Giving Charge (Part 2)

Commissioned by rtrose

As they drove, Travis was starting to feel really sick. Maybe that wasn’t surprising, considering how much he’d drank and eaten over the past few hours, but this didn’t feel like a hangover or indigestion. He looked over at Larry in the driver’s seat–the man hadn’t spoken once to him during the last half hour they’d been driving out of the city, and out in the dark he couldn’t see much, but they were out past the suburbs and into rural country when Larry pulled off the road into a trailer park, stopped the truck and told Travis, “Get out, and get inside, boy.”

Travis expected his body to leap to and obey like it had before, but the command only made him sluggishly respond. In fact, he sensed that, if he wanted to, he might even be able to get away–had he not felt so sick. Something in his guts was churning–he thought back to the load Larry had seeded in him, and wondered about disease, but nothing could incubate this fast, could it? Distracted by his own thoughts, he followed Larry into the trailer, where the roughneck stripped the coveralls off the young man’s body and pushed him up against the wall, where Travis made a sorry attempt to cover himself up.

“Well, well–looks like the little twerp is making some progress already,” Larry said.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You got yourself a little beard there,” Larry stroked the light coat of hair on his face, “and your gut’s bloating up a bit–gonna be good and big before too long. Still, I don’t think you’re over the threshold yet–how about we kick this into high gear?” He grabbed Travis by the arm and flipped him around, pushing him up against the wall, pushing his cock up against his still loose hole and working it back in. “Yeah, one more load oughta do it, and then we’ll see if you’re still a twerp or not.”

“No–No I’m not gonna let you do this,” Travis said, struggling against the loosening hold of Larry’s control.

“Oh, is that gaze wearing off already? Fine with me, I like twerps who fight back a bit. Still, this is gonna be a quick one–I don’t really feel like waiting.”

True to his word, Larry did last very long, tensing up and trusting in deep, unloading once more into Travis’ guts, and the sick feeling suddenly grew much, much worse. Larry pulled out, and Travis found that his legs had grown too weak to support him all on their own. Collapsing to the ground, the impact hurt in ways he did not expect–down in his bones, as though every pressure on his skin were a needle sinking to his marrow. “What–what’s happening to me…” he groaned, doubled over on the filthy carpet. His bones–were they growing? They didn’t seem to be getting any longer, but it felt as though they were getting thicker, and even hotter? The ache inside his bones was joined by an intense heat–looking down, he saw that his limbs were slowly growing wider, the heat pumping up his muscles, making them twitch and flex uncontrollably. It was exhausting–looking down at his arms, he saw the muscles inside them start bulging and exploding, his skin barely able to stretch fast enough to keep up without ripping apart. He rolled over, sitting with his back against the wall, where he could see that his chest was developing slab-like pecs, and his thighs and calves bulging with muscle–but also something else, something bubbling up underneath his skin. The sensation was unnerving–hot fat boiling up within him, spreading over the top of his new muscles before cooling and firming up, much of it consolidating around his midsection, forming a large, firm gut.

His eyes blurred as the ache and heat enveloped his face–with two unfamiliar hands, he felt his jaw and cheeks and brow distend and bulge as bone grew thick and fat filled in, and then it dissipated, leaving behind an exhaustion he’d never felt anything like, it was all he could do to keep himself from passing out, rolling over again onto all fours, and telling himself he had to stand up–he had to get out of here before anything else could happen to him–and while he could still control his own actions.

However, simply standing up proved to be a more difficult task than he’d imagined. He hefted himself up, but as he was no longer the waif he’d been, his thicker body forced his body to find a new center of gravity, making him feel like he was in perpetual danger of falling backward as he balanced against his gut. The muscle growth had left his muscles exhausted, his legs quivering as he took two feeble steps forward towards the door, before falling down again. Nothing felt right–his mind screaming that this couldn’t have happened, and yet every message from his body told him that these big hands, this gut, these massive trunk like legs–they were his. He pushed himself back up, stumbling back, fearing he might fall–until he felt Larry’s thick arms wrap their way around him from behind.

“I gotcha big boy,” he said, but Travis broke away and spun around, nearly toppling over before he clung to the wall for support.

“What did you do to me? Change me back!” Travis shouted, his voice deep and resonant in his chest.

“You really want to go back? Back into that twerp body? Don’t lie–I can see you’re enjoying this…” Larry came forward, one hand wrapping around Travis’ thicker cock, the other snaking around the back of his head, pulling him into a rough, sloppy kiss. Spit leaking out around their lips and down onto his chin, making Travis’ skin itch and burn where it touched. He pulled away, running one hand over his mouth, feeling the stubbly goatee Larry’s spit had grown, watching his captor grin and lick his lips. His face grew weathered as well, his skin sagging a bit into wrinkles and dry crows feet. He now looked a good fifteen years older, with a bit of grey in his hair, which he could sense pulling itself back into his head little by little.

“No–don’t…don’t change me more, please…” Travis said, trying not to moan from the sensation of Larry stroking his cock. That seemed to have grown quite a bit as well–and was far more sensitive than he remembered.

“Too late for that,” Larry said, “but I know something you’ll probably enjoy.” He grabbed one of Travis’ arms and lifted it up, shoving his face into the pit and licking away, the crack sprouting hair and a powerful musk which made Travis groan. It was just as strong as Larry’s, but different–his own scent. When Larry went to work on the other side and then worked down, licking a pelt onto Travis’ chest and stomach, he was left smelling himself, caught up in the strange eroticism of this masculine, alien body. The smell did more than arouse him, it swept the exhaustion away–it made him feel a bit more comfortable in this new skin.

Travis instigated the next kiss, catching both Larry and himself off guard with its force. He’d never felt so strong before–the sense of power running through his body was like a drug. He’d been small and weak all his life–now, for the first time, he was the one with the strength, and he wanted to use it. He put one of his big hands on top of Larry’s head and shoved him down to his knees in front of his cock, and Larry growled back, “Watch it boy.”

“Suck it–just fucking suck it!” Travis said, “I’m so fucking horny.”

“You don’t give the orders here, boy–I do, and–” Larry started to say, but Travis didn’t care. He grabbed the back of Larry’s head and crudely shoved his cock into his mouth, making him sputter a bit, but to his surprise Larry didn’t resist. It felt amazing, having a hot mouth around his cock but Travis felt like something was wrong after a couple of thrusts. Each time, his cock went in a little less, and felt a little softer. He realized too late that Larry must be doing something to him, and when he tried to pull his cock out, Larry refused to let go, coming off on his own a few moments later, leaving Travis with a cock barely an inch and a half long, a massive pubic bush, and balls which looked far too big hanging below.

