Horny Hugh – Part 2

When Hugh had finished with Evan–now only known as the bar’s regular urinal–he had gone back out into the bar, his cock aching for someone to fuck. This was a rather new sensation for Hugh, whose attitude towards sex was generally ambivalent at best. It wasn’t that it wasn’t enjoyable–it was just…difficult. When you watch porn, you always saw guys behaving so naturally, without inhibition, and Hugh found himself so inhibited, all the time. He overthought everything, caught up trying to understand pleasure rather than experience it. There was…something inside him that wanted it, because he kept trying despite his general failures, but it was like he kept getting in his own way.

It just so happened that there, at the bar, was someone that Hugh wanted to fuck desperately. The man’s name was Josh, and he was just…so strikingly handsome, that the first time Hugh had seen him, he’d wanted him more than any man he’d ever met. Of course, Hugh knew he had no chance–not with a perfect man like that, and so he’d kept his distance, and his desire, in his heart. That hadn’t stopped him from fantasizing about Josh on a regular basis, his fantasies often taking turns that he would have never considered for someone else. It was like…Josh was a key to something. Or, not Josh himself (after all, Hugh had never even spoken to him before tonight, only given him the occasional unreciprocated cruise across the bar on nights they were both there) but the idea of Josh, some perfect…human object to fulfill his desires on. Perhaps that was why he had stayed away so far. The idea and the fantasy could have never matched reality, and the overthinking, inhibited Hugh knew that. Tonight, however, that inhibition was gone–and so he walked right on up to where Josh was standing at the bar, and hit on him–hard.

“Hey sexy, wanna touch my horns?” Hugh said, leaning in. 

Josh looked at him, confused, and then at the horns pushing their way out of Hugh’s head, and the look turned to disgust. “What the fuck man, it’s not Halloween for another six months.”

“Come on, I wanna fuck you.”

Josh backed up, but Hugh came around and cornered him at the bar, leering at him–until someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

“Is this guy bothering you, baby?”

Hugh spun around, and found himself looking up at a massive figure–easily six foot four, close to two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. This guy was a beast–it looked like he lived at the gym. 

“He’s just drunk, Kyle, let him go.”

Kyle stared at Hugh, and then leaned in slightly, “Leave my boyfriend alone man, he’s not interested,” Kyle said, and shoved Hugh back into the crowd, before moving in and putting one meaty arm around Josh’s waist. Hugh stumbled back and kept himself upright, but the sight of Josh with someone else gave him another feeling he wasn’t quite expecting–jealousy. Violent, vicious jealousy. Not only was the fantasy not the reality, it was so far from what Hugh had wanted that he could barely square it with the lust guiding him. The disconnect and the anger was so strong, that it broke some of whatever mental fever had come over him since his interactions with Evan over the last few days, and he pulled himself back. It wasn’t worth it, he told himself. Josh couldn’t be worth it. Some of him even believed him. But he cast one last look at Josh as he turned away, and that burning, aching lust wasn’t going anywhere, even if his mind was telling him to look elsewhere, anywhere else, for some release.

He didn’t end up having to look far.

“I’ll touch your horns, man,” someone said behind him. Hugh turned around, and saw a twinkish looking fellow grinning up at him. “What are they? Glued on? Pretty sure there’s another horn I’d like to touch too.”

Hugh leered, and leaned down a bit, letting the young guy touch his horns. He expected the same sort of rush he’d gotten from Evan when he’d touched them, but this was different. There was the same sort of sensation of Hugh diving down into the man’s head, looking around for his desires, but where Evan’s had been obvious and immediate, with this guy, there just…weren’t any. Well, there were some–a general desire to be fucked, an attraction to guys–but there wasn’t anything strong enough to hold Hugh’s interest. As he pulled away from the guy, he mostly felt a bit…disappointed. He was still horny though–almost more so, now that someone was actually interested in him. “What do you think? Like those horns? I do have another one for you, if you wanna come back to my place,” Hugh said.

The guy nodded, and they left the bar immediately. Josh and Kyle had watched the whole thing with a bit of disgust, and then went back to their drinks. That was probably the last they’d see of that weirdo, they assumed. But Hugh wouldn’t be letting Josh go that easily–and this distraction wouldn’t keep him busy for long. For Sam, however, the young man heading hope with Hugh–he was about to get filled up in ways he’d never imagined possible.


Sam got to the door of his apartment and shuddered a bit, trying to shake off that strange hookup. Hugh, that had been his name. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, as these things often did. Then he’d gotten his first good look at Hugh’s “third horn” at Hugh’s place–the cock was as heavily modded as the horns on his head must have been, in ways that Sam had never seen before. It looked like someone had implanted barbs underneath the skin, along the entire shaft. It looked…gnarly. As much as Sam enjoyed getting fucked, this wasn’t quite what he had in mind–but it became clear quickly that Hugh wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He’d dragged Sam into the bedroom, and Sam couldn’t resist him, somehow. There was…a yearning inside Sam that Hugh brought out in him, something he’d never felt before, like a desire to be filled up by something, but when Hugh had started fucking him with that strange cock, the desire hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had gotten stronger. It was like Hugh’s strange cock was making room, hollowing a space out inside Sam’s soul that he hadn’t even realized was there–and the hollower it became, the hornier Sam got, the more Sam wanted to get fucked–even as Hugh was fucking him. Hugh quit at some point without finishing, though he was still rock hard. He had just yawned, and sent Sam on his way–he was done with him. So Sam had left a few hours after midnight, that massive chasm inside him aching still, and he knew full well he wouldn’t get any relief here at home.

Sam lived with his boyfriend, Max. They had a great relationship with one sizable problem–they were both bottoms. Sam could top on occasion, but Max had a rather small cock, and zero interest in anything other than getting plowed. Sam also wasn’t really big enough for Max anyway–his boyfriend mostly got off by being fisted or using one of the massive dildos in his collection of toys. It wasn’t really Sam’s thing–so if he needed to fuck, he’d usually hookup on the weekend and Max would play with his toys alone. It usually worked out fine–but Sam needed something tonight, badly. He went inside, Max was asleep, but as soon as Sam got into the bedroom and got into bed with him, something happened. 

Max woke up, his small cock erect. Sam showed him his ass, and Max happily shoved his cock inside him and fucked him. It wasn’t large, but that didn’t matter. The hole inside his guts that Hugh had created was getting filled by something at last. He didn’t quite know what was filling it exactly, but it was so satisfying that all he could do was collapse onto the mattress and ride the wave of satisfaction until Max finished inside him, collapsed on top of him–both of them not quite sure what had come over them in the moment.

“Thanks, I needed that,” Sam said, and crawled under the covers.

“No luck tonight?” Max asked.

“No, I…it was weird. I’ll tell you in the morning,” Sam said, and it wasn’t too much longer before they were both asleep–though Sam slept fitfully all night long. The dream came on quickly, less a narrative with setting and characters than an onslaught of sensations and needs and drives that manifested inside and outside of him. Always, there was a sensation of something growing inside him, something planted in him by Max, inside the hole Hugh had dug, which was now spreading through him in ways he could barely understand. At times in the night, he would wake in something like a fever dream, humping the bed under him, desperate for release. Other times he would sleep deep, and all he would see was Hugh in the darkness around him, those horns and that cock looming in the unknown distance. Then, he was close, so close he could smell him, the scent of the bar still on him, along with something else, something primal. Then, Hugh was inside him somehow, penetrating him, but not with his cock or his horns, digging around, looking at the thing growing inside him and making little approving noises. “Good, glad someone found a use for you–I’ll check in later, see what else I can do to help…”

And then Sam was surfacing again from the depths of his dream. Blinking, he assumed that this had to be the dream still. The sun was streaming into the apartment bedroom, Max was awake and riding Sam’s cock on the bed, moaning and shuddering and groaning while he did, and Sam joined in. It felt…good. So good for someone to be using him, using his cock, yeah, oh god, he was so horny, he could feel himself on the edge, right on the verge of release, but no matter what Max did, no matter how slow or how fast he fucked up and down on Sam’s cock, release refused to come to him. Max, however, was brought to a series of shuddering orgasms as he hammered his prostate on Sam’s cock, and when he finally pulled himself free, both of them soaked with sweat, there was a puddle of precum all over the bed from Max’s cock.

“Fuck, don’t…don’t stop, I haven’t cum yet, please…” Sam moaned.

Max just smiled at him, “Why would you cum, Sam? You know that big rubber cock of yours can’t cum. That’s just how I like you–always hard, and always eager to fuck,” Max stood up and stretched, “I need something to eat though–then we can keep going.”

Sam just looked at Max, confused, as his boyfriend went into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, and then down at his cock, still slick with lube. Was this really his cock? Was it…supposed to be his cock? It had been smaller before, hadn’t it? And…and flesh? He reached down, cautiously, and touched the black rubber skin of the shaft, trying to remember what his cock had felt like before, what it had looked like before…but now, all he could think about was this…monstrosity attached to his crotch. It was thicker than a beer can, and had to be at least fourteen inches long. The shaft itself wasn’t smooth, but covered in all sorts of different textures, nubs and waves and veiny sections. It felt…good, stroking it, but not as good as it had felt inside Max’s ass. The sensation was there, but dull, but he was still achingly horny. He reached down and felt his balls, but they were as rubber as the rest of his cock, and didn’t…feel like much of anything. They weren’t important, after all. His cock was important. Fucking was important. He needed to keep fucking–if he wasn’t fucking, then….then what was he even supposed to be doing?

He got up from the bed, his massive cock tugging down on his skin, and he looked down, where the rubber met his skin–his human skin, and he could see lines of black pushing their way up into his crotch, like the roots of an infection, almost. He recognized it then–the thing that his cock was now. It was a toy that he and Max had played with on occasion, a rubber strapon, basically, that slid on over his cock and balls. Max loved it, but Sam had never gotten much out of it, really. All…all he had to do was pull it off, right? And his…his real cock would be under it?

