Of Favors and Family – Episode 1 (Part 5)

It was going to be another half an hour or so, before they got to the place where Wade hoped Bart still lived, deep in the woods and mountains over the town, the places you avoided unless you had grown up there yourself. In the back seat, Jeremiah whimpered for a while, and then fell silent–the first time the pup had been quiet the entire day. Wade knew he should feel bad…but in all honesty, he didn’t. He’d liked it, fucking that pup’s hole like that. Not like…at his office, where the pups who gave it up to him were usually scared and resigned–not scared of him, but scared of the army. This was the first time he’d fucked someone who was scared of him–just him, not the power he had, or his reputation, or his rank. Just…him. It was a rush, and one he hadn’t really expected, and Wade was a bit terrified of just how…complete it made him feel. He wanted to do it again…and if he couldn’t find Bart, he really was tempted to just stash the boy somewhere around here for his own devices.

He parked the car at the end of a gravel path, barely wide enough to get the car down, and got out. It would be better to approach on foot, in any case. At least Bart was a congenial enough fellow, even if he didn’t like people all that much. The chances of him shooting Wade were slimmer than most of the rest of his family around here. Maybe not much slimmer, but…slimmer. Down the path, it opened up into a clearing, where a ramshackle house stood, one that had obviously been there for quite some time, and which had been expanded over the years, growing bigger and a bit sprawling as older rooms had fallen apart and been rebuilt, as the family had swelled and then contracted. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, which was a decent sign. Off to the side, of the clearing was an acre or so of tobacco growing–most of his family out here in the sticks made what little living they did off the land in one way or another, trading and bartering and squabbling amongst themselves to make ends meet. Bart’s great grandfather had happened upon tobacco as his wheelhouse, and Bart, apparently, was still growing enough to keep everyone in the mountains well stocked.

As he approached the house, Wade saw some movement over in the field, and a head popped up from the tobacco–one that he didn’t recognize as Bart’s. The pup, whoever he was, wasn’t nearly old enough to be Bart for one thing, and for another…he didn’t even look like a hound. He looked more like a labrador, with a thick mane of golden blonde hair, a bit matted and uncared for, but handsome all the same. Wade, however, wasn’t going to take any risks, and he help up his hands, indicating that he was approaching unarmed. He didn’t know who this fella could be, but one thing was for sure–he wasn’t family. No one in his family would stoop to have anything to do with any dog other than a fellow hound, and certainly not a labrador! There were only a few reasons why he might be here–and none of them bode well for Bart, or for Wade’s luck in finding a place to stash Jeremiah that would save his own hide.

The lab just stared at him, looking a bit dull eyed and fuzzy, like he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of a visitor. He gave his head a shake, and that seemed to cause a bit of clarity to come to him–much to Wade’s surprise, the lab took a look around, and then bolted towards him through the rows, still looking around, ducking low, like he didn’t want someone to see him. Wade backed away, not at all sure of what the young pup’s intentions might be, and he fell down at his feet, looked up at Wade, and whined. “Please–ya gotta git me outta here, I…I forgot, a lot, he made me forget stuff, but I…” he whined again, obviously searching for words, “I ain’t supposed tah be here! I…Help me, please help me…”

Wade just froze, not at all sure what was going on, and before he could really appraise the situation, the door of the house burst open, and an old hound strode out, cocked a shotgun, and leveled it at Wade. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, showin’ up here, but you best step the fuck away from mah boy, if ya don’t want a whole bunch of buckshot in that…” the hound paused, gave the air a sniff, and then squinted at Wade through the scratched glasses he was wearing, “Wait a minute, Wade, is that you? I know that fuckin’ smell anywhere.”

“Uh, hay Bart…sorry tah drop in so unexpectedly…” Wade said, still eyeing the shotgun Bart was holding towards him, until the older hound pulled it up, and he relaxed. The one person who didn’t relax was the lab on the ground between them. He was cowering, and whimpering, and shaking, and in a complete terror.

“Don’t you mind none, Wade! I always got time fer family, ya know that. Didn’t think ya’d be comin’ back, not after ya got intah the army. What was that…a couple years ago?”

“It’s…uh, more like twenty.”

Bart gave his whiskers a scratch, like he was mulling over some stuff in his head. “Fuckin’ smoke,” he muttered eventually, “Lose track of shit…Eh, two, twenty, what’s it matter! I’m just happy tah see ya…” he said, and pulled a beat up looking pipe from the front pocket of his overalls, and started filling it with some tobacco from the pouch at his waist. “As for the boy here, don’t mind him, he’s pretty fuckin’ dull, and don’t really got much sense. Just helps me out with the crop round here, is all.”

Wade looked from Bart, down at the lab curled up on the ground, and then back at Bart–and he could tell that something here wasn’t adding up right, not at all. Bart had never been one for help, or company–the only company he was interested in was a hole, usually, and now that he was standing here, looking at him…he could remember more…in fact, how in the hell had he forgotten so much of this? Bart…had liked him. Liked him a lot, liked his ass a lot, and Wade…had just let him fuck him, whenever his older cousin had asked for it, and he’d never been able to say no. Bart…had told him that he wanted him to come deeper into the mountains with him, live with him, be…his, but before he’d been able to, he’d gotten sucked up into the army in town, and he’d never been back. He’d forgotten all of this, and remembering it now, it was like some strange part of his head had opened up again, and when he looked down at the young pup, he realized something else–he realized that he knew exactly who this young lab was.

It had been about five years ago, when a young, poor lab from the poor side of town had gone missing. Wade remembered him–he’d been a new recruiter then, the war had been fresh, things had felt…hopeful, and then the young fellow had just up and disappeared overnight, and no one could find him anywhere. His mother claimed he’d been abducted, but no one had been able to explain how a strapping young lab could just be whisked off into the night with no evidence. In the end, the disappearance was explained as a runaway, and he was swept under the rug back in town…but apparently, he hadn’t run off into the city, like everyone had thought. He’d…run into the mountains? No–it was clear he didn’t want to be here, he–had Bart…

“So, what are you doing here, Cousin?” Bart asked, breaking Wade from his revelation. He’d finished packing his pipe, and was no toasting the top with a match, getting ready to light it properly.

“I…well, it’s a bit complicated. Maybe we could go inside, and talk about it?”

“It ain’t about my boy, right? He is mine, you know.”

“It’s not about him, no. I–you know what they say, blood is thick around here, Bart, it ain’t my business.”

Bart sighed, struck another match, and lit the pipe properly this time, puffing thick clouds of grey smoke out into the air around him. Some of it wafted in Wade’s direction, and as soon as he smelled it, he knew the scent. It made him sick to his stomach, it made him horny, it made him want to run, but his feet were somehow frozen to the dirt under his boots. Bart took his time, waved the match out, and then walked over to where Wade and the pup were. “I wish I could believe ya, cousin, but I don’t think your blood is as thick as you claim it is, since ya went and ran off, ya know? Still, can’t say I’m too surprised that you came running back here–I did always want you to feel safe. You feel safe here, don’t you?”

