one last look at Josh as he turned away, and that burning, aching lust wasn’t going anywhere, even if his mind was telling him to look elsewhere, anywhere else, for some release.

He didn’t end up having to look far.

“I’ll touch your horns, man,” someone said behind him. Hugh turned around, and saw a twinkish looking fellow grinning up at him. “What are they? Glued on? Pretty sure there’s another horn I’d like to touch too.”

Hugh leered, and leaned down a bit, letting the young guy touch his horns. He expected the same sort of rush he’d gotten from Evan when he’d touched them, but this was different. There was the same sort of sensation of Hugh diving down into the man’s head, looking around for his desires, but where Evan’s had been obvious and immediate, with this guy, there just…weren’t any. Well, there were some–a general desire to be fucked, an attraction to guys–but there wasn’t anything strong enough to hold Hugh’s interest. As he pulled away from the guy, he mostly felt a bit…disappointed. He was still horny though–almost more so, now that someone was actually interested in him. “What do you think? Like those horns? I do have another one for you, if you wanna come back to my place,” Hugh said.

The guy nodded, and they left the bar immediately. Josh and Kyle had watched the whole thing with a bit of disgust, and then went back to their drinks. That was probably the last they’d see of that weirdo, they assumed. But Hugh wouldn’t be letting Josh go that easily–and this distraction wouldn’t keep him busy for long. For Sam, however, the young man heading hope with Hugh–he was about to get filled up in ways he’d never imagined possible.

Sam got to the door of his apartment and shuddered a bit, trying to shake off that strange hookup. Hugh, that had been his name. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, as these things often did. Then he’d gotten his first good look at Hugh’s “third horn” at Hugh’s place–the cock was as heavily modded as the horns on his head must have been, in ways that Sam had never seen before. It looked like someone had implanted barbs underneath the skin, along the entire shaft. It looked…gnarly. As much as Sam enjoyed getting fucked, this wasn’t quite what he had in mind–but it became clear quickly that Hugh wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He’d dragged Sam into the bedroom, and Sam couldn’t resist him, somehow. There was…a yearning inside Sam that Hugh brought out in him, something he’d never felt before, like a desire to be filled up by something, but when Hugh had started fucking him with that strange cock, the desire hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had gotten stronger. It was like Hugh’s strange cock was making room, hollowing a space out inside Sam’s soul that he hadn’t even realized was there–and the hollower it became, the hornier Sam got, the more Sam wanted to get fucked–even as Hugh was fucking him. Hugh quit at some point without finishing, though he was still rock hard. He had just yawned, and sent Sam on his way–he was done with him. So Sam had left a few hours after midnight, that massive chasm inside him aching still, and he knew full well he wouldn’t get any relief here at home.

Sam lived with his boyfriend, Max. They had a great relationship with one sizable problem–they were both bottoms. Sam could top on occasion, but Max had a rather small cock, and zero interest in anything other than getting plowed. Sam also wasn’t really big enough for Max anyway–his boyfriend mostly got off by being fisted or using one of the massive dildos in his collection of toys. It wasn’t really Sam’s thing–so if he needed to fuck, he’d usually hookup on the weekend and Max would play with his toys alone. It usually worked out fine–but Sam needed something tonight, badly. He went inside, Max was asleep, but as soon as Sam got into the bedroom and got into bed with him, something happened.

Max woke up, his small cock erect. Sam showed him his ass, and Max happily shoved his cock inside him and fucked him. It wasn’t large, but that didn’t matter. The hole inside his guts that Hugh had created was getting filled by something at last. He didn’t quite know what was filling it exactly, but it was so satisfying that all he could do was collapse onto the mattress and ride the wave of satisfaction until Max finished inside him, collapsed on top of him–both of them not quite sure what had come over them in the moment.

“Thanks, I needed that,” Sam said, and crawled under the covers.

“No luck tonight?” Max asked.

“No, I…it was weird. I’ll tell you in the morning,” Sam said, and it wasn’t too much longer before they were both asleep–though Sam slept fitfully all night long. The dream came on quickly, less a narrative with setting and characters than an onslaught of sensations and needs and drives that manifested inside and outside of him. Always, there was a sensation of something growing inside him, something planted in him by Max, inside the hole Hugh had dug, which was now spreading through him in ways he could barely understand. At times in the night, he would wake in something like a fever dream, humping the bed under him, desperate for release. Other times he would sleep deep, and all he would see was Hugh in the darkness around him, those horns and that cock looming in the unknown distance. Then, he was close, so close he could smell him, the scent of the bar still on him, along with something else, something primal. Then, Hugh was inside him somehow, penetrating him, but not with his cock or his horns, digging around, looking at the thing growing inside him and making little approving noises. “Good, glad someone found a use for you–I’ll check in later, see what else I can do to help…”

And then Sam was surfacing again from the depths of his dream. Blinking, he assumed that this had to be the dream still. The sun was streaming into the apartment bedroom, Max was awake and riding Sam’s cock on the bed, moaning and shuddering and groaning while he did, and Sam joined in. It felt…good. So good for someone to be using him, using his cock, yeah, oh god, he was so horny, he could feel himself on the edge, right on the verge of release, but no matter what Max did, no matter how slow or how fast he fucked up and down on Sam’s cock, release refused to come to him. Max, however, was brought to a series of shuddering orgasms as he hammered his prostate on Sam’s cock, and when he finally pulled himself free, both of them soaked with sweat, there was a puddle of precum all over the bed from Max’s cock.

“Fuck, don’t…don’t stop, I haven’t cum yet, please…” Sam moaned.

Max just smiled at him, “Why would you cum, Sam? You know that big rubber cock of yours can’t cum. That’s just how I like you–always hard, and always eager to fuck,” Max stood up and stretched, “I need something to eat though–then we can keep going.”

Sam just looked at Max, confused, as his boyfriend went into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, and then down at his cock, still slick with lube. Was this really his cock? Was it…supposed to be his cock? It had been smaller before, hadn’t it? And…and flesh? He reached down, cautiously, and touched the black rubber skin of the shaft, trying to remember what his cock had felt like before, what it had looked like before…but now, all he could think about was this…monstrosity attached to his crotch. It was thicker than a beer can, and had to be at least fourteen inches long. The shaft itself wasn’t smooth, but covered in all sorts of different textures, nubs and waves and veiny sections. It felt…good, stroking it, but not as good as it had felt inside Max’s ass. The sensation was there, but dull, but he was still achingly horny. He reached down and felt his balls, but they were as rubber as the rest of his cock, and didn’t…feel like much of anything. They weren’t important, after all. His cock was important. Fucking was important. He needed to keep fucking–if he wasn’t fucking, then….then what was he even supposed to be doing?

He got up from the bed, his massive cock tugging down on his skin, and he looked down, where the rubber met his skin–his human skin, and he could see lines of black pushing their way up into his crotch, like the roots of an infection, almost. He recognized it then–the thing that his cock was now. It was a toy that he and Max had played with on occasion, a rubber strapon, basically, that slid on over his cock and balls. Max loved it, but Sam had never gotten much out of it, really. All…all he had to do was pull it off, right? And his…his real cock would be under it?

He gripped it, but with all the lube he couldn’t pull it free. He wiped it off, pulled again, and it was like he was trying to actually pull off his cock. The distress was hitting him now, but it was still losing out against the aching need to fuck that had been clinging to him since he woke up. Max…would know what to do, right? He followed his boyfriend out into the kitchen, where he had just dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, and stood in the doorway. “Did…did you put the…cock sleeve on me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…I can’t get it off.”

“Of course you can’t get it off–it’s your cock silly.”

“No…I mean…I…” Sam stumbled over his words, and couldn’t quite figure out how to deal with Max’s response. “Can…we fuck some more? I can’t think good, I’m too horny.”

“Of course we can fuck some more hon, go wait in the bedroom.”

“Can I…just a little? Now? While you wait for your toast?”

Max sighed at him, and pulled him back into the bedroom. Sam was hopeful, but Max just sat him down on the bed, pulled something out of a drawer, and walked back to where Sam was. “Here, this ought to keep that mouth of yours occupied better. Good toys like you don’t really need mouths anyway, right?”

Sam tried to resist a bit, but Max seemed so much more domineering all of a sudden, and he forced the gag into Sam’s mouth. He saw a cock on one end of it, and expected it to go in his mouth, but instead, Max flipped it around and pushed the other side into his mouth, so that the cock was sticking out–and as soon as it settled in Sam’s mouth…something happened. He could feel the rubber expand in his mouth, almost like it was inflating–forcing his jaw wide. Then, it was more than that–he felt something…sucking on his tongue, like it was pulling it into the cock now sticking out of his mouth. He felt his teeth going numb. Then, he couldn’t feel his mouth anymore, like everything had been filled in with rubber. Max grinned at his confused boyfriend, flicked the cock sticking out of his face, and went back to the kitchen. “Now, be good and wait for me–we’ll try that out in a little bit.”

Sam felt incredibly patronized by everything Max was doing to him today, and so as soon as he left, he reached up and tried to yank the rubber cock gag from his mouth–but it refused to come free. In fact, it hurt when he tugged on it, like he was trying to yank his tongue out of his mouth. Concerned, he stood up and went to the mirror in the bedroom, and there, he saw that the rubber had…fused with his mouth, just like how the rubber cock had fused with his crotch. There were lines of black rubber reaching into his cheeks and around his nose in a rather worrying way. He gave another tug on it, but it was no use. He felt…lost. He was so horny, but he didn’t know what to do with any of this, so he just sat down on the bed and waited for Max to return. Maybe…after Sam fucked him and came, everything would go back to normal. He did want to cum so bad, and he’d been so close before. Everything…everything would be alright if he could just finish, right?

It was twenty minutes before Max came back, and Sam could barely contain himself. His boyfriend climbed up on the bed, ass towards him, and told him to use that new mouth of his–Sam pushed the cock into Max’s hole, and discovered he could…taste still. The rubber cock was almost like a tongue, and the deeper he probed, the hornier he became. He could feel his cock-tongue throbbing, aching for release, but it never came–instead, over the next hour as he fucked Max’s ass, it just seemed to swell, growing longer and thicker, sliding further and further into Max’s ass, bringing him to orgasm after orgasm, while Sam was left aching for release–any release at all, but his groin-cock was dull in his hands, no matter how he stroked it. Max finally had had enough, and pulled himself free–and Sam was left with his new cock-tongue–all two feet of it, hanging down to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s a hot fucking tongue of yours,” Max said, as he laid back on the bed, coated in a sheen of sweat, still shudderning a bit from his deep fuck. “You’re the hottest fucktoy in the world, you know that?”