He gripped it, but with all the lube he couldn’t pull it free. He wiped it off, pulled again, and it was like he was trying to actually pull off his cock. The distress was hitting him now, but it was still losing out against the aching need to fuck that had been clinging to him since he woke up. Max…would know what to do, right? He followed his boyfriend out into the kitchen, where he had just dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, and stood in the doorway. “Did…did you put the…cock sleeve on me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…I can’t get it off.”

“Of course you can’t get it off–it’s your cock silly.”

“No…I mean…I…” Sam stumbled over his words, and couldn’t quite figure out how to deal with Max’s response. “Can…we fuck some more? I can’t think good, I’m too horny.”

“Of course we can fuck some more hon, go wait in the bedroom.”

“Can I…just a little? Now? While you wait for your toast?”

Max sighed at him, and pulled him back into the bedroom. Sam was hopeful, but Max just sat him down on the bed, pulled something out of a drawer, and walked back to where Sam was. “Here, this ought to keep that mouth of yours occupied better. Good toys like you don’t really need mouths anyway, right?”

Sam tried to resist a bit, but Max seemed so much more domineering all of a sudden, and he forced the gag into Sam’s mouth. He saw a cock on one end of it, and expected it to go in his mouth, but instead, Max flipped it around and pushed the other side into his mouth, so that the cock was sticking out–and as soon as it settled in Sam’s mouth…something happened. He could feel the rubber expand in his mouth, almost like it was inflating–forcing his jaw wide. Then, it was more than that–he felt something…sucking on his tongue, like it was pulling it into the cock now sticking out of his mouth. He felt his teeth going numb. Then, he couldn’t feel his mouth anymore, like everything had been filled in with rubber. Max grinned at his confused boyfriend, flicked the cock sticking out of his face, and went back to the kitchen. “Now, be good and wait for me–we’ll try that out in a little bit.”

Sam felt incredibly patronized by everything Max was doing to him today, and so as soon as he left, he reached up and tried to yank the rubber cock gag from his mouth–but it refused to come free. In fact, it hurt when he tugged on it, like he was trying to yank his tongue out of his mouth. Concerned, he stood up and went to the mirror in the bedroom, and there, he saw that the rubber had…fused with his mouth, just like how the rubber cock had fused with his crotch. There were lines of black rubber reaching into his cheeks and around his nose in a rather worrying way. He gave another tug on it, but it was no use. He felt…lost. He was so horny, but he didn’t know what to do with any of this, so he just sat down on the bed and waited for Max to return. Maybe…after Sam fucked him and came, everything would go back to normal. He did want to cum so bad, and he’d been so close before. Everything…everything would be alright if he could just finish, right?

It was twenty minutes before Max came back, and Sam could barely contain himself. His boyfriend climbed up on the bed, ass towards him, and told him to use that new mouth of his–Sam pushed the cock into Max’s hole, and discovered he could…taste still. The rubber cock was almost like a tongue, and the deeper he probed, the hornier he became. He could feel his cock-tongue throbbing, aching for release, but it never came–instead, over the next hour as he fucked Max’s ass, it just seemed to swell, growing longer and thicker, sliding further and further into Max’s ass, bringing him to orgasm after orgasm, while Sam was left aching for release–any release at all, but his groin-cock was dull in his hands, no matter how he stroked it. Max finally had had enough, and pulled himself free–and Sam was left with his new cock-tongue–all two feet of it, hanging down to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s a hot fucking tongue of yours,” Max said, as he laid back on the bed, coated in a sheen of sweat, still shudderning a bit from his deep fuck. “You’re the hottest fucktoy in the world, you know that?”

Sam tried to make a sound, but nothing came out–it was like his throat had started sealing itself up–he could still breathe…but it was a struggle. Even then, he didn’t feel weak, if anything, the ache only made him more desperate. He couldn’t even beg, couldn’t do anything but watch as Max proceeded to ignore him, pick up his phone, and start texting a few of his friends. After a few minutes, with Sam still kneeling at the side of the bed, Max stood up and got dressed in some clothes for clubbing. Sam looked out the window, and realized it was already getting dark–how long had he had his massive tongue buried up Max’s ass today?

“I’m gonna grab some dinner with a couple of friends, then hit the club. I’ll see you tonight, fucktoy, if I don’t get lucky otherwise.”

That was all Max said to him, and then he left, leaving Sam kneeling in the dark bedroom, trying to will himself to stand up…but what did it matter? It wouldn’t make the ache go away. There was nothing to fuck anywhere here. Still, he did it, floundered in the dark, and finally found his way to the bathroom, where he looked at himself in the mirror.

The infection was worse now. The rubber was spreading over most of his hips, and even around to his ass. A good chunk of his face was webbed with black veins as well, even down onto his neck. It was changing things–his nose was…sealing up. No wonder he was struggling to breathe. What little hair he had on his face had fallen off, and when he touched it with his hands, it was…cold. Not exactly cold, but it was…rubbery cold, like there was still flesh below it, but too deep to feel easily. 

He needed to get help. Look at him! He had a massive rubber cock, and a proboscis like cock hanging from where his mouth was supposed to be. But where could he go? The hospital? What would they even make of something like this? A friend’s place? No–no one could see him looking like this, it was too humiliating, knowing that Max was slowly turning him into a rubber fucktoy, and there was nothing he could do about it at all. God, if he was here right now, he…he’d fuck him real good, maybe fist him, even. He was still so horny, but touching his cock only made it worse, because it felt like nothing. His hands were worthless–the only thing that could make him feel good, the only thing that gave him any purpose at all, was a hole. He went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed again, resigned to the fact he would simply have to cope with being horny until Max returned to use him, and zoned out a while–until he heard a knock on the door.

He paused–should he answer that? No–of course he shouldn’t answer that. Not…not looking like he was. 

The knock came again, and after a moment, Sam…felt something, or heard something, in his head. Words, or feelings, or something between the two. He might have translated it as, “I know you’re in there, Sam. I just want to see if I can help you more. You don’t have to be afraid of me, let me in.”

The knock returned, a bit more firm, and still a bit unsure of himself, Sam got up, went to the door, and opened it up–and Hugh stepped inside from the hallway outside his apartment. “Oh my, look at you! Looks like someone definitely found something to fill you up with. I wasn’t quite sure that would work last night.”

Sam stared at him, realizing that this strange, horned man was to blame for this. That he had…done something when he’d fucked him, and then…and then Max had done something else. He tried to speak, but not a sound came out–Sam realized he wasn’t even breathing. That he didn’t even miss breathing. Hugh reached out and grabbed Sam’s cock-tongue, giving it a tug like he was testing it, and then wrapped it around his hand. “Yes, this is much better now, I think. Come on, let’s go play a bit–I hoped I might get to meet the guy who filled you up, but this is good too.”

He gave a tug on Sam’s proboscis, like a leash, and led him back into the bedroom, all the while Sam trying to figure out some way to ask him all of the crazy questions going through his head–mostly wanting to know how he could get fixed, how he could change him back. He…was here to change him back, wasn’t he? He had to be, of course. In the bedroom, Hugh pushed Sam onto the bed so he was lying on his back, and climbed on top of him, rubbing his horns against Sam’s torso, and he…felt it. That same eerie sensation he’d felt back at the bar, of Hugh rummaging around inside of him, looking for something. Before, it had felt like Hugh was wandering around an empty room inside of Sam–but now, even Sam could tell the room was no longer empty. All of Max’s desires had been pumped into him–and taken root inside of him. He was relieved, for a moment, when he felt Hugh pulling on them, tugging them…forward. Forward, and hopefully out of him, but Hugh wasn’t removing them, he was making them bigger, and finding some intriguing things that Sam had developed on the way.

“Oh, what a mean man,” Hugh said, still rubbing his horns on Sam’s body, “He made you so horny all the time, but no way of releasing any of it. I know how that goes–I get so horny, if I couldn’t cum…I don’t know what I would do, really. So selfish. We can fix that, we can fix so many things, don’t you worry…”

Hugh pulled away at last, and Sam was left gasping–or trying to gasp, before he recalled he couldn’t breath anyway. But something was happening in his chest, like he had to cough, force something out, or vomit, and with something like a gag, he felt a…fluid slide out of his chest and down the long shaft of his tongue-cock, until a black, rubbery ooze seeped out of the end. Hugh leered at him, gave his massive groin-cock a stroke, and he felt the same thing, coming from the same…place, even, and his cock leaked the same goopy stuff. It felt…it felt amazing, like every expulsion was a mini orgasm, and while Hugh jacked his cocks, Sam found himself spreading the goop all over himself, coating his body with it, feeling it spread out in an even film and permeate his skin.

 “That’s it, we need to cover all of that skin up, don’t we? You don’t need it anymore–better to just be rubber, inside and out. Let me see what I can find to help…”

Hugh got up, twisting and contorting his head a bit as he looked around the bedroom, almost like he was honing in on something, using his horns to guide him. They led him right to Max’s drawer full of rubber and toys, and Hugh dug around, fishing out a few things. First, an industrial rubber glove he put on Hugh’s right left hand, and then coated with the gunk, trapping it as a fist. Sam added more and more coats of his rubbery cum to it, watching it get…bigger, and thicker, his entire arm picking up more and more muscle as he covered it with rubber–until Hugh pulled his other hand away and put a different glove on it.

This one Hugh had seen before, and played with a bit. Each finger and thumb of the glove was textured differently–one a corkscrew, one covered in nubs, another shaped like a normal cock, and so on–to give the bottom a variety of sensations. As soon as the glove was on, Sam felt it fuse with his skin, and the five fingers came alive, the bones in them melting away, scooping up more and more rubber, growing larger, and longer, and thicker. He could feel some sort of vein or network sliding down his arm and into his chest, hooking up with whatever reservoir was pumping out this rubber, and soon even more was flowing from his five prehensile fingers. Lastly, a pair of rubber waders on his feet, securing around his knees, fusing, more and more rubber flowing around them, all over his entire body now, Sam growing larger and larger, more and more muscled while Hugh admired his handiwork. His face was last, rubber flowing over his eyes, blinding him, but Sam didn’t need eyes anymore–he could…sense what really mattered now, he could feel the holes around him, Hugh’s two holes, in fact…but those weren’t his. No, he…there was one last thing that Hugh needed to do for him, and Sam turned around, bent over the bed, and presented his ass to him.

