Tag: hypnosis

Make Up – Part 1

“It really was just so tragic, you know? I mean, I knew he was depressed, but still, finding him here, dead was still a shock. I feel bad, just dumping him there in the desert, but how could I miss an opportunity like that? Let’s see here, just a few last little touches here and there…” Rudy dabbed his brush in a few places on Chase’s face, lifting his limp head up with a gloved hand to catch the light. Chase, for his part, was trying to move his body, but everything was numb. He could barely blink as Rudy had applied the makeup this whole time, telling his ex-boyfriend about his recently deceased uncle. He was beyond terrified–the last thing he could remember was having that meeting with his agent and heading to his car in the parking garage, and then he was here, in some grungy looking apartment bathroom, strapped to a chair, Rudy applying some strange, make up to him, but because he was facing away from the mirror, he had no idea what he was doing to him.

Chase Redman was an up-and-coming B-movie actor, hoping to make it to the big time. Unfortunately, he also happened to be gay, and he knew the world still wasn’t ready for a faggot action hero. He’d dated Rudy, his make up artist on the set of “Terror World V,” but when Rudy had started asking him to go public with their relationship, he’d broken it off. He hadn’t seen him in months, and now suddenly here he was, kidnapping him? What the hell was this about?

Rudy took a step back, inspecting his work, smiled, and walked around behind Chase. “Looks good to me–how about we both take a look?” With effort, he managed to spin around the chair Chase was strapped to, so he could face the mirror in the bathroom, and Chase could finally see what Rudy had been up to. He looked older–much older, with a bald cap and a fringe of hair added on top, running down to two bushy sideburns on each side of his face. His skin looked aged as well, with rather deep wrinkles–he could see something else as well–he must have on some kind of body suit, because his muscular physique looked to be buried under a paunchy gut. He was wearing a pair of boxers and an undershirt which wasn’t his. He managed to glance to the side at Rudy, but he couldn’t get his mouth to speak.

“What do you think? I got the resemblance pretty good, right Uncle Ned?” Rudy held up a driver’s license so Chase could see the picture, and sure enough, like all of Rudy’s work, it was a superb likeness. But what in the hell was he thinking? Why make him look like his dead uncle? “You see, Chase–I’ve had some time to think since you dumped me, and I decided that I think someone needs to put you in your proper place, and I know just happen to know a little tiny secret of yours that you’ve done a very good job hiding from almost everyone…”

Chase’s breath caught in his throat. How could he know?

“I happened to see you and Phillip in your dressing room one day. I wondered what you two were doing in there, but it really does explain how you’re so good at getting into character. Phillip even told me he’d make you fuck him as your characters on occasion too–do you remember that? He says you never really remember what happens while you’re under, but did you know that your agent has been banging me for months? That when I promised him that he could keep all the royalties from your films after your ‘early retirement’, that greedy little pig jumped at the chance? So you’re mine, Chase…or should I say Uncle Ned? That’s you you’re going to be playing, after all, once we get you into character.”

Chase was struggling harder now–he could feel whatever drug keeping him paralyzed beginning to wear off. If he could just cover his ears, if he could just–

“Sleep tight.”

Chase tried to fight it, but the reflex to relax was too strong, and he felt his head start fogging over. Hypnosis–it was his secret. Phillip, his agent, had conditioned him, told him he’d be the best actor in a generation if he just trusted him. It had worked–he’d been able to not just act like, but become the characters in his movies. But that wasn’t important now–relaxing was important. Relaxing, and listening to what Rudy was saying, focusing and relaxing, focusing and relaxing, deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper…

“That’s good Chase, very good, just relax. Focus on my voice, and my voice alone. My voice is truth, the only truth. Now, we’re going to put Chase away for a while, alright?”

“Alllright…” Chase slurred.

“I’m going to count backwards from ten, and as I count down, just like you’ve done before, you’re going to feel less and less like Chase each time, like color bleaching out of a cloth. When I reach one, you’re going to be no one, alright? No one at all, and Chase will be stored away deep in your mind, until later.”

“Yeeesss…”

“Alright. Ten……..Nine………Eight…….”

Chase felt himself start fading away. He was trying to fight for some reason, but it was difficult to remember why he was fighting at all.

“Seven……..Six………..Five……..”

Chase was getting dimmer now, curling up in on himself. He could sense him still fighting, but it was quiet now, so quiet, and he started pushing him deeper and deeper towards the back of his mind.

“Four……..Three……..Two…….”

Just a whisper now. He didn’t know who he was, but he wasn’t Chase. Chase was down there, down deep. Safe, of course, always safe. He’d come back sometime, and then maybe he’d worry about what Chase was screaming about, but right now he wasn’t Chase.

“One.”

He was nobody. No one at all.

“Alright, ready to get into character?”

Chase’s head nodded slowly, and Rudy smiled wide.

Baby Bear – Part 2

How could I have forgotten? I’d sucked his cock nearly every night, and most nights he’d fucked my ass as well. I’d licked his body clean from neck to toes. He’d fed me pipe smoke right into my eager mouth. And I had somehow forgotten all of it, gone off to school each day like nothing strange was going on at all. I realized I had done none of my studying that I’d needed to do, and I was failing all of my classes. The semester was nearly over, and I had no idea how I was going to turn any of it around. Perhaps it was silly to worry about school when you discover some old man has been manipulating you and forcing you into diapers, but it was something I could think about. I didn’t want to think about his old cock in my mouth–I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted his cock in my mouth, really. Because I did. And I wanted him to fuck me. And so I ran.

He probably expected me to try and run; he didn’t even try and stop me. I didn’t even care that all I was wearing was a diaper soiled with my own cum, I just wanted out of that house. I flung open the front door and ran out across the lawn, but as soon as I was outside, this monstrous fear rose up inside me. I was outside. More than outside, I was lost. I didn’t know where I was. The world was gigantic, and I had no idea where Daddy was, and I might never get home, and who was going to take care of me? I made it to the curb, tears rolling down my face, no longer able to focus on getting away, not even really understanding what I was feeling, and then he was beside me, pulling me close–Daddy. I was so happy to see him. I gave him a huge hug, and he led me back up the driveway and into the house, where the fear immediately disappeared, and my mind tried to get a grip.

“I wouldn’t try to run away again, baby bear. You all try it once, but if you keep trying, then I’m going to have to punish you,” he said. Daddy said. I struggled with his name, trying to find it in my mind, but his name was just that–”Daddy”. I remembered that was the same thing all those strange men who visited called him, and before I could ask, he explained what he had done to me, and to the rest of them over the last several decades.