What was happening to him? Wade could…feel all of these memories swarming up around him, so much that he’d forgotten, so much that he’d wanted to forget. Going into the army, he’d been able to focus on something else, on becoming someone else, someone other than the runt running around in the woods and hills, getting into scrapes, making nothing of himself, getting sucked into whatever web Bart had been weaving, so much time spend in this…this smoke, his mind almost a constant haze for months, before he got plucked from it by a recruiter at the high school before he could drop out…

Why had he come here? It had seemed like such an obvious decision, back in the car. These woods, and these sounds and these smells…when was the last time he’d even been back here, that he could recall? Back when his mother died? Perhaps. It had always held such anxiety, but he’d never been able to piece it together, and had always just attributed it to some general resentment of his hill upbringing…but there was so much more, so much that he had forgot…

Bart walked up, waved a paw in front of Wade’s face, but the hound’s eyes were drooping more than usual, and didn’t seem interested in focusing on him at all. Bart exhaled a plume of smoke into his snout, just to be sure, and then bent down, fed a bit of smoke to the boy at Wade’s feet. “Boy, were you going to try to get away from me?”

“Y-Yes Pa, but…but I…”

“Hush boy,” Bart said, “Go down in the cellar, and get in your cage–we’re gonna have a long talk later.”

The pup started whining again, but did as Bart told him, stumbling back to the house, around the side, and down into the cellar underneath, leaving Bart and Wade alone next to the field, both of them wreathed with smoke. Bart waved a bit of it away, and snapped his paw in front of Wade’s snout, jostling him from his memories for a moment, to realize he was…still there. There as himself, not as some lanky teenage pup, terrified as his older cousin groped him in the underbrush, smoking, telling Wade how…happy they would be together. How he knew exactly what Wade needed, how Wade was going to be everything that Bart needed and wanted too. But he wasn’t there. That…was the past. It was the past, and he…he was here, later.

“Alright Wade, what the fuck are you doing here? You going to try and drag me back to town or something?”

Wade shook his head, swallowed a couple of times and tried to get the words in his head to organize themselves in a manner than could make sense. In spurts and false starts, he managed to tell Bart about Jeremiah, the pup in his car, handcuffed. The deal he had cut with him to get him out of enlisting in the army, but how the plan had gone awry, and…and what Wade had done in the underbrush, and how he’d brought him here, because…because he was safe here. Because he…he’d somehow known that his cousin would know what to do, and might be able to help.

Bart was skeptical at first, but he knew that the smoke would draw out the truth–Wade wouldn’t be able to lie with this much of it in his system, or at least, not lie well. He told Wade to show him back to his car down the path, and when they got there, Jeremiah was still in the backseat, still terrified. As soon as Bart opened the door, Jeremiah tried to kick him, but the he told Wade to help him hold the boy down, got some smoke in Jeremiah’s face, and his face eventually went a little slack as Bart’s special blend entered the pup’s system, giving Bart a chance to…admire him.

After Wade had run off, all those years ago, Bart had…well, he’d been furious at first, and then that fury had subdued to some extent, and he’d been content to just soldier on as best he could, alone, getting the occasional fuck from the boys of the family in the woods when he needed one, but…none of them had really interested him in the way Wade had. Still, that loneliness had only grown, as years had gone by, until in his desperation, Bart decided to…try something incredibly risky, something he would have never imagined doing, had he not hit a level of crushing desperation–he started going into town. Once a week, maybe, he’d get the old truck running, drive the hour or two to get there, and he would walk up and down the streets, looking at the young pups going home after school, admiring them…and then…he chose one, a runty labrador, seventeen or eighteen, who always walked home alone, and one day, Bart struck up a smoky conversation with him…and a few weeks later, the pup ran away from home, ran off into the hills where Bart picked him up, and took him home with him.

It had been…difficult, getting the boy to an agreeable state. With Wade, in their youth, the blends he’d found to work him over were powerful enough to subdue him in the moment, but hadn’t left much room for Bart to manipulate him, often because Wade rarely seemed to recall much of anything from their encounters in the brush. With this new pup, Trent, he had been able to work on his blends, finding ones that were gentler, and more insidious. The pup no longer could remember much of his youth back in town (though he still knew the vague outline of it, and knew that Bart held him here under his control) but it had been enough to suck the resistance from him, enough to let the pup out into the sun to help with the crops at the very least, though almost always supervised. Obviously he had misjudged the pup to some extent, but he was confident that could be remedied. All of this could be remedied. In fact, all of this was, as far as Bart was concerned, turning out to be more of a boon than he could have hoped. Not only had Wade returned him him after all of these years, but he’d brought a most delightful little gift along with him, one far nicer than the mangy pup he’d settled for on the streets of the town a few years ago. Not only was this one handsome, and vigorous, and even a bit plump–he was a hound! Bart had always been a bit disgusted with himself for settling for a labrador, but this–well, perhaps he might have a proper son after all.

“Alright cousin, I think I can definitely help you out with your little problem here,” Bart said, talking to Wade while he felt Jeremiah’s body with his paws, testing it, groping it, seeing how the pup reacted to him. “But don’t think…don’t think this fixes what you did, Wade, when you went and ran off on me.” Bart stood back up and fed Wade some more smoke, feeling him as well, remembering how the he had felt back then…and he couldn’t help himself, he’d thought he’d never get another chance again, but now…

“Strip, Wade, strip, and tell me how much you want my cock in that hole of yours, right here. Tell me how much you’ve missed having your big cousin fuck the daylight outta ya.”

Wade…didn’t want to do this. He’d never wanted to do this, even when he was a teenager…but the words were falling out of his mouth, and he was on his paws next to the car, pants down, Bart behind him, cock sliding free of his sheath, and then sliding into Wade’s hole. It was…hard, to try and focus. His memories kept slipping–was he a pup, or was he older? How old was Bart behind him, anyway? It felt like just yesterday that he’d been fucked by him for the first time, just was raw, just as traumatic, even as his brain and his mouth, at Bart’s prompting, told him how much he loved it, all of it, how much he’d missed this.

Bart finished quickly, something that Wade was thankful for. Then, together, they dragged the incapacitated Jeremiah out of the car and hauled him to the house up the path, and then down into the cellar as well. There, Trent was in a small cage against one wall, still whimpering and whining, and Jeremiah was thrown in with him, Bart telling them both to be good pups, behave, and be quiet. Then, he turned to Wade, told him that the two of them needed to have a chat, and then Wade could be on his way–for the moment.

It was long after sunset by the time Wade finally managed to work his way back to his car, a second load of his cousin’s cum leaking down the inside of his thighs…but things were clearer now, that they’d talked. Wade…knew why he’d come back here–why he’d brought Jeremiah here. He’d…felt so guilty, for so long. He hadn’t known it, he hadn’t even realized it, but the reason he was so deeply unhappy, the reason behind his cynicism, and his self-loathing, and his corruption, was all guilt. Guilt that he’d run away, and left Wade, all those years ago. But Jeremiah was a new start–a peace offering, and thankfully, Bart was more than happy to forgive Wade all of his sins of his youth, so long as Wade agreed to…help him out. And in return? Bart would help him too. He would help Wade too–and give him what he really needed. He needed family. He needed these woods. But mostly, he needed Bart’s smoke, and his cock–everything else would follow from there.

