Interactive: Hypno Time! (Part 3)

The results from that last poll were both…conclusive, and also inconclusive. the top picks were fairly obvious, but some of the more…flavorful options were more hotly contested. The next poll will be have some more precise options after this one, that might seem a bit familiar, and that’s why!

Again, like always, it seemed like no time passed from the time Johnny fired the gun and put him into trance, and when he woke up. It was disconcerting, that in one moment he was standing by the door, the windows dark, all of the lights in the apartment on–and in the next moment, he was sitting on the couch, morning sunlight streaming in, and while his mind caught up to the sudden dilation, it was clear, from the soreness of his muscles, that he’d been put through a bit of a wringer over the course of the weekend. But unlike the first time, apparently Johnny wanted him to know what he’d been doing to him, because he was struck by…something else. As his mind caught up, it was like all the memories from the weekend struck him, like a videotape fast forwarding through a movie, and he saw exactly what–and who–he had been doing all weekend long.

Johnny hadn’t told him who he’d be servicing on Friday night, when he put him under, but now, he could remember who was at the door when he answered it, right after being put into his trance. Two older men, hairy as hell, and both of them quite chubby, entered the apartment, looking at him with a bit of suspicion, but a few orders from Johnny put them both at ease, as Max helped them all get comfortable, took off their clothes, massaged their feet…

Max had never been attracted to bigger guys in his entire life. Johnny knew this, of course, knew that Max took tremendous pride in his physique, and went to the gym five days a week. So remembering now how he threw himself at these fat men, how he worshipped him, how they all humiliated him, and degraded him, how they sat on him and made him squirm for breath–it was so much to remember, so much to think about, and he felt a bit…nauseous. The weekend went faster, from the men getting comfortable with him over Friday night, and they stayed with them all weekend, Max waiting on all three of them all weekend long–cooking for them, feeding them, doing everything they asked not because he…wanted to, but because…because they deserved it, didn’t they? Didn’t such handsome men require such care and devotion? Everything was feeling so confused now. They’d left on Sunday night, hadn’t they? But then who was the fat fuck he’d spent last night with, unless…

He shook his head and shuddered, looked over, and there…there was Johnny. Not the Johnny who had shot the ray at him on Friday night–like before, over the course of the weekend, he had…changed. Before this, Johnny had been about as slim and muscular as Max himself, but now…well, now he was quite pudgy, easily 250 pounds if not a bit more. There was something else off about him, standing there smoking his cigarette as he did now–as they both did. He looked…off, his hairline a bit different, some wrinkles around his eyes…was he older?

Not as old as the two men who had stayed with them this weekend–they were easily in their fifties, but Johnny had been a few months younger than Max, and now he looked older, by months, if not a couple of years. “Well come on then, muscle boy–isn’t there something you’d like to do?” Johnny asked, sneering at him.

There…there was. Max got up from the couch, went over, and started kneading Johnny’s small gut, feeling his own cock stiffen, realizing how sexy he was to him, looking like this, how much better he looked now than he had before.

“Yeah, made a proper chaser out of you now–No more complaining about my weight from now on. I think you’d like to see me get a bit bigger, won’t you? More like Dick and Charley from this weekend?”

Max moaned, dropped to his knees, and started sucking on Johnny’s cock, feeling his gut press against his forehead when he went deep. Max shot quick, and then pulled out.

“Alright, enough of that for now, I have to get to work.”

“W-Work?” Max asked, a bit confused–weren’t they both in college?

“Yeah, fucking work–you get so dumb when you come out of trance, it’s kind of hot,” Johnny said. “Not all of us can be a college muscle boy like you. Now, you’ll have a nice big dinner ready for me tonight, won’t you boy?” Johnny said to him, “You do love watching daddy eat, after all.”