It was true–he was lonely. He had been a very skilled hypnotist when he was younger, and he decided to make himself what he called “Baby Bears”–young men he’d keep in diapers, and raise to be better men than what they might have otherwise been. Better from his perspective, of course–I was horrified at the thought, but he assured me that there would be no escaping my new fate. He told me that I had already accepted the first round of conditioning, and now it was time for us to decide what kind of bear I was going to grow up to be, and how much work it was going to take for me to grow up.

You see, he would only be able to make me into a “proper bear” after he’d destroyed and erased most of who I was now. This could be, he told me, a rather violent process, and leave a person’s mind quite damaged, unless they went along with him, and willingly allowed him to destroy their old selves so they could be reborn again. I, of course, was freaking out. He assured me that the more I fought, the worse it would be for me. I was convinced that if I tried hard enough, if I proved indestructible, he would have to let me go. He smiled. It was almost like he liked the idea of me fighting back. And then he said something, some phrase I can’t remember, and things grew slippery. I could feel him ripping out chunks of my personality, and I was fighting him, trying to hold onto them, but he would just tear harder, and it would hurt, like a massive migraine, but I couldn’t let him win, I couldn’t.

I don’t know how much time passed before I came back to myself again, shaking on the floor in a fetal position, Daddy sitting in an armchair beside me. I was still me. I still had lost some, but I still remembered who I’d been. He told me to quit fighting him, that if I kept fighting him, he was going to have to make things worse for me. I laughed, and told him to give it his best shot. He looked disappointed, repeated that mysterious phrase, and this time, I had no real understanding of what was happening. When I resurfaced, however, something had changed in my mind. I was moving slower. I tried to ask him what had happened, but all that came out was baby talk. I also realized, to my horror, that I had pissed my diaper again–and that I had also taken a massive shit as well. I tried to get up, I tried to stand, but my body wasn’t working quite right. All I could do was crawl. Daddy got down at eye level with me, and told me that I was being a very dumb baby bear. That I was going to grow up and become a very dumb baby bear, and if I didn’t let him win, I was going to be the stupidest bear he’d ever raised, that I’d never even be able to go potty like a big boy again. I didn’t want to be that stupid, I really didn’t. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life wearing diapers. One day, I wanted to be a big boy, I wanted to grow up again. I was crying, and he asked me if I was done fighting him. I wanted to say no, but I was exhausted, and I knew he would win. When I went under that final time, I let him remove every bit of me that he could find. This is the last of me, this is the last little bit, the last chunk, and I’m holding on, but he’s coming, he’s coming and–

Baby Bear – Part 1

I was a junior, and I was sick and tired of living in the dorms on campus. The creaking heaters that refused to turn off, the mold, the toilets that couldn’t flush shit–all of the buildings should have been razed twenty years ago, but school instead had built a bunch of other dorms they could charge more for, that I couldn’t afford, naturally. So I figured, “Fuck it,” and I managed to find a room to rent a few blocks from campus from a nice older gentleman named Willard. He’d lived in the neighborhood for years, but he told me when I came to see the room that he didn’t really need the rent money–he just hated being all alone in the house more than anything else, and so he usually rented it out to students at the local college for some company, and to help the house feel “lived in.” It was a little pitiful, but the rent was so cheap, I figured I could give him some company on occasion.

In fact, as the first semester wore on, I discovered that Willard was one of the best landlords a college student could ask for. He had dinner for me every evening if I was home–all I had to do was give him some extra money for the grocery bill. He was a bit of an insomniac, and since I often stayed up late studying, he let me use his office to work in, and he would sit in there with me, usually smoking a pipe, and we would chat. It never really struck me as odd, however, that I never seemed able to remember the things we’d talked about, or even remember doing any work for my classes. He started sitting in the study wearing less and less clothing, usually opting for an open robe, his cock hanging out, and I was, for some reason, completely unfazed as we chatted, his pipe billowing smoke, while we both had some of his whiskey.

Those first few weeks, I also noticed that, for a lonely old man, he sure did seem to have quite a few visitors who came around regularly. Some were only a bit older than me, while a few others were approaching middle aged, but they all seemed very familiar with him. They shared some other similarities too–they all were smokers, and all of them were big, hairy, burly guys. One other thing, is that they all gave me this…look. Like they were trying to suppress a laugh, or were in on some joke I had no idea about yet. I suppose I should have seen something coming, but I was just oblivious.

Then, during midterms, I wet the bed for the first time. I was mortified–I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something like that. I managed to get the sheets through the washer and dryer without Willard noticing, but the next night it happened again. I knew I couldn’t tell him, I was too embarrassed, and yet, in his study that night, it all came tumbling out, how ashamed I was of it, how I couldn’t believe I’d lost control like that, how I was afraid I’d do it for a third night in a row. He was very understanding, holding me close on his lap until I’d stopped sobbing, and then he suggested that I start wearing diapers every night “as a precaution”.

I should have thought he was crazy. I should have left right then and never come back. But for whatever reason, his suggestion just made perfect sense to me. Diapers–of course I should just wear diapers. I never asked why he already had a supply ready for me–he just helped me strip, got me powdered and diapered, and put me to bed with a kiss on the cheek like all of this was perfectly normal. I woke up with a heavy, cold, wet diaper, but Willard was there, ready to get me changed out of it. I never bothered asking why he was so intent on helping me–I just let him, and then I went off to school like everything was normal, until a few weeks later, when I wet myself during a lecture.

I couldn’t stop it. I noticed after a few seconds, feeling my crotch turn warm, but I couldn’t do anything. I panicked. I heard it dribbling off the seat and onto the tile floor. I could smell it. I grabbed my things as quickly as I could, and fled the room, piss still running down my leg and into my shoe, and I didn’t stop running until I got home. Sobbing, I was barely able to get the words out to Willard to tell him what happened to me. He seemed…perfectly fine with it, as he hugged me tight, and when he told me that I would just have to start wearing diapers all the time from now on, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable suggestion. He helped me out of my wet jeans and underwear, got a diaper for me and helped me into it. But this time…this time, something else happened. I got hard. I got hard in the diaper–just the feeling of it was turning me on, and I started…doing things. Humping the air, grinding my crotch into Willard’s side, and my landlord shoved his hand down into the front of the diaper, finding my hard cock, and started jacking me off, his other hand pulling my face to his, and he kissed me deeply, shoving his tongue into my mouth, the taste of his pipe overpowering everything else.

