Tag: humiliation

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 4)

“I wish I’d grow older and start gaining.”

Adam froze as the words left his mouth, and Rich just stared at him. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Rich said, as Adam looked around, and saw the genie smiling at him with those glimmering eyes, but before he could do anything he felt that same power overwhelm him–and Rich. 

“I…I don’t think I wanted to say…” Adam muttered, but Rich just shushed him.

“Put that down honey,” Rich said, and took the gym bag off Adam’s shoulder, “I think we both know that isn’t going to be good for your goals, right? Besides, you need your after work six pack first. Gotta keep that beer gut of yours growing.”

Adam wanted to scream at the genie, demand to know what he’d done, but he just allowed Rich to pull him into the living room and sit him down on the couch. As he did, he found himself settling into a comfortable indentation on the old sofa…because it was his spot, wasn’t it? He rubbed his gut, and felt it growing a bit larger, and was there more grey hair on it than there was before? Rich returned with a six pack of cheap beer, and a knife–flipped one can upside down, punctured a hole there, pushed it to Adam’s mouth, and had him shotgun it–and then a second one right after that, and he could feel the beer going right to his gut, and to his head, which was getting a bit…fuzzy.

“There we go daddy, that oughta get you started,” Rich said, and put the other four on the table next to him. “Now let me get you some snacks, I bet you’re hungry.”

He was hungry. Starving, in fact, but he needed to resist this. He felt…weaker all of a sudden, but that wasn’t really a surprise, was it? He hadn’t been going to the gym regularly for years–not since he was in his forties. Ever since he’d moved in with Rich, he’d been going less and less, and packing on the pounds, and he’d…liked it. They’d both liked it. Liked it enough for Adam to stop going entirely, and focus on gaining instead. He let off a belch and rubbed his big gut, feeling it swell larger still, losing a bit of the firmness it had had in his middle age, and start to sag around him instead, thighs growing thicker, arms losing their bulk and turning into fatty hams instead. He had to fight this, he had to, if he didn’t, he…he wouldn’t remember that he wasn’t supposed to look like this.

Rich came back into the room, and Adam said, “Please, I wanna go to the gym Rich.”

“Why would you wanna go to the gym, Daddy? Don’t be silly.”

“Please…I…” it was risky, but he had to try, “I wish you’d let me go to the gym.” 

Or that’s what he tried to say.

“I wish you’d always been going to the gym,” is what the genie allowed out of his mouth instead, and Adam watched as Rich’s physique shifted in a matter of moments, losing most of his fat entirely, as he packed on all of the muscle that Adam had lost in a matter of moments, and then even more than that. He was no cleaner than he’d been before this of course–he was still a slob after all–but instead of smelling of beer and lazy BO, he stank of gym musk. When he leaned in to kiss Adam, and he smelled him…Adam moaned. Fuck, he loved how Rich smelled after the gym so much, reminded him of…of all those years ago now, when he’d been a gym rat, but why the fuck would he want that now, right? He knocked back another beer while Rich sat his muscular ass down next to him on the couch and started kneading Adam’s fat gut as he passed 350 pounds and headed for 400, his age creeping up past 55 and getting closer to 60. Most of his hair was white now, his beard thick and long, crusted with food and drool, his face lined with creases and wrinkles. 

For the rest of the evening, he pounded back beers and snacks at Rich’s urging, and by the time it got to be time for bed, he’d polished off ten beers, and more food than he’d eaten in ages. Rich helped him up off the couch, and the sixty-one year old, 450 pound Adam waddled his way to bed, belching and farting the whole way, where he laid down on the dirty sheets. He tried to reach for his cock, but as horny as he was, he couldn’t get a good grip, and without thinking, he said, “I wish my dick was big enough to fuck you.”

Only what came out instead was: “I wish my gunt was deep enough to fuck.”

“Fuck Daddy, your cockhole is wet tonight,” Rich said, as he reached down and slid two fingers under Adam’s belly. Sure enough, Adam’s little cock had been pumping precum out all evening, not that you could find it at the bottom of his six inch deep gunt. Rich pushed in deep and ran his finger around the head of Adam’s tiny cock, making the old man shudder in excitement.

“Fuck boy, give Daddy’s hole a good fuck, would ya?” he muttered, and Rich was happy to oblige, and the friction of Rich’s cock against his own buried deep in his fat was enough to bring them both to orgasm. Then they fell asleep, Rich’s arms and musk wrapped around Adam’s fat body.

In the morning, however, came clarity.

Rich was already up and making breakfast, and Adam was staring at himself in the filthy bathroom mirror, horrified at what had happened to him. He could…remember, vaguely, that this wasn’t…right. That he hadn’t wanted this. “Genie…Genie!” he muttered, and the genie appeared beside him. Adam glared at him. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

The genie just smiled and shrugged, “I am allowed, as necessary, to modify my master’s wishes slightly so that the world can better accommodate them.”