Max didn’t really know what to say, as Johnny laughed, grabbed his bag, and left for his job, leaving Max alone in the apartment. Horrified, trying to avoid processing what had happened over the weekend, he went to the gym to burn off some steam, but that, in its own way, made things worse. All of the men he usually enjoyed looking repulsed him now. To his new desires, even Johnny was a bit small for him…and a bit too young. He looked at himself in the mirror, and the usual delight in his physique wasn’t there either. He just felt…ugly now, even though he knew he shouldn’t feel that way at all! Johnny…was it him, or was the gun fucking with both of them?

From that weekend on, Max was in a trance from Friday until Monday, and Johnny would entertain men at their place for the weekend. Sometimes it was the same men, but usually it was different ones, all of them fat, and old–and each weekend that passed, Johnny also got older, and fatter, until he was cresting 325, and his driver’s license said that he was 46. Only Max seemed to have any memory of the way they had been before this, and he didn’t dare say anything, or risk upsetting his daddy. It was clear, however, that Johnny was becoming a bit restless, and the men who came over were becoming…odder, until a long holiday weekend came along, and Johnny told Max he had something special planned for them.

Alright, hopefully the embedded poll below is visible, unlike last week! I tested it, but if you have problems, let me know on twitter or tumblr or discord etc. Here’s the link to the bonus patron poll as well! You get two choices in each poll, so pick your top two!

Patron Bonus – Arctos: Daddy Service

Here’s the second suggested story from this month, which was another double sized one! If you want to read the second half, you can support me at the $5 tier or higher to get access.

“Guys, just get over here, you aren’t going to believe this guy!”

Neither Reese nor Hugh knew what Dan was talking about, but it was a Saturday night, none of them had anything better to do with their time, and so the two friends (or fuckbuddies, or boyfriends–they never really bothered trying to sort it out) headed over to Dan’s apartment, the third wheel, and occasional threesome. All three of them were young, slim, more twink than not, and plenty addicted to the gym. They went inside, and Dan was there on the couch, watching TV, with the biggest grin on his face any of them had seen.

“Alright Dan, what’s going on?”

Dan turned to the kitchen and shouted, “Hey daddy, get out here and meet my friends for a second!”

Reese and Hugh were confused, until an older, chubby face peeked around the corner of the apartment, and beemed at them. “Hi boys! Go on and have seat on the couch with Dan, and I’ll make some extra food for you all–and bring you some beers too!”

Dan waved them in, and they sat down on the couch with him, still confused. This…was not the sort of guy that Dan was ever into, but, as Dan told them, he had found this weird website, offering Daddies to come service you, or whatever, and after a few questions, telling the site he wanted a daddy to wait on him and cook for him, this old fella had just shown up at his door and started doing it! No questions asked!

It wasn’t a joke, either. The daddy brought out some beers for Hugh and Reese, and they decided to spend a night in, humiliating the old fuck, eating his food, and then they’d kick his ass to the curb the next morning…except…none of them could really remember any of that. The food was amazing, and they all ate a ton of it. The drink too much too, and at some point, someone put porn on the TV, and then the daddy was rubbing their bellies, and sucking them all off…and then, it was morning, and they were starting to wake up.

“Fuck Dan, how much did we eat?” Hugh asked, clutching his gut, giving it a rub. It was taut, sticking out like a beachball.

“Fucking…what the fuck happened to me!” Reese exclaimed, seeing the same thing had happened to him. He heaved himself up off the couch, letting off a belch as he did, and headed for the bathroom, clutching his head from the hangover. “Is that fucking daddy still here?”

“I think he left earlier,” Dan moaned, and let off a belch as well, “I heard the door open and close at least.”

“Well, he was a good…cook…” Hugh said, and looked around them, but all he saw was piled and piles of fast food containers and junk food bags around him. “I thought…weren’t we eating…something better than this?”

“I don’t even fucking remember man…”

“Fucking–I look like a fucking blimp! How can I get this fat in a night!” Resse exclaimed, coming back in, and as he did, he let off a fart of equal strength to the belch he’d just made, making Dan start laughing. “Fuck you Dan, this is a mess!”