“No…No!” Travis said, feeling his new nub, and Larry laughed.

“You asked for it boy–now, as long as I’m down here, turn around,” Larry said, grabbing him by the hips and forcing him around so Travis’ ass was inches from his face, “I have a few changes to make down here.” Travis shivered as Larry’s tongue ran up and down his crack before burrowing into his ass, and a new fire kindled to life in him. When Larry removed himself, Travis felt a great emptiness back there, and started pushing back, wishing for something to fill him up.

“Please…please–fuck me. God, oh God I can’t believe I just said that…”

“Happy to oblige,” Larry said, sliding his cock in once again, Travis nearly shouting in pleasure with the penetration, Larry licking up and down Travis’ back, leaving him a pelt as thick there as he had on the front, but pulled out without cumming–nor giving Travis release.

“Why did you stop? Come on, fuck me!” Travis said.

“Another order?” Larry grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the hall, “You’re getting too big for your britches boy–I think you need to remember who’s really in charge here. I may have given you a big boy body, but you’re still my twerp–now get in the truck.”

“Let me go!” Travis said, trying to yank his arm out of Larry’s grip, but when he looked up, he found himself facing Larry’s glittering eyes.

“That’s not a request–it’s an order,” Larry said, “Now go.”

Travis couldn’t resist–he didn’t even put on the clothes Larry had stripped off of him, opting instead to just climb into the cab naked., Larry close behind. Travis fought the compulsion as best he could, but Larry kept speaking to him in the truck, and while Travis couldn’t remember anything he told him, he knew it was nothing good. After a few minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of a rundown biker bar, and to his surprise, Larry simply kicked him out the door onto the gravel and drove off, leaving him there naked.

While it was late, it wasn’t so late that the bar wasn’t still crammed full of men–all of them far rougher and meaner than Travis had seen at any city club. He saw a couple bikers smoking out front run over to him to help him up, but the two big men started laughing at Travis when they caught a look at his tiny cock. Travis, however, had other needs at the front of his mind. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed the beer bottle out of one of the biker’s hands and started shoving the neck up his ass, telling the big men how badly he needed a good, long fuck.

They didn’t disappoint him–none of the men in the bar did, who all took a turn with his ass over the next few hours disappointed him. It was a very different party than the one he’d been to earlier, though he was still the center of attention, in a different way. Each man who fucked him drove Travis to hornier heights, but release was always kept from him, the men laughing at him, for the puny cock which couldn’t even get off one load as every man there took a turn with him. It was horrible–not the fucking, he loved the fucking–the humiliation of it. He wanted to cum so much, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why.

When the bar closed for the night, Travis was left abandoned. He booked it down the road as fast as he could worried that Larry might come back to find him, clad only in a pair of boxers a trucker had given him, his cock still hard, and a beer bottle still firmly planted in his ass. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to go somewhere…didn’t he? Still, where could he go? He had no ID, no life to return to–he was lost. It was almost a relief when Larry pulled up beside him in his truck.

“Get in boy,” was all he said, but Travis did nothing, but the order sent a throb of lust through him.

“No…No, I’m not going to be your slave, I’m not.”

“It’s too late for that, boy,” Larry said, “You gave me your charge–I own you whether you want it or not…and I know you do. Did you get a load off in there? I bet you didn’t. You need to submit boy, you need to be owned. Come here and get in.”

There was that throb again, his cock leaking a bit. He came over and got in, a shiver of lust from his obedience sinking in. “Why…why me?”

“Because you need this. Now jack me off,” Larry said, and again, Travis wanted to obey, and he reached over, stroking Larry’s cock. “See, it feels good to obey, doesn’t it? Now look in my eyes–let’s seal the deal boy, give me the rest–give me all of it. Give it up, and you can cum, I promise.”

Travis resisted for a moment…but could it really be that bad? He could still get out, but what was out there for him, really? Nothing, at least here he had something. So he looked. He fell into Larry’s eyes one final time, completely. He gave it all up, his free will, his personal ambition. He would be a vessel for Larry, but that no longer scared him–it thrilled him. His cock shot the load it had been building all night, soaking the front of his boxers. “Thank–Thank you, sir,” he said, the deference automatic and natural.

“Suck me boy,” Larry said, and Travis obeyed without a second thought. Travis’ future was no longer his–it was Larry’s. His master got him a construction job, with a group of men who had no objection to using the burly slave’s holes all day long. Travis had no choice but to love it now–but he didn’t regret his choice. He had hated being in charge–giving it up to his Master Larry was the greatest decision of his life.

Giving Charge (Part 1)

Commissioned by rtrose

It was the night of the Midsummer Gala, the biggest fundraising benefit for the museum where Travis worked. This year, he had been put in charge of the event, and while he’d expected to enjoy the responsibility, the reality of taking charge was a lot less pleasant. The sheer amount of organization required–the invitations, the exhibits, the caterers, the party rental, the squabbling employees–Travis could barely manage a few smiles as the photographers drifted around the room, snapping photos of the attendees.

Still, he had a role to play, and if the museum didn’t bring in a decent amount of revenue tonight, it was his head on the line. He secretly hated events like this, the schmoozing and small talk. It was exhausting, and as the event organizer, he was obligated to interact with all of the big donors who had come tonight, and do his best to get them to open their wallets as wide as possible. He’d just finished an overly long discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, a wealthy rancher outside of town who had been heavily implying that he would be happy to donate more money if the “Garrison Family Legacy” were more heavily represented in the local history exhibit, and Travis didn’t know how much more of this he would be able to take. He just needed a breath of fresh air for a moment, a chance to catch his breath. Glancing around, he spotted an emergency exit door which opened into the back alley, and when he saw his boss looking away, he ducked out with a sigh of relief.

Outside, it really wasn’t much nicer than inside. Even though the sun had long since set, the air was still sweltering and thick with humidity–Travis felt himself start to sweat almost immediately. Still, as uncomfortable as it was, it still was a relief to be out from the crowded cocktail party inside. More than anything, it was a relief to be alone–or at least, he thought he was alone, until he heard a voice call out down the alley, “Evening, man. You out here for a smoke?”

Travis, a bit surprised, looked down the alley and saw a grimy, bearded man in a set of coveralls, leaning up against the brick wall of the museum, a cigarette burning in his hand. Travis felt a wave of disgust looking at the man, but he still couldn’t face going back in there, so he decided to just stay silent.