“You fucking piece of shit! I fucking knew it. I wish I was thin and muscular again!” Adam shouted at him.

Or tried to. What he shouted instead was: “I wish I could never be thin and muscular again!”

“Easily done!” the genie said, “From now on, you’ll never lose another pound of fat, and getting bigger will be easier than ever for you–especially with that new hunger of yours, Daddy…”

Adam nearly doubled over from the pain of it, his gut growling in desperation. “You fuck…that’s not…what I wanted…”

“Alas, what you want is only a starting point for me, Master,” the genie said. “Perhaps you’d like to try again?”

“I wish I’d never met you,” Adam groaned out.

Or rather: “I wish I’d forget I’d ever met you.”

And Adam forgot everything. Everything other than the fact that he was an obese, sixty year old pig desperate for breakfast. Thankfully, his muscular boy had breakfast ready for him by the time he waddled out to the kitchen, and he scarfed it down, dribbling precum from his gunt, his boy teasing him, feeding him, wanting to make sure his old Daddy got as big as possible, as quickly as possible.

The genie watched for a while, but eventually decided to retreat. That had been a fun one, but there were other men who needed his services. He found his way back to the dorms where he had met Adam to begin with, and peeked in a few of the rooms on the floor, where he found a few young men in need of his services. But who became the genie’s master next?

Let’s choose someone new! It seems like you all are enjoying these, so I’ll do a couple more characters before moving onto something different. The patron only bonus poll is over here!

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 3)

Mutabear ended up pointing out the original story this idea is taken from, called “Plus Three” by Derek Williams.

“I wish I was fucking Rich, my slobby neighbor.”

It happened again. That wasn’t the wish he’d meant to make, but it had just fallen right out of his mouth anyway. 

“I think we can arrange that,” the genie said, and again, the genie’s eyes began to pulse with an incredible intensity, as Adam found himself drawn to the door of his apartment. 

“I…I don’t actually want…I mean…I don’t know why I said that, I don’t even know if I have a neighbor named…named Rich…” Adam said, but even as he said it, there were memories falling into place. His next door neighbor was a man named Rich, and he was most definitely a slob. He was massively fat, and the few times Rich had spoken to him the guy was a mess–usually drunk and reeking of beer and cigarettes, wearing nothing more than his filthy underwear, with a thick tangled beard and long ratty hair. Rich had always disgusted him, hadn’t he? But then why was he getting so hard all of a sudden thinking about him?

Confused, flustered, and horny, he went out into the hallway and knocked on Rich’s door. After a few moments, the fat slob opened his door, and before either of them could say anything, he saw a flicked of color cross Rich’s eyes–the same color as the genie’s mist. “Hey fucker–get your sexy ass in here. Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

He grabbed Adam by the front of his undershirt and pulled him into his apartment. The smell of the place was strong, but also somehow…intoxicating. “Sorry, I got off late from work,” Adam said, and he started kissing Rich on the fat neck, making him shudder.

“You fuckin’ work too much man,” Rich moaned, running his hands over Adam’s hard muscle.

“Shut up, get in the fuckin’ bedroom.”

He’d never been this far into Rich’s apartment before, had he? But they why was this all so familiar? The piles of dirty laundry, the sheets stained dark with sweat and cum. Rich tossed him the lube and got up on the bed, while Adam stripped down himself, and lubed up his rock hard cock. No one else got him hard like this, something about the fat pig’s nasty stench, his hair, the grease on his skin just got Adam’s cock going like nothing else, even if he was a bit humiliated to be fucking someone like this. Whatever–why the fuck did it matter? He got up and shoved his cock into Rich’s hole and started fucking him rough, Rich moaning and begging him for more and more, but Adam didn’t last that long–after a few minutes, he came, hauled his cock out, and felt the control the genie had on him wane a bit. 

“Fuck man, I needed that,” Rich said, and rolled over, groping for his own cock, “Give a guy a hand, would ya?”

It turned his stomach a bit, but Adam licked at Rich’s balls while he stroked, and he came too after a couple of minutes, both of them sweaty, and Rich let off a belch. “I gotta get going, man, thanks for the fuck,” Adam said, eager to be past this as quickly as possible now that he wasn’t compelled to be here.

“I got some beer if you want, could watch the wrestling tonight, you like wrestling?”

“I fuckin’ exhausted is all, I’m gonna go eat.”

Rich looked disappointed. “Fuck man, I wish you would hang out with me, and not just fuck me and go, you know?”

It happened faster than either of them could even realize–after all, the genie had never said he was limited to granting just Adam’s wishes. What came out instead was:

“Fuck man, I wish you had moved in with me, and not just fuck me and go, you know?”

The mist swirled up around them, and Adam only had a moment to realize a wish had been granted before things were back to a new normal between them–living in a two bedroom now, together, like they always had…right? 