“That’s a good fuckdrone,” Hugh said, and lined his cock up with Sam’s rubbery asshole. “It’ll be an honor to be the last man to ever fuck you.”

Sam would have said groaned when Hugh thrust into him, but he couldn’t make a sound. All he could do was keep spewing his rubbery cum all over the bed, feel it slick up underneath him, turning the sheets themselves rubber, while Hugh fucked him with his barbed cock. It didn’t…hurt his body, exactly, but Hugh was tearing through…something. His identity, or what remained of it. His humanity. His self-conception, his awareness. Each thrust was like a dagger in his mind, cutting out a bit more of him, until there just wasn’t anything left. Just…urges and needs. A need to fuck, but also, a growing need to…to feed. It was hungry, wasn’t it? But what was it going to eat? Hugh came, and like Evan before him, Sam felt everything inside him suddenly lock into place. It knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t change again. That it was itself now–it was exactly what it was supposed to be–a solid rubber fuckdrone. A…a hungry, solid rubber fuckdrone.

Hugh pulled his cock free of the drone’s ass, and the hole sealed up behind him, disappearing entirely–the drone knew it would never be fucked again. It no longer had any holes to fuck. That wasn’t its purpose, or its design. Hugh felt better now, his own horniness sated somewhat. He had been aching since fucking Sam the night before, when he hadn’t been able to cum. He could only…make space. Then, that odd dream, where he’d seen Sam, and then this morning, he’d…known he had to find him, and somehow, he’d followed his horns, and his cock, and found him easily enough. Now though, he was finished. The drone stood up, its featureless face turning towards Hugh, all of his cocks leaking everywhere, rubber spreading all over the floor and bed, and Hugh found himself bored. He could wait, he suppose, until the man who had filled Sam up returned to find his new, finished, fuckdrone…but Hugh was pining for something else. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Josh. This had been a good distraction, and Hugh had learned a lot, but he didn’t feel satisfied by it. It was not what he needed. He was angry at Josh’s boyfriend, over how rude he’d been to him, as well. He’d never have Josh to himself, not until Kyle was dealt with–and after this, Hugh had a few ideas for how that might happen. So Hugh left, and the drone took note of him leaving, but it couldn’t leave. It had to wait. Wait for…for Max. To come home.

It didn’t really know time. It only knew hunger, and as it waited, that hunger grew. It was not a hunger of survival, exactly. The drone knew it would not die, no matter how hungry it became. But it needed to consume something, all the same. It was a hunger of purpose…but it also knew, somehow, that it’s reservoir of rubber, which it had been excreting almost constantly, was not…unending. Hunger would fulfill a purpose, but it would also refill its supply. 

Max didn’t return that night. He had gotten lucky and gone home with someone. He didn’t come home until the morning, and he could…smell something, a rubbery smell all through the apartment, and there, in the living room, was the drone, waiting for him, eager for him, hungry for him, and before Max could do anything, the drone was on him, doing everything it was designed to do. Everything Max had desired, and even more than that. The drone pushed it’s fat fist up Max’s ass, driving it in, giving no heed to Max’s pleading, begging for the drone to stop, to now fist it, that it was going too fast. It lifted him up, the rubber drone impossibly strong, so Max was hanging on the air, sitting on the drone’s arm, squirming and trying to get off, but unable to get any leverage. The drone was hungry, so hungry, and now it knew what it would feed on. This man, Max, had something it could use. It would help him. Soon, Max would never have to do anything other than get fucked ever again.

The drone’s long proboscis slid down to Max’s small cock, opened up its mouth, and slid over it, clamping down. Max felt it both sucking at it forcefully, and also pushing deeper, driving into his groin. It was painful, he screamed, but the drone could not hear the screams, nor would it have cared if it could. It was feeding. It was sucking, drawing everything out of Max’s groin that it could, sucking it down, converting it into its own rubbery muck. After a few minutes, when Max had screamed himself hoarse, the drone withdrew its proboscis–though it didn’t let the man down, not yet–and with a shaking hand, Max felt his crotch. His cock, his balls–it was all gone. In its place, a rubbery pucker, a…another hole. The drone relaxed it’s arm and dropped Max onto the couch, then replaced it with his massive cock, now pumping out rubbery gunk that coated Max’s hole, letting the massive member slide right inside. Max felt the hole stretch–but then…he felt almost a numbness as the rubber goo slicked the inside of his hole–and then, pleasure. Different pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure. Max moaned in delight, while Max’s five dicked hand slid up to his face, two forcing their way down his mouth, pumping more rubber into his throat, down into his stomach, into his lungs, and the thumb and pinky cocks wrapped around his head, drilling into his ears, middle finger into his nose, all of them pumping rubber into his head, coating his brain, making it smooth. Making it rubber, making it perfectly obedient.

Soon, Max didn’t worry about any of this. Max was barely thinking at all, in fact. It spent the next long hours in service of the fuckdrone, coating himself in it’s rubber, forming his skin into a black rubber catsuit, perfectly shiny, though his face remained human–mostly. A human face could be useful, for now. Once the fuckdrone had enough to eat, then Max’s face could go away too. The drone was hungry again, its rubber running thin now, dribbling from its cocks instead of gushing forth. That was no problem though. Max had lots of friends who liked to get fucked, after all. He called them, invited them over for an orgy, telling them he had a great new toy for all of them to play with. The drone was pleased–it wouldn’t be hungry for a long time, now. Max was happy now too. Now, all he needed was to get fucked–it was the only thing he was good for, anymore, the only thing that made him happy. He liked being happy. He would make all his friends happy. He would make any man he found happy too, happy to be fucked by his drone.

A New Teddy

Toby got his keys out of his pocket and hoped that his roommate, Kyle, wouldn’t be home tonight. It was a silly hope really, because Kyle almost never left their apartment if he could help it, but given the fact that Kyle had brought up rent again with him this morning, Toby was really hoping to avoid that conversation if he could help it.

Toby had been in a bit of a bind, earlier this year. Between going to school as a full time student and trying to juggle two jobs, he’d been struggling to find somewhere to live, hoping from roommate situation to roommate situation, all of them terrible for various reasons. In the midst of this, he had met Kyle one night, a friend of a friend, and Kyle had rather generously offered to let Toby live in his apartment with him rent free. 

When he’d met him, Toby had assumed that Kyle was maybe a few years older than him–all he’d known about him was that he’d graduated from his college a earlier than him. It wasn’t until he’d moved in that he’d learned Kyle was actually in his thirties, which made the fact that he still hung around college kids a little stranger, but he was in too deep to worry too much about it. Kyle worked from home as a tech consultant with several large firms and raked in a ton of money, but while he could have gotten a larger place, he didn’t. Just a modest two bedroom apartment. Instead he spent the rest of his money on three things–video games, porn, and weed. That, and friends when he was out. Going to the bar with him, it was easy to understand why Kyle was so popular with kids on campus, especially when he found out he also helped them score fake IDs on occasion.

Of course, Toby didn’t know any of this about him when Kyle had suggested this. At the time, it had seemed like an amazing opportunity, and in all honesty, it still was. Even though Kyle was a total slob, had no real sense of privacy, was about as inconsiderate of a roommate as you could find–at the end of the day the place was free! Free could grease a lot of wheels, and help you put up with a lot of bullshit. The problem now was that it wasn’t going to be free anymore.

Apparently, Kyle had been dropped by a client the month before, and while he had a few new ones lined up for the near future, his income had taken a bit of a hit. He’d asked Toby to start chipping in on rent this month–the only problem, was that it was also the start of the quarter. Toby had spent all of his money on books and supplies for his classes before Kyle had dropped this little nugget on him. He might have been able to swing it, but Toby had lost one of his jobs a few months before, and had almost no cash to spare. He’d tried to explain all of this to Kyle, of course, hoping he’d be understanding, but while he’d been nice enough, he had put his foot down. He wanted 500 dollars a month, no question about it. 

Now, Toby was officially past due, and Kyle, while still friendly, was being insistent. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, and found his roommate there on the couch, snacking and gaming away like he always was. Kyle was not a particularly handsome fellow. He weighed almost 400 pounds, was covered in hair, and wore almost nothing around the apartment. They were both gay, but Toby wasn’t interested in him, and Kyle had never suggested they have sex–though from the sounds of things in his room, Kyle got off several times a day by himself. He had a thick neckbeard, wore big chunky glasses, and always seemed to have an acne problem. He showered rarely, and so always had a cloud of musk following him, as well as the constant smell of weed. Not ideal–but it had been free, and desperation could convince you to tolerate a lot.

“Hey man, how was the day?” Kyle asked as he took his shoes off at the door.

“It was alright I guess, just long,” Toby said, “I’m gonna get to bed, I have an early class tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Hey, you got that rent man? You’re a few days late, and you owe me.”

Toby gulped–no such luck. “Look, Kyle, any chance I could start paying you next month? The quarter just started, and I had to buy supplies already.”

Kyle paused the game, looked over his shoulder, and stared Toby down across the room. “Man, you owe me. If you can’t pay rent, then you’re going to have to pay me some other way.” The stare was…intense. Toby had never seen Kyle look like that, ever, and he was a bit creeped out by it. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Kyle turned around and returned to his game, and said nothing else. Toby took his bag to his room, set it down, and figured he’d have to come up with the money somehow–there just wasn’t much of a choice. Five hundred was still cheap–and when Kyle found a new client, maybe he’d let Kyle stay for free again. Hopefully. Or maybe he should find some other place. Kyle was generous, but living with him was a pain. If it wasn’t going to be free, he should just ditch him. 

Toby did some reading for his class in the morning, and then got ready for bed. Kyle didn’t say anything to him when he left his room to use the bathroom, and all he could think about was Kyle’s weird stare. Yeah–he was done here. Figure out a way to pay him, and then get the hell out of here as soon as he could. He’d obviously overstayed his welcome. He climbed into bed, and it wasn’t long before he was sound asleep.