“Hey, you listening, boy? Or you just deaf?” The man, said, coming down the alley towards Travis.

“No–No, I don’t smoke,” Travis said, mostly sensing that the man wouldn’t let up until he responded, “I just needed a break from the party in there.”

“Oh, so that’s what all the ruckus is about. My name’s Larry.”

The man extended his oil stained hand and Travis accepted it gingerly, giving it a light shake. “I’m…uh, Travis. Nice to, uh, meet you.”

“So you work in there? That’s kind of a ridiculous suit–you a waiter or something?”

“No, I’m an employee of the museum. I’m in charge of outreach and funding…I put on the party going on in there.”

“That’s your party? Well why aren’t you in there enjoying yourself?”

Travis paused, not really wanting to say, but hell, what did it matter? It wasn’t like he would ever see this guy again in his life, once he went back inside. “Well, it’s just…exhausting, I guess. Putting the entire event together, hobnobbing with all the donors, making sure everyone’s having a good time–it’s exhausting. I guess, I just hate being in charge, you know? I can’t enjoy myself when I have all of this responsibility on my shoulders.”

“Oh, is that what’s going on with you? Well, I don’t know why they’d but a little twerp like you in charge–it’s pretty clear to me that you’re the kind of guy who should be taking orders, not giving them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis said, but he suddenly sensed that this conversation was heading in a direction he hadn’t anticipated, as Larry came in closer, his smoke and body odor invading his personal space. He tried to duck away but one of Larry’s arms shot out, blocking his way. When Travis swung back around, he came into direct contact with Larry’s cloudy grey eyes…and he felt something being pulled from him, and into Larry. He tried to break the eye contact, but there was nothing he could do. The gaze probably only lasted for a few seconds, but in his mind, it felt like hours. Finally, Larry blinked, and Travis felt control return to him, or, some control. Something felt different–wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Larry, on the other hand, seemed happy as could be, and let out a chuckle, then pushed his cigarette up against Travis’ lips, and said, “Inhale, boy.”

Travis was already breathing in before his head could think about refusing, and the acrid smoke in his lungs made him start coughing uncontrollably. Why had he just done that? He hated smokers and smoking–he’d lost track of how many times he’d promised to himself that he’d never be a smoker–and now he’d taken a massive breath of a cancer stick because some roughneck had told him to? “What–What did you just do to me?” Travis gasped, trying to speak through his smoky throat.

“Why, I’m taking charge, boy–and you’re giving it. Now if I’m not mistaken, we have a party to get back to, isn’t that right?”

“We? But…I mean, you–you–” Travis was trying to refuse, trying to deny him entrance, but the words wouldn’t form. Of course Larry didn’t belong there, but as soon as he’d said it, Travis found it impossible to disagree, or disobey. “I mean–if you go in there looking like that, they’ll–they’ll throw you–us, they’ll throw us out.”

“Hmm…” Larry said, “You may be a twerp, but you have a point. I suppose I can’t go in there in these dirty coveralls, can I?” he smirked, “Now, if I were wearing a fancy suit like yours–then I could get in there no problem. So strip.”

“What?”

“Strip, boy! I hate giving orders twice. Get out of those clothes and give them to me.”

There were so many things wrong with this and so many reasons he shouldn’t be cooperating, Travis had plenty of time to try and get them out of his mouth as he undressed himself in the alley, before handing Larry his clothes, who stripped off his coveralls, “Now boy, dress me up–I haven’t worn a suit in a long time–I forgot how to put one on.”

Trying to swallow his disgust, Travis, naked, began sliding his own clothes onto Larry’s chubby, hairy body. None of the clothes fit very well–Larry was a good three inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier–but the suit had been a bit big on Travis, which allowed him to find some way to cram Larry into it. “Damn boy, you’re more of a little twerp than I’d thought–we’re gonna have to do something about that later tonight.”

“Look, please stop this,” Travis begged, “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re doing this, but I’m sorry. Please, just give me back my clothes, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Larry laughed, “Forget about this? Hell no, I love breaking in boys like you–now, you sit tight while I duck in there and scope out the situation. Don’t even think about going anywhere.”

“But I’m naked! What if someone sees me?”

“You got some clothes there–put them on–and smoke another cigarette too–I like a boy with tobacco on his breath,” Larry said, pointing to his discarded coveralls and boots, and again, Travis couldn’t resist pulling on the filthy, oily clothes and lighting up another cigarette while Larry ducked back into the gala. He was gone for fifteen, long, minutes–leaving Travis there, shaking and terrified (though he had to admit, the cigarette did help calm his nerves). He was just starting to think that Larry had abandoned him when he stormed back through the door to the museum with food splattered up and down the front of his suit.

“Dang boy, they have quite the spread in there! I haven’t eaten like that in a long time. Here, I brought you something from the bar so we can have a party of our own back here.”

Larry handed Travis the bottle of whisky he’d taken from the catering company, but he pushed it away, “Please–please hasn’t this gone far enough? Just give me back my clothes–please. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what? That you hate being in charge? Of course you meant it–twerps like you hate being in positions of authority–the only thing you’re good for is doing what you’re told–you’re here to be dominated and controlled and ordered around. It’s what you live for, boy–and you’re gonna love me because following my orders feels so damn good…Now drink up.” He shoved the bottle mouth against Travis’ lips and he drank, the alcohol burning his throat and resting uneasily on his empty stomach, and something else. He did…sort of like it. He did like having this big man telling him what to do. It was so much easier, really, and when he felt Larry’s rough hand slip down the front of the coveralls and start stroking his cock, he felt even more of his resistance drop away. “See that’s a good boy. Drink some more while you and I have a nice chat about how things are going to work from now on.”

Travis listened, and drank. He listened to Larry tell him about how he was going to be obeying his every command from now on. How he was going to serve him, clean his dirty body, drink his cum, beg for his master’s cock up his ass every night and every morning. All of his money, his property would belong to Larry, and Travis was happy about that. He was happy about all of it. Larry would occasionally take a moment to duck back into the party, bringing out plates of food for Travis to eat, and more liquor for him to drink. It was starting to feel natural–and this scared Travis more than anything else. It was starting to feel right.

When Larry told him to get back into his suit, he was confused. He’d grown to like wearing his master’s clothes–the stench which had bothered him so much before was now comforting. His shirt didn’t fit well around his full belly and he was very unsteady on his feet, but he weaved his way back into the gala, still not sure what he was doing. He was…doing what his Master wanted him to do. He walked up to his boss, who was in a deep discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, still discussing the Local History exhibit, and he got down between the two of them, making both men stop in mid sentence.