“I…I need to…” Adam said, certain he’d been planning to go somewhere a moment before, but he couldn’t remember where. “I gotta go to the gym,” he said, finally, but that still didn’t seem quite right.

“Come on, stay home, watch the wrestling with me!” Rich said, “You work out too much, it can’t be healthy.”

“I like working out though.”

“You like work too much! Everything you do is work, you don’t know how to enjoy yourself,” Rich said, as Adam dug his gym bag out from their combined piles of dirty laundry. He didn’t want to have this fight again–they always had this stupid fight. Rich hated work, and could barely hold down a job. That meant Adam had to hold down all the income for them both. His job was good, but it was stressful, and all Rich wanted him to do was work less!

“I wish you’d grow up and start working!” Adam said, thinking that would end it, but he’d forgotten about the genie again, and once more, his wish was twisted around into something else entirely.

Here’s your next poll! You can pick two of the options below. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.


Caption: The Mason Boys and the Cop

It wasn’t the most glamorous place to be a police officer, he supposed, but maybe that was for the best, Mitch thought. He had always liked the small town life, after all, as sleepy and boring as it could be at times. The occasional drunken brawl at the tavern was about as exciting as it ever got around here–at least, until that fateful night when the Mason boys were screaming down the highway at over a hundred, and Mitch was waiting in the cop car behind some bushes, though most people knew better than to race through there.

When the car sped past him, Mitch was always too surprised to give chase. Cussing a little, he put his coffee in the center console, flicked on the lights, and raced off after them. If he hadn’t–if he’d just let them go, maybe the Mason boys would have never come to the little, sleepy town of Garrison–and the town wouldn’t have become nearly as interesting as it has, as of late.

The car slowed down as soon as Mitch pulled out from his hiding place with his lights on, and pulled over to the side of the road–which seemed a bit…too easy for Mitch, and set off a few little red flags in the back of his head. Still, it was probably just some guy who, in the middle of the night, thought no one would be around to catch him, but he was wrong, wasn’t he? Mitch radioed in the stop to dispatch, and proceeded to the driver side window–there, he found something similar to what he’d expected, an older fellow, looking a bit…terrified. He was in a suit that seemed a bit…dirty, and he stank, or at least, something stank. That was when he looked back, and saw the two men in the backseat–the Mason boys.

Both of them were grungy looking fellows, with big beards and lots of tattoos, both smoking sizable cigars, and filling the whole cab with smoke, making Mitch cough. The smell of everything made him a bit…lightheaded, and woozy in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Please, you have to help me,” the driver said to him, “I…I can’t control…what they tell me to do, please, please, I–”

“Hey! Shut the fuck up, you stupid faggot,” one of the brothers said in the backseat. “Evening officer, what can we do for you tonight?”

Mitch wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation–the whole thing just looked…strange, to him. “Is…everything alright, Sir?” he asked the driver.

“Go on, bitch, tell the handsome cop why you were speeding,” the other brother said, and the two laughed.

“I…I was speeding because…because I like sucking cop cock, Sir,” the older man said…but to Mitch, it didn’t look like he wanted to be saying it. It looked like he was being forced to say it, but he didn’t see a weapon on anything in the back. “Please, Sir? Can I suck your cock?”

“Are they making you say that, Sir?”

“No sir, I’m just…just a fat old faggot who loves cop cock, please, please fuck me, I want you to beat me with your billy club, and shove it up my old hole, and then cum all over my face, right on the side of the road, please Sir, please…”

The man was crying, and what Mitch wanted to do, was order the other two out of the car, arrest them, and get the story straight from their captive–but what he did instead was order the driver out of the car. He threw him over the front hood, right there on the highway, and started smacking his ass with the club, while the Mason boys got out, cheering him on, the driver sobbing in pain, as Mitch yanked down the man’s pants, and shoved his club into his hole. Once it was good and deep, he forced the man onto his knees, and started fucking his face, the two men urging him on, telling him what a hot fucker he is, their musk making his head spin more and more until he came all over the driver’s face, and Mitch, panting, felt control return to him.

The Mason boys were laughing, the driver sobbing, and before anyone could do anything else, he pulled his gun on the two men, and ordered them against their car. He didn’t know…what they’d done to him, but he hadn’t wanted to do that–he was going to put them under arrest, and figure out what to do about them. He handcuffed them both, and then got them in the squad car, leaving the driver on the side of the road, his club still shoved in his hole, but the Mason boys weren’t scared, they seemed…happy. Thrilled even, as Mitch radioed dispatch, told them he’d resolved the stop, and was quitting for the night. Then, he drove his two captives home, answering all of their questions that they asked him…and only realized something was off when they pulled into his driveway, instead of the station.

“Why…why did I bring you two here?” he said.