Sam tried to make a sound, but nothing came out–it was like his throat had started sealing itself up–he could still breathe…but it was a struggle. Even then, he didn’t feel weak, if anything, the ache only made him more desperate. He couldn’t even beg, couldn’t do anything but watch as Max proceeded to ignore him, pick up his phone, and start texting a few of his friends. After a few minutes, with Sam still kneeling at the side of the bed, Max stood up and got dressed in some clothes for clubbing. Sam looked out the window, and realized it was already getting dark–how long had he had his massive tongue buried up Max’s ass today?

“I’m gonna grab some dinner with a couple of friends, then hit the club. I’ll see you tonight, fucktoy, if I don’t get lucky otherwise.”

That was all Max said to him, and then he left, leaving Sam kneeling in the dark bedroom, trying to will himself to stand up…but what did it matter? It wouldn’t make the ache go away. There was nothing to fuck anywhere here. Still, he did it, floundered in the dark, and finally found his way to the bathroom, where he looked at himself in the mirror.

The infection was worse now. The rubber was spreading over most of his hips, and even around to his ass. A good chunk of his face was webbed with black veins as well, even down onto his neck. It was changing things–his nose was…sealing up. No wonder he was struggling to breathe. What little hair he had on his face had fallen off, and when he touched it with his hands, it was…cold. Not exactly cold, but it was…rubbery cold, like there was still flesh below it, but too deep to feel easily.

He needed to get help. Look at him! He had a massive rubber cock, and a proboscis like cock hanging from where his mouth was supposed to be. But where could he go? The hospital? What would they even make of something like this? A friend’s place? No–no one could see him looking like this, it was too humiliating, knowing that Max was slowly turning him into a rubber fucktoy, and there was nothing he could do about it at all. God, if he was here right now, he…he’d fuck him real good, maybe fist him, even. He was still so horny, but touching his cock only made it worse, because it felt like nothing. His hands were worthless–the only thing that could make him feel good, the only thing that gave him any purpose at all, was a hole. He went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed again, resigned to the fact he would simply have to cope with being horny until Max returned to use him, and zoned out a while–until he heard a knock on the door.

He paused–should he answer that? No–of course he shouldn’t answer that. Not…not looking like he was.

The knock came again, and after a moment, Sam…felt something, or heard something, in his head. Words, or feelings, or something between the two. He might have translated it as, “I know you’re in there, Sam. I just want to see if I can help you more. You don’t have to be afraid of me, let me in.”

The knock returned, a bit more firm, and still a bit unsure of himself, Sam got up, went to the door, and opened it up–and Hugh stepped inside from the hallway outside his apartment. “Oh my, look at you! Looks like someone definitely found something to fill you up with. I wasn’t quite sure that would work last night.”

Sam stared at him, realizing that this strange, horned man was to blame for this. That he had…done something when he’d fucked him, and then…and then Max had done something else. He tried to speak, but not a sound came out–Sam realized he wasn’t even breathing. That he didn’t even miss breathing. Hugh reached out and grabbed Sam’s cock-tongue, giving it a tug like he was testing it, and then wrapped it around his hand. “Yes, this is much better now, I think. Come on, let’s go play a bit–I hoped I might get to meet the guy who filled you up, but this is good too.”

He gave a tug on Sam’s proboscis, like a leash, and led him back into the bedroom, all the while Sam trying to figure out some way to ask him all of the crazy questions going through his head–mostly wanting to know how he could get fixed, how he could change him back. He…was here to change him back, wasn’t he? He had to be, of course. In the bedroom, Hugh pushed Sam onto the bed so he was lying on his back, and climbed on top of him, rubbing his horns against Sam’s torso, and he…felt it. That same eerie sensation he’d felt back at the bar, of Hugh rummaging around inside of him, looking for something. Before, it had felt like Hugh was wandering around an empty room inside of Sam–but now, even Sam could tell the room was no longer empty. All of Max’s desires had been pumped into him–and taken root inside of him. He was relieved, for a moment, when he felt Hugh pulling on them, tugging them…forward. Forward, and hopefully out of him, but Hugh wasn’t removing them, he was making them bigger, and finding some intriguing things that Sam had developed on the way.

“Oh, what a mean man,” Hugh said, still rubbing his horns on Sam’s body, “He made you so horny all the time, but no way of releasing any of it. I know how that goes–I get so horny, if I couldn’t cum…I don’t know what I would do, really. So selfish. We can fix that, we can fix so many things, don’t you worry…”

Hugh pulled away at last, and Sam was left gasping–or trying to gasp, before he recalled he couldn’t breath anyway. But something was happening in his chest, like he had to cough, force something out, or vomit, and with something like a gag, he felt a…fluid slide out of his chest and down the long shaft of his tongue-cock, until a black, rubbery ooze seeped out of the end. Hugh leered at him, gave his massive groin-cock a stroke, and he felt the same thing, coming from the same…place, even, and his cock leaked the same goopy stuff. It felt…it felt amazing, like every expulsion was a mini orgasm, and while Hugh jacked his cocks, Sam found himself spreading the goop all over himself, coating his body with it, feeling it spread out in an even film and permeate his skin.

“That’s it, we need to cover all of that skin up, don’t we? You don’t need it anymore–better to just be rubber, inside and out. Let me see what I can find to help…”

Hugh got up, twisting and contorting his head a bit as he looked around the bedroom, almost like he was honing in on something, using his horns to guide him. They led him right to Max’s drawer full of rubber and toys, and Hugh dug around, fishing out a few things. First, an industrial rubber glove he put on Hugh’s right left hand, and then coated with the gunk, trapping it as a fist. Sam added more and more coats of his rubbery cum to it, watching it get…bigger, and thicker, his entire arm picking up more and more muscle as he covered it with rubber–until Hugh pulled his other hand away and put a different glove on it.

This one Hugh had seen before, and played with a bit. Each finger and thumb of the glove was textured differently–one a corkscrew, one covered in nubs, another shaped like a normal cock, and so on–to give the bottom a variety of sensations. As soon as the glove was on, Sam felt it fuse with his skin, and the five fingers came alive, the bones in them melting away, scooping up more and more rubber, growing larger, and longer, and thicker. He could feel some sort of vein or network sliding down his arm and into his chest, hooking up with whatever reservoir was pumping out this rubber, and soon even more was flowing from his five prehensile fingers. Lastly, a pair of rubber waders on his feet, securing around his knees, fusing, more and more rubber flowing around them, all over his entire body now, Sam growing larger and larger, more and more muscled while Hugh admired his handiwork. His face was last, rubber flowing over his eyes, blinding him, but Sam didn’t need eyes anymore–he could…sense what really mattered now, he could feel the holes around him, Hugh’s two holes, in fact…but those weren’t his. No, he…there was one last thing that Hugh needed to do for him, and Sam turned around, bent over the bed, and presented his ass to him.

“That’s a good fuckdrone,” Hugh said, and lined his cock up with Sam’s rubbery asshole. “It’ll be an honor to be the last man to ever fuck you.”

Sam would have said groaned when Hugh thrust into him, but he couldn’t make a sound. All he could do was keep spewing his rubbery cum all over the bed, feel it slick up underneath him, turning the sheets themselves rubber, while Hugh fucked him with his barbed cock. It didn’t…hurt his body, exactly, but Hugh was tearing through…something. His identity, or what remained of it. His humanity. His self-conception, his awareness. Each thrust was like a dagger in his mind, cutting out a bit more of him, until there just wasn’t anything left. Just…urges and needs. A need to fuck, but also, a growing need to…to feed. It was hungry, wasn’t it? But what was it going to eat? Hugh came, and like Evan before him, Sam felt everything inside him suddenly lock into place. It knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t change again. That it was itself now–it was exactly what it was supposed to be–a solid rubber fuckdrone. A…a hungry, solid rubber fuckdrone.

Hugh pulled his cock free of the drone’s ass, and the hole sealed up behind him, disappearing entirely–the drone knew it would never be fucked again. It no longer had any holes to fuck. That wasn’t its purpose, or its design. Hugh felt better now, his own horniness sated somewhat. He had been aching since fucking Sam the night before, when he hadn’t been able to cum. He could only…make space. Then, that odd dream, where he’d seen Sam, and then this morning, he’d…known he had to find him, and somehow, he’d followed his horns, and his cock, and found him easily enough. Now though, he was finished. The drone stood up, its featureless face turning towards Hugh, all of his cocks leaking everywhere, rubber spreading all over the floor and bed, and Hugh found himself bored. He could wait, he suppose, until the man who had filled Sam up returned to find his new, finished, fuckdrone…but Hugh was pining for something else. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Josh. This had been a good distraction, and Hugh had learned a lot, but he didn’t feel satisfied by it. It was not what he needed. He was angry at Josh’s boyfriend, over how rude he’d been to him, as well. He’d never have Josh to himself, not until Kyle was dealt with–and after this, Hugh had a few ideas for how that might happen. So Hugh left, and the drone took note of him leaving, but it couldn’t leave. It had to wait. Wait for…for Max. To come home.

It didn’t really know time. It only knew hunger, and as it waited, that hunger grew. It was not a hunger of survival, exactly. The drone knew it would not die, no matter how hungry it became. But it needed to consume something, all the same. It was a hunger of purpose…but it also knew, somehow, that it’s reservoir of rubber, which it had been excreting almost constantly, was not…unending. Hunger would fulfill a purpose, but it would also refill its supply.

Max didn’t return that night. He had gotten lucky and gone home with someone. He didn’t come home until the morning, and he could…smell something, a rubbery smell all through the apartment, and there, in the living room, was the drone, waiting for him, eager for him, hungry for him, and before Max could do anything, the drone was on him, doing everything it was designed to do. Everything Max had desired, and even more than that. The drone pushed it’s fat fist up Max’s ass, driving it in, giving no heed to Max’s pleading, begging for the drone to stop, to now fist it, that it was going too fast. It lifted him up, the rubber drone impossibly strong, so Max was hanging on the air, sitting on the drone’s arm, squirming and trying to get off, but unable to get any leverage. The drone was hungry, so hungry, and now it knew what it would feed on. This man, Max, had something it could use. It would help him. Soon, Max would never have to do anything other than get fucked ever again.