A Daddy for Rubber Boy (Patreon Request)

Here’s another story, as suggested by a supporter on my Patreon! If you’d like to have the chance to read all of these stories (about one a week or so) and have the ability to suggest ideas yourself, along with lots of other perks, you can check out my page here!

This…was not the kind of gay bar that Aaron was expecting, the sort with drag queens and fancy drinks and mobs of straight girls. This was decidedly more…bearish, in flavor. He also probably should have checked the calendar on the website before showing up, because apparently it was kink night–almost everyone was wearing some sort of leather or rubber, which made Aaron, in his polo and shorts, stand out even more like a sore thumb. Well, one drink and he could leave and never come back, he told himself. He spotted a younger, skinner fellow over along the wall, one of the only guys there similar in twinky size to Aaron, and the only guy he was, and made eye contact. Not wanting to be rude, he gave him a nod–nothing too approachable–and hoped the rubber boy wouldn’t be interested in him. But much to his chagrin, a few moments later, there the boy was, in his black and yellow gear, grinning from ear to ear next to Aaron at the bar.

“Looks like your first time here,” the boy said to Aaron, “You should slip into something a bit more comfortable, or at least get out of that there,” before Aaron could do anything, the boy had one rubber gloved hand under his shirt, and Aaron pushed it away, shivering at the touch, and backed off.

“I’m not–look, this isn’t my scene. I ended up here by accident.”

“Oh, no one ends up here on accident, daddy,” the boy said, “Pigtown is for everybody. You just need to learn how to loosen up a little is all…”

The boy assaulted him again, this time shoving one gloved hand down the front of Aaron’s pants, and before he could yank it back out, he started working Aaron’s cock…and he shuddered in a sudden bout of pleasure. The rubber…fuck, it felt amazing somehow, and Aaron just groaned, and slumped over.

“There, see? That’s what I mean, just relax daddy, let your boy take care of everything.”

Aaron found the energy to fight him off again, but as he did, something still felt odd down his shorts. The fly and button had come undone, and in the dim barlight–he saw that his cock and balls were coated in black rubber. “What…what the fuck is this?” he touched it, and it was malleable, and he could feel it spreading across his groin to his legs, and up the front of his abdomen.

“Don’t fight it daddy, you’re going to love it, trust me.”

The rubber spread onto the hand that had touched it, and Aaron tried to shake it off, but it was spreading too quickly. He tried to run, but the boy grabbed him, pulled him into a hug, the rubber suit he was wearing sliding around Aaron’s body as well. “I’ve been waiting for a daddy for so long! You’re going to love it, I’ll make sure of it, just trust your boy, everything is going to be fine.”

The rubber swallowed him up in less than a minute, sealing him in from head to toe. Aaron fought, squeaking the rubber mits around his hand against his face, trying to breathe, until a vent opened up by his mouth and he could inhale again, only for thick tobacco smoke to flood into his lungs. A visor appeared as well, and began shining hypnotic lights into Aaron’s eyes, making his sink down into a booth, the rubber boy guiding him down safely, making sure the cigar shoved in the tube leading to Aaron’s new gas mask stayed lit. “That’s in daddy, soon everything will be just right.”

Inside the suit, Aaron began to sweat. He could, distantly, feel something happening to his body, feel it…growing thicker, bones growing longer, muscle filling in stronger, making him…making him a proper rubber daddy.

Yeah, that’s what the lights were telling him he was, he was a rubber daddy. A rough, aggressive rubber daddy, smoking cigars, pissing all over his rubber boy, making him drink it, getting them both soaked, fucking his boy’s hole with his massive rubber cock…

Aaron shook his head, trying to clear it. That wasn’t who he was at all! He didn’t want to be some rubber clad freak. He struggled again, trying to break his way free of the rubber, and almost like the suit could sense his resistance, the lights shone even brighter.

Not just a rubber daddy, no, he was a stupid rubber daddy. Too stupid to know what was good for him. Best to just…just let his good little rubber boy tell him what to do, best to just rely on his instinct. Still Aaron fought–but the rubber was sliding deeper now, into his ears, into his nose, sliding into his very mind, smoothing it over, making it so much harder to think about anything other than sex, anything other than making his rubber boy happy. He inhaled deeper now, feeling the smoke lodge deep inside his chest, feel how much he needed it, how much he loved the sensation of rubber against his skin, how much he hated being away from it. He wanted to wear it all the time, feel it against him whenever he could. He wasn’t complete unless he was wearing his suit, after all.

The suit knew it had won, and the lights shut off, the suit solidifying, losing its flexibility, seams appearing, and the boy peeled the gas mask away from his face, looking down at the weathered skin, the thick, greying beard stained with smoke, and kissed his daddy. Aaron…resisted for a moment, but then gave in, rubbing himself against his boy, feeling their rubber bodies sliding against each other, his rubber cock…aching, but not to cum. He let loose a blast of piss between them, and the boy latched into the head of his daddy’s cock, sucking down as much of it as he could hold.

“That’s…that’s a good boy…fuck yeah, drink down yer daddy’s filthy piss…” Aaron muttered, the gears of his new personality grinding to life. “Drink it all down, then daddy’s gonna pound that hole a yers, you’d…you’d like that, right boy?” It was a genuine question. Aaron wasn’t quite sure enough of his own mind anymore–best to always check with his boy. His boy…he was so smart, he always knew the sexiest things to do.

“That sounds great daddy–fuck me while you smoke one of your big cigars, and then you can fist me too, yeah, you’re such a sexy daddy! I’m gonna love you forever, I promise,” the boy said, hugging his daddy tight, and then pulling him deeper into the bar for a night of rubber fun they’d never forget.

The Neighborhood Bitch (Flash Commission)

It’s crazy, is what it is. No one on the block seems to think it’s the least bit strange–but it sure as hell isn’t normal! My wife and I moved in here a couple of weeks ago, and were so busy getting everything unpacked, we didn’t have much of a chance to meet the neighbors–but the ones who came by seemed nice and normal. The one neighbor we didn’t meet was the one who lived across the street–and when we asked about them…no one seemed to have anything to say, really. But there I was, on my my new porch enjoying the evening, when I see the guy leaving the front door…and following him, wearing just a collar and a lead, is some freaky fucker pretending to be a dog!

They walk down the drive like whatever shit they’re pulling is completely normal, and I’m not about to stand for something like this. I charge across the street, howling at them both to cut the faggot shit out, and he just looks at me with surprise for a moment, and then…irritation. Without saying anything, the creepy fucker pulls out this…medallion from under his shirt, and as soon as it catches the light…it’s like everything in my mind flies away, and all I can see is that shining light. I fight it though–and when the medallion goes away, and my…head tries to tell me this is normal, and I should accept my nice neighbor and his…pet, I decide to take matters into my own hand, and I slug the faggot across the chin, like I always did with the fags back in school.