“Please Sir,” he shouted over the din of the party, looking up at his boss, “Fuck me with your big cock, sir. I’m just a little twerp with an ass aching for a big cock–please fuck me sir, please.” Even he had to admit that he sounded ridiculous, and he heard the rest of the party come to a complete silence around him, his face burning, and without any sort of control, his bladder released, piss streaming into his suit pants. Mr. Garrison smelled it first, and the look of horror on his face as he retreated away from Travis was surpassed only by the look of pure fury on the face of Travis’ boss.

“Travis–what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Please sir, fuck me sir–I deserve it sir, I’m just a pretty boy twerp who needs his ass fucked so bad–please,” he said, then got down on his hands and knees and pushed down his pants, presenting his ass to his boss and listening to the gasps and shrieks from all the donors in the room.

“Get out!–Get out, and don’t ever come in this building again!” his boss screamed, and that was enough to send Travis fleeing, hauling up his sopping wet pants and he ran out the back door to where Larry was waiting, smoking another cigarette.

“So, did he do it, boy?”

“No sir, he wouldn’t fuck my ass,” Travis said.

“Seem he doesn’t know how to treat a little twerp like you at all. Still, he’s not your real boss, is he? Now me on the other hand,” he said, shoving Travis up against the wall and yanking down his pants, “I know exactly how to deal with a bitch like you.”

The satisfaction of his master’s cock being shoved up his ass did more to seal the deal for Travis than anything else Larry had told him or done to him that evening, and Travis was unable to stop himself from cumming all over the brick wall in front of him, and happily got down on his knees to lick it up after his Master had shot his own load deep up his ass. When he finished, Larry threw another set of coveralls at him. “Put those on twerp–they’re my spares. I don’t think you’ll need that nasty suit anymore.”

Travis did as he was told, throwing his old clothes in a dumpster and pulling on the dingy coveralls. “What…what happens now, Sir?” he asked.

“Now?” Larry laughed, “Now we need to do something about you being such a twerp–let’s head home and see what we can do about that.” He walked off towards a truck parked on the side of the street, Travis following, feeling his stomach begin to churn uncomfortably–though whether it was from fear, eager anticipation, or the load of cum swimming in his guts–he didn’t know, but he climbed into the truck anyway, and into an uncertain future.

Unsuited

Commissioned by Humilisub2

***

“Just consider it an early retirement.”

“Early retirement? What retirement? Everything–all of my savings in wrapped up in this company–in my pension!” the older man shouted in Andrew’s face, who just sat there calmly in his posh desk chair.

“Oh–you were grandfathered into that? I didn’t think anyone here had those anymore. I’m sure you’ll be able to convert some of it into a 401k–”

“Fuck you and your 401ks! I’m sixty two, and you’re just going to fire me? After all these years cleaning your fucking toilets and emptying your trash?”

“It wasn’t my decision, sir. You’ll find some way, I’m sure. Now–I need you to wait outside–security will be by shortly to escort you out.”

The older man stormed to the door, face red, shouting, “You fucking suits–you don’t fucking get it. Ruining people’s lives for the fun of it–as if you’ve ever worked a day in your life. It probably gets you fucking off!” and then slammed the door shut behind him.

Andrew smirked and gave his cock a squeeze. It was a bit hard–fancy that. Maybe he did enjoy this. The company had been thick with layoffs this quarter, in an effort to cut costs and make their lackluster earnings look a bit nicer, and while some people in his position might hate this part–Andrew relished it.

Of course he’d known Bill, the old janitor, had had a pension with the company–that was one of the primary reasons Andrew had been told to fire him. Besides, the guy was sixty-two, and barely got much cleaning done anymore. He could hire two Mexicans for half the payroll to do four times the work the old bastard was putting out. He heard a ruckus outside his door–security arriving–and the din disappeared down the hall. Andrew shuffled Bill’s discharge papers around on his desk, and checked the clock–4:30, almost the end of the day–and figured it could wait until the morning, giving him a chance to sneak out early for an afternoon round of golf. He spent fifteen minutes or so getting his things together and answering one last round of emails, and then realized that he had to take a piss.

He set off down the hall, into the restroom, and headed for the urinal, but as he was getting ready to unbutton and unzip his pants, he caught a strange aroma on the air–smoke. It was almost sweet, but also a little dank–definitely was some sort of tobacco, probably a cigar. He’d certainly been to plenty of smoky poker games with executives, but had never partaken himself. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice his cock release his piss into the front of his pants, down both of his legs where it pooled in his almost new leather shoes. “Sh–Shit!” he cried, trying to stop his flow, but there was nothing he could do, as the puddle of urine around him spread wider, the smoke growing thicker in the room, giving him a headache, and making his stomach knot. He’d never felt like that around cigars before–but he could barely walk straight. He tried to get to the door, to get out, but all he could manage was to slump up against the sinks in pain and nausea.

It was difficult to see himself in the mirror, between his double vision and the growing cloud of haze in the room, but he looked–odd. There was something wrong with his face…no, there was something growing on his face. He reached up with a hand and felt a beard filling in all across his chin, as his hair started pulling back, making him look ten years older than he was, but other things were wrong too. His clothes felt so tight and constrictive all of a sudden, and he started clawing at his tailored suit but it was too late. The fabric began tearing apart at the seams, buttons flying away across the room. When he got the clothes off of him, all that remained were tatters. Looking down at his naked body, he saw that he was growing a large gut covered with hair. He had to stop this–it had to be the smoke, it had to. He started busting into the stalls, finding them empty until the final handicapped stall, where he found a muscular young man, pants off, grinning around a smouldering cigar.

“I was wondering when you’d find your way in here, asshole,” the man said, stroking his dick, and as he took a big inhale off his cigar, Andrew watched as the man’s cock started to grow, increasing in length and girth with every pull, soon passing nine, then ten inches in length. Andrew’s gaze was locked on it, his now bare feet stumbling forward until he fell to his knees and began licking up and down the massive shaft.

“Yeah, you like that big dick, don’t ya?” the man said, grabbing the hair remaining on Andrew’s head and slamming the massive cock down his throat making him gag, “If you like it so much, why don’t you choke on it?” Andrew did his best to oblige him, and after a few minutes was rewarded with a blast of cum shot acros his now heavily bearded face. Andrew gasped for a second, trying to catch his breath, as the man got up, shoved his face down into the toilet with his booted foot, and started pissing all over the back of his head, the stream running down his face and over his eyes and mouth, and the man left, without another word, leaving Andrew soaked and still trying to digest the suddenness of the assault.