The drone’s long proboscis slid down to Max’s small cock, opened up its mouth, and slid over it, clamping down. Max felt it both sucking at it forcefully, and also pushing deeper, driving into his groin. It was painful, he screamed, but the drone could not hear the screams, nor would it have cared if it could. It was feeding. It was sucking, drawing everything out of Max’s groin that it could, sucking it down, converting it into its own rubbery muck. After a few minutes, when Max had screamed himself hoarse, the drone withdrew its proboscis–though it didn’t let the man down, not yet–and with a shaking hand, Max felt his crotch. His cock, his balls–it was all gone. In its place, a rubbery pucker, a…another hole. The drone relaxed it’s arm and dropped Max onto the couch, then replaced it with his massive cock, now pumping out rubbery gunk that coated Max’s hole, letting the massive member slide right inside. Max felt the hole stretch–but then…he felt almost a numbness as the rubber goo slicked the inside of his hole–and then, pleasure. Different pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure. Max moaned in delight, while Max’s five dicked hand slid up to his face, two forcing their way down his mouth, pumping more rubber into his throat, down into his stomach, into his lungs, and the thumb and pinky cocks wrapped around his head, drilling into his ears, middle finger into his nose, all of them pumping rubber into his head, coating his brain, making it smooth. Making it rubber, making it perfectly obedient.

Soon, Max didn’t worry about any of this. Max was barely thinking at all, in fact. It spent the next long hours in service of the fuckdrone, coating himself in it’s rubber, forming his skin into a black rubber catsuit, perfectly shiny, though his face remained human–mostly. A human face could be useful, for now. Once the fuckdrone had enough to eat, then Max’s face could go away too. The drone was hungry again, its rubber running thin now, dribbling from its cocks instead of gushing forth. That was no problem though. Max had lots of friends who liked to get fucked, after all. He called them, invited them over for an orgy, telling them he had a great new toy for all of them to play with. The drone was pleased–it wouldn’t be hungry for a long time, now. Max was happy now too. Now, all he needed was to get fucked–it was the only thing he was good for, anymore, the only thing that made him happy. He liked being happy. He would make all his friends happy. He would make any man he found happy too, happy to be fucked by his drone.

A New Teddy

Toby got his keys out of his pocket and hoped that his roommate, Kyle, wouldn’t be home tonight. It was a silly hope really, because Kyle almost never left their apartment if he could help it, but given the fact that Kyle had brought up rent again with him this morning, Toby was really hoping to avoid that conversation if he could help it.

Toby had been in a bit of a bind, earlier this year. Between going to school as a full time student and trying to juggle two jobs, he’d been struggling to find somewhere to live, hoping from roommate situation to roommate situation, all of them terrible for various reasons. In the midst of this, he had met Kyle one night, a friend of a friend, and Kyle had rather generously offered to let Toby live in his apartment with him rent free.

When he’d met him, Toby had assumed that Kyle was maybe a few years older than him–all he’d known about him was that he’d graduated from his college a earlier than him. It wasn’t until he’d moved in that he’d learned Kyle was actually in his thirties, which made the fact that he still hung around college kids a little stranger, but he was in too deep to worry too much about it. Kyle worked from home as a tech consultant with several large firms and raked in a ton of money, but while he could have gotten a larger place, he didn’t. Just a modest two bedroom apartment. Instead he spent the rest of his money on three things–video games, porn, and weed. That, and friends when he was out. Going to the bar with him, it was easy to understand why Kyle was so popular with kids on campus, especially when he found out he also helped them score fake IDs on occasion.

Of course, Toby didn’t know any of this about him when Kyle had suggested this. At the time, it had seemed like an amazing opportunity, and in all honesty, it still was. Even though Kyle was a total slob, had no real sense of privacy, was about as inconsiderate of a roommate as you could find–at the end of the day the place was free! Free could grease a lot of wheels, and help you put up with a lot of bullshit. The problem now was that it wasn’t going to be free anymore.

Apparently, Kyle had been dropped by a client the month before, and while he had a few new ones lined up for the near future, his income had taken a bit of a hit. He’d asked Toby to start chipping in on rent this month–the only problem, was that it was also the start of the quarter. Toby had spent all of his money on books and supplies for his classes before Kyle had dropped this little nugget on him. He might have been able to swing it, but Toby had lost one of his jobs a few months before, and had almost no cash to spare. He’d tried to explain all of this to Kyle, of course, hoping he’d be understanding, but while he’d been nice enough, he had put his foot down. He wanted 500 dollars a month, no question about it.

Now, Toby was officially past due, and Kyle, while still friendly, was being insistent. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, and found his roommate there on the couch, snacking and gaming away like he always was. Kyle was not a particularly handsome fellow. He weighed almost 400 pounds, was covered in hair, and wore almost nothing around the apartment. They were both gay, but Toby wasn’t interested in him, and Kyle had never suggested they have sex–though from the sounds of things in his room, Kyle got off several times a day by himself. He had a thick neckbeard, wore big chunky glasses, and always seemed to have an acne problem. He showered rarely, and so always had a cloud of musk following him, as well as the constant smell of weed. Not ideal–but it had been free, and desperation could convince you to tolerate a lot.

“Hey man, how was the day?” Kyle asked as he took his shoes off at the door.

“It was alright I guess, just long,” Toby said, “I’m gonna get to bed, I have an early class tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Hey, you got that rent man? You’re a few days late, and you owe me.”

Toby gulped–no such luck. “Look, Kyle, any chance I could start paying you next month? The quarter just started, and I had to buy supplies already.”

Kyle paused the game, looked over his shoulder, and stared Toby down across the room. “Man, you owe me. If you can’t pay rent, then you’re going to have to pay me some other way.” The stare was…intense. Toby had never seen Kyle look like that, ever, and he was a bit creeped out by it.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Kyle turned around and returned to his game, and said nothing else. Toby took his bag to his room, set it down, and figured he’d have to come up with the money somehow–there just wasn’t much of a choice. Five hundred was still cheap–and when Kyle found a new client, maybe he’d let Kyle stay for free again. Hopefully. Or maybe he should find some other place. Kyle was generous, but living with him was a pain. If it wasn’t going to be free, he should just ditch him.

Toby did some reading for his class in the morning, and then got ready for bed. Kyle didn’t say anything to him when he left his room to use the bathroom, and all he could think about was Kyle’s weird stare. Yeah–he was done here. Figure out a way to pay him, and then get the hell out of here as soon as he could. He’d obviously overstayed his welcome. He climbed into bed, and it wasn’t long before he was sound asleep.

But sometime in the middle of the night, he woke up. He wasn’t sure what had disturbed him–a sound, something touching him, or even just a bad feeling–but he opened his eyes, and found something looming over him in the dark. “Fuck Kyle, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” he asked, reached over and turned on the light he had on his nightstand, but it wasn’t Kyle standing there–it was a giant teddy bear.

It was easily seven feet tall, and larger than any man Toby had ever seen before. He had no idea what it was doing there, and it was just standing over his bed, looking down at him. The strangest part was that the bear’s front had a massive rip down the front, and the inside was…hollow. There was no stuffing inside of him, and yet somehow the bear was standing up perfectly fine. It had to be some kind of prank or something by Kyle, right? Was this because he wouldn’t pay him rent? What kind of weirdo did something like this anyway? The bear was standing between him and the door. He got up out of the bed, and the bear slowly moved with him, his beady eyes following him as he moved. Was Kyle controlling the thing? Was he inside it? He couldn’t be inside of it–the thing was empty! Toby didn’t want anything else to do with this place–he’d move out tomorrow, he didn’t care where he’d go, but before he could get out of his room, the bear grabbed him from behind in a hug, and started stuffing him into it’s hollow body, through the rip in it’s guts.

Toby screamed and tried to pull away, but thick threads from inside the bear’s body shot out, wrapped their way around his hands and arms, and tugged them backwards, drawing them up into the bear’s own arms. More threads wound their way around Toby’s neck, choking him, forcing his head up into the bear’s head, while the bear’s arms, with his own arms inside of them, hoisted up his legs and dropped them inside the bear’s cavity. Still screaming, he looked down and saw that the threads were zipping across the cavity, sewing him up inside the bear’s body while he struggled to get free.

As soon as the cavity was stitched up, everything went dark–and then, the fluff that had been mysterious absent inside the bear’s body began to appear. It started at the feet, crowding in around Toby’s legs, and began to fill up in a matter of moments. At first he could still move around a bit, but the more fluff there was, the harder it was for him to move at all–and soon the pressure became crushing–more intense than should have been possible from light fluff like this. It was like the skin of the bear was starting to shrink, pressing in against him on all sides, the fluff pushing up to his neck, and then above his neck, and then surrounding his entire head, choking him. He held his breath for as long as he could, tried to struggle, but he couldn’t feel his arms or his legs anymore. There was just…fluff, as the bear shrunk down further and further, choking him out, making it impossible to breathe. His tongue was like cotton. Was it that he couldn’t see, or had his eyes dissolved into the same fluff as the rest of him? “This has to be a dream,” was the last thing he thought to himself, clinging to that hope as he passed out…and then he woke up.

There was a moment of relief. It had just been a fucked up nightmare summoned from some deep part of his subconscious, and now, he was going to be ok. He was lying facedown in bed, his blanket on top of him, feeling very warm. Too warm, really. And there was a smell. Something familiar, but not a smell that should be in his room. Heady and musky, with a strong undertone of weed. It smelled like Kyle, he realized after a moment. The blanket was also too heavy. So heavy, that when he tried to roll over, he couldn’t. It was heavy, and warm, and…and was it growling? There was a sound, wasn’t there? Like a growl. Or like a snore.

Whatever was lying on top of him, he quickly discovered it was too heavy for him to move, or to get out from under. He felt so weak somehow, and his arms and legs felt numb, probably from whatever was pressing down on him. It wasn’t long before he started to panic and squirmed harder, and he finally felt the bulk pressing down on him shift. It wasn’t a blanket–whatever it was, it was alive.

“Oh, looks like someone decided to wake up.” It was Kyle’s voice, groggy with sleep. Toby tried to get his arms and legs to work, to roll himself over, but all he could do was flail awkwardly–his limbs refused to work right, and he couldn’t seem to bend them in any sort of helpful direction. A massive hand gripped his arm and turned him over, and now that he was lying face up, he found himself staring up at a massive Kyle. How on earth did he get so damn big, and why couldn’t he move right? “You make a much cuter bear that a person,” Kyle said, “Here, let me show you. You’re probably a little confused.”

Kyle grabbed him by the arm again, and this time lifted Toby into the air like he weighed nothing to him. As he swung Toby around, all Toby felt was a tremendous sense of vertigo. He was in Kyle’s room, but the room was huge! It clicked then–it wasn’t that Kyle had grown, or that his room was big. It was that Toby was suddenly much, much smaller. Kyle’s hands gripped him around his belly, and he held Toby up in front of a mirror, and as hard as Toby tried to scream, no sound came out of his mouth. He was looking in the mirror at Kyle holding a stuffed teddy bear. He was probably about two and a half feet tall, with a big fuzzy gut, glass eyes, and a smile stitched across his face. He was the stuffed teddy bear! The dream–it had been real! He tried his hardest to squirm out of Kyle’s grip, but all he could do was flail awkwardly, stuffed arms swinging to and fro, legs pumping the air. The effect was rather cute–and hopeless.