“S-Sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing man, it’s just funny…” he said, and let off a belch of his own, which only made him laugh and giggle even harder. Hugh and Reese looked at him like he was crazy, when the door to the apartment opened up again, and the daddy stomped inside, carrying bags of fast food, and a twenty-four count cast of cheap beer.

“Morning boys! I had to go on a supply run. Go on, relax–don’t need to do anything. Daddy will take care of everything.”

“Hell no! Fuck this, I’m out of here,” Reese said, and tried to get out the door, only for the daddy to…no one quite knew what he said, actually, but Reese sat back down on the couch, shaking slightly, and daddy beamed at his three boys there.

“Now, I brought you breakfast! I made sure to get extra. I had no idea I was going to be helping such skinny boys, and more than one! When Sammy told me he had friends, I didn’t know you were all going to be so cute, or so fun.” He set down the fast food breakfast bags on the coffee table, turned the TV back on, and all three of them found themselves…eating again. Daddy brought them their morning beers, and soon, all three of them were drunk as well, belching from the gas, feeling their guts growing even fuller and more painful than before, sharing looks of worry, and then horror, and they all realized the only way they could get up was with daddy’s permission, and then, only to go to the bathroom, supervised. But as they ate more and more, and daddy plied them with more and more beer…the horror waned, and all three of them started laughing at their belches and farts, trying to outdo each other, daddy encouraging them all, telling his boys how proud he was of them, and how good it felt to just relax.

Interactive: Hypno Time! (Part 1)

This interactive is inspired by a little story I read recently, which had a hypno/time jump mechanism that I found really intriguing. Hope you enjoy it!

“You’re the one who said that you were into this.”

“Well yeah, the fantasy of it, but not…well, how in the world do we even know if it works? It’s just some weird gun that you bought off the internet. What if it, like, gives me cancer or something?”

“It’s not going to give you cancer.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

Johnny sighed, and looked down at the little ray gun in his hand. The site had seemed…really reputable, but he couldn’t really put his fingers on how he knew it, or…even really remember ordering it. After Max, his boyfriend, had confessed to him about his hypno fetish–that he secretly fantasized about being put into a hypnotic trance and being ordered to do whatever humiliating thing his master wanted–Johnny had started poking around, because the idea was…curious to him. “There’s only one way to find out, you know–so come on. It’s probably just some weird lights or something.”

It took a few more minutes of cajoling, but Johnny eventually got Max to agree to at least giving it a shot. So Johnny turned to dial on the gun to the “trance” setting, fired it at Max–and there was a sudden blinding light that enveloped him for a moment, and when it was done, Max was still sitting there, eyes looking a little glassy, mouth a bit open…was he…pretending?

“Max, are you alright?” Johnny asked.

“Yes…I’m fine…” Max replied.

“Are…” Johnny stopped, not sure what to do next. He honestly hadn’t considered the gun would actually work, so…so now what?

He made Max stand up, and strip off his clothes, down to his underwear. He made him hop on one foot, and made him start acting like a chicken, and then like a monkey…but none of this really answered his question. How could he know if the gun had really worked, or if Max was just, well, fucking with him? He’d…have to make Max do something he would never want to do in real life, but…fuck, why was thinking about that making him hard all of a sudden?

He had Max sit down, and looked at him. Max was young, and muscular, and handsome, and while Johnny was no slouch in any of those departments, he…it wasn’t jealousy, that he was feeling, he just…maybe he was more into this than even he had expected to be. Maybe having Max under his control was…something he could get used to. Before he could think about it more, he turned the dial on the gun back to normal, shot Max again on the couch, and after another burst of lights, his boyfriend was looking around, confused, and then down at himself. He saw that all of his clothes were on the floor around him, and he looked at Johnny. “What…what happened?”

“What, you don’t remember?”

“No–there was just a burst of light, and then…then I was…wait, did it work? Did it really work?”

Max got up and looked at the clock–sure enough, he had lost almost half an hour of time, from when he and Johnny had been talking earlier. “What did you make me do?” he asked.

“Nothing…I mean, I…you make a pretty good chicken, and a monkey, but…I thought you were just faking it, honestly. You…you really don’t remember any of it?”