But sometime in the middle of the night, he woke up. He wasn’t sure what had disturbed him–a sound, something touching him, or even just a bad feeling–but he opened his eyes, and found something looming over him in the dark. “Fuck Kyle, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” he asked, reached over and turned on the light he had on his nightstand, but it wasn’t Kyle standing there–it was a giant teddy bear.

It was easily seven feet tall, and larger than any man Toby had ever seen before. He had no idea what it was doing there, and it was just standing over his bed, looking down at him. The strangest part was that the bear’s front had a massive rip down the front, and the inside was…hollow. There was no stuffing inside of him, and yet somehow the bear was standing up perfectly fine. It had to be some kind of prank or something by Kyle, right? Was this because he wouldn’t pay him rent? What kind of weirdo did something like this anyway? The bear was standing between him and the door. He got up out of the bed, and the bear slowly moved with him, his beady eyes following him as he moved. Was Kyle controlling the thing? Was he inside it? He couldn’t be inside of it–the thing was empty! Toby didn’t want anything else to do with this place–he’d move out tomorrow, he didn’t care where he’d go, but before he could get out of his room, the bear grabbed him from behind in a hug, and started stuffing him into it’s hollow body, through the rip in it’s guts.

Toby screamed and tried to pull away, but thick threads from inside the bear’s body shot out, wrapped their way around his hands and arms, and tugged them backwards, drawing them up into the bear’s own arms. More threads wound their way around Toby’s neck, choking him, forcing his head up into the bear’s head, while the bear’s arms, with his own arms inside of them, hoisted up his legs and dropped them inside the bear’s cavity. Still screaming, he looked down and saw that the threads were zipping across the cavity, sewing him up inside the bear’s body while he struggled to get free. 

As soon as the cavity was stitched up, everything went dark–and then, the fluff that had been mysterious absent inside the bear’s body began to appear. It started at the feet, crowding in around Toby’s legs, and began to fill up in a matter of moments. At first he could still move around a bit, but the more fluff there was, the harder it was for him to move at all–and soon the pressure became crushing–more intense than should have been possible from light fluff like this. It was like the skin of the bear was starting to shrink, pressing in against him on all sides, the fluff pushing up to his neck, and then above his neck, and then surrounding his entire head, choking him. He held his breath for as long as he could, tried to struggle, but he couldn’t feel his arms or his legs anymore. There was just…fluff, as the bear shrunk down further and further, choking him out, making it impossible to breathe. His tongue was like cotton. Was it that he couldn’t see, or had his eyes dissolved into the same fluff as the rest of him? “This has to be a dream,” was the last thing he thought to himself, clinging to that hope as he passed out…and then he woke up.

There was a moment of relief. It had just been a fucked up nightmare summoned from some deep part of his subconscious, and now, he was going to be ok. He was lying facedown in bed, his blanket on top of him, feeling very warm. Too warm, really. And there was a smell. Something familiar, but not a smell that should be in his room. Heady and musky, with a strong undertone of weed. It smelled like Kyle, he realized after a moment. The blanket was also too heavy. So heavy, that when he tried to roll over, he couldn’t. It was heavy, and warm, and…and was it growling? There was a sound, wasn’t there? Like a growl. Or like a snore.

Whatever was lying on top of him, he quickly discovered it was too heavy for him to move, or to get out from under. He felt so weak somehow, and his arms and legs felt numb, probably from whatever was pressing down on him. It wasn’t long before he started to panic and squirmed harder, and he finally felt the bulk pressing down on him shift. It wasn’t a blanket–whatever it was, it was alive.

“Oh, looks like someone decided to wake up.” It was Kyle’s voice, groggy with sleep. Toby tried to get his arms and legs to work, to roll himself over, but all he could do was flail awkwardly–his limbs refused to work right, and he couldn’t seem to bend them in any sort of helpful direction. A massive hand gripped his arm and turned him over, and now that he was lying face up, he found himself staring up at a massive Kyle. How on earth did he get so damn big, and why couldn’t he move right? “You make a much cuter bear that a person,” Kyle said, “Here, let me show you. You’re probably a little confused.”

Kyle grabbed him by the arm again, and this time lifted Toby into the air like he weighed nothing to him. As he swung Toby around, all Toby felt was a tremendous sense of vertigo. He was in Kyle’s room, but the room was huge! It clicked then–it wasn’t that Kyle had grown, or that his room was big. It was that Toby was suddenly much, much smaller. Kyle’s hands gripped him around his belly, and he held Toby up in front of a mirror, and as hard as Toby tried to scream, no sound came out of his mouth. He was looking in the mirror at Kyle holding a stuffed teddy bear. He was probably about two and a half feet tall, with a big fuzzy gut, glass eyes, and a smile stitched across his face. He was the stuffed teddy bear! The dream–it had been real! He tried his hardest to squirm out of Kyle’s grip, but all he could do was flail awkwardly, stuffed arms swinging to and fro, legs pumping the air. The effect was rather cute–and hopeless.

“You know, it’s dangerous, owing a warlock something,” Kyle said. “The rules say I can’t do anything to cause harm to a person–unless they owe me a debt of some kind. And you, Toby, owed me for rent. In exchange, you get to be my new bear–I finally wore out my last one.”

Toby knew what Kyle was talking about–he’d seen the ragged old bear that Kyle slept with a few times, as well as the shelf of other old bears above his bed. 

“You though–I thought I’d try a few new things with you. You’re the best model yet, I think. Why don’t we take you for a spin?” 

Kyle set him down on the bed, sitting up, and before he could try and do anything, Kyle reached behind him, tugged on a cord hanging off his back, and pulled it away from him. It began to retract, and without knowing how it was happening, Toby heard himself start talking. “Kyle! Kyle, what the fuck did you do to me? Change me back, I’ll get you the money, I’ll figure…it…out…I…” The cord ran out, and Toby’s voice ran down. It hadn’t sounded like he was really speaking, more like some recording coming out of his chest. 

“Oh yeah, that’s hot…Gonna love hearing you moan, Teddy, while I’m on top of you, with my cock buried in your tight little ass…” 

Kyle came closer, reached down, and started rubbing a few fingers across Toby’s fuzzy crotch. Toby’s bear body didn’t have a cock or balls or anything, but as soon as Kyle touched him, his whole mind was suddenly awash with pleasure. Kyle kept rubbing, and with his other hand, pulled on Toby’s drawstring again. “Oh fuck, why the fuck does that feel so fucking good? It feels like I’m about to cum, fuck, it…almost…hurts…”

“Don’t worry Teddy, I don’t want you to suffer. You’re going to be making me so happy, you know? I’ve never really liked…people. They’re too complicated, and they never do what I want them to do, not really. But you’re not a person anymore–you’re just my special Teddy.”

Kyle flipped Toby over, and laid him on the edge of his bed so that his legs were hanging off, and his teddy bear ass was exposed. He felt something press against the fuzz, and then it pushed inside of him, and again, a burst of pleasure pushed everything else from Toby’s mind. “Oh fuck! I never made a teddy with an actual hole before–always just made a little rip, but fuck, this is fucking nice…” Kyle muttered, as he slid his cock in and out of the silicone sheath implanted in Toby’s stuffed ass. “How does it feel Teddy? You like having your master’s cock inside your furry bear hole? You want me to fill you up with a big load of cum, get that stuffing of yours all sticky with my load?”

Kyle pulled the drawstring, and again, Toby’s voice came out of the bear’s body, “Oh fuck! Of fuck, that feels so fucking good, oh god, oh fucking…god…”

“I’m your fucking god now, Teddy. I own your stuffed ass, and you’re going to be taking all of my fucking loads from now on.”

Toby felt betrayed by his own voice somehow. When Kyle pulled the string, it wasn’t what he wanted to say that came out, exactly. It was…it was more like something speaking through him, using his voice, mocking him. It did feel good, that was true. It felt almost too good. The more Kyle fucked him, in fact, that pleasure was building–but there was no outlet. It felt so good he ached. It felt so good that it felt like every other part of his mind was going to be crushed by it. He wanted to cum. That’s what it really felt like. Like he’d been edging himself for an hour, and now was trying so hard to get himself over the edge, but no matter what he did, nothing would happen. He didn’t have a cock anymore, after all. Could he even have an orgasm? If this is what it felt like to get fucked now? It felt like just having an orgasm would tear his mind to shreds. He both craved it, and also didn’t know if he’d even be able to survive it. Chances were, it would just drive him mad if it lasted much longer.

He didn’t have to worry for much longer, in any case. After a few more thrusts, Kyle drove his cock in deep, head popping out the other end of the sheath, deep in Toby’s guts, and unleashed a torrent of cum into his stuffing. Toby could feel it in there, gooping everything together, and a moment later, he felt something else. A warmth suffusing his entire body, from his flailing arms, to his face, to his fat, fuzzy feet. Everything was getting hazy somehow. Like…Like he was getting high off of Kyle’s cum. But the pleasure was still there–aching inside him. Dulled now, but still so frustrating, and when Kyle pulled his cock free, it didn’t help. Instead, he just felt so fucking empty. He felt a tug on his back, and Kyle pulled the drawstring again, and that voice–so close to his own, but twisted somehow, came out of him: “Oh fuck Master, fuck me some more, your dirty toy feels so empty, please…I…need…your…c-ock…”

“Oh don’t worry you stupid bear, you’ll get more later. How’s it feel, Teddy? You feeling good? Don’t you like the way my cum makes you feel? You were always such a wet blanket, you know that? Complaining about how much weed I was smoking in the apartment. It’s my fucking apartment, you know? Well, I thought this might help you loosen up a bit, get you feeling really good, all day long. Or at least for a few hours at a time. Once it dries, you’re going to start jonsing for another fuck. You’re going to need me inside you whether you like it or not. For now though, I need to smoke something myself, and then it’s time for some breakfast.”