The smoke was clearing as the fans worked the room, and Andrew felt some clarity return to him, enough to cough and sputter on the ground, staring down at his changed body and wondering what in the world had happened to him. He heard the door to the bathroom open, as some of his co-workers came in, and he quickly locked the stall door shut, realizing it wouldn’t be good to be found naked in the bathroom. Checking under the partitions, he didn’t see any of his clothes–the smoking man must have taken them as he’d left. Andrew was essentially trapped–he couldn’t go out like this. Perhaps luckily, he’d just fired the janitor, so he’d be safe as the floor emptied for the night. Maybe then he’d be able to sneak out.

The next few hours didn’t pass quickly, and Andrew found his new body had some…unhealthy fascinations. He was so horny now, but he could only get hard when he was smelling or drinking piss. He couldn’t resist lapping up his own mess from the floor, followed by the spunk he shot doing so, and then he cleaned all of the urinals for good measure. The entire time, he tried to stop, telling himself this was wrong, but his body was running on autopilot. His brain kept saying that he needed to do this. He felt guilty, but for what, he didn’t know, and this was almost some sort of…penance.

He didn’t notice the door open as a pile of clothing that was dropped on the floor with a note telling him to get dressed and come down to the shipping bays. What he did notice was the smell–the same smoke from earlier permeated everything, and Andrew felt himself slip back into the fog from before, dressing himself in the dirty jeans, boots and cap (there wasn’t a shirt) and followed the scent of smoke all the way down to the back of the building, where he found the same man smoking what looked like the same cigar, though it looked no shorter.

“Who–Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” Andrew said, his voice sounding strange, so deep and slurred.

The man didn’t say anything immediately–he just dropped his pants and as soon as Andrew laid eyes on his huge dick again, he got down and started sucking it, helpless. After a chuckle, the man finally spoke:

“Me? My name’s Dustin Leaver–you might recognize the last name, since you fired my dad last week. A year before retirement even. Well, when I heard about all the layoffs you’ve been making, I got to thinking that you weren’t suited for your job, so I’m helping you find a new one.

“Now, these cigars are nice, but I think I’ve reached the limit of what I can do to you–I think you’re going to have to do the rest yourself. See, you know you’ve done wrong–I can tell. You know you deserve punishment for the suffering you’ve caused. So I’m gonna give you this cigar, and you’re gonna smoke it, and we’re just gonna see what happens. How does that sound? Because I haven’t done anything to you–this is all you, and I can’t wait to see what happens when you get a good dose of this smoke. Though thanks for the big dick, I wasn’t expecting to get anything out of this. I bet it’ll feel damn good up your ass once you’re all finished.”

Andrew didn’t understand anything that Dustin had said, but he let out a moan of dismay when the cock was pulled from his mouth. The younger man hauled him up to his feet and shoved the cigar between his teeth, forcing Andrew to take a deep drag of smoke deep into himself…and then he understood–he understood all of it. He’d done bad things–horrible things to people. Destroyed lives, ruined retirements, all for the sake of making more money. He needed to be punished–and bad. He felt a quiver in his dirty jeans and pulled out his cock, finding it rapidly shrinking to less than an inch long, as his balls swelled up. There was a sharp pain as metal appeared in his cock and both nipples, but he deserved more–so much more.

He pulled in more smoke, fueling his own latent guilt, feeling his gut balloon out even further into a ball which slowly softened and sagged down over his crotch, a thick layer of gunt absorbing his new nub of a cock. The fur on his body thickened and started losing color, becoming a dingy grey, his beard growing out until it rested on his new moobs, his hair receding back to a wispy fringe of long, greasy hairs. Tattoos blossomed on his body, images of filthy sex acts and degrading names, more piercings springing from his flesh in his ears and face, making him look like a freak. As a final tough, his big balls descended, the sack stretching until it reached his knees, the flesh in between a riot of metal rings and studs. He’d never be able to wear underwear again, and he’d have to keep his balls dangling down one of his pant legs, crushing them with every stride. The cigar in his mouth crumbled to ash, and he licked his lips, feeling around his rotten teeth badly chipped by their collisions with his tongue stud. He fell back down onto his knees in front of Dustin, wincing as his balls smacked against the concrete. “Please sir, use me like the filthy whore I am. Punish me, I deserve it.”

“I’d be happy to, bitch–but I have a few friends who’d love to play too. See, I thought we’d throw you a little party, to break you in–and I think you’ve met all of them before. Come on out, guys!” Dustin shouted, and a crowd of men filed into the room, Andrew vaguely recognizing them as a collection of men he’d fired from the company over the last few months–including the janitor he’d fired just hours ago. He serviced them all night long, drinking down their piss and cum, cleaning out their dirty holes while they tortured his balls and ridiculed his miniscule dick. As the night wore on, Andrew felt his old life drifting further and further away, his mind growing feeble and weak to match his new body. When Dustin offered him a new job in the shipping department the next morning, Andrew was overwhelmed with thanks. He didn’t deserve such kindness, not that he got much of it in his new job.

He was at the bottom of the totem pole now, just a freight worker, but he didn’t do much heavy lifting. He spent most of his days cleaning the bathrooms with his tongue, and chain smoking cigars while he begged the men to use their massive cocks on both his holes. That, it seemed, was his one gift–every dick he saw grew enormous–all the better to rip apart his holes. It was the least he could do. He was far more suited for this position, he knew–and while he wouldn’t say he was happy, he knew it was what he’d earned.

The Bear Ray

Commissioned by Scot158f

Taylor came through the door to his apartment, and immediately pulled off his already loosened tie, before undoing the buttons on his shirt. He wished that Fall would hurry up and arrive–he was sick of this summer heat. By the time he got home from the office where he was doing temp work, he was always soaked with sweat–he hated it, and it didn’t help that the air conditioner in his car had died either. Really though, he just hated his body, the short fat hairless blob that he was.

He stripped off the rest of his clothes, eager for a shower so he could feel clean again, and wondered where in the world Brett was. Brett was his roommate. They’d been friends since high school, going to the same local college and getting nearly worthless degrees so they could waste their time in the rat race. Still, they’d always been there to support each other–especially since they were both gay. However, that was really where the resemblance stopped. Where Taylor was short and chunky, Brett was tall and very slim, with a cock Taylor couldn’t help but envy a bit, but not as much as he envied his friend’s height. Taylor had always been the short one, and he hated it more than anything–especially since Brett was always teasing him about it.