“Did you have sex with me?”

“What? No!” Johnny exclaimed. “I…Look, this was a bad idea, I’m sorry, alright?”

Max grabbed his clothes, threw them on, and stormed out, leaving Johnny alone with the gun. He felt bad, but that didn’t stop him from masturbating and thinking about it. It was later that evening when he got a call from Max, and he picked up.

“I’m…I freaked out, I know you didn’t have sex with me, I…I know you wouldn’t do that. I don’t think you would do that…”

Johnny wasn’t so sure himself, anymore, if he wouldn’t if he had another chance. “You were…sexy like that, all zonked out in a trance.”

“You…thought it was hot?”

“I mean…it was creepy too, I just…”

“I’m coming over.”

“What?”

“I’m coming over. I want you to trance me again, and fuck me, and then wake me up as you cum inside me.”

“Max, I’m not–”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Max showed up, and he was adamant, and Johnny was honestly into it, so he did as Max told him–tranced him, they fucked, and it was…fuck it was hot–for them both. The gun started working it’s way into their life, little by little, but it was Max who pushed it further, first.

“I want one day. Twenty-four hours with you under trance.”

“What? I…I don’t know, Johnny. What the hell would you do for a day?”

“You’d find out when you came out of it.”

“I…I mean, that’s…”

“I can see you want to–you’re hard as a rock.”

“I…Tell me what you’d do. You must have an idea.”

“No–that’s for me to know, and for you to find out later,” Johnny said, waving his phone in his face, “I’ll keep a record of it for you, I promise.”

It took some more cajoling, but Max did finally give in. They agreed to do it on that Saturday–that Johnny would have him under trance from ten in the morning, until Sunday morning. Johnny had been…plotting, for a while now. He still couldn’t quite believe that the gun really worked, and that Max wasn’t pulling his leg. He had to make Max do something that he would never do, without hesitation–he had to see just how far he could go with this new power.

Here’s the first poll! The categories are a bit broad, because I kind of want to see what sorts of changes you all might be interested in seeing. Here’s the bonus patron poll as well!

Caption: Grooming the Groomsman (One Possibility)

This is another caption series I’m running over on my discord server for Patrons! This is just one possible ending for our hapless groomsman, out of four. If you’d like to support me, and get access to bonus content like this, then you can do so over on my Patron account here!

I knew I shouldn’t be hunting so close to family, but as soon as I saw Porter, posing for pictures with the rest of wedding party, I just couldn’t resist thinking about it. He was just so dang cute! A little chubby, a nice beard, and that little bit of smugness that I just find it so fun to toy with. But he was close to my nephew, one of his friends from college, and so at first, I really was just thinking about it, I promise. But it’s surprising how quickly thinking about things can slide to doing something about it rather quickly.

Maybe if he had been more social during the reception, instead of sitting off by himself at a table staring at his phone, I wouldn’t have kept thinking about it. Maybe if I hadn’t wrapped up another project a couple weeks ago, I wouldn’t have kept thinking about it. Maybe if he hadn’t gone under so damn easily, I wouldn’t have kept going. But it was so easy. I slid into the chair next to him, and we chatted easily–he was so trusting, I could feel him relaxing, begging me to relax him. I probably could have just talked him under with an hour, but in the open, I wanted to be quick. I showed him a spiral on my phone, kept talking, and five minutes later, he was gone, happy to talk to me about anything, happy to do anything I told him to do–but I couldn’t there, not so brazenly. Maybe if he’d had more strings–a girlfriend, roommates, anything at all–I wouldn’t have gotten scared off. As it was, I suggested he come by my hotel room later that night–without telling anyone–so we could continue our nice conversation, and he was more than happy to agree with me.

In my room, we slid under again right away. It was like he wanted to be under, like he wanted it even more than I did. We talked a little more, while he stripped for me. He told me that he’d always liked girls, but it wasn’t hard to convince him that he was mistaken, that it was men he’d always wanted, especially older men, men like me. By midnight, he was there willingly–I didn’t even need to have him under trance for him to be begging for my cock–and fuck, if he wasn’t so god damn sexy, and so damn easy.