I ended up on my knees, his old, hard cock working its way into my throat. I couldn’t put my hand in my diaper for some reason, and so I was forced to rub my cock through it, humping it, getting myself closer to cumming, but he came first, filling my mouth with cum. Even though I knew I had never sucked him off before, the taste was so familiar and comforting, and I came soon after that, filling my diaper with a load of cum. I pulled away from his cock and licked my lips. He said, “Time to remember everything, Baby Bear–we should have a talk,” and suddenly I could remember everything.

And never have I felt so used in my entire life.

It’s not that Alex was a prude–hell, he masturbated plenty. There wasn’t any reason why Harry couldn’t jack off too. The problem was the damn smell of it! Ever since the day he’d moved into the house with him, the whole house stank of it. Sure, he hadn’t known what the smell was at first, only that it had come largely from Harry’s room and the bathroom. It wasn’t until Alex had caught him at it (well, “caught him” was one way of phrasing it–really, he’d been crouching outside the slightly open door, watching his housemate tug on his cock while he was on the bed, well positioned to give him a view) and as soon as he’d shot, the smell had smacked him in the face like a ton of bricks.

Of course, the real problem wasn’t that he could smell it–the problem was how it smelled. It smelled amazing. It smelled like cum, sure–rank and a bit cheesy–but for some reason, it made his mouth water. It made him want to jack off too. He couldn’t let Harry know, of course–Harry would probably think he’s a fag, if he knew how much he wanted his cum. If he knew that he’d snuck into his room while he wasn’t home, and stolen his still wet cumrag, and sucked on it for a few hours, milking his own cock for all it was worth. That was something a fag would totally do, right? But he wasn’t a fag. He couldn’t help it if Larry’s cum just smelled really good to him. He was hoping that if he could just taste it enough, he could stop thinking about it, but if fact, getting a taste only made it worse. It was starting to become the only thing he could think about. He started watching Larry more often through the cracked door, still pretending to himself that his roommate had no idea he was watching, even though he spent most of his time watching Alex. Finally, one night, Larry came, but instead of shooting into the rag like usual, he shot it into his hand, and held it out to the door, “Well come on pig, if you want it so badly, get in here and eat it all up.”

Alex tried to resist, but the scent was overwhelming. He crawled into the room and licked all the fresh cum from his roommate’s hand, jacking off his own cock as he did, and the taste of it fresh–his head couldn’t take it. He just kept licking Larry’s fingers clean, his entire mind focusing in on that single act. Off in the distance, he could sense that Larry was talking to him, telling him things, but he couldn’t think about anything beyond licking those fingers. And when he finally stopped licking, he crawled back to his room (for some reason, he wasn’t quite able to stand up and walk, an odder still, he didn’t find that fact the least bit strange) sat on the floor and started jacking off, over and over again, eating every load of cum that he produced, until it hurt to even touch his cock anymore. Then and only then was he able to heft himself up into bed and collapse from exhaustion, his arms burning, though when Larry came in and skull fucked him, he didn’t object. Why would he object to another opportunity to taste his delicious cum?

From that day on, it became harder and harder for Alex to deny that he was anything but a faggot at heart. He would beg Larry for his cum, he would do anything for another taste of it. He took over the household chores, he cooked dinner, he gave him massages and foot rubs, all so he might have the privilege of sucking a load of cum from Larry’s cock. Still, he told himself that it couldn’t get worse than this, right? At least, until it did. Suddenly, it wasn’t just Larry’s cum he smelled, but everyone’s cum. And they all smelled different, and they all smelled delicious. It was getting harder and harder for him to think about anything other than cum, and Larry only made it worse by dressing him up in his leather gear, driving them to the fetish clubs in the city, and making him beg for cum all night long. The words CUM PIG scrawled across his forehead (Larry had told him that once he’d earned enough money as a cum dump, he’d get it tattooed on there properly) and who knew what else drawn on him, all the men would laugh, and he’d drink cum from any cock, because he wasn’t just a cum pig–he was Cum Pig–or at least that’s what Larry called him. And before too long, it was the only name he could remember, as he crawled around the house, oinking and grunting, sniffing around for his next load of cum.

The Fall of Troy – Part 3

***Warning*** It starts getting a bit messy here, including some light scat. 

Troy opened the door to the bathroom, and it was the stench that caught him first, and he had to suppress his gag reflex. Its true that he wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy, but even that was a bit more than he could handle. The floor was littered with dirty laundry–a large amount of it underwear, the toilet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and the sink was clogged with hair. The cleanest part of the room was probably the shower, which was missing a curtain…and also a shower head, meaning it probably hadn’t been used in quite a while. Still, how did it look this bad? He was pretty much the only person who used the room, since Leo and his mom shared the master bath upstairs.

“What’s wrong, son?” Troy looked over his shoulder, right into Leo’s pitch black eyes, eyes he’d seen the night before. He could almost…remember, but his mind, Leo was inside him again, messing with him again, and he couldn’t do anything but stand there, drooling dumbly as Leo mindfucked him once again. “Now, son, I know how important your private bathroom time is for you, so why don’t you go ahead and enjoy yourself for a while, eh?”

Troy nodded slowly, and then stepped into the bathroom, allowing Leo to shut the door on him, and it was like he’d woken up in a dream. This couldn’t be real, none of this could possibly be happening. He took a few deep breaths of the stinking, stale air, and felt himself calm down a bit. He always felt better surrounded by his own filth, right? He looked at himself in the grimy mirror through an additional haze of smoke from his cigar, and had a hard time recognizing himself. The beard he’d grown the night before was even longer now, very curly and bushy, looking like his face was coated with a pubic bush. His hair had grown out as well, and it shone with grease. The rest of his body was similarly hairy, and he ran his filthy hands over his gut, feeling the fur, before lifting an arm to sniff at his massive, stinking pitbush. It was rank. He was rank. Then again, when you hadn’t taken a shower in months that’s what happens, not that he minded. He felt a gurgle in his gut, and let loose a long, wet fart–probably time to get down to business.

He walked over to the toilet to take a seat, and saw that the bowl was already filled with at least two loads of shit, and who knew how much piss. No wonder it smelled so fucking foul in here, and his smoke wasn’t helping either. He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded, though he wasn’t sure if it was the air, or just how fucking excited he was. A part of him, a small part growing smaller, tried to reach for the handle to flush it, but he pulled his hand back. It wasn’t time to flush it, not yet. He’d been saving it…right? Saving it for…for his private time. He was getting hard again–he pulled out his dildo and set it on the counter next to the toilet seeing the fleshy head coated with his shit (later–later) before plopping his fat ass down on the seat, and he let off a long, loud fart as he did. “Awww, fuck yeah…” he groaned, sniffing the fresh funk on the air for a moment, giving his fat nipples a twist. Still, he could shit in a moment–his bladder was calling.