Now the dog-man didn’t take too kindly to that, and leapt on me, both of us rolling around on the ground. Then the medallion was back out again…and this time I knew what was happening, as I stripped off my clothes and got down on my hands and knees on the sidewalk…and the fucking dog-man mounted me! Right there in the middle of the street, in view of all of my new neighbors, and I was just thankful my wife was at the store so she couldn’t see it. The man said something about making me the neighborhood bitch…but then everything faded away again, and when my head was clear, I was alone in the street…but I had to crawl back to my house naked before I could manage to stand upright again.

I think the fucker is fucking with us, with our heads. With everyone on the damn street! Nothing…has been right since that evening. My cock…seems smaller, and it refuses to get hard, much to the frustration of my wife, who usually likes a good fuck every evening. I think…word has been spreading too, about what happened, but it wasn’t until today I realized something was really wrong. I went over next door to borrow a tool I hadn’t been able to find in my boxes. Jerry, the guy there had been nice so far, seemed on the level with everything…but when he got close to me, and…I think he smelled me. He sneered at me in the garage, called me a bitch…and when he did, I couldn’t stop myself.

I took off all my clothes like before, got down on my hands and knees, and he fucked me right there, hard and rough like the dog-man had…and fuck, if it didn’t feel so fucking good! I was moaning and panting, begging for more, and when he shot in me, it was like everything was normal again. I got dressed, we said nothing more of it, and I borrowed the tool like I’d hoped…but he still had that sneer on his face the whole time, like he knew my secret.

Every guy on the block has been the same! They’ve all called me a bitch, and fucked me…and hell if I wasn’t thinking about it still, wishing I could get hard, wanting…wanting all of them to dump their seed in my bitch cunt. I…I have to see him, I have to get him to fix this, I can’t keep feeling like this, I can’t!

He didn’t fix me. He just made everything worse. Now, at home, I have to…do all of my business outside, in the yard. I can’t wear clothes in the house, and I crawl around like a fool. I think he’s been talking to my wife too, because she just treats me like some mutt–feeds me out of a bowl, gives me a naked walk in the evening…and she’s talking to all the guys in the neighborhood, flirting with them right in front of me…and sometimes she even brings one home, and fucks them in our bed…and I’m not jealous of them, but of her–I…I’m the bitch, I should be getting their cum, not her!

My body is changing too–my dick really is smaller, just a nub now, and I can’t tell if I have balls anymore or not. My body hair is all gone–it just fell out over the last week, and I feel…fatter, somehow, especially around my hips. I can’t talk anymore, I just bark and yip like a fucking animal, and she treats it all like the most normal thing in the world. At least…after fucking her, they usually fuck me too. I’m…the neighborhood bitch after all, I get used by everyone…and I like it, fuck, I live for it, and I’m so fucking ashamed of it, I don’t know what to do with myself.

It can’t be true.

It fucking can’t. I’m…I’m a man, I know I am, I was.

I can’t be pregnant, I can’t.

But I can feel the thing inside me…I can feel it. My cock disappeared, and it…it turned into a pussy, and fuck, the first time I got fucked, it was the biggest orgasm of my life, and I hadn’t cum in months…I just wanted more, I wanted every man I could find to fuck me. The neighbor, with the medallion, told my wife (my owner now, I suppose–she doesn’t even remember being married, and the ring is gone from her hand) that I was probably in heat, and to be careful. But every man in the neighborhood fucked me anyway, I couldn’t say no, and now…now I’m some pregnant bitch, and everyone knows it…and I think it’s his.

The guy with the medallion, the way he looks at me, the way he…fucked me, that one time…it has to be his, and I feel so fucking dirty…but I want to feel him in me again, I want them all in me, I don’t care anymore. I’m a stupid bitch, and that’s all I will ever be now.

Prison Psychology (Flash Commission)

CW: Rape

“I guess I just don’t understand why I’m here,” Officer Galloway said, looking around at the psychologist’s office, there at the prison where he worked as a guard.

“Oh,it’s just a formality, really. I like to have regular chats with the staff here, and make sure they are mentally fit enough for the work. It can be…overwhelming for some, the things they see here, the people they have to deal with on a regular basis. It’s part of my job to make sure that you’re up to the task.”

“I mean, I’ve been working here for six months,” Galloway told the psychologist, “I haven’t had any issues, I don’t think.”

“Yes, well, you might not even notice them. Still…are you sure you have the…constitution for this kind of work? You seem…rather small, I suppose. Well, I’m not in charge of determining physical fitness, so I suppose we should skip that, now…”

Galloway was caught off guard by the slight insult, and he had a hard time remembering everything else they talked about during that first session, he was so focused on that. He wasn’t a small fellow by any measure–he’d played football in high school and college, and the warden had hired him in part because he was big. Intimidating, he’d said, in fact. And this doctor, this short, chubby fellow, didn’t think he was big enough? He laughed it off at first, until he saw himself in the mirror later, changing out of his uniform to go home. Nothing had changed about him–he was still the six foot two, 220 muscular guy he’d been–he even weighed himself to check…but the doctor had been right. He was…small. He could fix that though, he could get bigger–he needed to get bigger.

He added another two days at the gym, and filled his diet with protein, but it wasn’t…enough. By the time he had another appointment with the psychologist a month later, he’d given into temptation, and started using steroids he bought from some hefty fellows at the gym–just to give himself a boost. He was bigger now–230–but the psychologist still wasn’t impressed–and was worried about his job performance too. He was concerned that he was too…nice. That he had developed a bit too much camaraderie with his fellow prisoners. Again, he left the session questioning himself, trying to sort out the truth, re-remembering…everything. He had been too soft. These people were thugs, they were criminals. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. He looked down at the pills the psychologist had prescribed him–allegedly something for his depression, regarding BDD, whatever that was. Something about…his body looking wrong, but he’d fix that soon enough.

The pills worked alright. He had more energy, and he used it all to work out. The increased aggression, from the steroids and from the pills, were helpful on the job as well, and he put the prisoners he’d started getting too friendly with back in their place, with his fists, if he had to. In a few more months, and with a few more sessions with the doctor, he was up to 260, the largest he’d ever been, but it still wasn’t enough. He still looked too small, and too soft. Sure, the pills were helping. He was hairier. His face…looked different. His jaw more square, his brow deeper, and even his eyebrows were growing together, his beard thicker. He should shave it, but he’d stopped caring about…hygiene, lately. Not showering, and no deodorant–he wanted men to smell him coming, wanted them to fear getting close to him. He could be scarier though. He had some savings he could use, and he booked the tattoo and piercing appointments right away, and got started on his full body tribal tattoos, and all the piercings he needed. He got…so hard, whenever the needle pierced or stung him, but he was horny all the time now, but he hadn’t been with a woman in…ages. He was fantasizing about…about men, about the prisoners, and his fellow guards. About dominating them, but he couldn’t…do that, could he?

The next session, a few months later, was a joint session, to his surprise, with another guard, Officer Mandel. He was a sorry looking fellow–very fat, easily 300 pounds, and he smelled about as bad as Galloway did, but…weaker. He was weak, and Galloway was strong, and their doctor suggested they do some roleplay–with Mandel as the prisoner, and Galloway as the guard. He knew he should have been worried, when he ripped down Mandel’s pants and fucked him–but it felt so good, after being alone for so damn long…he wanted more, he needed more, he deserved more. That’s what his psychologist said, and Galloway always agreed with him, no matter what.