Usually I like a challenge. I like wearing them down, I like finding ways to break them, to turn their own minds against themselves, but rarely do you find someone like this, like Porter, with a mind so easily bent that its like he wants you to do it to him. Maybe if he hadn’t just moved into the same town where I lived, things wouldn’t have gone any further, but as it was, he was due to start a new job next month–and was so eager to see me again. How could I resist? Flying back home, it was all I could think about–what I might do to him, who I might make him into. There were so many options, how could I even choose?

I do know what he wants, what he told me when he was so open and honest that he couldn’t help it–he isn’t happy with how he looks, with his gut, with his chubby face. I suppose I could help him with that. We could start off easy at first, get him a gym membership, fix his diet–just some small suggestions to help him feel like he’s making progress, little things that help make him trust me more and more, and he slides deeper and deeper under my control with every visit. But just giving him what he wants doesn’t do anything for me–and my needs…well, if he’s only enjoying himself, where’s the fun in that? He needs…to lose himself. Lose control. That’s what I want to see, that’s what gets me off.

He’ll start working out more and more, neglecting his other relationships, looking at himself in the mirror and feeling more and more…dissatisfied. He feels caught between his old self, his friends, his job, and this new…something. It’ll scare him. He’ll try to pull back, and pull away from it, from me, but there’s no way I can let that happen.

I’ll tell him what the injections are–growth hormones and steroids–and he’ll be horrified, but I’ll watch him inject them himself, unable to resist my orders–and then he’ll jack off while I fuck him, telling him what a monstrosity he is going to become. I’ll start reducing his intellect, wearing it down around the edges, making it harder and harder for him to do anything beyond lifting and counting. He’ll beg for his job, in the end, but it’s only getting in the way of lifting more and more–it has to go too, in the end. He wanted this body, I’ll tell him. He wanted this–all I’ve done is give it to him.

I wonder if I’ll let him remember any of it. Probably, on occasion. He’ll have glimpses, as he’s resting in the gym, thinking about the man he’d been–clever, funny, happy even. He had no idea it would be this much work, that being this big would be so exhausting, but when he sees himself in the mirror, fuck if it doesn’t make him horny–even if the drugs are shrinking his cock. Even if he can only get hard around fat older men. Even if all he really wants is to be abused and humiliated in this massive body by men like me, and all of my friends. Fuck, he’ll hate it, but he won’t be able to stop himself…still, there are other ideas too…

Pete the Pig Pt. 1 (Caption)

“Morning Pete,” Tatum said with a smirk, as his flatmate walked into the kitchen with a groggy look on his face, scratching his gut.

“Mornin’,” Pete said back, and went to the fridge, “Fuck, is there any of that pizza left from last night? I’m starving.”

“Nah man, you polished off both pies. I only got a couple of slices.”

“Are you kidding me? There was so much…”

“Guess you were hungry.”

“God, I need to get back to the gym, I can’t keep eating like shit and not even try and work it off again…” he let out a sigh of disgust at himself, hauled out some frozen potatoes and some eggs, and started working on making himself breakfast.

All the while, he was wearing the wifebeater. The same wifebeater he’d been wearing for close to two weeks–which coincidentally, was the last time Pete had shaven his face and also the last time he’d been to the gym. It was also two weeks since Tatum had put Pete under trance for the first time, using a hypno program he’d gotten off the net. He’d expected Pete to realize what was going on at some point, but he was still fucking clueless, and Tatum’s cock was raging hard in his boxers, watching his roommate walk through the kitchen, reeking of cum, because he’d spent the last two weeks serving as the apartment’s honorary cumrag, without even realizing it.

“Hey Pete, before you get to cooking, I got a load for you.”