“You know, it’s dangerous, owing a warlock something,” Kyle said. “The rules say I can’t do anything to cause harm to a person–unless they owe me a debt of some kind. And you, Toby, owed me for rent. In exchange, you get to be my new bear–I finally wore out my last one.”

Toby knew what Kyle was talking about–he’d seen the ragged old bear that Kyle slept with a few times, as well as the shelf of other old bears above his bed.

“You though–I thought I’d try a few new things with you. You’re the best model yet, I think. Why don’t we take you for a spin?”

Kyle set him down on the bed, sitting up, and before he could try and do anything, Kyle reached behind him, tugged on a cord hanging off his back, and pulled it away from him. It began to retract, and without knowing how it was happening, Toby heard himself start talking. “Kyle! Kyle, what the fuck did you do to me? Change me back, I’ll get you the money, I’ll figure…it…out…I…” The cord ran out, and Toby’s voice ran down. It hadn’t sounded like he was really speaking, more like some recording coming out of his chest.

“Oh yeah, that’s hot…Gonna love hearing you moan, Teddy, while I’m on top of you, with my cock buried in your tight little ass…”

Kyle came closer, reached down, and started rubbing a few fingers across Toby’s fuzzy crotch. Toby’s bear body didn’t have a cock or balls or anything, but as soon as Kyle touched him, his whole mind was suddenly awash with pleasure. Kyle kept rubbing, and with his other hand, pulled on Toby’s drawstring again. “Oh fuck, why the fuck does that feel so fucking good? It feels like I’m about to cum, fuck, it…almost…hurts…”

“Don’t worry Teddy, I don’t want you to suffer. You’re going to be making me so happy, you know? I’ve never really liked…people. They’re too complicated, and they never do what I want them to do, not really. But you’re not a person anymore–you’re just my special Teddy.”

Kyle flipped Toby over, and laid him on the edge of his bed so that his legs were hanging off, and his teddy bear ass was exposed. He felt something press against the fuzz, and then it pushed inside of him, and again, a burst of pleasure pushed everything else from Toby’s mind. “Oh fuck! I never made a teddy with an actual hole before–always just made a little rip, but fuck, this is fucking nice…” Kyle muttered, as he slid his cock in and out of the silicone sheath implanted in Toby’s stuffed ass. “How does it feel Teddy? You like having your master’s cock inside your furry bear hole? You want me to fill you up with a big load of cum, get that stuffing of yours all sticky with my load?”

Kyle pulled the drawstring, and again, Toby’s voice came out of the bear’s body, “Oh fuck! Of fuck, that feels so fucking good, oh god, oh fucking…god…”

“I’m your fucking god now, Teddy. I own your stuffed ass, and you’re going to be taking all of my fucking loads from now on.”

Toby felt betrayed by his own voice somehow. When Kyle pulled the string, it wasn’t what he wanted to say that came out, exactly. It was…it was more like something speaking through him, using his voice, mocking him. It did feel good, that was true. It felt almost too good. The more Kyle fucked him, in fact, that pleasure was building–but there was no outlet. It felt so good he ached. It felt so good that it felt like every other part of his mind was going to be crushed by it. He wanted to cum. That’s what it really felt like. Like he’d been edging himself for an hour, and now was trying so hard to get himself over the edge, but no matter what he did, nothing would happen. He didn’t have a cock anymore, after all. Could he even have an orgasm? If this is what it felt like to get fucked now? It felt like just having an orgasm would tear his mind to shreds. He both craved it, and also didn’t know if he’d even be able to survive it. Chances were, it would just drive him mad if it lasted much longer.

He didn’t have to worry for much longer, in any case. After a few more thrusts, Kyle drove his cock in deep, head popping out the other end of the sheath, deep in Toby’s guts, and unleashed a torrent of cum into his stuffing. Toby could feel it in there, gooping everything together, and a moment later, he felt something else. A warmth suffusing his entire body, from his flailing arms, to his face, to his fat, fuzzy feet. Everything was getting hazy somehow. Like…Like he was getting high off of Kyle’s cum. But the pleasure was still there–aching inside him. Dulled now, but still so frustrating, and when Kyle pulled his cock free, it didn’t help. Instead, he just felt so fucking empty. He felt a tug on his back, and Kyle pulled the drawstring again, and that voice–so close to his own, but twisted somehow, came out of him: “Oh fuck Master, fuck me some more, your dirty toy feels so empty, please…I…need…your…c-ock…”

“Oh don’t worry you stupid bear, you’ll get more later. How’s it feel, Teddy? You feeling good? Don’t you like the way my cum makes you feel? You were always such a wet blanket, you know that? Complaining about how much weed I was smoking in the apartment. It’s my fucking apartment, you know? Well, I thought this might help you loosen up a bit, get you feeling really good, all day long. Or at least for a few hours at a time. Once it dries, you’re going to start jonsing for another fuck. You’re going to need me inside you whether you like it or not. For now though, I need to smoke something myself, and then it’s time for some breakfast.”

Kyle got up to go find his weed and eat something, abandoning Toby on the bed. This was his chance, right? Maybe…he could escape somehow. Get help. But his high was only growing more intense, his vision starting to swirl, and he was still so weak. He tried to manipulate his body as best he could, but all he managed to do was fall off the edge of the bed and land on the floor. It didn’t hurt, thankfully, but on his back there was nothing he could do, other than stare at the ceiling spinning around him, feel the dull ache of his groin, Kyle’s cum slowly drying inside of him. He came down after about an hour, and Kyle was right–he did feel terrible. The ache in his crotch hadn’t lessened one little bit, and he felt…hungry, of all things. Hungry for cum. Hungry for Kyle’s cum. It was eating away at his guts, and there was nothing he could do, aside from lay there on the floor of Kyle’s bedroom, next to a pair of dirty underwear, smelling his musk rolling off of them. He had to get a handle on himself, but as soon as Kyle came back into the room, all he felt was relief at the sight of him.

Kyle fucked him again, slower this time, relishing it, pulling on Toby’s drawstring over and over, making his little stuffed bear beg for his mercy, beg for his cum, promise to be a good little toy forever and ever. Toby hated hearing his voice saying those things, but the more he heard them, he found them growing more and more true in his heart–or what remained of his heart. Kyle came again, and left his bear there to enjoy his high while Kyle got some work done. From where he was lying on the bed, on his back, he could look up and see the other bears on the shelf. Earlier, they had been sitting there, looking straight ahead, but now they were all leaning forward, looking down at him.

Were they jealous? Probably. Kyle wouldn’t put him up there, right? No–of course he wouldn’t. Toby was the best model yet–and…and as long as he kept his Master happy, he’d keep getting his cum, and he’d be able to stave off the ache for a little while longer. Toby caught himself, horrified at what he’d been thinking. He had to get out of this somehow–someone would come looking for him right? At the school? His family? But no one ever came. Day after day, they all passed the same for Toby, or Teddy, as Kyle called him, and Toby started calling himself that too.

The first year was great–or as great as it could be for a fucktoy like him. Then, during a rough session one evening, his drawstring broke, and Teddy never spoke again. Kyle didn’t mind. It had been hot, but it didn’t really matter that much to him one way or another, and he just kept on using him, but he was a bit disappointed, and Teddy panicked–his voice was gone, but he was still there. Teddy was covered with stains now, lumpy and misshapen from all of his stuffing being stuck together with Kyle’s cum. One drunken night, Kyle pissed in him as well, and that…well, nothing could really get the smell off of him, and Teddy could tell that Kyle just wasn’t looking at him, or fucking him, like he used to. And then, there was someone new. A roommate, a guy named Terry. Then, Teddy knew. He knew that he was too dirty, too gross. He’d been worn out, and a few months later, he too was up on the shelf, and Kyle had a brand new teddy bear to play with instead, and all Teddy could do was sit there watch his beautiful Master plow his new bear’s hole, and ache.

Horny Hugh #1 (Commissioned Story)

Evan knocked on the door of Hugh’s apartment, and after a couple of moments, it opened up. Hugh looked through the crack of the door, and then pulled Evan inside and shut the door behind them both.

“What the hell is up with you?” Evan asked, “You spend all morning blowing up my phone, saying I have to come to your place, and you won’t even tell me why–now you’re yanking me around like this is some spy movie or something.”

Hugh was wearing a pair of sweatpants, which wasn’t unusual for him, and a hoodie with the hood up–which was definitely odd. He didn’t say anything right away–he and Evan had been friends for ages, and he was the only person he could possibly talk to about…well, about what he’d seen in the mirror when he’d woken up this morning. “Look, promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Dude, no one fucking says that unless what you’re about to show me is really fucking weird–now what’s going on? It can’t be that bad, can it?”

Hugh took a deep breath, and then he pushed the hood back, and showed Evan the horns that had appeared, growing out his temples, when he’d woken up this morning. They were small, or at least, that’s what Hugh had told himself all morning as he struggled to not freak out about it. They were about an inch tall, with a sharp point–not quite sharp enough to draw blood, unless he gave someone a hard headbutt with a running start or something.

“What the fuck?” Evan asked.

“Please–you’re the only person I could show this to, please, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here,” Hugh pleaded.

Evan was, he had to admit, a bit freaked out, but he was also, well, curious. He reached out to touch one, and Hugh pulled away. “What?”

“They’re…tender, is all.”

“Did it hurt?”

Hugh shrugged. “I…I had this dream. I don’t really remember it all that well, but…yeah, it hurt, in the dream, and when I woke up, I was thrashing in my bed, my pillow was torn to shreds, and I had these fucking things sticking out of my head. I don’t know what the hell to do–should…I mean, if I go to the hospital, are they just going to treat me like some kind of freak?”

“Can…Can I touch them? I’m just curious. I’ll be careful.”

Hugh bent his head down, and let his friend cautiously stroke one of the small horns with a finger. It wasn’t quite smooth, more like unsanded wood–but definitely bone. The flesh at the base was still a bit red and inflamed from what he could see, but it didn’t look like there was any infection.

Hugh, however, felt something rather strange when his friend touched them. Something he couldn’t quite explain. Thus far, aside from an ache around the horns where they’d burst through his skin in the early morning, they hadn’t really done anything–but when Evan touched them, he felt something. He felt connected to him for a moment–he could see…inside him, somehow. Just a flash, really, but it was disconcerting, and he pulled away after a moment.