However, one thing the two of them shared in common was they both loved bears–the gay kind, that us. The big burly men they’d see at all the leather clubs who had no interest in either one of them. Neither Brett nor Taylor had much body hair, nor could they grow much in the way of attractive facial hair either. It seemed that they were bound to be wallflowers to the men they wished they could be, night after night. Still, the hopeless self-loathing could wait, Taylor thought to himself as he headed for the bathroom–which was locked, oddly enough. He could hear the shower running, but neither of them ever locked the door. “Hey, Brett–you in there? Why’d you lock the door?”

“Oh shit–Is that you Taylor? Hold on…aren’t you home a bit early?” A voice said from behind the door. It didn’t really sound like Brett, or did it? Regardless, Taylor could tell that there was something strange going on.

“I’m not that early–but I could use a shower. It’s fucking hot out, and I’m sweaty as hell…Is–Is everything alright in there?” You sound, odd.”

“Oh…uh, yeah. Everything’s alright. Everything’s great, actually! Just wait until you see–Just a second.”

Now Taylor knew something was wrong–that didn’t really sound like Brett at all. The voice was too deep, and maybe even a bit, raspy, like someone quite a bit older than twenty-three. What if it wasn’t Brett at all? What if it was just someone…pretending to be him? What if it was a burglar or something, or what if Taylor was sick? Something about all of this just felt really off.

“Brett…If you really are Brett in there–”

“Of course I’m Brett, Taylor!”

“Well you don’t fucking sound much like Brett! I–I’m gonna call the police, whoever you are, I am!”

“Goddamn it Taylor, it’s me!”

“Well open the door and show me–what in the world are you hiding in there for? Why do you sound so different?”

“Look–it’s complicated alright? Just…Just give me a second, and I swear it’ll all make sense.”

“No, open the door now. Open the door or I’m gonna call the police!”

“You don’t need to–”

“Fuck this, I’m getting my phone!”

“Alright! Alright, here, I’m unlocking the door, alright? Calm down…Just, just try not to freak out alright? I…look a little different than usual,” Brett said, and Taylor heard the door unlock with a click. Taylor, nervous about what he might find, nevertheless crept up and opened the door wide enough to see the monstrous bear standing at the counter, his long hair and beard still damp from the shower. He certainly didn’t look anything like Brett–Brett had never had a gut like that in his whole life, much less any body hair. And how could Brett have grown a massive beard like that in a day? He looked more like some grungy biker from one of the bars than his lifelong friend.

“You…You aren’t–Fuck, who the fuck are you?” Taylor said, stepping back from the massive man who approached him slowly.

“Look, I know…I know I look different, but it really is me, Taylor.”

“I’m calling the police…you’re gonna go to jail. What the fuck did you do to Brett? Did…did you kill him? Oh fuck, you killed him didn’t you! Didn’t you–what the fuck do you want from us?” Taylor shouted, descending into a full on panic, grabbing a brass figurine from a table to wield like a club while he dug in his pant pockets for his phone.

“Taylor, look, just calm down, alright? I know this all seems really weird, but if you just let me explain–”

Taylor wasn’t listening. He’d found his phone, and with shaking hands was about to dial 911. Brett realized that if he let Taylor call he really was going to be in trouble, so he dashed back into the bathroom, grabbed a strange looking gun from the counter and leveled it at Taylor. “Put down the phone, Taylor. Put it down or I’ll shoot you, I swear I will.”

Taylor froze, phone in his hand, mouth sputtering. He had no idea what to even say, the sudden realization that he might actually get shot was too much for his brain to handle. He didn’t want to die, not like this, and his hand released the phone dropping it to the ground.

“”Look, I don’t want to hurt you, Taylor. I really am Brett. I’m the guy you came out to in Mr. Boulie’s chemistry class, in a note you passed. I’m the same guy who let you copy answers on Mr Fiddleman’s take home tests. I’m the guy who you refused to talk to for a month while we were both trying to get in Frank Neddle’s pants. It’s me, I’m Brett–I swear.”

“If…If you’re gonna shoot me…just, just do it, alright?” Taylor said, not even listening to what the strange man was saying, “I don’t fucking believe you, whoever you are. I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but Brett wouldn’t point a fucking gun at me. So if you’re gonna shoot me, just fucking do it!”

The silence was a bit deafening, as the two men stood in the living room. It gave Taylor a chance to look at the gun in Brett’s hand, or at least in the hand of the man claiming to be Brett. It didn’t look like any kind of gun Taylor had seen before–not that he’d seen very many–if anything it looked like some kid’s pretend ray gun from a science fiction movie. The tip didn’t look like it would be delivering a bullet, and he could see some strange dials on the side. He could see the gears turning in the biker’s head, when he shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself,” he said, and pulled the trigger, and before Taylor could even flinch, a strange yellow ray shot out of the device and enveloped his entire body, holding him perfectly still, and he felt a strange sensation creeping along his body, something between a wave of heat and an insatiable itch.

Through the yellow glow, he could see the man fiddling with the dials on the side of the gun, and the beam of light, along with the sensations, grew fiercer, and Taylor felt almost as though his body was changing and shifting–the light pushing and pulling at his form, worming its way underneath his skin and pushing its way down his throat into his core. While it wasn’t painful, there was a definite sense of vertigo, that the entire world was shifting on and off balance, and then, it was gone, the light dissipating around him, and Taylor, unsteady, tumbled backwards onto the carpet, suddenly ill at ease with himself as the room spun around him.

“The vertigo passes in a couple of moments–I nearly puked the first time. Just take it slow…I was hoping to break you in a little slower, but you were being such a dipshit you didn’t leave me much choice,” Brett said, setting the gun down on a table and hurrying over to where Taylor was rolling about on the floor, trying to get his bearings, however, as his senses returned, some of the strangeness lingered. He was strange–different than he’d been before.

“What–what happened? What did you shoot me with you freak?” he said, but the words rolled off his tongue oddly, his voice deeper that his high, undeveloped tenor from moments before.

“Look, let me just help you up and get you in front of a mirror–you won’t believe it until I show you,” Brett said, picked Taylor up off the floor and guided him into the bathroom, where he saw his image in the mirror…only it wasn’t his image at all.