Without missing a beat, Pete turned around from the counter, got down on his knees, chest puffed out, and stayed still, while Tatum got up from the table in the kitchen, already stroking his cock. Pete stayed perfectly still, like his mind had shut off, until Tatum had pumped out another load onto his wifebeater, and when he was finished, he stood back up, turned back around, and resumed making breakfast like nothing at all had happened.

Tatum’s cock had hardly dropped, however. He’d hated his roommate–how fit he was, how clean he was, how high and mighty, how he’d looked down on Tatum, especially for being a fag. Now he had him right where he wanted him, and he had a few more changes in mind for his roommate, before he was done.

Want to read more? There’s a second part that continues the story on my discord server for patrons!

Pup Parolee (Caption)

I can tell you this at least, being a parole officer comes with some decent perks. It’s a whole lot easier, for one thing, sitting in an office and just trying to keep guys from going back to prison again–although that can be a challenge in its own way. See, prison is easy, in a lot of ways. You don’t have many choices in prison, and so, when you get out, it can be…paralyzing, for some guys, to try and figure out what to do with yourself. It can leave some of them in a particularly fragile state–and I’m proud to say that my parolees have one of the lowest rates of recidivism in the district. You might say that I know how to give a guy…purpose.

Sure, they can come in here, acting tough, looking like they know how the world works, but I can see what makes them tick, what they’re afraid of. Some of them just need a kind word, and a good push in the right direction, to grow up and be decent people this time around. Others, well, they didn’t end up in prison usually because of something they did. They ended up in prison because they were too weak to say no, or think for themselves, or because they were scared. Those ones are harder, guys like Garrett here–or Spike, as he likes me to call him.

I knew he was going to end up back in prison if I didn’t do something, you see. He was too weak, to easily swayed by the people around him, and the people he was around, they didn’t want what was best for him, not like me. Fuck, one visit to my office, and I barely had to do much more than talk gently to him, and he was out, doing everything I told him to do, just because I could make him feel good. Well, no one has to worry about Spike now, I make sure he won’t be getting into anymore trouble, and he much prefers being my dog, to being a person–you could ask him yourself, if he could talk much anymore.

But being human is behind him. No, he spends his days naked in my house, napping, playing with his toys, waiting by the door for me to come home so we can play together–so I can fuck him, really, because he knows he’s not the alpha in this little pack. No–he’s lucky all the same though, to have a master like me, holding the leash. If he was free, who knows what trouble he’d get himself into?

Bros to Brothers (Caption)

Fuck, look at my boys there, coming along so damn nicely. You should have seen them just a couple of months ago when they showed up at the gym. New in town, they said, they were roommates, and they’d moved here together to make a fresh start in a new city. Not gay, much to my surprise–well, maybe a little, to start with. After all, I’ve never met a man who isn’t a little gay.

I kept myself friendly for a while, offering them advice, a little bit of support, mentorship and spotting when they needed it, dropped a few hints that I’d been known to coach guys and help them make some great progress. Progress into what, is the question of course, but not one I’ve ever known a guy to ask–especially not after they listen to a few of my files.

I knew I couldn’t get one without the other–so I decided to work on them both, at first. Fixing their memories, bit by bit, encouraging them to grow…closer to each other. The tattoos were an idea I suggested to them both, a way to push them closer, show that they were brothers–and soon, in their minds, they weren’t just bros–friends and roommates–they were actual brothers. Then, they were even more than that.

From one day to the next, I could tell it had happened–that after years of something smoldering between them, they had finally done it–and they’d loved it. They couldn’t stop looking at each other, smelling each other–the hardons in their gym shorts obvious to anyone from across the room–and now that they’d fallen for each other, I started making them fall for me.

And now, here we are, one happy family. Me, their coach and father, and them, two dumb, horny musclebears obsessed with each other’s musk. We just went and got their tattoos finished last week, and after that, I’m going to set up a platform for them online to start bringing in the cash–after all, they needed to focus more on their workout, and their old jobs–and lives–had to go. A couple weeks after that, and I’ll start renting them out–probably only as a pair I think, until I can work in a bit more independence. They can’t fucking stand to be away from one another, is the issue–totally co-dependent. I mean, I designed them that way, of course, but the way they even finish each others sentences sometimes can be a bit, well, creepy–and clients don’t usually want creepy. Still, I’m keeping an eye out for new acquisitions as always–you know me, I can’t go too long without a project, or I start to get bored–and no one wants to see me when I’m bored.