Kyle got up to go find his weed and eat something, abandoning Toby on the bed. This was his chance, right? Maybe…he could escape somehow. Get help. But his high was only growing more intense, his vision starting to swirl, and he was still so weak. He tried to manipulate his body as best he could, but all he managed to do was fall off the edge of the bed and land on the floor. It didn’t hurt, thankfully, but on his back there was nothing he could do, other than stare at the ceiling spinning around him, feel the dull ache of his groin, Kyle’s cum slowly drying inside of him. He came down after about an hour, and Kyle was right–he did feel terrible. The ache in his crotch hadn’t lessened one little bit, and he felt…hungry, of all things. Hungry for cum. Hungry for Kyle’s cum. It was eating away at his guts, and there was nothing he could do, aside from lay there on the floor of Kyle’s bedroom, next to a pair of dirty underwear, smelling his musk rolling off of them. He had to get a handle on himself, but as soon as Kyle came back into the room, all he felt was relief at the sight of him.

Kyle fucked him again, slower this time, relishing it, pulling on Toby’s drawstring over and over, making his little stuffed bear beg for his mercy, beg for his cum, promise to be a good little toy forever and ever. Toby hated hearing his voice saying those things, but the more he heard them, he found them growing more and more true in his heart–or what remained of his heart. Kyle came again, and left his bear there to enjoy his high while Kyle got some work done. From where he was lying on the bed, on his back, he could look up and see the other bears on the shelf. Earlier, they had been sitting there, looking straight ahead, but now they were all leaning forward, looking down at him.

Were they jealous? Probably. Kyle wouldn’t put him up there, right? No–of course he wouldn’t. Toby was the best model yet–and…and as long as he kept his Master happy, he’d keep getting his cum, and he’d be able to stave off the ache for a little while longer. Toby caught himself, horrified at what he’d been thinking. He had to get out of this somehow–someone would come looking for him right? At the school? His family? But no one ever came. Day after day, they all passed the same for Toby, or Teddy, as Kyle called him, and Toby started calling himself that too.

The first year was great–or as great as it could be for a fucktoy like him. Then, during a rough session one evening, his drawstring broke, and Teddy never spoke again. Kyle didn’t mind. It had been hot, but it didn’t really matter that much to him one way or another, and he just kept on using him, but he was a bit disappointed, and Teddy panicked–his voice was gone, but he was still there. Teddy was covered with stains now, lumpy and misshapen from all of his stuffing being stuck together with Kyle’s cum. One drunken night, Kyle pissed in him as well, and that…well, nothing could really get the smell off of him, and Teddy could tell that Kyle just wasn’t looking at him, or fucking him, like he used to. And then, there was someone new. A roommate, a guy named Terry. Then, Teddy knew. He knew that he was too dirty, too gross. He’d been worn out, and a few months later, he too was up on the shelf, and Kyle had a brand new teddy bear to play with instead, and all Teddy could do was sit there watch his beautiful Master plow his new bear’s hole, and ache. 

Early Access: A New Teddy

I have a new commissioned story up, and Patrons can access the full version of this story now over on my site! Otherwise, it’ll be posted publicly in a week or so. Here’s a taste, if you’re curious.


…Sometime in the middle of the night, Toby woke up. He wasn’t sure what had disturbed him–a sound, something touching him, or even just a bad feeling–but he opened his eyes, and found something looming over him in the dark. “Fuck Kyle, what the fuck are you doing in my room?” he asked, reached over and turned on the light he had on his nightstand, but it wasn’t Kyle standing there–it was a giant teddy bear.

It was easily seven feet tall, and larger than any man Toby had ever seen before. He had no idea what it was doing there, and it was just standing over his bed, looking down at him. The strangest part was that the bear’s front had a massive rip down the front, and the inside was…hollow. There was no stuffing inside of him, and yet somehow the bear was standing up perfectly fine. It had to be some kind of prank or something by Kyle, right? Was this because he wouldn’t pay him rent? What kind of weirdo did something like this anyway? The bear was standing between him and the door. He got up out of the bed, and the bear slowly moved with him, his beady eyes following him as he moved. Was Kyle controlling the thing? Was he inside it? He couldn’t be inside of it–the thing was empty! Toby didn’t want anything else to do with this place–he’d move out tomorrow, he didn’t care where he’d go, but before he could get out of his room, the bear grabbed him from behind in a hug, and started stuffing him into it’s hollow body, through the rip in it’s guts.

Toby screamed and tried to pull away, but thick threads from inside the bear’s body shot out, wrapped their way around his hands and arms, and tugged them backwards, drawing them up into the bear’s own arms. More threads wound their way around Toby’s neck, choking him, forcing his head up into the bear’s head, while the bear’s arms, with his own arms inside of them, hoisted up his legs and dropped them inside the bear’s cavity. Still screaming, he looked down and saw that the threads were zipping across the cavity, sewing him up inside the bear’s body while he struggled to get free. 

As soon as the cavity was stitched up, everything went dark–and then, the fluff that had been mysterious absent inside the bear’s body began to appear. It started at the feet, crowding in around Toby’s legs, and began to fill up in a matter of moments. At first he could still move around a bit, but the more fluff there was, the harder it was for him to move at all–and soon the pressure became crushing–more intense than should have been possible from light fluff like this. It was like the skin of the bear was starting to shrink, pressing in against him on all sides, the fluff pushing up to his neck, and then above his neck, and then surrounding his entire head, choking him. He held his breath for as long as he could, tried to struggle, but he couldn’t feel his arms or his legs anymore. There was just…fluff, as the bear shrunk down further and further, choking him out, making it impossible to breathe. His tongue was like cotton. Was it that he couldn’t see, or had his eyes dissolved into the same fluff as the rest of him? “This has to be a dream,” was the last thing he thought to himself, clinging to that hope as he passed out…and then he woke up.

Horny Hugh #1 (Commissioned Story)

Evan knocked on the door of Hugh’s apartment, and after a couple of moments, it opened up. Hugh looked through the crack of the door, and then pulled Evan inside and shut the door behind them both.

“What the hell is up with you?” Evan asked, “You spend all morning blowing up my phone, saying I have to come to your place, and you won’t even tell me why–now you’re yanking me around like this is some spy movie or something.”

Hugh was wearing a pair of sweatpants, which wasn’t unusual for him, and a hoodie with the hood up–which was definitely odd. He didn’t say anything right away–he and Evan had been friends for ages, and he was the only person he could possibly talk to about…well, about what he’d seen in the mirror when he’d woken up this morning. “Look, promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Dude, no one fucking says that unless what you’re about to show me is really fucking weird–now what’s going on? It can’t be that bad, can it?”

Hugh took a deep breath, and then he pushed the hood back, and showed Evan the horns that had appeared, growing out his temples, when he’d woken up this morning. They were small, or at least, that’s what Hugh had told himself all morning as he struggled to not freak out about it. They were about an inch tall, with a sharp point–not quite sharp enough to draw blood, unless he gave someone a hard headbutt with a running start or something.

“What the fuck?” Evan asked.

“Please–you’re the only person I could show this to, please, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here,” Hugh pleaded.

Evan was, he had to admit, a bit freaked out, but he was also, well, curious. He reached out to touch one, and Hugh pulled away. “What?”

“They’re…tender, is all.”

“Did it hurt?”

Hugh shrugged. “I…I had this dream. I don’t really remember it all that well, but…yeah, it hurt, in the dream, and when I woke up, I was thrashing in my bed, my pillow was torn to shreds, and I had these fucking things sticking out of my head. I don’t know what the hell to do–should…I mean, if I go to the hospital, are they just going to treat me like some kind of freak?”

“Can…Can I touch them? I’m just curious. I’ll be careful.”

Hugh bent his head down, and let his friend cautiously stroke one of the small horns with a finger. It wasn’t quite smooth, more like unsanded wood–but definitely bone. The flesh at the base was still a bit red and inflamed from what he could see, but it didn’t look like there was any infection.

Hugh, however, felt something rather strange when his friend touched them. Something he couldn’t quite explain. Thus far, aside from an ache around the horns where they’d burst through his skin in the early morning, they hadn’t really done anything–but when Evan touched them, he felt something. He felt connected to him for a moment–he could see…inside him, somehow. Just a flash, really, but it was disconcerting, and he pulled away after a moment.

“Did I hurt you?” Evan asked.

“No–No, I…would you take me to the hospital? I…I don’t want to go alone.”

Together, they left the apartment and Evan drove him to the hospital to get his new horns checked out, and on the way, all Hugh could think about was that strange sensation, how he’d almost been able to see Evan’s…thoughts. More than his thoughts though, deeper than that. Like…his dreams, or desires, or something like that. It had just been for a moment, but he hadn’t been able to focus on it for long, but it had been tantalizing, because he was sure he’d been about to see something that Evan had never told him about–and Evan didn’t keep many secrets from Hugh, about anything.

Evan and Hugh had known each other for years. They’d met in college, and when they’d graduated, they’d both stayed in the city, though they worked at different companies. Neither of them had been very lucky in love or relationships. They’d tried dating each other for a little while, but it hadn’t worked–thankfully, their friendship had been stronger than that little mistake, but they were still closer to each other than anyone else they knew in the city they lived in. Hugh though…he’d seen something…he didn’t know, there inside Evan. A secret even his friend had kept from him–hell, maybe even a secret he was keeping from himself. It was tantalizing. There in the waiting room, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, wanting to see more, wondering if he could come up with some excuse to have Evan touch them again, so he could see it.

Thankfully, the oddity of his condition meant they didn’t have to wait long, and they were taken back to meet with a doctor. His horns were examined, samples were scraped off–which was more painful than Hugh was expecting it to be. Tests were taken, blood was drawn, but after several hours of being poked and prodded, no one had any idea what was happening to him, and he didn’t seem to be in any danger, so he was sent home, and told to come back if anything changed. Hugh was frustrated–but the same thing had happened each time someone had touched his horns–though the gloves the doctors and nurses had always worn dulled the effect somewhat. He could see into their minds, see their…desires. He knew that’s what they were. With the doctors, it had been…like looking through privacy glass at something in another room. The curiosity was killing him, and he had to know what he was experiencing, and the easiest way to do that, was to get Evan to touch his horns again. 