“Don’t think about it too hard, bitch–you’re way more fun, and sexy, than that old guy–come on, let’s go inside for some fun–won’t that be nice?” one of the boys said to him.

Mitch couldn’t stop himself as he got out, took off the handcuffs, and followed the two men into his house, where he lived alone–after his last girlfriend had left him. The Mason boys had come to town, and now that they were here, they were going to be staying for quite a while–and Mitch was going to be their first toy.

“So you think you’re ready to go to work at the station? Are you sure?” Teddy Mason said, while his brother, Edd, just chuckled.

“Yeah, I…I think so,” Mitch said to them both, standing in the hallway of his house. He…he couldn’t quite remember much of what had happened the night before, after bringing the two dirty men home with him from that traffic stop, but…but his shift started soon, and he was a cop, so he had to go to work. It was important. It was hard to think though, and so he’d been struggling to get ready all morning. Thankfully Teddy and Edd had helped him out.

“You have your uniform on?”

“Yep! It’s blue and everything.”

“Is it clean?”

“It wasn’t but I went I rolled in the dirt out back like you told me to, Teddy. Now’s it’s clean.”

“You get breakfast?”

“Still working on my third can,” Mitch said, as he took another long sip from the beer he had in his hand.

Teddy and Edd were laughing now, but Mitch didn’t know what was so funny, really. He was just getting ready for work.

“You go to the bathroom? Take care of business?” Edd said, sneering at him.

“Oh…uh…no, I didn’t piss this morning yet.”

“Well I bet you have to after breakfast for sure–but you’re running late–better finish that beer and piss yourself to save some time.”

That…that made sense, didn’t it? Mitch downed the rest of his beer, and then felt piss flood the front of his uniform as he stood in the hallway, grinning like an idiot, while the Mason boys just laughed. Something must be real funny–Mitch found himself grinning along, despite not knowing why.

“Alright, I think you’re ready Bitch–go get to the station, and hurry. You’re almost late.”

“Thanks you guys, it was…real hard getting going this morning for some reason.”

“No worries Bitch, we’re here to help.”

Mitch went out to the driveway and climbed in the squad car. It was a bit hard driving after three beers, but he managed alright, and got to the station in one piece. He was half an hour late–the sheriff was going to be so pissed at him. He went in, and sure enough, Sheriff Biggs was there, huffing, and when he saw Mitch there, his face went bright red…and as soon as he was in the station, Mitch…remembered, everything, with perfect clarity.

How the Mason boys had humiliated him all night, fucking him, teasing him, and then this morning, how…how they’d dressed him up in these filthy denim clothes, and now he was here, in front of his boss, looking like some dirty fucking pig…and as hard as he tried to explain himself, no sound would come out of his mouth.

“Mitch, what the fuck are you wearing?”

“My…My uniform, Sir,” he blurted out, unable to say anything other than that, just like the driver the other night. “It’s…it’s blue, right?”

“Have you been drinking?”

“I had…I mean…”

The sheriff sniffed his breath, and wrinkled his nose. “You fucking piece of shit, you’re fucking fired! Give me your fucking keys, your badge, and your gun.”

He had remembered his badge and gun–probably because the Mason boys had known he’d have to turn them in after this stunt. Then, the sheriff booted him out of the station–without a car, he had to take the bus and walk home–and he got there in the early afternoon, fuming, but unable to tell a soul the truth about why he was dressed like this, and soaked in piss.

But the boys’ hold on him was too strong. He went inside, found Teddy wearing his uniform, minus the badge, and when he tried to cuss them out and hit them, he couldn’t move. Instead, he ended up on his hands and knees, cleaning his own boots with his tongue while Edd fucked him, making him recount everything that had happened to him that morning. Mitch cried, finally. He cried, but that just made the boys laugh louder. 

“Fuck bro, this town seems fucking boring, you know?”

“Yeah Edd–and I like our bitch here a lot–you don’t mind if we stay with you for a while, do you Bitch? I think my bro and I could have a lot of fun here, don’t you? You want us to stay with you real bad–you’ll do anything we say, as long as we stay, isn’t that right?”

Mitch had to agree of course, he’d agree with anything the Mason boys said, after all. Soon, all the rest of the men in the town would too, if the boys had their way.

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 10)

This is the finale! I’ll have a new interactive starting next week.

He wasn’t going to stay here. He would not become one more monster trapped in these halls! It took all of his willpower to keep from pushing more and more of his cock into the man’s hole, and instead haul it free. Behind him, he heard a strange growl coming from the Master of the Halls–he was obviously displeased with him, but Ken wasn’t about to stick around and find out what might happen to him if he resisted. Instead, he grabbed the man’s tag around his arm, tore it off of him, and ran off down the hall the way the man had come–hoping and praying he would find his way out of the halls before the Master found him first.