“Did I hurt you?” Evan asked.

“No–No, I…would you take me to the hospital? I…I don’t want to go alone.”

Together, they left the apartment and Evan drove him to the hospital to get his new horns checked out, and on the way, all Hugh could think about was that strange sensation, how he’d almost been able to see Evan’s…thoughts. More than his thoughts though, deeper than that. Like…his dreams, or desires, or something like that. It had just been for a moment, but he hadn’t been able to focus on it for long, but it had been tantalizing, because he was sure he’d been about to see something that Evan had never told him about–and Evan didn’t keep many secrets from Hugh, about anything.

Evan and Hugh had known each other for years. They’d met in college, and when they’d graduated, they’d both stayed in the city, though they worked at different companies. Neither of them had been very lucky in love or relationships. They’d tried dating each other for a little while, but it hadn’t worked–thankfully, their friendship had been stronger than that little mistake, but they were still closer to each other than anyone else they knew in the city they lived in. Hugh though…he’d seen something…he didn’t know, there inside Evan. A secret even his friend had kept from him–hell, maybe even a secret he was keeping from himself. It was tantalizing. There in the waiting room, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, wanting to see more, wondering if he could come up with some excuse to have Evan touch them again, so he could see it.

Thankfully, the oddity of his condition meant they didn’t have to wait long, and they were taken back to meet with a doctor. His horns were examined, samples were scraped off–which was more painful than Hugh was expecting it to be. Tests were taken, blood was drawn, but after several hours of being poked and prodded, no one had any idea what was happening to him, and he didn’t seem to be in any danger, so he was sent home, and told to come back if anything changed. Hugh was frustrated–but the same thing had happened each time someone had touched his horns–though the gloves the doctors and nurses had always worn dulled the effect somewhat. He could see into their minds, see their…desires. He knew that’s what they were. With the doctors, it had been…like looking through privacy glass at something in another room. The curiosity was killing him, and he had to know what he was experiencing, and the easiest way to do that, was to get Evan to touch his horns again.

Thankfully, Evan seemed to be suffering from the same curiosity. Ever since touching the horns, he’d been unable to get the feeling out of his mind. They were just so unlike anything he’d ever touched before. They stood by the apartment door, neither of them sure what to say, since the trip to the hospital had left them both with more questions than answers. Eventually, playing it as cool as he could, Evan asked if he could touch them one more time. Hugh was ecstatic, but didn’t let on to his own relief. He bent down, Evan touched his horns again, and this time Hugh felt everything.

It wasn’t quite an image, or a sound, or a feeling, or a thought. It was bits of all of those things smashed together. Hugh could suddenly smell something strong and pungent–it was the smell of piss he realized after a moment, but not fresh piss. More like the smell of an unwashed urinal. There was the sound of piss hitting flesh, there was the sensation of being wet and warm, like standing in a summer rain shower. The taste of piss in his mouth. He realized, finally, that what he was sensing was some deep desire of his friend’s–Evan had a fetish for watersports, and a powerful one at that. It was so…deep though. So far away. The sensations were there, but they were muted, or blocked. There was something in Hugh, something telling him that he could…could pull it closer if he wanted, so he could get a better look. Without knowing what he was doing or how, he gave it a tug, or something a bit like a tug and then the sensations stopped.

Evan had pulled away from him, shaking his hands like he’d gotten a shock of some sort. “Fuck, what the hell was that? I…Were you in my head?”

Hugh blushed, but wasn’t sure what to say.

“You…what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I…I just…” Hugh didn’t know what Evan knew–but from the look in his friend’s eyes, that deep embarrassment, he…figured Evan knew exactly what he had seen inside him, what he’d…tugged on. Without saying anything else, Evan left the apartment, leaving Hugh to get ready for bed. In the bathroom, looking at himself…he swore the horns looked a bit…swollen, the skin around them a bit more red and inflamed. It took hours to find a position that was comfortable to sleep in, and he hoped all of those tests the doctors had given him would tell him…something. At least let a surgeon remove them, or something. He felt a quiver at the thought. Something…didn’t like that notion much, but it was deep inside him too–too deep for him to notice much beyond a sudden flush of anxiety in his guts. Eventually, Hugh managed to fall asleep, and by the next day, he had already put what had happened with Evan behind him, and resolved to make the best of things.

He called his work, and with the help of a vague note from the doctor at the hospital, he convinced them that he didn’t really need to be in the office for the next couple of weeks. Hopefully he would get this strange horn situation sorted out by then. That gave him some time for himself that he hadn’t had in a very long time–and he wasn’t quite sure how to fill it–especially since leaving the house wasn’t really an option. He played some video games, he worked around the apartment, but what he found himself doing more and more was jacking off.

Hugh had never really been that sexual of a person. In fact, while he found men attractive, he had never really gotten behind the idea of sex beyond mutual masturbation–which was probably the reason why things hadn’t really worked out between him and Evan, when they’d tried to date, knowing what he did now about Evan’s interests. But suddenly, he was horny all of the damn time. He’d wake up with a raging hard on that would refuse to quit until he masturbated. The same thing would happen when he was trying to sleep–one stray thought and he would pop a boner, and he wouldn’t get a moment of rest until he’d jacked off. The more he masurbated, the more his thoughts drifted to Evan–thinking about what he’d seen when he’d taken that little peek inside his friend’s mind, the feeling of that little pull, dragging that…dark, twisted desire out of the dark and towards the light. It had been a rush, really. He hadn’t been able to admit that to himself at the moment, but he…he wanted to do it again. He didn’t even know what he’d done! But he wanted to feel that again. It was the power of it. There was some sort of power there, one he couldn’t really understand, but if he…if he could just do it again, maybe he could figure out what was going on here. Why these horns had suddenly just appeared on his head, for no reason that he could seem to comprehend.

But no such opportunity arose. Sitting around in his apartment, inventing ways to occupy his time, trying and generally failing to avoid wasting the day away masturbating, or just staring at himself in the mirror, touching his horns gently, or not so gently. It was in the evening, two days after his visit to the hospital with Evan, that his friend returned.

They had been chatting off and on over the last couple of days, mostly Evan just checking in on Hugh to make sure everything was alright still, but all that day, Evan had gone quiet. The knock on the door was a bit urgent, and while Hugh tried to ignore it, eventually Evan shouted at him on the other side, and Hugh threw on his hoodie and opened it up for him.

It was the smell that hit him first, and he realized something had gone…very wrong. Evan reeked of piss. Hugh managed to keep his gag reflex down, but something else responded eagerly–his cock was hard as a rock. Evan shoved his way past him into the apartment, wearing a button down shirt and slacks that were, well, soaked.

“Alright, I need a fucking answer, Hugh. What the fuck did you do to me?” Evan said, when he was inside.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. What happened to you?” Hugh asked him.

Evan glowered at him, and Hugh could see a bit of doubt in his eyes…or maybe he could feel it. Could he feel it? Was he imagining things?

“Look, I…I’ve always had this…this fantasy, alright?” Evan said, “I really, really like the idea of…of guys using me as a urinal. Pissing on me, making me drink it, I…I mean, I’ve done some piss stuff with guys before, but…but I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I felt something when I left the other day, when I touched your horns. I…I don’t know what the fuck it was, really, it sounds stupid saying it out loud, but…but ever since…” Evan paused. “Look, the next morning, I was fucking horny, and I pissed in a glass and drank it. I’ve never done anything like that, but…but I didn’t just want to do it, I had to do it. And then, at work…the guys were…they were treating me different, and my boss…he was in the bathroom with me at one point in the morning, and he…he offered me his piss, and I fucking drank it! I don’t know what the fuck came over us, but I did. And when I went out to lunch, I wasn’t…hungry, exactly, but I went to the lunch spot, and right into the bathroom, and every guy who came in, I drank their piss too. I…I didn’t know what was wrong with me, so I went home, and I tried to eat, I fucking tried to eat, but I couldn’t keep anything down, but I could drink without throwing up. So I got drunk, and I went out to the bar…then today. Fucking today, I go into work, and by boss calls me into his office, right? He calls me in, tells me I’m getting a new position. He takes me into the bathroom, and tells me I’m the new fucking urinal! And I spend all fucking day on my knees, every guy on the floor pissing on me like I’m some fucking object, and…and that’s not fucking normal, Hugh, and I know you did something to me. You did, or those fucking horns did, and I need you to put me back right fucking now.”

Hugh just stared at him, for a moment, trying to process what his friend was telling him. He knew he should be…horrified, right? But…but wasn’t this what Evan had wanted? It’s what Hugh had seen, at least, when he’d looked into him, but…Evan didn’t look happy about it. Then again, why should he be happy about it? He’d just been pissed on by everyone he worked with, all day long…and it was Hugh’s fault. It was a hot story though. Hugh realized he was groping himself–that he’d been groping himself the entire time Evan had been telling the story of his day, and that his friend had noticed–and was looking at him with disgust. He pulled his hand away.

“What, did that turn you on or something?” Evan asked. “I…I fucking knew it! When I touched those freaky horns of yours, what the hell did you see? What did you do to me?”

“Look, I…I did something, I know, but…but I don’t really know what I did, or how I did it! It was the horns. I…I could feel it inside you, and…and I just…pulled on it. I don’t know what it was, I just….”

“Great–if you pulled on it, you can push it back in, right?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this works. We should go back to the hospital. We…I don’t know what I’m doing, I might make it worse.”

“No–I can’t…I can’t go anywhere,” Evan said. The implication was clear–if he was in a public space, chances were good he’d be in the bathroom before long, drinking as much piss as he could. “You have to fix this, right here, right now.”

“Isn’t…isn’t this what you wanted though?” Hugh said, “I mean, you said it yourself this was a fantasy. I just wanted to help.”

“‘Help’? Fucking ‘help’? I don’t think I can show my face at work ever again! These last couple of days have been a fucking nightmare. It was just a fantasy! It was supposed to stay as a fucking fantasy! Something I jerk off to on occasion, and then put away. I don’t want to be stuck in a bathroom for the rest of my fucking life! I want you to put me back, and then I never want to see you or your fucking horns ever again.”

“Evan, I–”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking freak!”