Thankfully, Evan seemed to be suffering from the same curiosity. Ever since touching the horns, he’d been unable to get the feeling out of his mind. They were just so unlike anything he’d ever touched before. They stood by the apartment door, neither of them sure what to say, since the trip to the hospital had left them both with more questions than answers. Eventually, playing it as cool as he could, Evan asked if he could touch them one more time. Hugh was ecstatic, but didn’t let on to his own relief. He bent down, Evan touched his horns again, and this time Hugh felt everything.

It wasn’t quite an image, or a sound, or a feeling, or a thought. It was bits of all of those things smashed together. Hugh could suddenly smell something strong and pungent–it was the smell of piss he realized after a moment, but not fresh piss. More like the smell of an unwashed urinal. There was the sound of piss hitting flesh, there was the sensation of being wet and warm, like standing in a summer rain shower. The taste of piss in his mouth. He realized, finally, that what he was sensing was some deep desire of his friend’s–Evan had a fetish for watersports, and a powerful one at that. It was so…deep though. So far away. The sensations were there, but they were muted, or blocked. There was something in Hugh, something telling him that he could…could pull it closer if he wanted, so he could get a better look. Without knowing what he was doing or how, he gave it a tug, or something a bit like a tug and then the sensations stopped.

Evan had pulled away from him, shaking his hands like he’d gotten a shock of some sort. “Fuck, what the hell was that? I…Were you in my head?”

Hugh blushed, but wasn’t sure what to say.

“You…what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I…I just…” Hugh didn’t know what Evan knew–but from the look in his friend’s eyes, that deep embarrassment, he…figured Evan knew exactly what he had seen inside him, what he’d…tugged on. Without saying anything else, Evan left the apartment, leaving Hugh to get ready for bed. In the bathroom, looking at himself…he swore the horns looked a bit…swollen, the skin around them a bit more red and inflamed. It took hours to find a position that was comfortable to sleep in, and he hoped all of those tests the doctors had given him would tell him…something. At least let a surgeon remove them, or something. He felt a quiver at the thought. Something…didn’t like that notion much, but it was deep inside him too–too deep for him to notice much beyond a sudden flush of anxiety in his guts. Eventually, Hugh managed to fall asleep, and by the next day, he had already put what had happened with Evan behind him, and resolved to make the best of things.

He called his work, and with the help of a vague note from the doctor at the hospital, he convinced them that he didn’t really need to be in the office for the next couple of weeks. Hopefully he would get this strange horn situation sorted out by then. That gave him some time for himself that he hadn’t had in a very long time–and he wasn’t quite sure how to fill it–especially since leaving the house wasn’t really an option. He played some video games, he worked around the apartment, but what he found himself doing more and more was jacking off.

Hugh had never really been that sexual of a person. In fact, while he found men attractive, he had never really gotten behind the idea of sex beyond mutual masturbation–which was probably the reason why things hadn’t really worked out between him and Evan, when they’d tried to date, knowing what he did now about Evan’s interests. But suddenly, he was horny all of the damn time. He’d wake up with a raging hard on that would refuse to quit until he masturbated. The same thing would happen when he was trying to sleep–one stray thought and he would pop a boner, and he wouldn’t get a moment of rest until he’d jacked off. The more he masurbated, the more his thoughts drifted to Evan–thinking about what he’d seen when he’d taken that little peek inside his friend’s mind, the feeling of that little pull, dragging that…dark, twisted desire out of the dark and towards the light. It had been a rush, really. He hadn’t been able to admit that to himself at the moment, but he…he wanted to do it again. He didn’t even know what he’d done! But he wanted to feel that again. It was the power of it. There was some sort of power there, one he couldn’t really understand, but if he…if he could just do it again, maybe he could figure out what was going on here. Why these horns had suddenly just appeared on his head, for no reason that he could seem to comprehend.

But no such opportunity arose. Sitting around in his apartment, inventing ways to occupy his time, trying and generally failing to avoid wasting the day away masturbating, or just staring at himself in the mirror, touching his horns gently, or not so gently. It was in the evening, two days after his visit to the hospital with Evan, that his friend returned. 

They had been chatting off and on over the last couple of days, mostly Evan just checking in on Hugh to make sure everything was alright still, but all that day, Evan had gone quiet. The knock on the door was a bit urgent, and while Hugh tried to ignore it, eventually Evan shouted at him on the other side, and Hugh threw on his hoodie and opened it up for him.

It was the smell that hit him first, and he realized something had gone…very wrong. Evan reeked of piss. Hugh managed to keep his gag reflex down, but something else responded eagerly–his cock was hard as a rock. Evan shoved his way past him into the apartment, wearing a button down shirt and slacks that were, well, soaked. 

“Alright, I need a fucking answer, Hugh. What the fuck did you do to me?” Evan said, when he was inside.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. What happened to you?” Hugh asked him.

Evan glowered at him, and Hugh could see a bit of doubt in his eyes…or maybe he could feel it. Could he feel it? Was he imagining things?

“Look, I…I’ve always had this…this fantasy, alright?” Evan said, “I really, really like the idea of…of guys using me as a urinal. Pissing on me, making me drink it, I…I mean, I’ve done some piss stuff with guys before, but…but I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I felt something when I left the other day, when I touched your horns. I…I don’t know what the fuck it was, really, it sounds stupid saying it out loud, but…but ever since…” Evan paused. “Look, the next morning, I was fucking horny, and I pissed in a glass and drank it. I’ve never done anything like that, but…but I didn’t just want to do it, I had to do it. And then, at work…the guys were…they were treating me different, and my boss…he was in the bathroom with me at one point in the morning, and he…he offered me his piss, and I fucking drank it! I don’t know what the fuck came over us, but I did. And when I went out to lunch, I wasn’t…hungry, exactly, but I went to the lunch spot, and right into the bathroom, and every guy who came in, I drank their piss too. I…I didn’t know what was wrong with me, so I went home, and I tried to eat, I fucking tried to eat, but I couldn’t keep anything down, but I could drink without throwing up. So I got drunk, and I went out to the bar…then today. Fucking today, I go into work, and by boss calls me into his office, right? He calls me in, tells me I’m getting a new position. He takes me into the bathroom, and tells me I’m the new fucking urinal! And I spend all fucking day on my knees, every guy on the floor pissing on me like I’m some fucking object, and…and that’s not fucking normal, Hugh, and I know you did something to me. You did, or those fucking horns did, and I need you to put me back right fucking now.”

Hugh just stared at him, for a moment, trying to process what his friend was telling him. He knew he should be…horrified, right? But…but wasn’t this what Evan had wanted? It’s what Hugh had seen, at least, when he’d looked into him, but…Evan didn’t look happy about it. Then again, why should he be happy about it? He’d just been pissed on by everyone he worked with, all day long…and it was Hugh’s fault. It was a hot story though. Hugh realized he was groping himself–that he’d been groping himself the entire time Evan had been telling the story of his day, and that his friend had noticed–and was looking at him with disgust. He pulled his hand away.

“What, did that turn you on or something?” Evan asked. “I…I fucking knew it! When I touched those freaky horns of yours, what the hell did you see? What did you do to me?”

“Look, I…I did something, I know, but…but I don’t really know what I did, or how I did it! It was the horns. I…I could feel it inside you, and…and I just…pulled on it. I don’t know what it was, I just….”

“Great–if you pulled on it, you can push it back in, right?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this works. We should go back to the hospital. We…I don’t know what I’m doing, I might make it worse.”

“No–I can’t…I can’t go anywhere,” Evan said. The implication was clear–if he was in a public space, chances were good he’d be in the bathroom before long, drinking as much piss as he could. “You have to fix this, right here, right now.”

“Isn’t…isn’t this what you wanted though?” Hugh said, “I mean, you said it yourself this was a fantasy. I just wanted to help.”

“‘Help’? Fucking ‘help’? I don’t think I can show my face at work ever again! These last couple of days have been a fucking nightmare. It was just a fantasy! It was supposed to stay as a fucking fantasy! Something I jerk off to on occasion, and then put away. I don’t want to be stuck in a bathroom for the rest of my fucking life! I want you to put me back, and then I never want to see you or your fucking horns ever again.”

“Evan, I–”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking freak!”

Hugh didn’t know what to say to that. Mostly it hurt, but not in the way he expected it to. He knew, in his head, that he’d done something wrong to Evan, but…had he really? He knew this is what Evan wanted–what he really wanted, more than anything else in the entire world. Evan could deny it all he wanted to, but he couldn’t lie to Hugh–Hugh had seen right into him, he knew all of those little secrets he kept, and there was absolutely no way he could be wrong about this. If anyone should be angry in this situation, shouldn’t it be him? He’d given Evan a gift! He’d helped him fulfill a lifelong dream of his, and now that he had what he wanted, he was getting scared? More than just getting scared–he was blaming Hugh for all of it. But Hugh had only done what he did because Evan wanted it so badly. It was all Evan’s fault, really. If he’d just been honest with himself, he’d understand how…how happy he should be right now. But Hugh could fix this. He had to fix this–it was the right thing to do. Evan would forgive him eventually, right? “Ok–look, touch my horns, and…and I’ll put it back. I think I can do that.”

Evan was nervous, but he reached out and touched Hugh’s headd, and the same sensation that he’d felt before washed over him. It had been…strange. In the moment, he’d felt so calm, like he wanted nothing more than for Hugh to rifle through his thoughts and…and change things. He’d watched before, as Hugh had found his desires, dragged them out to the front of…of him, somehow, or at least closer. He’d known what he’d been doing, but as soon as he’d pulled his hands off those horns, he’d lost it. He could see it again though, he could see all of those nasty, perverted, filthy things he wanted men to do to him, right there, like he was broadcasting it to the world–which would explain a few things, he supposed. And Hugh was there, and he…what was he doing?