It was the imp that saved him, in the end. He caught sight of the little fellow running down a hall, and followed him all the way out of the maze, struggling to catch up to him, but by the time he got to the dance floor, and then to the clothes check, the imp had already turned in Ken’s tag and escaped with his clothes into a changing room. He begged the masked man working the counter, tried to explain what had happened, but he just took the tag from him, shoved a bundle of clothes into his arms…and the next thing he could remember clearly, he woke up in his bed.

Of course, it wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t his room, it wasn’t his apartment, it wasn’t his life, it wasn’t his body. He stood in front of the mirror, looking at his fat, hairy, middle aged body staring back at him, and he just…gaped at it for a while, struggling to take it in. He wasn’t in the halls at least, but who’s life had he taken, anyway?

Thankfully, it the routine came to him naturally, as did his new name–Ollie Dawson. He worked as a manager at a small bank branch near his home, and made good money doing it, but Ollie…well, there was always a reason guys found their way to Pigtown, and Ollie was no exception. He was a pervert, and a porn addict. He’d never had sex with anyone in his life, but the only thing that could get him off was masturbating. It was humiliating, and he could feel his own memories of sex fading away as he settled into Ollie’s life, found himself enjoying his edging time after (and during) work. He knew that if he kept this up, he would lose his old self soon enough, and all that remained would be this old pervert–that was what drove him back to the bar, a few weeks later. Desperation. He had to know it had been real, that the dreams he had of those halls, of the teeth, of the imp, that they were real. It had to be real, it had to, didn’t it? Not just some crazy dream pulled from his sex addled imagination?

So he went, and the bar was smaller, with fewer men huddled at the bar and the tables. There was no hallway where he could remember it, no way back into the haunt. When he asked the bartender about it, after a couple of drinks, the man just smiled. It would come back next year, he said, along with everyone in it. Until then, they were having their own never ending Halloween party. Ollie shuddered at the thought of going back in there again, of seeing the man he’d abandoned, warped and twisted by the master…no, he wouldn’t be back here again, not if he could help it–and then he saw him.

Himself, rather.

It took him a moment to realize why he looked so familiar to him–it’s because it was him, the face he’d stared at for years. His body was right there, across the bar, feeling up some leather bear, and…and he’d never been this angry in his entire life, that he could recall. The bartender leaned over, and asked him if there was anything he could get him, and Ollie whipped around, and made a request. The man smiled, made him the drink, and he took it over to Ken, and introduced himself.

The next morning, the imp, in Ken’s body, woke up with a hangover, in Ollie’s apartment. He felt…strange. Really strange, in ways he couldn’t quite explain, but when Ollie told him to dance for him…well, Ken danced. He did everything that Ollie ordered him to do, he was his living porn model, now. Ollie, after all, only really wanted to watch–but since the imp had made it so he was stuck as this old pervert, the least he could do was keep him satisfied, right?

Suggested Story: House of Fears

Something a bit strange and silly for Halloween. I do little sketches like this for Patrons a few times a month, based on their requests! If you aren’t supporting me over there, and have some ideas for stories, that’s the best way to get me to write them. This month, we also had a rather eccentric veterinarian performing heart surgery, and a fellow trying out a new fantasy game on a VR system that gets a bit too real for him.

“Please, there’s no way it can actually work like that,” Derek said, as he and his friends from the wrestling team all waited in line for the haunted house.

“I’m fucking serious dude,” Jay said, “Marc went last week, told them he was scared of bats, and the whole fucking place was fucking full of them!”

“Well no shit, that’s fucking easy!” Derek said, “They probably already have a bunch of shit in there. People are always gonna say obvious fucking shit like that.”

It was a new kind of haunted house, or at least, that’s what they were advertising it as. Completely personalized–whatever you were scared of, the place would be full of it–and a lot of people were saying it was true. But Derek thought it was bullshit, obviously. There was just no way it could possibly be true, that they had a scenario for everyone’s weird ass fears. So he decided, right then and there, that he would do something to show them. “Tell you guys what, I’m gonna tell them I’m afraid of something so stupid, they’ll never be able to come up with something for it.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Derek thought for a second, “How about milk, man? Who the fuck could be afraid of milk?”

The other guys on the team all laughed, but they all agreed it sounded like a funny idea, and it wasn’t like Derek was going to take it seriously anyway. They got to the front of the line a little while later, and the attendant let them in one person at a time. Derek was sent into the complex, and found himself in a little black room, where a guy in a rather realistic werewolf makeup was waiting for him. “Tell me your fear, so you may pass through our gauntlet of terror,” he said in some spooky voice that just made Derek want to giggle, but he tried to control himself.

“I’m afraid…I’m afraid of milk,” he said, but couldn’t control himself, and just started laughing in the guy’s face, but the man didn’t react. He hit some button of some lever or something, a trap door opened under Derek, and he slid down a slide for a while and landed at the bottom on a dingy mattress in the dark.