Too bad he was too fat to piss on himself like before, still, he’d managed to devise a system that was almost as good. He fished around in the piles of his filthy clothes for a pair of briefs, well worn and stretched, stained a light yellow brown with a prominent shitstripe up the ass, positioned it under his cock, and started pissing on it, soaking it well, and then he stopped himself, took the soggy underwear and started sponging his fat body with his own piss, taking a moment every once in a while to suck as much as he could from the fabric with his mouth in between deep drags off his cigar, and once the briefs were no longer wet enough, he repeated the process with an equally filthy XXXL wifebeater, which he soaked through, wiped all over his body, and then pulled it on. His cigar was finished; he dropped the butt into the sink, and turned on a tap. He released the rest of his piss into the toilet, and then bore down, piling even more shit on top, his cock hardening, he he started working it slowly, taking long, snorting inhales of the filthy air, yanking up the filthy wifebeater to his nose and mouth, sucking at it, and when he was close, getting close, he fumbled for the filthy dildo next to him, shoved the nasty shit coated head in his mouth, and started sucking.

His cock exploded, spraying the toilet bowl, the wall across from him, the clothes in front of him. He worked the dildo deeper into his mouth, he kept milking his cock, horny as ever. With the dildo slick with spit again, he hefted himself up from the toilet, turned around, and got down on his knees in front of the full bowl, pushing the dildo back inside himself to the hilt, face to face with his own mess, and he fucked himself, taking long, deep breaths of his stink, until he came again across the base of the toilet.

Exhausted, coated with a foul mix of sweat and piss, surrounded by his filthy clothes, he started to calm down. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself, but it was like that part of his mind had shut off entirely. Instead he felt…proud. Excited. Happier than he could remember being in recent memory. He stared at the massive pile of shit in the toilet. He should flush it–or at least try to flush it, or…or he could just leave it. Just imagine what it might smell like in a few hours, if he did. Smirking, shit still smeared on his lips, he pushed himself back up. He found the briefs he’d soaked in piss and pulled them on, making sure to floss the ass deep into his nasty crack, and let out a belch. Fuck, he was hungry again already, maybe his dad had something cooking in the kitchen for them. He lumbered upstairs, and went to look for Leo.

The Fall of Troy – Part 2

Troy groaned on the couch, and shielded his eyes from the sunlight blazing in the front window. Fuck, how much had he drank last night? He didn’t usually get hangovers like this from a normal night of drinking, smoking and pawing his cock off. He reached out for the table, scattering empty cans too and fro, and thankfully there was a partial–flat and warm, but he chugged it down anyway, feeling some of it run out the sides of his mouth and down into his beard. He belched. One thing out of the way at least. He grabbed a cigar from the table and his lighter, puffing it gently, already feeling a bit better, and he laid back, rubbing his full gut, before letting his hand wander down to his hard morning wood.

“Awww, fuck yeah…” he groaned, and holding his cigar in his teeth, he rolled over slightly, letting himself grab the dildo which was still wedged in his ass, and start pumping it, “Nothin’ like a fuck to make a mornin’ better.”

He heard someone tromping downstairs, looked up and saw Leo yawning, naked, at the base of the stairs. For a moment he was embarrassed to be caught like this…but it sure as hell wasn’t the first time Leo had seen him with a dildo up his hole, right? Besides, he was too close to blowing to stop now, and if anything…seeing Leo sneer at him was kind of turning him on, and a couple strokes later, he felt his body spasm.

“Good to see someone’s morning’s going well.”

“Aww shut the fuck up, Leo. You makin’ breakfast?”

“Sure, but if I do, you know what you owe me.”

Leo made plenty of breakfast, and Troy plowed through two thirds of it, stuffing himself silly. Then, as was their usual bargain, he got down and sucked on Leo’s thick cock. He’d kept the dildo in his hole all through breakfast, and was again fucking himself with it, stroking himself closer to his second climax of the day, Leo helping him along by yanking on his fat tits, making his whole belly jiggle. Leo ended up spraying his load all over Troy’s beard, and Troy shot his load into his hand, before licking it up–but as he did, there was a flash of bright light from Leo’s eyes, and it was like a veil had been lifted. He screamed, heaving his fat body up, staring down at himself.

“What–what the fuck happened to me!” he stared at Leo and screamed at him, “You did this, what the fuck did you do?”

Leo just smiled, “Now now, is that any way to talk to your father? Especially when his cum is splattered in your beard?”

Troy took a step backwards away from him as Leo stood up, his anger boiling down into fear, “You did this. I don’t…Why?”

“Oh Troy, even when you were smart, you were dumb as a rock. I can’t very well have you draining your mom’s bank account with silly shit like ‘college tuition,’ or ‘room and board’. You see, milking her for money is my gig–but don’t worry, I’m sure with your skills we can find something for you to do with your life instead of college.”

“You can’t just…change shit like that.”

“Oh really? Tell me, what classes are you taking in high school right now?”

It was on the tip of his tongue, but not there at all. He wasn’t going to school–he’d dropped out as soon as he could…hadn’t he?

“No answer? Are you even going to school, or are you lounging around the house with your slobby stepdad, sucking and riding his cock every chance you get?” Leo fondled his cock, and Troy saw it was getting hard again already…and he wanted it. His body wanted it. His body was tired of dildos, it wanted its hole filled with flesh. “Tell you what, why don’t you go ahead and bend over the couch, and I’ll pump that ass of yours full of cum, how does that sound?”

His mind was fading fast, falling back into his new dullness. He needed a smoke. He needed a drink. He needed…he needed a fuck. His body was walking, not running. It was walking around behind the sofa, and he was bending over it, leg’s spread, showing off his fat ass, dildo still lodged inside.

“You need a cigar, son?”

“I’m…not your son.”

Leo shrugged, “Do you need one though?”

Troy nodded weakly, and Leo shoved one in his mouth, and lit it for him. “Now beg for it.”

“W-What?”

“Go on pig, beg for me to fuck you. Beg like those fat manwhores do in all those pornos you watch all day. Beg for me.”

“Not…I’m not gonna…” he moaned suddenly–Leo was working the dildo in and out, and then he pulled it out entirely. Empty, so fucking empty. “Fuck Leo, come on, put it in me already.”