He wasn’t pushing them back down, that was for sure. Evan screamed at him, and when his friend looked up at him, his eyes…weren’t Hugh’s. They were pitch black, and the smile that crossed his face–his entire face, his mouth stretching from ear to ear, those…those sharp teeth…that wasn’t Hugh, what the fuck was that? The thing that looked like Hugh began pulling everything out, all of the filth, putting it everywhere, filling up everything with it, and Evan tried to scream, tried to beg, tried to do…something! Anything to stop it from happening, working to wrench his hands away before it was too late, and finally, he let go, and all of it fell back behind the shroud. He was left standing there, looking at the top of Hugh’s head, at those two horns taunting him, trying to sort out what in the world had just happened to him.

“There, see? Doesn’t that feel better already?” Hugh said, raising his lead up. His eyes were…normal, as was his mouth, but Evan couldn’t shake the vision from his head, that there was something else behind his friend’s face, something inside of him, trying to push it’s way out of him, and Hugh didn’t even realize it. 

“I…I don’t know…I guess I’m thirsty, mostly.”

“That’s not surprising. Shouldn’t you be getting to the bar soon?” Hugh asked him. “Tell you what–I’ll come by later, towards the end of your shift. If you still aren’t happy with things, then I’ll put everything back, but I think we got everything right this time, I can just…I can just feel it.”

“Are…are you sure I can’t have something to drink before I go?”

Hugh sighed, and pushed down the sweatpants he’d been wearing around the house. “I’m really fucking horny, but I think I can piss for you. I know how much you need it.”

Evan got down on his knees, the horror still there, but muted. Like some part of him was…was so deep now, that he never even really had to acknowledge it existing. It…It was more important to be a urinal, right? Isn’t…isn’t that what he was? He was certainly thirsty enough to be one, and when Hugh finally managed to piss through his hard cock, and Evan drank it all down, every single drop, he felt so much better. “Thanks man, you’re…a great friend, you know that?”

“Of course I am,” Hugh said, “Now go on, you don’t want to be late.”

Evan left Hugh’s apartment, got in his car, and while he was certain he should be driving home–he had work in the morning after all–he instead knew, somehow, that he had to work somewhere else tonight. At…at the bar, right? The Hawk? It was the seediest of the gay bars in town, and Evan hadn’t been there very often, but he had to be there. He got there a little before six. The bouncer at the door knew his name somehow–as did the bartender, and after saying hello, Evan went right into the bathroom, got on his knees next to the other urinals, and it wasn’t long before Lucas, the bartender, came in. 

“Fuck Evan, glad you got here early, didn’t think I could hold this for much longer,” Lucas said, and unloaded his bladder into Evan’s eager mouth. “Gonna be a busy night tonight–hope you’re ready for it.” Lucas finished up, didn’t say anything else, and Evan moaned a bit, feeling the piss settle in his gut. He didn’t have long to think about it, before another man came in, and then another. The other urinals were neglected for the entire night–after all, Evan was the best urinal the bar had ever had. Evan found himself caught in his mind between this new normal, and that little voice, begging him to stop, to listen to reason, that he couldn’t just…be a urinal, right? He was a person! He had to be a person, didn’t he? During a lull, it was that little voice that forced him up from his knees, stumbling over to the sink where he could look in the mirror. Told him to look at his smooth head and face, at his porcelain white skin, at his belly distended from the gallons and gallons of piss he’d drank already tonight. He was naked, but when had he stripped his clothes off? Had he driven here naked? Why would a urinal need clothes anyway?

“Hey! Pisser! Get back in your spot.”

It was the bouncer. Evan felt guilty, and got back down on his knees, took the bouncer’s piss, and remained there, where…where he belonged, where he needed to be. He kept drinking all night long, until sometime after one in the morning, as the club was winding down, and Hugh pushed his way into the room. He was drunk, from the way he was staggering, and Evan swore that Hugh’s horns looked a bit…longer than they had back in the apartment. Fuck, his horns were right there. He wasn’t even hiding them! 

“Fuck Evan, fucking look at you,” Hugh slurred, “What a good looking urinal. I did a good fucking job on you, you know that? Aren’t you happy? This is exactly what you wanted–I know, I fucking saw it there, right in your brain. I’m…fuck, I’m like the best fucking friend, you know that? How many other friends would actually help you become the urinal you always wanted to be?”

Evan…knew he shouldn’t. But that little voice, it refused to shut up. “Hugh, please, I…I don’t want this! I don’t know what’s going on, but this…this isn’t you. Those horns, they’re controlling you. I…I like piss! I always have, but fucking look at me! I…I don’t want to look like this.”

Hugh squinted at him, then squatted down and squinted some more. “Fuck, you’re right, this…this is no good.”

Thank you! Fucking thank you, please, please fix me!”

“You don’t look like a urinal at all. I can be such a fucking idiot sometimes. I mean, you still look like a person!”

Evan’s guts dropped out from under him, and he tried to force himself up from where he was kneeling, but he was suddenly frozen in place, as Hugh leaned in, and rubbed a horn against Evan’s hairless, perfectly white arm.

“I’m still learning, I know, but I’ll get it right this time, you’ll be perfect.”

Evan found himself behind the shroud again, inside his own mind, but this time, it wasn’t that Hugh was pulling anything out–he was putting things away. Burying all of those parts of Evan, all of his humanity, deep inside himself, deeper than his watersports fetish had ever been, so deep that Evan couldn’t even see it, or feel it, or…or know it.

At last, Hugh pulled away from him, and Evan tried to scream, but he couldn’t. His mouth was frozen in place, open wide. His tongue was glued to the bottom of his mouth, and he was drooling constantly, the water running down the back of his throat and into his massive, porcelain gut. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Hugh said, “You’re fucking beautiful. Fuck, I’m…so fucking horny…”

Hugh couldn’t stop himself. He tore open his pants and started jacking his cock, but every touch was like fire. He was grunting and moaning in pain, but it felt so damn good too. Evan, head locked into position, watched his friend’s body contort, like something was inside his skin, rearranging Hugh’s insides while he stroked off, a trickle of blood running down the front of his face as the horns pushed out another few inches, splitting the skin apart as they did. Hugh licked the blood from his lips as it ran past his mouth, and moaned in excitement–enough to bring himself to orgasm–but his cock…well, it wasn’t the same cock that Hugh had started with. It was bigger–easily nine inches long, the head more pointed, with fleshy barbs running up and down the shaft. He came with something like a roar, pouring inky black cum down Evan’s open throat, and Evan…he felt something inside him turn into cement. He knew, without knowing how, that…that after what Hugh had just fed him, this was…him now. Forever. He’d never change again. Already, he could feel his old life fading away, turning to vapor in his mind. He felt at ease, Hugh’s cum settling in his friend’s gut next to his piss, and Hugh heaved a sigh, and pushed his swollen, barbed cock back into his pants. “That was good, but god damn, I need to fuck something. Urinals are no good for fucking…” he muttered, and stumbled out of the bathroom and into the bar proper, leaving Evan alone. A thing that had been named Evan, once. It didn’t have a name now, of course. Urinals didn’t have names.

Its shift finished a little after two in the morning, after one last load of piss from the bouncers and the bartenders. The urinal forced himself upright, standing just a little over four feet tall on squat, wide legs, and waddled slowly over to the mirror on the wall. There was its face, contorted and constantly open wide, eyes wide set, head dominated by its massive maw. It had no neck, rather its head was placed right on his wide body, above his massive, distended gut. It was the only part of the thing’s body that was still pliable. It would process all of that piss and cum he’d ingested tonight, turn it into more drool, use it to power its body, but the thirst would always be there. Thankfully, a good urinal always had plenty of work. During the weekdays, it worked in an office nearby. In the nights and evenings, it was always here, at The Hawk. But on the weekends, it would make its way to a truck stop on the edge of town, drink its fill of trucker piss all day long, and start all over again on Monday morning. It was a life, wasn’t it? And it was happy. It was doing what it was meant to do–why wouldn’t it be happy? It left the bathroom at its slow, trudging pace. It looked around for Hugh, but its friend was nowhere to be seen. Hugh was done with him anyway. Hugh had found someone new to take home–someone to fuck. But most importantly, Hugh knew he could help them too. Horny Hugh was going to help everyone.

A Ghost Story

Commissioned by Tnaka1414


I thought death would be the end of it.

I’m not religious or anything. Never really thought there was much to life, so never really expected much of an afterlife either. Maybe if I’d gone out differently. Peacefully, you know? Just lying in a bed, slipping away. Or who the hell knows, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered in the least, and I’d still be floating around like this then too. In any case, here I am, still stuck in my fucking restaurant (or what had been my restaurant until my murder), weeks later, just…drifting around, watching all of this fucking shit go down. First seeing my body carted out by the paramedics. Then seeing Jerry happily sitting there in the office after the fact, whistling away, thinking about all the money he’s going to try and make now that he doesn’t have to worry about me getting in the way of his grand business schemes. It was my fucking food, damnit! I didn’t want to fucking franchise shit, or market anything, or update the place, blow a lot of cash for frills that don’t fucking matter. I just wanted to cook good fucking food, was that so much to fucking ask? Money doesn’t fucking matter–after all, you definitely can’t take it with you. Now Jerry had sole ownership of the place, and he thought he could do whatever he wanted with it. Of course, he thought he’d be able to find my recipes somewhere–but little did he fucking know they’re all in my head. He had a bit of a fit when he couldn’t find anything–but that’s where the weasel came in.

By weasel, I mean Dennis, my sous chef–though Jerry promoted him to head chef after I passed. He was in on it too, I realized–my death that is. Big bearish fellow, on the chubby side. Not especially bright, but brighter than I’d thought. He was competent, and could follow direction well, and apparently he’d been watching me closer than I’d thought he had–because it wasn’t long before he was getting real fucking close to my food–close enough to satisfy Jerry, at least, and just a month after fucking killing me, they were about to reopen my fucking restaurant tomorrow, and fucking hell, I’m just so fucking angry. I think…I can influence things. I’ve knocked a few plates over, got in Jerry’s way once or twice as he was working and made him pause in confusion, but it’s exhausting. I…I want a body. Whenever I get close to Jerry, or to Dennis…there’s something inside me, some urge, telling me to…to get inside them, somehow, but when I try to press in through their skin, I can’t. I can pass through a wall, but not through a person–it makes no sense to me, but apparently, those are the rules. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I could be…doing something. I want to do something to them, but I don’t know what. There’s just so much rage, and…and all I can do is waft around like this, semi-transparent, glowing faintly, and wondering how long this is going to last–how much of this I’m going to have to watch.