“What the fuck, where the fuck am I?” he said, and looked around. The floor and the walls were all stone–real stone, not some fake shit, and it was all lined with torches. He started down the passageway, amazed at how real it was, but there sure wasn’t any milk anywhere–this didn’t make much sense at all to him, really. He went down the passage, and came to a fork in the path, and then another one beyond the first–it was a maze, or a labyrinth of some sort, wasn’t it? He hadn’t bothered to trace his way at all, and so all he could do was wander blindly through the halls, though occasionally he would hear noises. The scrape of something hard against the stone, and then a scent on the air, a bit rank, like…like spoiled or sour milk. It was freaking him out a bit, and he walked faster, until he came to a large chamber–the center of the maze, and there, he found himself staring at the minotaur.

He was massive, at least eight feet tall, and heavily muscled. But what Derek found himself staring at was the minotaur’s cock–a massive, two foot long bull’s cock, leaking thick white cum onto the stone floor, and the minotaur’s overdeveloped pecs were leaking the same thing, while the beast leered at him. “Come on then, get your milk boy,” he growled, and charged at him.

It was a haunted house, right? He couldn’t actually touch him. But the beast barrelled into him, and started tearing off his clothes as he laughed, and then forced Derek’s mouth against one nipple, holding him there, forcing him to drink down the rank, sour milk coming from his teats. It was disgusting, but he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing, and as he did, his body began to change, growing fatter and pudgier by the moment, until the minotaur dropped the once husky wrestler to the floor, who was now over 300 pounds, with a gut full of milk.

“That’s looking better already–but this bull needs a real cowboy to play with,” he said, rolled Derek over, and started working his cock into his hole, lubed up with just his milk, pumping him full from the other end, and Derek kept changing. He grew fatter and fatter still, passing 400, and then 500 pounds. HIs cock and balls began to engorge, until they looked like one massive teat, and began to leak milk of his own all over the stone floor, making a puddle underneath him, his fat tits doing the same, as black and white fur covered his body from head to toe, little horns poking out from his temple, as he mooed and lowed in pain from the minotaur’s cock fucking him. At last, the beast came, and the milk pumped his so full that he gagged, and it spewed out of his mouth, all over the ground in front of him.

“Don’t worry cowboy, we have all night in here before I have to let you go, and we’re just getting started,” the minotaur said, and worked his cock in again.

“Where the hell is he? He went in second.”

“Don’t fucking know–do you think he really said milk like an idiot?”

“Of course he did.”

“Is that him? There he is!”

Derek was stumbling out of the exit of the haunted house, back to his normal body, but he could barely speak to any of his friends, as they ushered him away from the house, asking him what had happened to him. He couldn’t bear repeating it to any of them–it had been too nightmarish, but when Derek flipped out after seeing the milk boxes at school the next day, none of them knew what to make of it.

Every night, he dreamed of the minotaur, and every time, he had to run, and run, and run through the labyrinth and escape him. He knew if the minotaur caught him…he wouldn’t wake up. He’d be stuck there, as the monster’s perverted little cowboy for the rest of his life, and he would wake up screaming, hard as a rock and soaked in precum, unable to talk about what was happening to him to anyone, not even his friends in the dorm, or his parents. On the morning after Halloween, his roommate woke up to find that Derek wasn’t in his bed–and no one on campus had seen him either. They searched for him, but there were no clues at all–it was like he had just vanished from his bed. 

The minotaur had caught him, and now Derek was in the maze forever, massively obese and soaked in milky cum, all because he thought milk couldn’t be scary at all.

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 9)

“God damn it, get the fuck back here, you little fuck, I’m gonna fuck your hole and then tear new ones in you and fuck those too!” Ken roared as he chased the imp through the halls, his rock hard, rubberized cock swinging painfully as he ran through the halls, shoving his way through all of the other freaks and men fucking in the dark as the night came to a climax. He saw a clock as he ran, giving him about an hour and a half before the window of escape closed off forever, and he was stuck here. While this wasn’t exactly…bad, he still had no intention of letting that imp get away with his tag–and with his life.

But as he ran, it was getting harder and harder to ignore all of the men–and especially all of the holes–he was passing by. His cock was aching for a fuck, and he…well, he was built to fuck, wasn’t he? He was a hot fucking top, and every hole needed him inside of it, pumping his cum deep into their guts, showing them who was really in charge in these halls, warping and changing them into freaks just like him, and–

He had to stop for a moment, and try and get his head back under control. That wasn’t him, that was this fucking gear trying to think for him. He wasn’t going to be whatever freak this place wanted him to be–he wasn’t! He saw the imp round a corner up ahead in the halls, and took off after him, growling. There was only one hole that he really wanted in this whole fucking place after all, and he wasn’t going to give up until he got it.