It felt like something had been…unleashed in him, after that. He would smell a guy at the gym, musky and strong, and he…he had to have them. He resisted for a while, but one night, he followed one of them home, and raped him in his apartment–making sure he never saw his face. He loved it–and that helped calm his urges, for a while. Using prisoners was easier–they were more…pliant, the ones the doctor suggested needed his special kind of attention. It caught up with him in due time however. The trial was short–he was too stupid to lie, and close to a year after his first meeting with the psychologist, Galloway found himself back in the prison, but this time, as an inmate, serving twenty-five years with no chance of parole.

Prison did nothing to contain his urges. He was a brute, a beast, and he fucked every cellmate they placed him with, until they were forced to place him in solitary confinement. It wasn’t…so bad, not really. He could work out. The psychologist visited him regularly to give him his drugs, to make sure he stayed big and strong, like he needed to be. The doctor, or his master, as he thought of him now, would keep him safe, and keep him happy, as long as he served him, here at the prison. The psychologist would bring men to him, troublesome ones, resistant ones, and they would spend a day or three with Galloway in his cell, raped by him over and over again, until they were begging to be released, until they were willing to do anything master told them to do. He enjoyed fucking the warden. The old faggot would show up, let himself into the cell, and drop his pants, cock locked in chastity, and beg for the beast to plow him. For him, getting raped by the brute in solitary was a reward. Mandel visited often too, larger every time, now over 500 pounds, snorting and squealing like a pig.

In the mirror…he finally looked right. Bestial face with the heavy brow over his eyes, hair and beard hanging all around him, growing higher up his cheeks with each month. He weighed over 300 pounds now, all of it muscle, and he couldn’t speak–he’d been alone for so long, he’d forgotten how to use his words–though he could listen. He liked listening to Master, he liked it more than anything. Soon, Master said, he would be free again. Free to roam the halls of the prison as Master’s head guard. Free to take any hole he wanted. Patience, Master said, soon, everything would be exactly as it should be.

Taming the Beast (Part 9)

The door behind him clicked and opened, and Mark stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Jacob managed to pry himself away from the trough long enough to snarl and look at him, but then the beast forced him back down into the slop. “Now now, Jacob–don’t fret. You’ll be safe here, just like all of my other pets down here. You’ll meet them all eventually…well, maybe you will. It depends on how long you last, really, in there. After all, Beastie has met most of them already, haven’t you?”

He felt a grunt come out of his mouth, and sensed it was something affirmative. Mark stepped closer, and Jacob could…smell him. Had he smelt that…good before? He was wearing different clothes than he usually did, they were soaked with cum, with…so many different kinds, but mostly his own, and Jacob felt his…or rather, their cock hardening. Mark ran his hands over Jacob’s wide ass, feeling the crisp briefs he had on, and then tugged them down, giving him access to his crack, which he ran his own cock along, feeling Jacob’s body squirm in excitement.

“I must say, when I saw what you could do, back in the hospital, I knew I had to have you, but I never would have imagined you could be such a delight. Just my type–once you’re properly trained, I might even let you wander the house–just tell everyone you’re my pet hog, if anyone asks, not that anyone will, of course.”

“H-How?” Jacob managed to force out through a mouthful of food.

“How? How did I do it? It was easy–you know how. You’re weak. The beast was always the strongest part of you, you were just holding it back. I’ve set it free, and given it exactly what it has always wanted–the perfect life for a little beastie like him.”

Jacob tried to object, tried to talk to the beast in control of him, but Mark forced his cock into him then, and everything else…disappeared for a while. No–he disappeared for a while, like when he was hypnotized, and he didn’t resurface for…well, he didn’t know how long, exactly, but when he woke up later, the trough was empty, licked nearly clean, and his gut…ached. Ached, and it was so big–bigger than it had ever been before this, and from the smell of cum in the room, he’d just jacked off…but the cum smelled different than usual. It was hard to see, around the huge gut, but he managed to get a peek at it, and saw that it wasn’t…human anymore. So much of him wasn’t human anymore. He was a freak, an animal. He felt something chaffing his neck, and felt a steel collar there, padlocked on, and he wanted to break it, wanted to tear it to shreds, but the beast just…laughed at him. A hyena like laugh in his mind, and he started to recede again, falling back into the darkness of himself.

It was true, wasn’t it. He was weak. He’d always been the weakest. But this wasn’t freedom. He screamed at the beast, telling him he thought this was freedom, but he was nothing. Just a pet, a slave, some sexual freak. All he received back was a silence, and then a pressure, a force driving him back down into the dark, and he was gone again. The beast felt him recede, and laid back on the floor of his room.

The man was right, he supposed. He was nothing more than a pet, really. No better than he’d been with Bacanal, no better than he’d been when locked away by the man. He could get free…maybe, but he was so used to gluttony, sloth and lust now, that it was hard to imagine the fierce forms it had taken back in the hospital. What did it matter, in the end? He was a pet, but he was satisfied. He was a sex freak, but he’d never experienced pleasure like this before. It was slavery, but it you got everything you wanted, wasn’t that just as good as freedom, in a way? The door clicked, and swung open. Beastie crawled through it, and saw Cumrag there in the room, tied up, ass up, and he went over and shoved his snout into the man’s hole and licked. He liked the taste of this one. Liked how he moaned when Beastie fucked him, liked how eager he was for attention, and especially liked how rough he could be with him.

Months passed by. Jacob surfaced less and less, and every time he did, there was less of him that came back from the darkness. Without context, he couldn’t really distinguish between himself in the beast…and by the time he realized the beast’s mind was actually absorbing him, it was too late for him to even consider what it might mean to resist. Mark thought about intervening, but it would have been a substantial amount of work…and really, what good was he to anyone? Beastie was truly the better half–best to just do away with what wasn’t necessary. Beastie kept growing, helped by his constant, massive meals, and after six months he was nearly eight feet tall, and weighed close to a ton. Mark had been forced to renovate two of the other rooms into one sizable pigpen, with a mud hole which he and his pet enjoyed fucking in regularly. After a year, Beastie couldn’t even recall a time when he hadn’t lived with his master, as his pet. It was simply who he was–and he couldn’t imagine any life he could want more than this one.

Taming the Beast (Part 8)

Jacob didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t feel like he was getting better, certainly…but he did trust Mark, didn’t he? After all, he never would have gotten out of the hospital at all, if it hadn’t been for his help, and if Mark thought he was a danger to anyone at all, he knew that he would never let him hurt someone else again. He decided to do as he suggested, and trust that he would pull his way out of the slump soon, and things would become a bit more normal…but were things becoming normal, or was he just getting used to how filthy his life had become? Men kept coming around to see him, men he couldn’t even remember calling, and the sex he had with them was getting…stranger. He fucked them, always, but also took to soaking them down in his piss, and covering them in his cum, making sure that when they left, they smelled like him…like his property, like his mates.