“Put what in you?”

“Your cock man, your big fat cock, stuff your son’s fat hole full, come on man, I need it bad…”

Leo slipped into Troy’s hole, and laughed as the pig moaned. “Yeah, fuck, this is fuckin’ great. I could get used to this, you know? Fuckin’ not only that whore mom of yours, but her fat, slob son too. Both of you begging for my cock, all day long. Still, I’m really more of a pussy guy, you know? We might have to find a few more guys willing to fuck a nasty pig like you, eh?”

“S-Sure, but ya can stick that cock in my holes any time, daddy…”

“Heh, you fuckin’ slut,” Leo said, giving Troy’s fat ass a hard slap, “You’ll give your ass up to any cock that comes along. Still, don’t you fuckin’ worry, we’ll be keeping you plenty stuffed.”

Troy was fighting in his mind, fighting to hang on to any little shred of himself that he could find, but it just felt so…damn good. Sucking on a cigar, his daddy’s big cock lodged in his hole, what more could he ask for? He’d never wanted to go to college. He’d hated school, he’d hated sports, all he really wanted was to be a big, fat slob like Leo. With a loud groan, Leo came, pumping cum into him, and Troy felt his own stubby pig cock spurt his own load across the back of the couch. They both remained connected for a few moments, huffing and puffing, and then pulled apart, Leo collecting himself, Troy getting down and licking up his cum, sliding his dildo back into his loose asshole. But now, nature was calling–Troy hefted himself up. “Fuck, after all that pounding and I gotta piss like a horse. Could shit a mountain too, right about now.”

Troy smiled, “Make sure you use yours down in the basement–its all ready for you.”

“In the basement? Fuck, but then I gotta climb back up.”

“Go on, pig.”

Troy rolled his eyes, but obeyed unthinkingly, hefting his bulk down the stairs step by step, and Leo chuckled under his breath. By the time he had stepped inside and let out a gasp of surprise, Leo had followed him. He had to keep an eye on him after all.

The Power of Belief – Part 3 (Patreon Commission)

Carter felt a hard slap across his face and he woke up, feeling a bit disoriented. Had he fallen asleep? He was in the basement, tied to the table–he remembered that, and fuck, there was Master, his Master, the Master he’d always dreamed of, standing next to the table. He had stripped away his suit, and was now dressed in his other gear of choice–a leather police uniform he’d had personally tailored for his bulk, which he kept meticulously shined. He was leering down at Carter, a cigar stuck in his mouth, glasses perched on his nose.

“You know Carter,” he said, “I feel like we should take a moment to…chat.” He walked down the length of the table, running the belt he had in his hand down the length of Carter’s young, firm body, watching his young student shiver with anticipation. “The first thing I want to say, is that I underestimated you, at first.”

“What…what do you mean, sir?”

“I mean, when you showed up in my office that evening, spouting all those crazy ideas, I thought you were rather insane. And then…well, and then things just kept changing. I mean, like most subjects, I’m only marginally aware that anything is different, but things are different, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know what–”

Harold suddenly brought the belt down hard, right across Carter’s semi hard cock, and he watched the young man fight off a scream. “I am really rather smart–after all, you made me that way. Please do not try and toy with your master and keep up these little games. I know all about your theory, and all about what you’ve been doing to me, with those phone calls. You don’t think I realized what you were doing? But I liked it, you know. I liked what you were doing to me, I like who I am, I can’t even imagine being someone else, and I have you to thank for that, but all the same, I do believe that your manipulations of me deserve a great deal of punishment. I do not like being manipulated, boy, and so I believe it’s time you learned your lesson.”

Carter realized then, what his momentary lapse of consciousness had been, and be began to struggle in earnest. But he hadn’t been changed yet…had he? There was a mirror hung over the table–his Master liked his boy being able to see what was being done to him–but would he even know if he had been changed?

“Now, you’re probably wondering what, exactly, I’ve made you believe. I haven’t changed you yet, don’t worry. I wanted you to be able to understand and witness what you are going to become. Because here’s what you believe niw, Carter–you believe that everything I say about you is true.”

Carter looked at him, eyes wide, “Wait…what? That’s…that’s not even how it works!”

“Are you certain? I mean, look at that tiny, miserable cock of yours. One inch long, and you can’t even get hard. It’s dwarfed by that massive ball sack of yours, which is incredibly sensitive to pain, isn’t it? And you love that, you love it when I beat your balls black and blue, don’t you slave?”

Carter shook his head, watching his cock shrink down to a tiny nub, even as his balls exploded in size, tripling by the time the growth had stopped, and then Harold began beating them with the belt, and Carter let out gasp after gasp of pleasure. Harold kept beating his balls, Carter happily begging him for more, begging him to hit harder, even as his guts twisted into knots from the pain.

“See slave? It works just fine, I think. Now, why don’t you take one last look at that young, slim body of yours? Because while I do find it incredibly attractive, I don’t think you deserve it, do you?”

“No…no, please, don’t…”

“Don’t what, slave?” Harold said, ceasing his wiping and walking up to Carter’s head, bending down so he can whisper in his ear? “Don’t what? Don’t make you some fat, worthless old man? Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, because that’s just what you are. You’re seventy years old, you weight five hundred and thirty-seven pounds, which looks even fatter on you, since you’re only five foot two. You’re completely bald on your head, but have a body covered with white hair, a thick mustache, a wrinkly face with heavy jowls. You’re a troll, a pervert, a masochist, you crave punishment at my hand, it’s what you live for. You’re worthless. You’re whole worth in this life is as my slave.”

Carter was shouting, trying to drown him out, but his eyes were locked with the mirror, watching his body contort. Watching his slim body disappear under mounds and mounds of fat, his miniscule cock disappearing under a massive apron. His hair was disappearing, aside from a thin horseshoe of white hair, and a mustache sprouting from his lip, even as his skin became lined with creases and wrinkles, heavy jowls over double and triple chins. He was shrinking on the table, his body pulling up into itself as he shrank almost a foot in height, his fat concentrating even more in his huge apron, which hung down almost to his knees. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but a leather glove wiped them away.