Hugh didn’t know what to say to that. Mostly it hurt, but not in the way he expected it to. He knew, in his head, that he’d done something wrong to Evan, but…had he really? He knew this is what Evan wanted–what he really wanted, more than anything else in the entire world. Evan could deny it all he wanted to, but he couldn’t lie to Hugh–Hugh had seen right into him, he knew all of those little secrets he kept, and there was absolutely no way he could be wrong about this. If anyone should be angry in this situation, shouldn’t it be him? He’d given Evan a gift! He’d helped him fulfill a lifelong dream of his, and now that he had what he wanted, he was getting scared? More than just getting scared–he was blaming Hugh for all of it. But Hugh had only done what he did because Evan wanted it so badly. It was all Evan’s fault, really. If he’d just been honest with himself, he’d understand how…how happy he should be right now. But Hugh could fix this. He had to fix this–it was the right thing to do. Evan would forgive him eventually, right? “Ok–look, touch my horns, and…and I’ll put it back. I think I can do that.”

Evan was nervous, but he reached out and touched Hugh’s headd, and the same sensation that he’d felt before washed over him. It had been…strange. In the moment, he’d felt so calm, like he wanted nothing more than for Hugh to rifle through his thoughts and…and change things. He’d watched before, as Hugh had found his desires, dragged them out to the front of…of him, somehow, or at least closer. He’d known what he’d been doing, but as soon as he’d pulled his hands off those horns, he’d lost it. He could see it again though, he could see all of those nasty, perverted, filthy things he wanted men to do to him, right there, like he was broadcasting it to the world–which would explain a few things, he supposed. And Hugh was there, and he…what was he doing?

He wasn’t pushing them back down, that was for sure. Evan screamed at him, and when his friend looked up at him, his eyes…weren’t Hugh’s. They were pitch black, and the smile that crossed his face–his entire face, his mouth stretching from ear to ear, those…those sharp teeth…that wasn’t Hugh, what the fuck was that? The thing that looked like Hugh began pulling everything out, all of the filth, putting it everywhere, filling up everything with it, and Evan tried to scream, tried to beg, tried to do…something! Anything to stop it from happening, working to wrench his hands away before it was too late, and finally, he let go, and all of it fell back behind the shroud. He was left standing there, looking at the top of Hugh’s head, at those two horns taunting him, trying to sort out what in the world had just happened to him.

“There, see? Doesn’t that feel better already?” Hugh said, raising his lead up. His eyes were…normal, as was his mouth, but Evan couldn’t shake the vision from his head, that there was something else behind his friend’s face, something inside of him, trying to push it’s way out of him, and Hugh didn’t even realize it.

“I…I don’t know…I guess I’m thirsty, mostly.”

“That’s not surprising. Shouldn’t you be getting to the bar soon?” Hugh asked him. “Tell you what–I’ll come by later, towards the end of your shift. If you still aren’t happy with things, then I’ll put everything back, but I think we got everything right this time, I can just…I can just feel it.”

“Are…are you sure I can’t have something to drink before I go?”

Hugh sighed, and pushed down the sweatpants he’d been wearing around the house. “I’m really fucking horny, but I think I can piss for you. I know how much you need it.”

Evan got down on his knees, the horror still there, but muted. Like some part of him was…was so deep now, that he never even really had to acknowledge it existing. It…It was more important to be a urinal, right? Isn’t…isn’t that what he was? He was certainly thirsty enough to be one, and when Hugh finally managed to piss through his hard cock, and Evan drank it all down, every single drop, he felt so much better. “Thanks man, you’re…a great friend, you know that?”

“Of course I am,” Hugh said, “Now go on, you don’t want to be late.”

Evan left Hugh’s apartment, got in his car, and while he was certain he should be driving home–he had work in the morning after all–he instead knew, somehow, that he had to work somewhere else tonight. At…at the bar, right? The Hawk? It was the seediest of the gay bars in town, and Evan hadn’t been there very often, but he had to be there. He got there a little before six. The bouncer at the door knew his name somehow–as did the bartender, and after saying hello, Evan went right into the bathroom, got on his knees next to the other urinals, and it wasn’t long before Lucas, the bartender, came in.

“Fuck Evan, glad you got here early, didn’t think I could hold this for much longer,” Lucas said, and unloaded his bladder into Evan’s eager mouth. “Gonna be a busy night tonight–hope you’re ready for it.” Lucas finished up, didn’t say anything else, and Evan moaned a bit, feeling the piss settle in his gut. He didn’t have long to think about it, before another man came in, and then another. The other urinals were neglected for the entire night–after all, Evan was the best urinal the bar had ever had. Evan found himself caught in his mind between this new normal, and that little voice, begging him to stop, to listen to reason, that he couldn’t just…be a urinal, right? He was a person! He had to be a person, didn’t he? During a lull, it was that little voice that forced him up from his knees, stumbling over to the sink where he could look in the mirror. Told him to look at his smooth head and face, at his porcelain white skin, at his belly distended from the gallons and gallons of piss he’d drank already tonight. He was naked, but when had he stripped his clothes off? Had he driven here naked? Why would a urinal need clothes anyway?

“Hey! Pisser! Get back in your spot.”

It was the bouncer. Evan felt guilty, and got back down on his knees, took the bouncer’s piss, and remained there, where…where he belonged, where he needed to be. He kept drinking all night long, until sometime after one in the morning, as the club was winding down, and Hugh pushed his way into the room. He was drunk, from the way he was staggering, and Evan swore that Hugh’s horns looked a bit…longer than they had back in the apartment. Fuck, his horns were right there. He wasn’t even hiding them!

“Fuck Evan, fucking look at you,” Hugh slurred, “What a good looking urinal. I did a good fucking job on you, you know that? Aren’t you happy? This is exactly what you wanted–I know, I fucking saw it there, right in your brain. I’m…fuck, I’m like the best fucking friend, you know that? How many other friends would actually help you become the urinal you always wanted to be?”

Evan…knew he shouldn’t. But that little voice, it refused to shut up. “Hugh, please, I…I don’t want this! I don’t know what’s going on, but this…this isn’t you. Those horns, they’re controlling you. I…I like piss! I always have, but fucking look at me! I…I don’t want to look like this.”

Hugh squinted at him, then squatted down and squinted some more. “Fuck, you’re right, this…this is no good.”

Thank you! Fucking thank you, please, please fix me!”

“You don’t look like a urinal at all. I can be such a fucking idiot sometimes. I mean, you still look like a person!”

Evan’s guts dropped out from under him, and he tried to force himself up from where he was kneeling, but he was suddenly frozen in place, as Hugh leaned in, and rubbed a horn against Evan’s hairless, perfectly white arm.

“I’m still learning, I know, but I’ll get it right this time, you’ll be perfect.”

Evan found himself behind the shroud again, inside his own mind, but this time, it wasn’t that Hugh was pulling anything out–he was putting things away. Burying all of those parts of Evan, all of his humanity, deep inside himself, deeper than his watersports fetish had ever been, so deep that Evan couldn’t even see it, or feel it, or…or know it.

At last, Hugh pulled away from him, and Evan tried to scream, but he couldn’t. His mouth was frozen in place, open wide. His tongue was glued to the bottom of his mouth, and he was drooling constantly, the water running down the back of his throat and into his massive, porcelain gut.

“Fuck, look at you,” Hugh said, “You’re fucking beautiful. Fuck, I’m…so fucking horny…”

Hugh couldn’t stop himself. He tore open his pants and started jacking his cock, but every touch was like fire. He was grunting and moaning in pain, but it felt so damn good too. Evan, head locked into position, watched his friend’s body contort, like something was inside his skin, rearranging Hugh’s insides while he stroked off, a trickle of blood running down the front of his face as the horns pushed out another few inches, splitting the skin apart as they did. Hugh licked the blood from his lips as it ran past his mouth, and moaned in excitement–enough to bring himself to orgasm–but his cock…well, it wasn’t the same cock that Hugh had started with. It was bigger–easily nine inches long, the head more pointed, with fleshy barbs running up and down the shaft. He came with something like a roar, pouring inky black cum down Evan’s open throat, and Evan…he felt something inside him turn into cement. He knew, without knowing how, that…that after what Hugh had just fed him, this was…him now. Forever. He’d never change again. Already, he could feel his old life fading away, turning to vapor in his mind. He felt at ease, Hugh’s cum settling in his friend’s gut next to his piss, and Hugh heaved a sigh, and pushed his swollen, barbed cock back into his pants. “That was good, but god damn, I need to fuck something. Urinals are no good for fucking…” he muttered, and stumbled out of the bathroom and into the bar proper, leaving Evan alone. A thing that had been named Evan, once. It didn’t have a name now, of course. Urinals didn’t have names.

Its shift finished a little after two in the morning, after one last load of piss from the bouncers and the bartenders. The urinal forced himself upright, standing just a little over four feet tall on squat, wide legs, and waddled slowly over to the mirror on the wall. There was its face, contorted and constantly open wide, eyes wide set, head dominated by its massive maw. It had no neck, rather its head was placed right on his wide body, above his massive, distended gut. It was the only part of the thing’s body that was still pliable. It would process all of that piss and cum he’d ingested tonight, turn it into more drool, use it to power its body, but the thirst would always be there. Thankfully, a good urinal always had plenty of work. During the weekdays, it worked in an office nearby. In the nights and evenings, it was always here, at The Hawk. But on the weekends, it would make its way to a truck stop on the edge of town, drink its fill of trucker piss all day long, and start all over again on Monday morning. It was a life, wasn’t it? And it was happy. It was doing what it was meant to do–why wouldn’t it be happy? It left the bathroom at its slow, trudging pace. It looked around for Hugh, but its friend was nowhere to be seen. Hugh was done with him anyway. Hugh had found someone new to take home–someone to fuck. But most importantly, Hugh knew he could help them too. Horny Hugh was going to help everyone.

New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 12 – Finale)

Martin heard the Sergeant wake up and start shouting for him to free him, but that was the last thing Martin had in mind for him. He was in the Sergeant’s supply room, looking at the massive amount of BDSM gear on on the shelves, hanging in the closets, and tucked into drawers, but he didn’t know what he was doing exactly, with any of it. He should just run, shouldn’t he? But the resolutions that had been made for him wouldn’t allow him to run away, of course. What was he going to do then?

As he was looking around, at a loss, he saw a small golden envelope lying on a table, next to a strange looking helmet. The helmet Martin recognized. The Sergeant had used it on him a few times down here, both as a means of conditioning him to obey him, and as a way to toy with his mind during a session. It was a VR system designed to play hypnotic visuals and tracks that the subject would be unable to resist. He picked up the envelope, tore it open, and read the contents:

Well, it seems that you’ve hit a bit of a wrinkle in your year, Martin. Now, it isn’t too late, you know. You can still go out there, free the Sergeant, and accept your punishment. If you do so, things will continue as they would have–after a year in training with the Sergeant, you would have been returned to your old life, generally, though with a physique you could have only dreamed of a few months ago. However, if you do not wish to free him, then there is only one thing for you to do. We have taken the liberty of loading an appropriate file into the helmet–don’t bother trying to pull it out or change it. If you do, you’ll find yourself wearing it instead. If what you really want is revenge–then place it on his head, and we will give you the revenge you so desire. Beware though–revenge can come with costs of its own.