Then, he went into another rage at work, and this time went too far–they fired him on the spot, and he was just…so frustrated, so angry, and he didn’t feel like he had anywhere to put it…so he ate. He ate, and he fucked, and he drank, and he didn’t rest for days. The next appointment with Mark blew past without him even thinking about it, he just didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to exist. It was two days after that, when Mark arrived at his door…and he was so relieved to see him, that he fell to his knees and sobbed. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He couldn’t trust himself, he’d given the beast too much control because…because he was weak. So weak. That’s what Mark told him, that he’d spent so long with the beast out, that he didn’t have the capacity to contain him anymore. Jacob didn’t want to believe it, it couldn’t be true…but when Mark hauled him up and dragged him into the bathroom to look at himself–really look at himself, he was terrified.

It wasn’t his face in the mirror. Or, it was kind of his face, but it was…twisted and bestial, with a snout pushing out around his mouth and nose, two tusks pushing out from his lower jaw, the hair on his head and beard looking more like boar bristle than human hair. He begged Mark to take him back to the hospital, to take him somewhere where he would be safe…but Mark told him he thought the hospital would be the worst possible thing for them both. The beast would panic. He would fight, and turn vicious, and most likely, Jacob in his weakened state wouldn’t be able to regain control, and in the end, he’d just be locked up in a cage for the rest of his life, in a ultramax prison with the rest of the villains of the world. But he wasn’t a villain, right? No–he just needed some time to get back on his feet…but he did need to be supervised. Mark graciously offered him a room down in the basement of his house, and Jacob was so thankful he didn’t think twice. So thankful in fact, that he sucked the doctor’s cock, right there in his apartment. It was just…the right thing to do. To show how much he respected him. To show him how important he was. Some time under the doctor’s direct care was just what he needed. He left with him, not wanting to wait in case the beast resisted, and they got to Mark’s home shortly before dark. They went downstairs and into a large, bare room with several doors on each wall. Mark ushered him into one of them, and while it wasn’t much larger than the room he’d had in the hospital, he should be appreciative, shouldn’t he?

Mark shut the door behind him, and told him he would be back soon with some food for him, and Jacob couldn’t shake the sense of unease he was feeling. The beast had hated being stuck in the hospital, and he’d been certain it would fight this too. But it hadn’t. If anything, he felt better now than he had in his apartment. Safer. Like everything was working out exactly like he thought it should…except it wasn’t. He had none of his things, not even a change of clothes or a toothbrush–not that he’d been using one lately. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going. He looked around, but there wasn’t a phone anywhere, or a TV…or really anything. There wasn’t even a bed, or a window, just some lights inset in the wall behind glass or plastic. It was a cell. He was in a cell.

He went to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He was locked in here–he’d let himself get trapped in here, like an idiot! Still, the door was nothing compared to what the beast was capable of, right? He focused, trying to reach for it, trying to harness it…but while it was there, it was calm. No–more than calm, it was relaxed, and watching him panic, and enjoying this. It wanted to be here.

There was a loud thunk from the long wall of the cell, and the bottom foot or so angled out, revealing a shallow trough running the entire length. A moment later, slop slid down into, steaming slightly, and Jacob felt his gut rumble, and the beast licked its chops. No–no, he licked his lips, right? Jacob was still trying to understand what was happening to him in his mind, as his body lowered itself down onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the trough, shoving his short snout into it and devouring as much of it as he could, as quickly as he could, while it was still warm and delicious.

Taming the Beast (Part 7)

The whole rest of the week, Jacob noticed that he was feeling a bit…strange. Well, strange wasn’t really the best way to describe it–what he was mostly feeling, was hungry. Hungrier than he could really ever remember being in the past, in fact. His meals doubled in size, much to his dismay, but whenever he tried to exert a bit of self-control, it would crumble by the time he ate next, and he’d end up gorging himself until he could barely move. It became a problem at work especially, being around food all the time. He would sneak snacks right off the grill or out of the fryer, and afterwards, started taking home anything that was leftover and would usually be thrown out, and stuffing himself with it before going to bed for the night.

As unnerving as it was, he hesitated bringing it up with Mark. He was just so happy being out of the hospital, and he knew that at the first sign of a setback, he could be readmitted immediately. So he did his best to pretend like nothing was going on at all, as he watched his weight steadily creep upward on the scale he kept in the bathroom, until in a fit of shame and panic he threw it out and went on a weekend long binge, cleaning out his cupboards and fridge, stopping only to masturbate every few hours–though he found it easy enough to do both things at the same time. That was the final straw. He had to talk to Mark about this, even if it meant going back to the hospital. This had to be something to do with the beast–there was no other explanation that he could think of for these sudden urges.

At their next session, before Mark hypnotized him, Jacob told him about what had been happening to him. About the binging, and the fact that he seemed to be masturbating more and more often. Mark was troubled by the new developments, and they talked about it for a while, trying, together, to determine whether what was happening posed a danger to him, or to anyone else. In the end, Mark left the decision up to Jacob, if he wanted to go back to the hospital or not–and Jacob told him this was something he’d rather deal with himself. It felt so good being back out in the world, and he wasn’t ready to go back to being locked up again, not until he felt like he couldn’t handle this himself. Mark told him that he would have a word with the beast, and see if he could understand what this sudden shift in behavior might mean. He seemed to be under for…a very long time. Several hours, at least, and when he came too again, Mark was sitting across from him, though his face was rather grave.

“Was…was everything alright?” Jacob asked him, sitting up from the couch where he’d been lying down.

“Yes, I mean, these compulsions of yours do seem to be related to the beast, but…well, I can’t know anything without further observation. I think the best thing you can do is try to resist them as best you can. Keep track if possible–how often you binge, how often you masturbate, anything else that sticks out to you as odd. We’ll try to get a baseline for the behavior, and see if it gets worse, alright?”

Jacob did his best for a few days, but he kept forgetting about keeping a journal, and the whole exercise just…didn’t interest him much at all. Work was the same. Over the next few weeks, he found himself getting aggravated at his boss and coworkers, and would on occasion break out into a sudden rage that would catch him off guard. He didn’t do any real harm, aside from a couple of broken dishes, but the fact that it kept happening…it terrified him. Was he really ready to be out here with people? He found himself wondering about every tic and every thought, and the constant self-awareness was exhausting. He started oscillating between days where he would try to constantly check himself, and days where he would give up and just indulge in…everything. He would stuff himself, drink excessively, masturbate over and over, miss work, and even fuck on occasion. Men–always men, something he had never done before in his life, but he loved it, and the rougher he got with them, the harder he came–and most of them came back for seconds.

It was Mark who brought up his hygiene one session, awkwardly, like he’d been hoping Jacob would mention it finally, without him having to bear the burden of broaching it. Without having to humiliate Jacob with the knowledge that he hadn’t even noticed how dirty he was becoming. He hadn’t trimmed his beard in weeks at that point, and it was coming in thick–much thicker than he could remember it looking the last time he’d tried growing one out. The same went for his hair, which was quite long, as well as the hair on the rest of his body, which was filling in thicker than he knew it should over his now substantial gut. Looking down at himself, and paying attention to it, he realized that he couldn’t clearly recall the last time he’d taken a shower, and he also couldn’t remember when he’d last changed his clothes. He’d been wearing the same outfit for work without washing it for over a week, which no one had complained about out of fear it might set one of his rages off, and he hadn’t changed the underwear beneath that in…a month? More? It was wet, at the moment, since he’d jacked off before coming over, but he could smell cum…so much cum. They were saturated, as was the undershirt he was wearing. He felt ashamed of himself, ashamed that he was losing so much control, so quickly, without even realizing it in the moment. He couldn’t trust himself, he couldn’t be trusted with himself, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of going back to that hospital either…though he knew Mark was going to call for it.