He was a bear–there was no denying it. He had a furry chest, a massive beard…and tattoos. Fucking hot tattoos that made him look rough and ready for anything. While he was still big, some of his fat had been replaced by muscle, giving him more of a powerlifter look. It was everything he’d ever dreaming of being…almost. He was still short–maybe…maybe even shorter than he’d been before, and Brett was towering over him. He hated it, he hated being short more than anything else. “It…It really is you, isn’t it?” Taylor said, turning to Brett, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinning through his thick beard, “What in the world is that gun? What did it do to me–to us?”

“I told you it was. I mean, I understand why you didn’t believe me…I found the gun at the goodwill today, while I was shopping. It had the words ‘Bear Ray’ on it–how could I resist? I never thought it would be capable of this. Hell, I shot myself by accident the first time. And this is just the tip of what it can do. I designed this body for you myself–and I must say, you look adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Like a teddy bear–all the guys at the club are going to go wild for a little fireplug like you, trust me. Now, I have a surprise for you–just give me a second in the bedroom, I want to surprise you for real this time,” Brett said, and then dashed off, leaving Taylor red faced and angry.

‘Adorable’…‘Little’…’Fireplug’…Brett knew how much Taylor hated being short and fat, and he thought he was going to be happy like this? Sure, he was a bear, but not the kind of bear he wanted to be. He could already sense it. Brett was taking control of the entire situation, like he always had a way of doing. He’d always had a thing for short, chubby bears and now he’d made Taylor into his perfect man. Hell, he was probably going to try and get Taylor to wear a collar so he strut him around the clubs tonight–well no fucking way was that going to happen. Taylor hurried out of the bathroom and found the gun lying where Brett had left it, and started messing with the controls, turning the size dials as high as they could go before turning the ray on himself and letting loose.

Immediately, he could feel the same sense of vertigo from before, but even more extreme, as the room began shrinking down around him. He was vaguely aware of the fact that other parts of him were changing too along with his size–hair growing in on his once bald head, his cock expanding at a massive pace, body hair growing in even thicker than the hairiest bears he’d ogled at the clubs. “So what do you think?” Brett said, returning from the bedroom in some new leather gear, “I even got you some new gear, and I found this kinky collar I know you won’t be able to resist…” but his words failed him as he came face to face with the rapidly growing Taylor.

He was quickly passing eight feet tall, his gut ballooning outward with solid fat as the rest of his body packed on pounds and pounds of muscle. His beard passed Brett’s own, growing bushier and bushier until he couldn’t even see his mouth, much less his chest buried beneath a thick black pelt. His head slammed into the ceiling, making Taylor wince in pain, but he refused to take his hand off the trigger, feeling his body hunch over, trying to find room in the rapidly shrinking apartment. The ray only stopped because his hand became too large to grip it and pull the trigger, the device slipping from his hand as the yellow glow subsided once more, leaving in its place a massively hairy, gigantic bear of a man. “What do you think, asshole?” he growled, “Am I still your ‘little adorable fireplug’?”

“You’re fucking nuts!” Brett shouted, and made a move towards the gun, but before he could reach it, Taylor snatched it in his massive palm and crushed it in his fist, sparks flying from between his fingers. “You idiot! What the fuck did you do that for? Now we’ll never be able to change back.”

Taylor laughed–that was fine with him–he was the new big bear in town. Looking down at his fretting roommate, his foot and a half long cock hardening up, Taylor decided it was time to show his ‘friend’ who was really going to be in charge from now on.

Gifts from a Magi – Part 1

Jake had a problem. Well, not so much a problem as a set of circumstances which were conspiring together to make him as unhappy as possible. First, was the fact that he was graduating this coming weekend, ending his college career and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had no job lined up, barely any money in his bank account, and after he’d come out to his family a couple of months ago, he…wasn’t exactly going to be welcomed back there with open arms either. Then there was Rand, on the left in the photo.

He was Jake’s best friend. They’d lived on the same floor during their freshman year, and had lived together ever since, even renting an apartment together as seniors. Rand was the first person Jake had come out to, and Rand in turn had been one of Jake’s biggest supporters at college. He was the one who’d convinced Jake to come out to his parents and quit living the big lie. Of course, this culminated in situations three and four, where Jake had fallen in live with Rand–even though Rand was straight as could be. Jake was…annoyed by this fact, but he treasured what relationship they did have, or at least what they had for the moment, because Rand was flying out the monday after graduation to start at his new job across the country, leaving Jake here…alone. And so, in his desperation, Jake was willing to cling to anything which might resolve this in someway which didn’t end with him alone, and possibly on the streets. Even a crazy idea like this one. He pulled the strange leather cocoon out of his drawer again and turned it over in his hands.

Jake had a thing for BDSM. He hadn’t delved into it too much, but he did like going out to leather clubs and hooking up on occasion. He’d been to most of the fetish gear shops in the city around the college, and had become pretty friendly with some of the regulars. He’d even played around with a few of them, and found a few fuckbuddies, but he’d always felt like he was saving himself for Rand, as sad as that was. He was talking about his problems with one of the shopkeepers when a strange man clad from head to toe in a shiny leather uniform had come up and introduced himself. His hand had been strangely cold and clammy to the touch, and something about his eyes bothered Jake, but he’d listened to the man’s offer. After getting the rundown on Jake’s situation, the man pulled out a strange, leather bodybag and gave it to him. When Jake asked what it was, the man said it was a solution to his problems–all he needed to do was get Rand into the cocoon, and then, twenty-four hours later, Rand would be a whole new man–Jake’s man.

Jake had been appalled by the idea at first–who wouldn’t be? And the man had been vague as to what exactly was going to happen to Rand. The man said it would turn Rand gay, but he also kept mentioning other changes, which he never elaborated on. Jake had tried to refuse the man’s offer, but he’d walked away, leaving Jake holding the leather. He’d stashed it for a week now, but he was starting to feel like he didn’t have a choice–he had to try, even though it was wrong. Still, he had no idea what would happen when Rand got into it, or whether he would even survive in the hot leather sack for a whole day, but he couldn’t help but think he needed to try. Hell, if he ruined their friendship, at least it would be over before Rand left him for good, which is what it felt like. But Jake still felt like he had to be honest to Rand first, and tell him how he was feeling.

So, that afternoon, as Rand was packing, he brought him a beer and they sat down, and Jake told him everything–about his fears of joblessness, of his unrequited love, of how he desperately needed Rand in his life…and while Rand didn’t freak out, he told Jake that he couldn’t be everything Jake wanted him to be. That he had his own life to live, and his own dreams, and that while he would always care about Jake–as a friend–he needed to leave, and Jake was furious. That settled it–he had to try the cocoon–he had to.