He rounded the same corner at top speed, and ran right into another person, sending them both tumbling to the floor of the hallway in a tangle, that Ken struggled to extract himself from. By the time he got himself out, he looked down the hallway, and realized he’d lost the imp in the mess. “Fuck! God fucking damn it!” he shouted, and whirled on the man he’d crashed into, “You fucking piece of shit, he got away! I…why I oughta…F-Fuck! Fuck you!”

The man on the ground looked up at him in a bit of terror. He was a bit older, and a little chubby. He must have entered the area later than Ken had–he still had on his black shorts, and even had his clothes tag around his arm. “Please…please don’t, I just want to get out of here! Don’t hurt me, please…”

Ken growled at him, and kicked him in the gut, sending him to the ground, gagging…and seeing that, Ken smiled cruelly. Fuck…it felt real fucking good, hurting him, and he gave him another kick in the balls, just to make sure he stayed down. “Fucking faggot–fucking pig, I’ll fucking do whatever I fucking want to you–you’re fucking mine, understand?”

The man tried to crawl away from him, but Ken grabbed him by the hips and dragged him back, tearing open the back of his shorts like they were paper, and shoved his rubber cock between the man’s fat ass cheeks. He could feel him…shudder, the fucking bitch wanted it, didn’t he?

“You fucking want this, don’t you? This big fucking cock in your sloppy pig hole,” he growled at him, as he kept fucking the man’s cheeks, his cock starting to leak a thick, black, rubbery cum.

“I…fuck, please Sir, please…fuck this slutty faggot’s hole Sir…”

He couldn’t afford to get distracted. He couldn’t do this–right now, that fucking imp was probably heading for the exit, Ken’s tag in hand, and if he didn’t get there first to intercept him…there was no way he was going to get out of here in his own body. But this…this fucking hole, he needed it. He needed it in a way he could barely articulate, like it was his purpose. He was a fucking top–and when a hole like this presented itself, begging to be used like this, how could he possibly say no? He pushed the head in, and shuddered, the strange cum working as lube, the man moaning in pain, trying to pull away, but that only made Ken grab him by the hips and drag him back, inch by inch, his massive cock slipping inside him.

“That’s it faggot, just fucking take it like a good bitch,” he said.

“Oh…oh fuck Sir, it’s so big!”

“Trust me, you aren’t going to want any other dick other than mine one I’m through with you,” he added…but Ken also knew that if he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t want anything else too. Looking up, he saw…the teeth in the darkness. The Master of the Halls was there, observing, wanting to see his new top’s first performance for himself, and…part of him was excited. Excited that Master wanted to see him, excited that Master…no–no, this isn’t right, it isn’t what he should be, is it?

He looked down, and saw the tag around the man’s arm. He looked back at the Master’s teeth. He thought about the imp, scurrying through the halls. He had to make a decision, but what?

This next one is the last entry! Here’s the bonus patron poll as well. I’ll start something new next week, that may or may not be holiday related–haven’t decided yet.

Business as Usual

An open ended, multipart story following the various tales of a business that has been taken over by a new CEO. However, the men working there soon discover that with new leadership, it is going to be anything but business as usual for them.

Last updated: 10/21/2019 – Part 3 is now public!

Click the button below to see the table of contents, and read the story!

Continue reading “Business as Usual” →

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 6)

Back to the beginning…

Ken gave chase through the halls of Pigtown, doing his best to avoid the groping and grasping hands of the monsters surrounding him on every side, while still keeping his eye on the imp darting down, around corners, deeper and deeper into the complex with every turn, until Ken was most certainly lost. It wasn’t long before the other figures in the hall became less numerous, the lights darker and dimmer, and he came to an abrupt halt–the imp was in front of him, standing at a dead end, facing him, his clothes check dangling from his fingers.

“Give me that back, I need it,” Ken said.

“Oh, I know you need it, fella, I was counting on you needing it real badly. The only problem is, I need it too, you see?” the imp said, “I was like you a few years ago, wandering in here stupidly. Look at me now–and the only way out is one of the tags off you stupid fucks, who are dumb enough to come wandering in here. Still, the night is young, and not many people come down this far, we have quite a few hours to have some fun, don’t you think?”

Before Ken could do anything else, the imp leaped at him, and as he did, he flung some sort of powder in his face. It was incandescent in the darkness somehow, and got in his eyes, in his nose and throat, making him cough and sneeze for a moment, stumbling around blindly, until he managed to pry his eyes open. He saw the imp there, leaning against the stone hallway…and the only thing he could feel was…was love. No, not love, desire. Infatuation. It was immediate, and overwhelming, and he stumbled forward and fell to his knees, unable to look this beautiful creature in the face, it was simply too much for him to bear.

“There, that’s what I want to see,” the imp said, “Come over here, why don’t you take care of this for me, slave.”