But to his surprise, Mark didn’t. In fact, he told Jacob that he thought he’d been improving, and after the session he seemed really pleased with how Jacob was progressing. These new behaviors were a surprise, sure, and might be difficult to adjust to, but he was going to have to deal with the fact that the beast inside him was, from now on, most likely going to be a more immediate presence in his life. The best thing he could do, in Mark’s opinion, was keep it satisfied, and likely, in a few more weeks, they’d manage to reach a new equilibrium. It might not be what Jacob wanted, necessarily, but this was most likely the course his power was going to develop. Fighting it would likely only make it worse.

Taming the Beast (Part 5)

The beast looked around the room, perhaps a bit confused. It was, after all, the first time Mark had woken it outside of the hospital, so it was likely wondering where, exactly, it was. “This is my home,” Mark said, “The prison where you were has decided that Jacob is…less of a risk, and allowed him to leave.”

The beast gave a few snorts, almost like laughter, and then leered at Mark.

“Remember, you would have never gotten out of there without my help, and if you harm me, there are much worse prisons where they could place you. No–I have something else I would like to…suggest instead,” Mark said. “After all, I know what you want. You want to be free–and you want all of the earthly pleasure you had before, isn’t that right? Most of all though, I know that you do not like being subservient to Jacob.”

The beast snorted again.

“I would offer you something else, other than the occasional moment of freedom. I can give you a life here, with me, one that I think you will enjoy. After all, you liked your life before, didn’t you? In the bar?”

They had discussed it before, but the beast had always been…on the fence, for reasons Mark could understand. The beast had traded complete subordination to Jacob’s ego for a different kind of enslavement, to a very different master. It was reluctant to admit it, but Mark could sense the truth–the beast had liked it, very much. The pleasure, the gluttony, the revelry, the sex. It hadn’t mattered that the beast obeyed a master, so long as it was satisfied. The pleasure made the collar bearable. But more than that–the beast might long for freedom, but it had never known it–it had only ever existed under someone else’s control–and Mark wasn’t about to give it a chance to know any better any time soon, before it knew what it could be.

The beast nodded, hesitantly. It knew Mark wanted something–but Mark had been upfront about that. He had discussed it somewhat, that the beast was…wasted here. That it was meant for something more, and Mark could help it understand its true purpose.

Mark stood up, and crossed the short distance to the beast, enjoying the musk rolling off the thing’s hide. That had been a pleasant surprise as well–Mark had a certain…delight in that. He ran his hands over the beast’s belly, gentle circles, waiting until it relaxed under his hands, and then worked lower, both hands stroking its cock. “You can have that life again. All the food you could want, all the drink. Holes to fuck and dominate. But you can’t do that outside of here–they will find you, and trap you in another cage…and you can’t do it with him, so long as Jacob holds any sway over your body. No–we will have to deal with him, seal him away like he sealed you away, all those years. He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The beast snorted its approval, but whether or not it was listening to what Mark was saying wasn’t clear. It could have simply been enjoying the hand job–but it certainly wasn’t resisting.

“After all, we can both agree that you are the strong one. You’re the one who should be in charge, the one whose needs are paramount. But you won’t be able to do it without me, and if you want my help, then you are going to have to do as I say.”

The beast hesitated, and Mark stepped back.

“You don’t have to decide right now. But downstairs, I can give you a taste of the life I can offer you. Follow me.”

The beast heaved himself up from the sofa, and followed Mark around the corner and down a hallway, to a locked basement door. It was a tight squeeze down the staircase for the sizable animal, but at the base, it opened up into a open area outfitted as a sex dungeon–slings, paddles, bondage racks. Around the walls of the room were several doors, all of them locked as well. Mark went to one of them opened the door, “Hey Cumrag! Get out here–I have someone for you to entertain.”

After a couple of moments, a man stumbled out of the room, wearing nothing other than a cape around his shoulders–or at least, something that had been a cape at one time. Cumrag was one of Mark’s earliest acquisition from the hospital–a strongman Super with a rather weak will, who had been mind controlled and turned to a life of crime for a few years until he was freed. He’d struggled a lot at the hospital in Mark’s care–he didn’t know how to regain his moral center, and felt like he couldn’t trust himself. Mark agreed. Slowly, he’d worn him down, convinced him that everything that had happened was all because he was too weak to know better–that if anything, it had been good for him to be controlled by someone with some sense, good to keep his power away from the world, where he could hurt someone. He’d needed a new purpose in life, a new direction, and so Mark had suggested he help him out around the house, degrading him more and more until he, at last, accepted he was little more than an object. A cumrag. He’d been without a shower for years, at this point, and his skin and hair was caked with layers and layers of cum. The cape he still wore was rigid at this point, and when he was in storage down here, all Cumrag knew to do anymore was masturbate into his cape, his life as a hero forgotten forever–until his services were needed.

The Carnival (Part 3)

I already announced that the winner of the first poll was the cow option, and the victor of the runoff poll, by two votes, was the gator option! Hope you enjoy!

“Cowboy!” the audience shouted, and Adam let out a moo of surprise, as his cock and balls began to inflate in front of the entire audience. It was clear he was trying to say something, or object, but the only sounds he could make were low and mooing, and as his genitals inflated, his cock bulging out and filling out with his balls until they were more udder than cock, two short horns pushing out from his forehead, and a thick brass ring appearing in his nose with a click of Dr. Watch’s fingers.

He gave a tug on the ring, and Adam stumbled forward, the intellect draining from his eyes as the rest of his body shifted, losing muscle and gaining fat, especially around the hips, until he had a thick, wide ass, his hands and feet growing together into heavy, useless hooves that he stared at dumbly, certain that something was wrong with him, but no longer smart enough to understand what was even happening to him. The one thing the cowboy was certain of, was that his udder was full–so full that it hurt.

With another moo, he gripped it with his hoof-like hands, hefting it up and letting it all–the slapping sound it made against his thighs was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire auditorium. “Now Mr. Addison, you said you were a farmer, right?” Dr. Watch said to one of the townsfolk.

A man in a suit stepped forward, but when he stepped and nodded, “Yes sir, been on a farm all my life!” The audience laughed–he’d gone up on the stage a banker, but accounts were now the furthest thing from his mind.

“Well, why don’t you help out our cow here. You can milk a cow, can’t you?”