The Cop Next Door (Caption)

When I found out that my new neighbor was a cop…well, let’s just say I knew I had found my next target. He was a handsome fella, tall, with a shaved head and horseshoe stache, twice divorced, hated faggots, a real man’s man, or at least, he was. I had a feeling he’d be having a change of heart soon enough.

I got to know him, and befriended him easily enough. Me, the salt and pepper daddy, disarming charm, strong handshake and intriguing stare. I took a few weeks to get to know him, delve a bit, see how…amenable he was going to be. His apartment was always a bit of a mess–aside from one thing. He always took exceptional care of his uniforms–he respected them more than he respected himself, in fact.

The first time I took him under, with the help of a sedative I slipped into his beer, I just let him sleep, relaxed, while I went in and tried his uniform on. I was a bit bigger than him, but I could make it work–and I was so hard, thinking about my plans, that it was very hard resisting the urge to blow my load right in the crotch, and leave it there for him to find later. I did keep wearing it while I took him deeper, telling him how handsome I looked in his uniform, how manly it made me. How every man in a uniform deserved his respect, and his complete obedience.

Next, I started breaking him down. He was a slob. He was weak. He found himself starting to look at gay porn on the internet, these cop videos, and he’d…crave them, being stripped of his uniform and forced to service his fellow men in blue, knowing that he didn’t really deserve to wear the uniform at all, deep in his heart, because he was beginning to suspect that he might just be a faggot. After all, what real man would let a woman leave him twice? He’d never been able to perform, never been able to control them…because he was the one who should have been controlled the entire time.

I haven’t had him service me while he’s awake yet, but we’re close. Every day, I come over and put him under, I get into his uniform, and make him service me in his grungy, filthy, cum-coated underwear. He’s started to put on weight recently–not something I told him to do, but it makes him look even more worthless, so I’m encouraging it, that as he wrecks his body, he’s going to look less and less like the real man he always though he was, and more and more like the cum hungry faggot he’s going to be from now on.

He’s probably going to quit the force soon. He’ll lose too much of his nerve, he won’t be able to see himself as one of the officers surrounding him…but I know he won’t lose his appreciation for the uniform. After all, he’ll believe he lives next door to a handsome, rough daddy cop–one who loves having the fat faggot from next door over to worship and service him, cleaning his boots everyday, and going back home with a load of cum in his ass every night. Eventually, I’ll wipe out all trace from his memory that he had ever even been a cop, and I’ll help him find a history more…fitting for a worthless faggot like him…but that’s for the future. For now, I’m just enjoying my faggot cop’s lips around my cock, and looking forward to all the fun we’re going to have.

Summers With My Nephew (Caption)

We’ve been taking this trip out here in the summer for years now, just me and the boy. Well, he’s my boy out here of course, but when we’re back in the city, he’s my nephew. We’re close then, but not this close. I think, at times, he suspects something when he comes over with the guys for a poker night, when I purposefully smoke the same cigars I do when we’re here, at the cabin, and he pops a boner for reasons he can’t understand (the rest of the guys are all in on it, of course, but none of them say a word–if they did, they wouldn’t be getting another invite out here, that’s for sure.)

He’s been mine since he was in college, when he found that odd little mushroom in the woods and wasn’t as careful as he should have been with it. It fucked up his brain for hours–but I found out, in the midst of his trip, that he was, well, highly suggestible. When he came to, and couldn’t stop himself from begging his big burly uncle for his cock, no matter how humiliated he felt–well, let’s just say we spent the next few days hunting for more mushrooms, and the boy has been on quite a few trips since.