He went to the kitchen, popped open a couple of beers, roofied one of them, handed it to Rand and proposed a toast to life long friendships…and an hour later, Rand was so out of it couldn’t stop Jake from lying him down in the cocoon, apologizing and professing his love the entire time he fit him into the leather and zipped it up over his face. As soon as the zipper came up over the crown of Rand’s head, the tag broke off and the teeth disappeared, leaving only a stitched seam. Rand struggled inside for a few minutes, Jake watching with something between terror and horny fascination as his movements grew weaker and weaker–and then he was still.

Jake came over and could feel nothing, neither a breath nor a heartbeat, and his first thought was that Rand had suffocated and died. He tried prying apart the leather, cutting at it with scissors, a knife, stabbing it, anything he could do to rescue the man he loved, tears streaming down his face, but nothing marred the impervious leather. He thought about calling the cops, or an ambulance, but what would they say? What would they think? What had he done? He had to find that man, the one who’d given him the cocoon in the first place. It was his only chance. He left the apartment, giving one last look to the leather encased Rand, and drove downtown.

He trolled the leather bars and the bathhouses, he searched the fetish shops open late and the adult bookstores, but he never found him. He was reduced to wandering the streets, too terrified to return to look at what he’d done, but the eventual light of dawn, and his own exhaustion drove him home. Rand was still there, on the floor where Jake had left him…but something was different. The cocoon was a slightly different shape, like Rand was growing larger inside of it, and the leather itself had changed, gaining creases and cracks in the surface like it had been spent years uncared for by anyone. He put his ear to Rand’s chest, and faintly he could hear the pulse of a heartbeat, and the sheer joy he felt was overwhelming. He was alive in there–and changing. Perhaps the man had been right after all.

Despite his nerves and residual panic, Jake fell asleep and woke up in the early afternoon, rushing to check on his friend. The cocoon was looking quite worn now and almost…brittle, but even though it appeared weak, it still refused to be cut. The cocoon had continued growing, while remaining skin tight against Rand’s form, though it was looking quite a bit less like Rand at this point. Jake realized that he had no idea what was going to happen once the twenty-four hours had past–would Rand be a completely different person? Jake felt his nerves start up again, as he checked the clock. When exactly had he done the deed yesterday? He couldn’t remember. It had to have been sometime between five and six in the afternoon, and it was now four…this wait was going to kill him, but he couldn’t leave…what if Rand woke up and no one was here to meet him?

Jake tried watching TV, he tried reading, but nothing could take his eyes off the cocoon for long. Eventually he pulled over a chair and just sat down, watching and waiting for something to happen–though he had no idea what he was waiting for, exactly. He found himself getting caught in fantasy after fantasy, Rand emerging from the cocoon transformed into his own ideal man, with rippling muscles beautiful blow job lips and a tight hole. Jake had always fancied himself a top, and as he thought about what might come out, he found his fantasies turning more and more twisted. He would show Rand for denying his love–he would beat him. He would lock him in chastity. He would train him to love him as much as Jake loved him back, and they would be happy forever.

Rand’s first movement caught him off guard, the odd lurch and groan from inside the now thin, leather skin. Jake knew he should do something, but he could only sit and watch as Rand’s struggling increased, and he began ripping and tearing at the cocoon crumbling around him, and Jake caught the first glimpses of the new Rand. He had stripped him down to his underwear before putting him in the cocoon the day before, so when a leather booted foot burst out, he was taken aback, especially when he saw the thick hair covering the thigh, and he grimaced.

Jake had never been a fan of body hair–he was more one for smooth muscle. He’d actually suggested to Rand that he start shaving his chest a year ago. As more and more of Rand emerged from the casing, he realized that Rand whad become someone far removed from his dreams and fantasies. He was hairy, for one–really hairy, that glimpse of the thigh had been the tip of the iceberg. His chest was covered with a thick pelt, and when his head burst out, framed by a mane of wild, greying hair with a thick, long beard beneath, he couldn’t help but let out a sound of disgust. He couldn’t even bring himself to get down and help him as Rand struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair and plopped down into it with a gasp.

“Fuck…” Rand muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, “God I need a smoke…” He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his vest, lit one and took a deep drag, letting out a thick plume of smoke into the room.

Jake’s face twisted up. He hated smokers…it was a filthy, disgusting and deadly habit. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was so caught in his disgust, that he almost didn’t register Rand talking to him. “Hey–Hey! Jake, what the fuck did you do to me, man? What the hell was that thing?”

Jake almost couldn’t get the words out, but the did come, and he told Rand the story, told him about the man, and the cocoon, and that he couldn’t imagine living without Rand, so he’d drugged him and forced him into the cocoon. Jake left out the part about how he now found Rand absolutely repulsive…but he started noticing how Rand was was now looking at him, while he played with his pierced dick.

He finished his story, and they both sat in silence for a moment, before Rand spoke. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted–I have to say that you look damn cute over there–so if this is the way things are going to be, I could get used to it. Now how about you come on over here and give me a hand with this? Daddy’s fuckin’ horny.”

Jake couldn’t move for a second, he couldn’t even speak. Rand had become everything he was least attracted to, an old, dirty smoker with a thick pelt of body hair, he fought the urge to vomit at the suggestion of even coming into contact with him. “No…No you don’t understand, this isn’t what I…I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, you’re the one who did this to me,” Rand said, “And I’m touched Jake, that you wanted me, and now I want you…oh fuck do I. I can’t wait to plow that hot ass of yours.” Rand got up out of the chair, tromping over towards Jake who quickly got up and put the chair between them.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you’re fucking…you’re disgusting!” Jake said, and Rand stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

“What–You think I’m…” Rand said, his face growing redder, “You’re the one who fucking did this to me, Jake. You’re the one who wanted me to fucking love you, to want you, and now I do. This is what you fucking wanted–and I don’t give a fuck whether you want me or not, I’m gonna have that ass of yours, bitch!” He grabbed the chair away from Jake who tried to run around towards the front door and escape, but Rand tackled him to the floor. Jake fought, and he fought hard, hitting and scratching at Rand’s face until the big man pulled back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rand shouted.

“Get out you fucking freak!” Jake screamed back, “I didn’t fucking want this, get the fuck out before I call the fucking police!”

Rand looked back and forth, from the crazed Jake on the ground to the door, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. He saw the clothes Jake had stripped off him the night before, he bundled them up in his arms and fled out the door, leaving Jake shaking and sobbing in the living room, alone.

*****

To be Continued Tuesday