Mr. Addison nodded, Dr. Watch handed him a bucket, and he started squeezing the cowboy’s new udder, and Adam moaned in delight, humping his wide hips as Mr/ Addsion squeezed out his fresh manmilk into the bucket, the whole audience either shrieking in disgust or laughing at the absurdity of it. When the bucket was full, Dr. Watch told Mr. Addison to take a taste–and as he guzzled it–he too began to inflate, the suit bulging against his growing waistline until it could hold no more, and it shredded to pieces, leaving Mr. Addison as naked as the cowboy next to him, weighing almost 400 pounds, licking his milky lips.

Roger had watched all of this in horror, and had tried to move off the stage, but his feet were rooted in place. “One more animal everyone–what do we have to say to Roger here?”

“Gatorboy!”

Roger shuddered, and the first thing everyone noticed was his skin. It dried out immediately, and started to flake and turn into scales, his nails growing into long claws. His frame bulked up substantially, filling out with muscle as his neck disappeared, his face broadening and growing out into a short snout, his mouth filling in with tight rows of sharp fangs, his eyes turning yellow. His legs bowed slightly as a thick tail grew out above his ass, but he ended up taller than he’d been to begin with, and as his human mind faded, a hunter’s instinct took over, and he gazed hungrily over at the cow still full of milk next to him.

However, before he could lunge and go for the kill, someone else slammed into him–the third member of the townsfolk, dressed in only a pair of muddy overalls, tackled him with a whoop and a holler, got him into a headlock and rolled with him all over the stage, to the thrill of the audience.

“See? And you all thought I was crazy for giving our hypnotized hillbilly here a penchant for gator wrestling! Look at Billy Bob go–think he’s gonna break that big ol’ gator, or is the gator gonna break him?”

In the end, Billy Bob came out of top, Dr. Watch handed him a collar, and he forced it around Roger’s neck. Immediately, the gatorboy grew calm, and the big hillbilly hauled his cock free of the muddy overalls, and slid it into the gator’s ass, the lizard humping the stage, his own slimy, reptillian member sliding free of its sheath to rub against the wood of the stage, until it spewed a load of cum in a spectacular climax, along with Adam and Jared still sucking his own cock in a grand finale–and then the lights went down, and the stage was empty.

The frat bros, none of them quite able to believe what they’d just witnessed, hurried out of the tent. Jared, Adam, and Roger were nowhere to be seen…and somehow the group knew that they needed some time to be debriefed by Dr. Watch before they could be released back into the wild again. They would catch up with the group later in the carnival, maybe, or they’d find them back at the house the next morning.

In the meantime, the remainder of the group ended up splitting into two smaller groups, who each headed in a different direction. One group of three headed for the tunnel of love ride, thinking they’d seen some sorority girls head in that direction, while the other three went into the funhouse across from it, to see what they might find in there.

This next poll is going to be a short one! We’ll get to both locations eventually, but which would you like to see first?

The Twitter Poll!

The Patron Poll!

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Emptied Out (Part 10)

Leonard had to admit it felt good too. Sliding deep into his son’s filthy ass, but he knew it was a tempting delight, one he needed to resist…but when he tried to pull away, he couldn’t. He didn’t have access to the rest of the body anymore–Leo had managed to lock his mind away in the cock, and as pre-cum leaked out, Leonard felt his strength ebbing more and more.

“Yeah, it feels real good, don’ it? Just let go ‘n enjoy yerself. Don’ worry ‘bout nothin’, I’ll take real good care a yer body fer ya–and yer boy here.”

Leonard tried to rouse himself one last time, for the sake of his son, but he couldn’t–and so he just rode the pleasure, feeling more and more of himself draining away, the pleasure building higher and higher in his balls as Leo fucked Nathan harder and harder. Then, his balls contracted, there was a great wave of pleasure, and he was gone. Leo felt him go, felt his entire body belong to him and him alone, finally, and collapsed on Nathan with a grunt, hugging him close, groping his flabby sides and fat belly. “Damn boy, yer a real good fuck–gonna have to make sure Master let’s me visit ya on occasion, help me blow off some steam while I’m on the road.”

He hefted himself back up and let his cock side from Nathan’s ass with a wet fart, and whistled at the new cock he had, now that he didn’t have to lug around that worthless, stodgy fuck anymore. It was a real man’s cock–nine inches, thick as a beer can, with a thick foreskin hanging over the head, even when it was erect. He rolled Nathan over onto his back and straddled his fat chest. “Here boy, got a treat fer ya–clean off my nasty cock. Make sure ya get under that foreskin fer yer dessert too.”

“Please…” Nathan said, “Please, don’t…just leave. Just leave me be, please, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Leo ran one huge, greasy paw over Nathan’s buzzed scalp and jaw. “But boy, I ain’t ‘bout tah leave ya unsatisfied–that just ain’t mah way. ‘Sides, ya mean tah tell me a dirty pig like you is gonna pass up the oppontunity tah give me a real nice tongue bath?” He drooled a stream of tobacco spit onto Nathan’s chest, and felt the boy’s breath quicken under him. Leo took off his sweaty shirt, revealing a barrel chest covered in hair, and leaned in close. Even from a foot away, Nathan could smell the powerful stink of Leo’s pits, and his nose was drawn to them, licking at them tentatively at first, but with a bit of encouragement from Leo, he dug into them, savoring them in between drags off his fag. Leo hauled off his cowboy boots next, and once Nathan got a sniff of those, there was no going back. He spent half an hour with his face plasted to the soles, giving them long, loving licks from heel to toe, torn between his absolute shame and humiliation, and a lust he could neither articulate or deny.

Leo’s cock didn’t stay down for long, not with Nathan paying him such good attention, and he fucked him again, slower this time, with his real cock–his bigger cock. Nathan tried to hold off, tried to keep his fat from jiggling too much against the head of his dicklet, but it was too much. With a series of snorts he came, pumping the last remaining traces of himself onto the mattress below him, and Nate’s dumb grin spread across his face once again, bucking back harder into Leo’s cock.

In the corner where he’d settled, invisible, Greg watched the former father and son continue to fuck, pleased with the latest additions to his stable. He allowed them to finish, before revealing himself, and walking over to Nate, where he was dazed on hands and knees, feeling empty again. After all, he needed to get filled up one last time, and so Greg filled him in on what sort of life Nate could expect going forward. Greg had lots of daddies, and many of them traveled through the city on occasion–daddies like Leo, who was going to start work as a trucker the next week. Nate was going to be a very good host to all of them, Biff’s little whore boy, satisfying all of them, doing whatever they ordered him to do, and loving every moment of his new life, because it was exactly what he wanted.

They didn’t stay for dinner. Leo and Greg got back in the car, and Leo thanked his Master for the body by giving him a quick blowjob in the cab–Greg enjoyed sex most when he knew they could be discovered, after all, not that anyone would be able to stop him, of course. Leo finished, wiped the cum into his beard, and drove off to the bank. There were some papers that needed to be signed, by “Leonard”, transferring all of his assets to his new young dependent for safe keeping and dispersal, but Leo didn’t want to be rich. No, all Leo wanted was a life on the open road, smoking cigars, dipping, and drinking whiskey, fucking pigs in rest areas, resting his feet in front of some porn on the weekends. It might be an empty life, but for all of Greg’s daddies, it was the only life they could imagine ever wanting.