I make sure he forgets most everything when he goes back home, but in the summers, when we drive up here, I can always see…flickers of his memory returning, but there’s nothing he can do. The boy is so deeply under my control at this point, that even his resistance is planned ahead of time by me, and each summer I make sure to send the boy on another trip, and deepen that hold I have on him a little more, push him to new horizons, find new ways to bend him into a the proper boy. It’s a shame he’s related to me, or else I’d have him as my boy full time. Still, the mushroom dries remarkably well, and it’s helped me cultivate a whole stable of obedient slave boys back in the city that me and my friends get to use the rest of the year.

No–I’d rather these summer weeks be special. Just a leather uncle and his unwilling, but helpless, nephew–worshiping him, falling deeper and deeper into depravity each time. I think this time, he’s going to leave a proper smoke and ash pig. I’ve been encouraging him this last year to pick up the cigar habit like me, but he’s been stubborn–I hate that stubborn streak of his, when it pops up, so it’s time to make him a proper addict. Cigars when he can, dip when he’s inside–and of course, an inexplicable desire to eat his own ash and drink his own spit–as well as other guys’ as well. In a couple of weeks, he’ll be smoking more than me I bet–he’ll hate it I’m sure, but he’s my boy, whether he likes it or not. Besides, quite a few guys back home have been wondering when he’ll be a proper smoke pig like I keep promising–and I’d hate to disappoint them when we get back.

Soft (Caption)

There…was nothing wrong with being a bit soft, Jack supposed.

After all, football season was over, and while he’d been fattening up somewhat over the last few months, ever since he’d moved into this new place, where his kind landlord, Mr. Robbins, insisted on having Jack eat every meal with him. The meals were huge, and while he’d tried to object at first, at this point, he couldn’t. He’d just sit down and eat everything his landlord put in front of him, and the smiling happiness on the old man’s face would make Jack happy too, and he’d feel better about being…softer.

But other things were softening too, it seemed like. Like his mind was getting softer, flabbier, and slower–just as his body was now too. He’d been finding it really difficult to work on his school work, and often would just sit on the couch, keeping Mr. Robbins company while his landlord smoked one of his pipes, musing idly, talking about nothing in particular, or at least nothing that Jack could seem to remember.

But there was nothing wrong with being soft, he told himself. If anything, he liked being soft–both soft in the body, and soft in the mind. Mr. Robbins would take care of him, of course–Mr. Robbins was such a good man, so handsome, so…so sexy, even. Maybe…maybe one day, Jack would be as sexy as him, with his big belly, and big beard, and that sweet pipe smoke of his–but while Mr Robbins might look soft at first, his mind was…sharp. Much sharper than Jack’s could ever be.

Still, there was nothing wrong with that, with being all soft inside and out. It was good showing off his softness–just wearing his underwear in the house, enjoying how much Mr. Robbin’s liked looking at his growing boy, feeling how horny he’d get when Mr. Robbin’s would shake and pat his belly, thinking about how he couldn’t jack off anymore without thinking about the old man in the house with him, how…how badly he wanted his landlord to fuck him, how he wanted to worship him.

Maybe…tonight. Yeah, tonight, when he had his smoke. He would ask him. Ask Mr. Robbin’s if he could touch his soft gut, see if he could suck his cock–soft was good after all, but a hard cock…he had a feeling that nothing would be better than a hard cock, surrounded by soft. His soft mouth, his soft ass, so…soft. He begged him for it, and Mr. Robbin’s obliged–and he was right. He felt like a marshmallow, Mr. Robbin’s big cock the tine sliding into him without any resistance, his insides so sticky and sensual, just like the cum that exploded from Jack’s cock in the middle of his virgin fuck, the smoke swirling around him while Mr. Robbin’s just smiled, kneading the boy’s soft ass, knowing that soon he wouldn’t even go back to school, wouldn’t even leave the house. Jack would be too soft to stand, too soft to get out of bed, too soft to think, too soft to talk, too soft to do anything other than eat, and roll over so Master and his friend’s could fuck him, skewer him–and one would purchase him, eventually. Men loves Mr. Robbin’s soft boy’s after all–no one could make them like he could.