“Now, now, don’t cry. You love it, really. You know it’s what you deserve. It’s what you want–you want to be old and fat. You want to be worthless. You want to be a slave, a whore.” The thumb slipped into his mouth, and unable to stop himself, Cater licked and sucked at it, feeling his heart rate quicken, as cum started leaking from his tiny dick. “You’re addicted to cum. You’re addicted to smoke. You’re addicted to humiliation.” Harold locked lips with Carter and exhaled a full lung of smoke into him, and Carter, who had never felt the desire to smoke, felt need well up in him at the taste. Seeing the want, Harold gave his slave the cigar he’d been smoking, watching him suck down smoke, and lit a new one for himself. “Now, I think we need to discuss what sort of role you’ll have in this house, don’t you? After all, a worthless old faggot like you couldn’t possibly be a graduate student. Besides, you really aren’t very smart. You barely graduated from high school–you had no hope of going to college. You need powerful men like me to guide you–to order you around. You don’t feel right unless you’re obeying a superior man like me. So I think…I think you’re my personal slave butler. Waiting on me hand and foot, for the rest of your life–how does that sound? Heh, then again, it doesn’t matter how it sounds, because it’s simply true, isn’t it?”

Carter tried to fight it, tried to resist having his mind rewired, but he couldn’t. He was just so stupid–not smart like Master Larson. His master was a real man, a man worth serving, and Carter would know–he’d spent his whole life in service–sexual and otherwise. He was only fit to serve, after all. Still, he tried to push back, he tried to disbelieve, but his Master was too smart. He’d been outwitted, and he shed a tear for a life his old, feeble mind couldn’t even manage to remember.

“Now, now–don’t be sad, Carter. This big house you gave me probably feels rather empty right now, but in no time I’ll have it fully staffed with chubby cooks and bearish gardeners and plenty of sex slaves of all shapes and sizes. After all, I have so many students, wasting their lives with their youth and their protests and their drugs. I’m sure they would be so much happier with a life of servitude, don’t you agree?”

He did think so. After all, if Master thought something was true, why wouldn’t he agree with him? And besides, he was happy, after all. He’d found his true calling, at the feet of his master. Master Larson released him from the table, and Carter hefted his old, aching body up, got down on his knees and began kissing and licking his master’s boots, before begging him to allow him the pleasure of worshiping his cock. Harold was more than happy to oblige–and after he came in his new butler’s old, loose hole, he fisted him until the old faggot couldn’t take it any longer, and his tiny cock finally pumped a massive load of cum out into his fat apron. Still, Harold really did have to be on his way. He left Carter with a series of tasks to be finished by the time he returned from the school (organizing the dungeon, cleaning his fat filthy body of sweat and cum, cleaning the foyer and of course, dinner promptly at six-thirty for Master and one…perhaps two…guests) and then he hurried to the master suite to get changed, relishing the feeling of his shirt and pants, his starched collar cutting into his fat chins, the the vest pulled tight over his gut–and then drove to school, Carter’s sonic equipment in the back. He had a feeling his office hours were going to be particularly interesting today–he couldn’t wait to introduce some of his students to the joys of serving him in the rich, privileged life he now led.

The Power of Belief – Part 1 (Patreon Commission)

“Look, all I’m saying is that hypnosis doesn’t work like that.”

“That’s because this isn’t exactly hypnosis. It involves what I’m calling deep belief. After all, so much of our reality is structured from our perceptions, and between that and social conformity, it seems that we can alter the deep structure of one mind and affect others as well.”

Professor Harold Larson (but he’d always preferred Harry) leaned back in his chair, frustrated, and looked at Carter, his young graduate student sitting across from him. “Look, I think you need to go back to the theoretical drawing board here, you’re talking in a bunch of new age, pseudoscience nonsense.” The phone on his desk started ringing, “Hold on Carter, let me take this.” He picked up the receiver, but before he could even say hello, his eyes glazed over, and he remained frozen, Carter’s supersonic tones playing in his ear.

The young graduate student smirked, and stood up, coming around the desk, right next to his frozen professor, and ran his hand across his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the muscles locked in place. Harry was young, fresh out of graduate school himself. Slim, he obviously kept himself in very good shape, and was wearing casual “cool” clothes, probably in some misguided attempt to get his students to “like” him. How silly, and so unlike what a professor should be. To Carter, professors were old, distinguished gentlemen, who smoked cigars and pipes, drank good bourbon, wore expensive suits, and loved fucking their young graduate students with their big fat cocks. Still, one step at a time, right?

The tone had been playing long enough to push Harry down into Carter’s “theoretical” deep hypnosis, and Carter stood next to him, and began his mantra, the professor repeating after him mindlessly:

“I believe I am fat…I believe I weigh 447 pounds…I believe I love to eat…I believe I hate exercise…I believe fat men are sexy…I believe my fat body is sexy…I believe I am obese…I believe I have been obese since I was a teenager…I believe I like having my fat body worshiped…I believe I have three chins… I believe that I love the sensation of my fat body jiggling…I believe that I love taking up space…I believe…”

Professor Larson leaned forward, putting the phone down, feeling the edge of the desk cut into his large gut. “Sorry about that,” he said, “Now, where were we?”

“I believe you were berating my theory, Professor,” Carter said, watching his massively obese professor rest back in his now reinforced chair, linking his fingers together and resting them on top of his massive apron like he’d been doing it all his life.

“Look, it’s late…how about we meet again next week? Maybe you should just think of a few other projects, in case this one doesn’t go anywhere.”

Carter smirked, but agreed, and stood up, watching his professor heft himself up as well, and walk him to the office door, and send him on his way. Now alone, Harry sighed, and gave his fat moobs a rub. Fuck, he was horny for some reason. He massaged his fat a bit longer, before sitting back down in his chair, unzipping his fly, and pulling out his cock, stroking himself quickly, feeling his fat wiggle around him as he did…but this…this couldn’t be right, could it? He suddenly felt a strange sense of vertigo, like he was looking at two different bodies. One was thin and well toned, and the other was massively obese, but he believed he was fat, he believed it, so how…how could the other one…

He came, feeling his huge body shake as he did, feeling so fucking fat, and the strange vision was gone…but not quite forgotten. He looked at the proposal Carter had left on his desk a bit incredulously, and then started reading it. It couldn’t be real, certainly…and yet…perhaps he could believe…

Mr. Morris (Pt. 1)

I procrastinated, I know. One month until I was supposed to graduate from high school, and I still needed fifty hours of community service. I pleaded with my principal to just waive the requirement, but she said her hands were tied–if I didn’t finish, I wouldn’t be able to walk, and I might not even get to go to college in the fall. So there I was–four weeks, fifty hours, twenty hours a week. Luckily, the service coordinator at my school had a suggestion. I wasn’t the first student to put it all off, and a local senior living center liked to have students come in during the evenings and weekends to keep people company. It meant that I would have to volunteer six days of the week, every week, but I’d be able to finish. I thought I’d lucked out–how easy could this be? All I had to do was sit around for a few hours and listen to old people talk. It was going to be so easy.