It was the middle of summer. Six more months of this nightmare, before he could go back to his old life, and try and put it back together? It wasn’t like those six months would be easy either–the Sergeant was not the forgiving sort, and his punishments were…severe. For a betrayal like this, Martin didn’t even want to imagine what the Sergeant might do to him. He picked up the helmet, eyed the slot where the disc went to play the hypno program. What could be on it? He didn’t have any idea, but whatever it was, it had to be better than six months of torture, right?

He went back out into the dungeon where the Sergeant was still sitting in the chair, and when he saw the helmet in Martin’s hand, the Sergeant looked shocked, and then outraged, demanding that Martin let him up this instant. Before he could doubt himself, he dropped the helmet over the Sergeant’s head, hit the play button, and after a few minutes of protest, the Sergeant went quiet as the programming washed over him.

Martin didn’t know how long the program would last. The helmet was very effective–but it could still be hours, depending on what the company had in mind for the Sergeant. He didn’t want to leave him though–so he sat there and waited. That made him anxious, so he passed the time with some exercising, mostly pushups and pull ups around the room, until he heard a grunt come from inside the helmet, signalling that the Sergeant was coming out of his trance.

He walked over, and saw another envelope taped to the back of the helmet, which had appeared at some point out of thin air. Martin pulled it off, and opened it up.

Revenge it is! We can work with that. However, we will need to provide you with a few new resolutions, Martin.

I resolve to take the Sergeant’s place here. I will style myself as closely to him as I can, wear his clothes, adopt his haircut and his vocal style. I will exercise everyday, following his exact routines, and maintain a physique just like his. I will forget my own name, and only know myself as Sergeant from now on, even in my own mind.

I resolve that I will no longer find muscular bodies attractive. From now on, I will only be attracted to fat, obese men.

I resolve to keep this man as my personal pigslave for the rest of my life. His mental faculties are now closer to beast than to man, and so I will have to feed him from a trough and care for him like a pet pig. I will love him dearly, and I will have my pig fuck my hole at least twice a day.

I resolve to work for New You Resolutions from now on as a feeder and trainer. I will take men in and fatten them up into the sorts of obese men I desire, as required by my employer.

Welcome to the team Sergeant! We hope you find these new conditions acceptable–not that you have a choice, of course.

He tore the helmet off his pig, who was grunting and snorting, and looking around a bit crazed and confused. He could speak–sort of. Anything more than short sentences was difficult, and he usually got out more grunts, squeals and snorts than words anyway. The new Sergeant, however, could only think about one thing–he dragged the pig over to the trough that appeared along the wall, went upstairs for the pig’s slop, dumped it in, and watched the muscular man shove his face in and scarf it down as quickly as he could.

While the pig ate, he went upstairs and got dressed in his new clothes. They were loose on him, of course, but after another few months in the gym, he would fit into them like a glove, just as his predecessor had. Inside, he was horrified. This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all! He looked at himself in the mirror, and found himself disgusted–he was so…ripped. He didn’t want this sort of body at all, but he was trapped in it now, for good. He went back downstairs, and his pig had finished eating, his musclegut bulging from the massive meal. The pig could barely move, but that didn’t stop him from mounting the Sergeant and fucking him with his piggy cock, grunting and squealing the entire time while the Sergeant cried, disgusted with himself in ways he could barely explain.

Six months later, the new Sergeant was ready–the spitting image of the old one, though brown haired instead of strawberry blonde, green eyed instead of brown. His pet pig was always naked, and always at the Sergeant’s side. The pig was weighing in at 350 pounds now, and the Sergeant was so proud of his massive beast, and how far he’d come in six months. It was January now, and he’d just heard from New You that his first client would be arriving in a few days for a four month fattening. The Sergeant sighed, and looked at his muscled body in the mirror. For the rest of his life, he’d be giving men that which he could never have. All he wanted now for himself, was to be fat–but he’d never have that again. He’d just have to fatten his pig instead, and every man that crossed his path. It would be enough, probably, right?

That’s it for this interactive! I’m taking a couple of weeks to focus on commissions, and I’ll be posting those as I finish them. I’ll have a new interactive starting up sometime in March!

Caption: The Party’s Slave

Raury and his father had never really seen eye to eye–and that had only gotten worse once Raury had come out of the closet a few weeks earlier, before he’d gone off to college. His father had exploded, which had caught Raury off guard, but apparently, his father’s tolerance stopped at his own son being gay. But Raury, as brilliant as he was, didn’t let little problems like this stop him, when his father had threatened to cut off funding for Raury in college–he’d decided his dad would be the perfect little guinea pig for the nanochip he’d been working on in secret for a few years in the basement.

It was mostly for mental health research, but Raury had found it excellent for a few other issues as well. After implanting it in his father’s sleep, he’d tested it the next day, and found his father perfectly open to Raury’s suggestion that he not only pay for his son’s tuition in full, but also provide him with a weekly stipend to help him with living expenses. The best part was that Raury could see the confusion in his father’s eyes as the chip overrode his own judgement, the words falling out of his mouth faster than he could even understand what he was saying.

And now, his father was visiting him for a long weekend, and Raury was going to be throwing a party–an orgy really–with an open invitation across any gay hookup app he could sign up on–and his father was going to be one of the main attractions.

“Alright Dad, do you have your uniform on for the party?” Raury asked.

His dad came out of the room, beaming a smile–but his eyes looked panicked all the same. He was completely naked aside from a black bowtie around his neck. “Yes son, I’m ready.”

“Now, for the entire party, you won’t be calling me son, will you? You’ll be calling me Master.”

“Yes…Master…” Raury could see his father fighting him–but there was no way he’d beat the chip. The struggle made it all the hotter, really.

“Now, once people arrive, you’re going to be making sure all of their needs are met, isn’t that right? Like a host.”

“You mean…serving drinks, Master?”

“That, but also, if anyone wants to use your holes–your mouth or your ass–you’re going to be more than happy to allow them to fuck you.”

The look in his father’s eyes was one of horror, but all he could say was, “Yes Master,” through half gritted teeth.

“Each time someone fucks you tonight, or feeds you a load of cum, or makes you drink their piss, you’re going to find yourself thinking less and less about women, and more and more about men. This is going to humiliate you, but soon, you’ll be hard as a rock, and unable to do anything about it. However, if anyone offers to suck you off, or to let you fuck them, you will refuse, and demand that you service them instead.”

His father was speechless. Raury just smiled, and said, “Let’s practice. Slave, get on your knees and suck me off.”

His father’s face turned bright red, but he did as he was commanded, and started sucking on his son’s cock. Raury sighed, knowing this would be a great party–and that by the end of the weekend, he’d have reduced his father to a meek, submissive cocksucking pig–one who would be begging his son for his cock forever more.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 10)

Martin gulped, and heard a notification on his phone. He checked it, and saw that someone had sent him directions…somewhere, and he knew he had to go there. This was a nightmare–this thing couldn’t be serious, right? But he found himself going into the bedroom, packing up a bag of gym clothes and almost nothing else. He got in his car and drove off, simply abandoning his keys on the counter–somehow, he knew he wouldn’t be coming back here, if New You Resolutions had anything to say about it.

The directions led him out of town on the interstate, and after a good fifty miles into the rural part of the state, he took an exit onto a smaller highway, and drove through the night, deeper and deeper, away from the city he’d known almost all of his life. All he could do while he was driving was think about how much his body ached from his exercise that day, and wonder who in the world he was going to be meeting on the other end of this journey. The sun rose, and he was close. Exhausted and nearly asleep at the wheel, he finally reached his destination.

It was a rather secluded piece of property in the foothills of the mountains. There was a bit of winter snow on the ground from a few days ago that hadn’t melted off yet. Martin got out of the car, and trudged his way up the wood steps of the house and knocked on the door. There were a few moments of silence, and then he heard the sound of heavy shoes on the other side of the door, and it opened, revealing, he assumed, his new trainer, and landlord.

He was…massive. Easily six foot six, and probably close to 300 pounds. He was older, most likely in his late fifties, his chest covered in grey hair, face shaven but with a layer of stubble, hair cut into a close flattop. He was wearing nothing other than a set of fatigue pants and combat boots. He stared down at Martin with a sense of disdain, and then stepped aside without a word, allowing Martin inside, sizing him up as he squeezed past the massive fellow.

“So this is who they’re sending me this year? Fucking hell. You projects are usually rough around the edges, but I haven’t had to shape up a doughball like you in a long time,” the man said.

“Please, there’s been some mistake, I…I just want to go home, please–”

Before Martin could get anything else out, the man’s hand was around his neck–tight enough to constrict his air a bit, but more an expression of power. “In this house, you will address me as Sir, do you understand? You are here because you want to get in shape, and god damn it, I will do so. I was a drill instructor for twenty years, and I have become very good at taking weak little pieces of shit like you and turning them into something resembling actual men–but the plus side of doing it for private clients is that I get to do everything the army never had the balls to let me do.”

He released Martin’s neck, and he stumbled backwards a bit, falling against the wall behind him.

“Now, drop and give me twenty.”

“What?”

“I said, you fucking worm, drop and give me twenty pushups! This isn’t fucking rocket science, and if I don’t hear a Sir after your next sentence I will beat your ass red and raw to make sure you remember.”

Martin gulped, and got down in the hallway of the house, arms shaking from their massive workout the day before, and he could barely keep himself up in a plank position.

“Come on, let’s see what you have in you.”

He lowered himself down, but not far enough to the sergeant’s liking, and one boot came down on his back, and pushed him to the floor.

“All the way down, come on. Kiss my boot each time, let’s see if that gives you a little more incentive.”

Martin pushed himself back up, and the sergeant slid his boot right under his face. Martin tried to will himself upright, tried to walk out the door, but couldn’t–he lowered himself down, kissed the sergeant’s boot, and then tried to push himself back up–and failed. He collapsed against the top of the man’s boot, shuddering, and the man laughed.

“If you’re going to stay down there, at least give it a good cleaning, faggot,” the sergeant said. Again, Martin pushed his tongue out against his will, and started licking at the man’s boot, tasting the fresh boot black on the surface and trying not to gag. He pushed himself back up and down a few more times, licking the boot in between–and he finally noticed that he was hard as a rock. Each time the sergeant insulted him, each time he had to lick that damn boot, he was leaking in the front of him gym shorts from the day before.