“Yes! Yes Sir, yes Master!” Ken said, crawled forward, took the imp’s sizable cock in his mouth and started sucking as hard as he could, desperate to please him, thrilled that he could be so privileged as to be…be the slave of someone so perfect as this impish fellow. 

“Oh yes, that’s very good slave. Do you like the taste of your Master’s cock?”

“Yes Sir! Thank you Sir!” Ken mumbled around the imp’s cockhead, swirling it around in his mouth, looking up at him in such profound adoration, all thoughts of the outside world, of the tag, of anything other than this short, handsome devilish man, running out his mind like a sieve. They no longer mattered–the only thing that mattered was serving him in whatever way he desired, no matter what.

“Well, I see the old charm powder still packs quite a punch,” the imp said, grabbed the back of Ken’s head, and fucked his throat for a few minutes, before pushing him off, and dangling the tag in front of his face. “I think this is going to be just fine for us both. Tell me, Slave, are you alright if I take this tag off your hands?”

“Of course Sir, all of my things are yours.”

“Even your life? You don’t mind if I walk out of here in your clothes, and in your body, and just leave you in here to rot until next Halloween, if your mind survives that long?”

“No Sir, whatever you desire, you should have.”

“Oh, you say such sweet things to me Slave,” the imp said, “Now turn around, you want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“Oh yes Sir! Thank you Sir, I want to feel you inside me, please fuck me, please…” Ken said, and spun around, shoving his ass back towards the little imp, who took his spit slick cock and began pushing it against Ken’s hole, listening to his enslaved thrall start to moan and beg for it. So far, everything had gone exactly according to plan, and now he had a few hours to toy with this stupid fuck before he had to get back to the bar, retrieve Ken’s clothes and his life, and be gone from this nightmare for good. He still had so much to do though, before he could make that happen though–what is the next part of the imp’s plan for the charmed Ken?

Here’s the next poll! The patron bonus poll is over here as well.

Caption: Brownnoser Brother

Patrons who are on my discord server get exclusive access to all of my caption stories as I write them! This one is in three parts–here’s the first one for you. If you’d like to become a patron and support my writing, you can find out more info here!

I couldn’t believe the fucking nerve of my fucking brother, texting me out of the blue like that. I should back up a bit, I guess. He was always the black sheep of the family, four years older than I was, and he’d always hated me. Resented me is a better word I guess. Even in my earliest memories, he was always a bully, picking on me, setting me up to take the fall for shit I didn’t do, but our parents always sided with me, which probably only served to piss him off even more. When he was a teenager, shit went even more sideways–he started drinking a lot, falling in with some guys at school that were real pieces of work, probably got involved in some drug shit though I never saw any proof. He dropped out–well, he was expelled–my parents kicked him to the curb when he was 17, and that was that for a while. My dad always had a soft spot for him and kept in touch, hoping he would turn things around, but nothing ever worked, and I mostly pushed him out of mind as I went off to college. The last time I saw him, a year ago, was for my grandmother’s funeral–he looked like garbage, stank to high heaven, couldn’t even be bothered to dress up. He came because he needed money, and thought he was getting some! Even that was enough to turn my dad against him too, and that was the last I heard from him, until I got the text today, asking me for money!

He wanted 200 dollars. I told him to fuck off. Before I could block his number though, he sent me a nasty fucking insult, calling me a “faggot brownnoser,” with a little tongue emoji to go with it. It was enough to set me off really, but what could I do? I got dressed and headed into work–I’d gotten a summer internship at a local tech firm that was going really well, and I couldn’t let my brother fuck that up for me.

Still, I felt…weird all morning. Angry, sure, but like something else was off, something I couldn’t really explain. I got an email from my boss before lunch, asking me to come by so we could discuss some details of my project, and I went to his office…and that was where it happened.

My boss didn’t even wait for me to get into the office before he stood up, dropped his pants and underwear, and bent over the side of his desk. “Well come on then, you faggot brownnoser,” he said, “Get to fucking work.”

I wanted to tell him to eat shit, go right to HR and report his ass…but instead, something took hold of me, and I got down and started eating out his hole, right there in his office, my cock hard as a rock, while he kept berating me, telling me what a worthless fuck I was, that the only reason he kept me around at all, was because I loved eating out dirty holes like his. I was horrified, but I couldn’t stop–and he made me sniff his underwear, tell him how much I loved the smell of the brown streak in the back of his briefs, all the while stroking my own cock.

He turned around and shot his load across my face, and I came in my pants–then he kicked me out of his office, telling me he wanted me back after he’d had his afternoon shit, and I fled. I was so fucking humiliated, I didn’t know what to do–but I sure as hell wasn’t going to go back there. I packed my bag and left the building–horrified at myself, the words still ringing in my mind–and I realized it was the same thing my brother had called me. It couldn’t be possible I told myself–it was just some fucked up dream. I needed to get something to eat, calm down, and call HR–but my brother’s curse was just getting started.