For a few days, it was easy. Really easy. The staff would pair us up with someone living in the center, and we would join them for dinner (which was free for us) and then have us sit with them for a couple hours after, and then send us home. In fact, some of the people were pretty cool. Then I got paired up with Mr. Morris. He was a bit on the short side, and rather fat with a short, full beard. He seemed a bit younger than most of the people who lived there, and it was a pleasant change from the usual sort of awkward conversation I was used to. I mean, I can’t quite remember what we talked about for the most part, though I do remember his showing me this amulet of his during dinner. He said it had been in his family for generations, but that since he hadn’t had any kids, there was no one he could give it to. It was a rather stunning piece of jewelry, coated with gold and with a number of jewels encrusted in it. Gaudy, maybe, but the way it caught the light…He left it out on top of his shirt all evening, and I just couldn’t quite bear to look away.

I was paired up with Mr. Morris every night after that. The staff just treated it like it had always been that way, even though they had made a point of saying before that they liked to rotate people around as much as possible to keep the experience fresh for everyone. I didn’t mind though–I loved being paired with Mr. Morris. By the end of the second week, I had realized something else–I loved Mr. Morris.

Now this was a bit strange for me. On one hand, I could remember being completely straight, and having a girlfriend, but it was like no one else could remember any of it. When I told Amber that we had dated, she laughed at me, and I did feel a bit foolish. I had come out to here my Freshman year, and we’d been best friends ever since, grading boys, the whole thing. She knew my tastes ran a lot older though, and bit more heavyset than people might find normal. Most of my crushes were on faculty, not on students. The strange feeling only lasted a few days though, and then it was perfectly normal for me, though I found myself acting different around Mr. Morris, my heart fluttering a bit when he put his hand on my knee, and whenever I jacked off, I kept having fantasies about him, only him.

Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore, and I confessed that I not only loved him, but that…that I wanted him to be my first. I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity. I expected him to be disgusted, but instead he smiled like he’d known all along, the amulet glinting, and he suggested that I tell my parents that I would be staying overnight with a friend on Friday night. Amber covered for me, though when I told her why she was a bit disgusted. My parents knew I was gay of course, so staying over with Amber wasn’t a problem at all for them. In fact…they seemed almost…too ok with the whole thing. Regardless, I joined Mr. Morris for dinner that night, and he was dressed so handsomely, I swooned a bit. He was a perfect gentleman, but with how he kept pawing at my crotch under the dinner table, I knew he wanted it as much as I did. When the staff told us it was time to go, no one said anything when I joined hands with Mr. Morris and followed him to the elevator, and up to his apartment.

Once we were inside, I had no idea what I was doing, but he was gentle, and he kissed me, and…and he was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. He helped me out of my clothes, I helped him out of his. I was scared of sucking his cock, but he said he’d like to suck mine first. I agreed, happily, and he told me to get on the bed. I noticed that even though he was naked, he hadn’t taken off the amulet, and it seemed…excited as well. Like it was catching too much light in the dim apartment lighting.

Now, I suppose I haven’t said too much about myself up until now. I suppose part of the reason is that I was pretty average. Average build, not too muscular, but certainly not fat. Maybe a bit tall and gangly, but what teenager isn’t a little bit? I was smart. I’d gotten into every school I applied to, with even a full ride from one, which was good, because my parents weren’t very well off at all. And there I was, naked, mostly hairless, sitting on Mr. Morris’ bed, and this bear of a man climbed up on all fours, amulet hanging from his neck and shining and all I can think is how lucky I am. Then, he swallows my rock hard cock and…and I can’t even describe it. I’d always felt a connection to Mr. Morris, ever since I’d first met him. But with our first sexual contact…I could feel him…inside me. I swear the amulet was glowing now, but that probably was just my imagination, but Mr. Morris, he was in my body, or exploring my body, or something, and then things started happening. I noticed my stomach start to gurgle, and all of a sudden my flattish stomach was bulging out into a gut, pushing up and out. I…I freaked out, and scrambled away from his mouth, and as soon as his mouth was off my cock, the feeling was gone.

He could see that I was scared, and I asked him what had just happened. He told me…mostly everything. How the amulet could change things, if he wanted them to change. That the closer he got to something, the more he could change them. The whole time, he was rubbing my gut, and I had to admit, it felt really good. Then again, I’d always…kinda wanted to be fat, you know? It seemed natural, after all. I was attracted to fat guys, right? So why wouldn’t I want to be fat too? And maybe…maybe a bit hairier. A proper bear cub. At least…at least, that was how Mr. Morris explained it to me, and it made so much sense. He told me that he could make it happen. That he could make me fat, and no one would know the difference. I was nervous, but how could I say no to him?

I sat back on the bed, heart beating fast, but this is what I wanted, right? I just…couldn’t quite remember it being what I wanted, was the problem. He wrapped his mouth around my cock again, and he was inside me, and my gut was growing, and soon enough it didn’t matter. The gut became too big to really be a gut anymore, and my chest was filling out into fat moobs. I touched my fattening nipples, and they were so sensitive! I could feel cum leaking from my cock like a faucet, but I held off as best I could. I could see my thighs growing wide, my ass spreading out underneath me. My chin was a bit scratchy, and I felt a short beard there. I’d never been able to grow a beard! And there was hair on my chest! I ran my fingers through it, and it was too much for me. I shot my load, and he swallowed it all down, nursing on the head for a moment, before releasing me. I laid back, surrounded by fat, and sighed. I felt like…me. Like a me I hadn’t even known could exist. Like a me that shouldn’t exist. Mr. Morris was looking at me…fuck, he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, and in his huge, fat, hard cock. I remember what he said next. “Roll over.” It wasn’t a request, he wasn’t asking for permission. I tried to stop myself, I was scared, I didn’t think I could handle anything in my ass, but my body was listening to him, not to me.

Long Lost Brother

“Are you gonna get the door, dad?”

Terry leaned in from the kitchen where he was cooking dinner, his son Derek was splayed out on the couch, watching TV. He’d heard the knock–he’d just hoped his son might get up off his ass for once, but no cigar. He knew the job market was bad, he knew that more and more kids were coming to live at home after college, but that didn’t make it any easier sometimes. He left the kitchen and went to the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone–it was probably just the girl scouts or something–he opened the door, and his heart leapt into his chest in terror.