He wasn’t gay, he wasn’t into any of this shit–what the hell was happening to him? He made it to ten pushups before he shuddered, and his cock came while on the sergeant’s boot, letting out a little groan of pleasure as he did so.

“You fuckin’–roll the fuck over.”

Martin did as he was ordered, and the front of his shorts was soaked with his cum.

“Just couldn’t fucking contain yourself, eh? Well, we can put a stop to that. Clearly you aren’t in shape enough to workout today, so we might as well get you cleaned up.

Cleaned up meant a cold shower, having all of the hair on his body shaved off, his hair buzzed down to almost nothing, and finally, a chastity cage secured around his now hairless cock and balls. He was left in the bathroom, shivering and staring at a stranger in the mirror, until the Sergeant brought him his new uniform–nothing more than a pair of too tight fatigue pants, and a pair of combat boots like his. Then, it was time to eat, and the Sergeant allowed him to rest, finally, on a small cot next to the Sergeant’s own, much larger bed.

He was awoken by the feeling of the Sergeant’s body pressing down on him, and before Martin could do anything, the man’s massive cock was inside his virgin ass, one hand around Martin’s mouth to muffle his screams. He fucked him quick, and Martin was horrified to find himself enjoying it–enjoying the pain, the tightness of his chastity cage, all of it–and then it was over, and Martin discovered he’d slept until the next day. It was time to train.

The days fell into a rhythm. Breakfast. The Sergeant would put him through a rigorous workout, after a long morning jog. Lunch. Martin would complete his chores around the house and the property. Dinner. A couple hours of time to relax. Then bed. The sergeant would fuck him, and then they would sleep hard until the next day.

Winter thawed. Spring came and Summer was blossoming. Martin’s training was progressing–until a new development came along that changed everything again.

Use the poll below to vote! You get two choices. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well!

Caption: Bathhouse Music

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Did they have to have that music on all the time? It seemed like, no matter when Lance went to the gym these days, the bass from that damn place next door leaked through the walls. Even when he had his headphones in, it was like he could still feel it in his bones.

That place, was the bathhouse that had somehow managed to open up right next door. No one had expected it. It had been under construction for a few months, and no one had any idea what it was going to be, and then, when it opened, the guys at the gym were disgusted to discover that they were going to be sharing their parking lot with a bunch of fags going in to get their rocks off. They’d tried complaining, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it, so they settled into a bit of a truce. The only thing breaking that line between them was the music coming from the bathhouse.

It could be worse though, right? Lance pulled off his shirt, dropped his gym shorts, and admired himself in the mirror, pleased with his progress lately. He snapped a photo, and then put his phone back in his bag, and kept admiring himself.

The nipple piercings he’d gotten a few weeks ago were still a bit tender, but fuck, they were hot as hell. He’d never really thought about it before–if anything, he might have thought getting his tits pierced was a little…well, gay. It felt so good though, and it definitely made him look hotter in his opinion. Hell, just looking at himself, he was getting a bit hard already.

He groped his cock and balls through his grungy jock, and noticed it was wet again. He kept leaking at the gym lately, usually enough to soak his jock and stain the front of his shorts. It…was embarrassing, but also kind of hot for some reason, but it was hard to explain why. He was about to stroke off, when he realized he wasn’t alone–an older, chubby fellow was on a bench not twenty feet away, dripping dry with a towel over his shoulder. He must have been in the shower while Lance was checking himself out.

The older man leered at Lance, pulled the towel away, and revealed his own cock, rock hard, and he started stroking it while Lance stared at it.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Ten minutes later, Lance left the door, not even aware of the load of cum plastered across his bearded face. As he headed for his truck, he saw a familiar car pull up with some guys who worked out at the gym, but instead of going in there, they all went right into the bathhouse instead. Lance was a bit…unnerved by it, and wondered how he’d never realized any of them were fags this whole time. He certainly would never be going in there, of course. No…never. Sure, he had that one dream once, and…but no. Not even if he was curious. He wouldn’t cross that line.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 7)

“Uh…Alex? Where are we?”

Kevin had set up in bed, only to find himself staring at a rather unfamiliar wall. It was not the wall of the condo that he shared with Kevin, most certainly. The room was…smaller, for one thing, and outside the dingy window–much smaller than the large ones he was used to–were the sounds of songbirds, not the usual call of city traffic below them. He got up and looked out the window, and found himself looking out the side of a small double wide, set down on some property in a mobile home park, and beyond that, woods. This was not the city anymore.

Alex had left the bedroom and gone into the rest of the small house, and came back. “This…isn’t where he live, how the hell did we get here?”

Kevin looked around and spotted the envelope on the dresser. He tore it open, and read it aloud:

We here at New You Resolutions feel that, given the current lifestyle you two are enjoying, your current residence and former employers were not the sort best suited to two men like you. With that in mind, we feel it would be best for the two of you to relocate. As you can see, we took care of moving you while you were sleeping. I’m sure you will both enjoy your new residence much more. Here, as well, are a couple of resolutions to help you settle in:
— We resolve to behave, act, and speak like two men who have been poor white trash all their lives. We will speak in a heavy drawl, and by next year we resolve to completely forget that we had ever lived in the city at all.
Given the fact that your prior possessions, savings, and investments are currently being liquidated for use by the New You Corporation, it is rather important that each of you acquire a new means of employment. Not to worry, New You Resolutions has already matched each of you with a great employer–and each of you has an envelope of your own to ease you into your new positions. You start today though, so you’d both best be on the road as soon as you can.
P.S. Remember, all of your other resolutions still apply! We’ve updated your gear selection to be a bit more rural–more leather and industrial rubber, less spandex and latex since that no longer is the sort of thing a couple rednecks like you will be wearing.

“There ain’t no way they coulda moved us all the way o’er here without us…” Alex said, and then slapped his hands over his mouth. That…was not his voice–how in the hell had that happened?

Kevin didn’t really want to try and respond, and hear what he might sound like as well. Instead, he handed Alex one of the smaller notes tucked into the first card, the one with Alex’s name on it. Kevin looked at his own, and they read them silently. Here was Kevin’s:

Kevin, you are going to be working, from now on, as a long haul trucker! No need to worry–as an owner-operator, you’re your own boss, and New You Resolutions will be sure to supply you with regular work. In addition, you have a few new resolutions:
— I resolve to stop at every rest area when I drive. I will not leave until I have either had sex with another man there, or until I have drank a load of piss from another man there.
— I resolve to have a smoke fetish. I chain smoke cigarettes or cigars in my truck. The sight of another man smoking is irresistible to me, and I will feel compelled to try and have sex with them.

Alex’s note was as follows:

Alex, you are going to be working as a mechanic from now on! We’ve taken the liberty of getting you a job at Mick’s service station down the road. No need to worry, Mick’s on our team, and he’ll be more than happy to help you satisfy your sex quota while Kevin is trucking. In addition, here are a couple other resolutions for you.
— I resolve to start smoking, along with Kevin, though my fetish will not be as strong as his.
— I resolve to have a grunge fetish. In particular, I love coating myself in oil and grease before jacking off or having sex. From now on, the only lube I will use during sex is engine oil.

Alex looked up, and Kevin was already getting dressed, though he was struggling a bit as well. He tugged on a pair of filthy jeans, a wifebeater, a leather vest, a trucker hat, gave Kevin a pitiful look, and then left. Outside, his cab was parked next to the double wide, and though he’d never driven anything like it before, it came naturally to him, and he was off down the road. He didn’t even notice the cigarette in his mouth until he was a few miles off–he couldn’t even recall lighting it, it felt so natural, and the taste of the smoke was getting him hard as a rock. Thankfully the first rest area came quick, and he was compelled to pull over, and start cruising for dick–it didn’t take long for him to strike up a conversation with another trucker on a smoke break, and take him back to his cab for a blowjob. Then, he was back on the road.

He picked up his load a little before noon, and then he was off–two days there, and two days back. The rest areas all blurred together. At night, in the back of his cab, he’d smoke and jack off, thinking about Alex, and shoot a load all over his little mattress, and then pissed on it too. At least it would smell like home soon enough. Four days later he was back home, finally. Exhausted, he pulled in next to the old pickup Alex drove, went inside, and found him there on the couch, watching TV, his cock soaked with motor oil, slowly jacking off and smoking a cigarette at the same time.

Alex’s first work week had been just as eventful. He’d pulled on his filthy coveralls and work boots, along with a leather cap, and then driven over to Mick’s garage to meet his new boss. True to New You’s word, Mick was just as filthy and greasy as Alex and Kevin, and the two of them wasted no time getting to know each other in Mick’s filthy office, before getting to work. Alex was a natural, and by the end of the night, exhausted, he’d agreed to go out with Mick for a night cap–and they’d ended up at the little porn shop, getting their greasy cock’s sucked off in the gloryholes by who knew who, and then gone home. Alex arrived back, took out a cigar and started smoking it, noting all of the ashtrays that had appeared around the room, and figured there was no way out of this new habit either.

They were so relieved to see each other, that Kevin hoped right onto Alex’s greasy cock and rode it, both of them sharing smoky kisses while they fucked for the rest of the evening, and then for the rest of the weekend while they were at it. Then, come Monday, Alex went back to the garage, and Kevin drove off again for another long trek.

They fell into a routine easily enough. They would force each other to talk about their old lives, just so they could hold onto them, but more and more often, they were forgetting details, entire histories, and finding them replaced with all sorts of lewd tales of their time here in the trailer park, and in the small town they were on the edge of. Mick would come over with some regularity and they would all play together, or head over to the porn shop to suck and fuck at the gloryholes. It was a few months more before the next envelope arrived, signalling another round of changes:

Now that your sex lives are much more interesting, we feel like the two of you could use a little more character as well. Besides, like they say, opposites attract, right?

Inside the card was a pill pack, with a green pill and a red pill, and directions for each of them to take one–but nothing about what the pills would do to them. Alex took the red one, Kevin took the green one, and they swallowed them together–wondering what the company had in store for them now.

Alright, so this poll is a little odd. Below, you’ll find a list of opposite qualities. The ones that get the most votes will have the most extreme changes. So, for example, if Hairy—Smooth is the top result, one character will have a full pelt, while the other won’t have a hair on their body. Changes in the middle will be less extreme, and changes at the bottom of the rankings will be left out, or the characters will both fall on the middle of the spectrum. As for which quality affects which character…well, that’s for me to decide! You pick the intensity, and I’ll figure out how to apply them. You all have three votes, and Patrons have their bonus poll over here!