“Terry! It really is you!”

Like out of his nightmares. Evan, his younger brother.

“Well, go on, invite me in. Nice and calm now. Don’t do anything to upset anyone.”

“Come…come on in, Evan.”

“Thanks bro,” Evan pushed past him and into the living room, where Derek looked up from the TV, “And who might this be?”

“That’s my son, Derek,” Terry said, “Derek, this is your Uncle Evan.”

“Uncle Evan?” Derek asked, “You never said you had a brother.”

“Really Terr? You never told him about me?”

“Would you have expected me to, after what you did to–?”

“Shut up Terry,” Evan said, and his brother’s mouth clamped shut. “It’s very nice to meet you, Derek, and I’m excited to get to know you. Evan’s offered to let me stay here for a while so I can get back on my feet. Unemployed, this economy, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I went to college and there’s fucking nothing.”

“Well, you can tell me all about it later. Right now, your dad and I have some catching up to do, right Terr? Why don’t we go somewhere more private, like your bedroom?”

His mouth still shut for him, Terry led his brother upstairs and into his bedroom. Evan shut the door behind them, and pulled off his shirt, then unbuttoned his jeans and let them droop, showing off his drooling cock, “Oh Terry, I missed you, you know, after you ran off like that. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself though.”

Terry scowled at him.

“You can talk, for now, but polite, please, and only at a reasonable volume.”

Terry sputtered, “You…you…how the…how did you find me?”

“Well, it did take a while, I admit, but here I am. And it looks like none of that conditioning has worn off in all these years–isn’t that impressive? Now get over here and show me how much you miss sucking my cock, bro–I certainly have missed your mouth.” Terry tried to resist, but he dropped to his knees and started blowing his brother. “And how about that boy of yours! He looks real nice, you know. I think he takes after his uncle though, don’t you? Now, don’t worry–you have a real good thing going here, no one else will even know I’m here. You’ll keep going to work at that big bank, but…well, when you’re home, you know who’s in charge?”

Terry kept sucking, and so Evan pulled his cock free.

“Who’s in charge, pig?”

Terry glared at him, but relented, “You are, bro.”

“That’s fucking right,” Evan said, and drove his cock balls deep into his big brother’s throat.

***

“That’s right Derek, just relax. You trust me don’t you?”

“S–sure…Uncle Evan.”

Terry was at work, and Evan had been living with them for close to a month now. Derek had quit looking for work–it seemed like all of his time was taken up hanging out with his uncle. He was kind of gross, but pretty cool overall.

“You trust me more than your dad, right?”

“Y–yeah…my dad’s dumb.”

“He sure is. Your dad’s weak.”

“Yeah, weak.”

“A pig. A dirty pig bitch.”

“Fuck yeah…pig bitch.”

“Go one, jack off, imagine your dad in a fucking sty, covered with mud. He’s two hundred pounds heavier, fucking obese. Did you know your dad used to weigh 500 pounds? I was so proud of him, and then he escaped, and went and lost almost all of it. Well, we’re gonna put it back on him, aren’t we? We’re gonna show that pig what happens if you disobey, right?”

“Right, Uncle Evan.”

“Now you’re in the pen too. You’re in the pen, but you look different.”

“I…I do?”

“Yeah. You’re fatter too. You have a big gut, covered with hair, but the rest of you is bulky with muscle, and you have tattoos all over your body, even your cock.”

“Fuck…fuckin’ love tattoos…”

“And you reek. You haven’t showered in months, and you fuckin’ love it. You don’t need to be clean. Being clean is for weaklings, not people like us. Not real men.”

“Nah…don’t want to be clean.”

“You’re not smart either. You’re dumb as a brick. You never went to college, you didn’t even finish high school. You’re fucking mean though, you pin down your pig dad and you rape his ass, don’t you?”

Rape his…his holes, yeah, fuck.”

“That’s a good boy–you’re gonna be one hot daddy fucker before long, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir, Uncle Evan.”

“Now open up–I wanna fuck your throat while you jack off, imaging yourself raping your pig dad.”

Yeah, Uncle Evan was great, actually. He took Derek to get his first tattoos the other day. Derek had always wanted tattoos, but his stupid dad wouldn’t let him. Well fuck him…yeah, fuck that pig. Derek was gonna do what he wanted. And what he wanted was whatever Evan wanted. That was how family worked, right?

***

Done for the day–he hated this part. The anticipation. Terry stepped out of the office building and took a moment to light his pipe. His fucking pipe. He’d quit smoking after Evan had force fed him cigarettes before, but here he was, smoking again, and he loved it. He loved it because Evan loved it, but…but he loved it too. Himself, inside all of this, and that’s what he hated most. His own complicity.

Six months now, and he’d already had to buy a collection of new suits. Two hundred and eighty pounds, and still growing. Everyone at the office just assumed he had a new girlfriend fattening him up. Her name was Claire. She was really nice, just really shy, preferred to stay at home, somewhat old fashioned. She liked his beard. He liked his beard too, or so he told everyone. It didn’t actually matter whether he liked it or not, he had to grow it out.

He’d had the chat with his boss today, about retiring early. He certainly had enough invested that he could live comfortably, but wouldn’t he get bored? No, he said–they set a target date for him leaving in another four months, and then he’d be free, or trapped, depending on who was standing where.

He got in his car and drove home, making sure to get caught in traffic jams when he could. He parked the car in the garage next to his brother’s and son’s motorcycles, shut the garage door behind him, and stripped out of his suit, throwing it in the laundry by the door, and got changed into his “pig clothes”–the overalls he had to wear when he was home, the same ones he’d been wearing for months straight, the crotch stained with cum and piss and the front matted with food stains. Fuck, he was hungry. Yeah, he was such a hungry piggy, fuck yeah. He snorted, rubbed his hardening cock through the denim, opened the door, and crawled into the house on his hands and knees, still smoking his pipe.

Derek and Evan were smoking and kissing in the living room, in their own slobbish world. The whole house was trashed, it reeked of piss and sex and sweat. Derek–he was so far gone now. He loved Evan, but couldn’t he see what it was doing to him? He didn’t even remember going to college anymore, he spoke like a hick. He had more tattoos than his uncle now, his cock and balls pierced in more places than Terry had thought possible. Still, food first–food was what pig had to think about, yeah. He crawled into the kitchen, set his pipe on his shelf, and dug into the mass of food his masters had waiting for him in his trough.

***

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