Mostly I follow Dennis. Just looking at Jerry makes me so fucking enraged that I shake myself into a glowing mist, and it takes me hours to get myself back together. Dennis…even knowing he’s betraying me, I can’t help but kind of miss the fucker. I should say that there was another reason I kept him around despite his tendency to fuck up–the bear could suck mean cock. As a chef, mostly running my own business, it didn’t leave a lot of time for relationships, especially not when you’re gay. Dennis, well, he was homely, but he must have been practicing somewhere, because after flirting with him for a few weeks, he just got down in my office and sucked me off, no questions asked. I can tell you that mouth of his got him out of a few scrapes around here, when I got too pissed off at his incompetence. So yeah, I miss him–mostly his mouth. I’m a ghost and still fucking horny–how the fuck does that work exactly? 

So I’m mulling my fate, and I follow Dennis into the bathroom, floating right through the stall door, watching him drop his pants and get ready to sit down…and something nudges me. I can’t get in through his skin, but…but maybe there’s another way inside. I know I don’t have much time to think about it–and if I think about it too much, it’ll disgust me, but I’m not…well, I’m not living anymore, it can’t kill me again. Before he can sit down on the toilet, I go around him, lunge forward, and shove my ghostly hand right into his asshole.

He yelps in surprise, tries to pull away from my hand, but I come with him. He reaches around to try and pull me out, but he can’t grip me–even if he can even feel something back there at all, beyond a weird force. But my hand inside him…fuck it feels good. It feels alive. Without even really thinking about it, I shove more of my arm in, and there’s no real resistance. Before I even realize what I’m doing, my head forces its way into his hole, and he groans in pain, I can…hear it reverberating inside his guts, actually. My torso follows, and then all of me is inside him, as he totters about in confusion, and I…I start worming my way through him, looking for…for something.

From the outside, it must have looked something like this. Dennis would have yelped, and pushed his way out of the stall, groaning. First, his ass would have expanded as my arm, and then the rest of me forced my way inside of him, and then as I pushed deeper, his gut would have started to grow. I can see him, watching his guts suddenly expand and inflate, his hands desperately trying to push his aching, stretched gut back down, but apparently, ghosts like me still have a certain kind of mass. I can feel him pushing on me in there, trying to force me back out the way I came from, and I do get forced somewhere–a tiny opening, my head pushed out of it awkwardly. I spin around and look up at Dennis, who is looking down at me in terror…like he can see me, at last. “Fuck…T-Trevor?” he mutters in disbelief, “What the fuck is…is goin’ on?”

I just stare up at his bearded face, both of his chins, I see how scared he is, and I wonder what I’m doing, for a second. But just for a second. I am still…so fucking angry at him, for what he and Jerry did to me. I realize what hole I just popped out of then–my head is literally sticking right out of Dennis’s crotch–he’s trying to push me out of his cock! I grumble, and pull my head back inside of him, and start forcing myself higher–I need to get higher, to his head, but he’s fighting me, still trying to squeeze me out. He almost manages once–he gives himself a big hug, and I slide out of his belly button up to my waist, my own gut rubbing against his for a moment. I think the image of it was so jarring that he stopped squeezing, letting me claw my way back inside him. I found my way to his neck, shoved my head through the narrow passage…and then, I wasn’t me anymore.

I was Dennis.

I was Dennis, and looking at my body in the mirror. Cute, stupid Dennis, but his body was still so bloated, and…and I realize why, after a moment. I didn’t take over Dennis’ body, I replaced him–and he’s still inside of it with me, just like I was inside of him, rumbling around, confused, trying to feel his way back into control, and I do the first thing I can think of–I grab hold of Dennis’ cock and start jacking off, and I…I picture him sliding down, sliding his way into his balls…and sure enough, I see it happen, watch the rest of Dennis’s body start to deflate, even as his balls swell larger and larger. No–my balls. I’m going to take this body, I want it, and he doesn’t deserve it. I deserve it. I start jacking faster, and I can see cum start to leak from the head–slightly transparent and glowing just like I had been since my death…and I had a thought. If I just cum him out, what’s to stop him from doing the same to me, crawling inside my guts and forcing me out? I have…to trap him somewhere, and quick.

I grip my cock, my balls uncomfortably heavy (funny how quickly I already feel like this body is mine–but then again, it will be soon enough) and look around the bathroom again, and I see the toilet sitting there…and fuck, the idea feels so fucking sick, and yet, what else would he fucking deserve? Not just for killing me, but for stealing my shit and helping Jerry with his fucking scheme? So I lumber over, balls swinging, get in the stall, loom over the toilet, and start working my cock, willing the fucker out of his own body, and cum starts flowing, dribbling all over the toilet. It’s…not normal looking cum by any means, glowing, almost iridescent, pooling in the bowl, sitting on the seat, and I take a moment to bend over and rub it in…and I can hear him, hear his panic and confusion at what’s happening, his disbelief, but I nudge him, tell him that he has a new place here–a proper sort of place for him, and I see the cum start to…soak into the toilet, and it too, starts to glow a bit. I go back to milking my cock, pumping him out over the porcelain, watching the rest of him absorb more readily into the object, and I could see it was starting to…shake a bit, as it picked up his consciousness, and he slowly realized where exactly he was–maybe. I lost track a bit as I came, huge gouts of cum spraying everywhere, all over the toilet, and the wall, and the floor, and all of it congealed and flowed into the toilet where I had put him. When I could stand again without relying on the stall for support, I could see the toilet was…glowing, and even…vibrating a bit, the pipes rattling as he tried to make sense of it all.

Still, my body needed to finish the business Dennis had come in here to do, so I sat down–and as soon as I was sitting on it, I could…feel him. He could feel me too, I’m sure, and he was trying to figure out how to get into my body again, but now that I knew my own trick, I wasn’t about to let that happen. Instead, I focused on calming him down as best I could, talking to him…but more than that even. I was…controlling him, maybe. Warping him, and his energy. Telling him that he wasn’t a person. He’d never been a person. All he’d ever been, was a toilet. He didn’t want to be a toilet, not at first. But like I said, Dennis had never been the brightest tool in the shed, and, well, getting your entire psyche shot out of your own cock, while someone you helped murder takes over your body, tends to do some damage to your self-image, and your mind. He was pretty damn broken, and he probably would have put himself back together eventually, but I got there first, and put him back together…differently. He wasn’t a person. That had been…his imagination. He was a toilet. He was supposed to be a toilet. He liked being a toilet more than anything, a men’s toilet, having big men sit on him, shit and piss in him, flush him…

I could feel him start to quiver under me in excitement, and I had to calm him down. Remind him that he had to be a good toilet, and stay very, very still, or men might get frightened of him, and then they wouldn’t use him anymore. It took a lot of effort, but he settled down, and I breathed a sigh of relief, and as a final test, did my business, feeling the surge of pleasure Dennis got when my shit and piss landed in his bowl. I wiped, got up, flushed, and he couldn’t stop a little shake as everything flushed through him–it looked like it was orgasming, honestly, and I grinned at the thing, knowing who was in there…and fuck, if I wasn’t hard as a damn rock…

I was hard! I had a cock! A real fucking cock I could touch! I was alive!

It hit me hard then, and I left the stall and looked at myself in the mirror in amazement. I was in Dennis’ body. It was my body now, and there was no way in hell that I was going to be giving it back up–not that Dennis would be wanting it back, not as happy as he was now. I felt my body, groped Dennis’s thick ball belly, his chubby moobs, his arms and ass…and as happy as I was to be back alive, I knew that something was off still. I was in control, and this body was alive, but I could tell that it wasn’t mine–not really. It worked well enough, but it’s like…being a spirit, you could see the cracks between soul and body where you hadn’t even noticed them before. I didn’t feel quite…right. I probably never will, but honestly? Given what I can do…I don’t really mind that much, because it turns out I can do so much more now.

I did it by accident first. I went to leave, after getting my clothes sorted out, and when I went to push on the door–my arm pushed through it instead, Dennis’ entire arm becoming incorporeal as it passed through. I yanked it back, and tried again–eventually, I figured out that I had to focus on actually touching the thing, if I wanted to interact with it. In a weird way, I was spirit first, and body second now–but realizing that…well, now I had all sorts of ideas.

You see, I still didn’t know what I was going to do, now that I had Dennis’s body. I couldn’t very well tell Jerry what had happened, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pretend to be Dennis for the rest of my life. I needed to take care of Jerry somehow–not only because he deserved it, but because…well, because he’s a piece of shit, let’s be honest. He deserved everything that was coming to him, and given all of the new skills I had just learned, I figured payback was something that ought to be given sooner rather than later.

I left the bathroom, carefully, staying focused to make sure I was actually touching everything instead of just moving through it. As I made my way back to the kitchen, Jerry rounded a corner, surprising me. He looked as much like an asshole as always–tall and slender, long face. For someone working as a restaurant manager, he’d always hated food–I never should have hired him, let’s be honest. “There you are Dennis–I’ve been looking for you, pig.”

Jerry groped his crotch…and I realized what he was implying. I’d known that Jerry and Dennis had a thing on the side too, of course, just like I had. Dennis, after all, loved to eat, but mostly just loved to eat cock. I hadn’t really thought it through to the point that…well, as Dennis, Jerry was going to expect something from me now. “Oh, uh, sure thing, boss…” I mutter, and follow Jerry back into his office, where he drops his pants, sits down in his chair, his big cock jutting out from a mostly hairless crotch, and he leers at me.

“Well then, get the fuck over here pig, and suck it!”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to charge over there and fuck him up…but I didn’t know enough about my new body to really know what I could do. I needed to maintain my cover for a bit, and so, as much as it disgusted me…I went over, got down on my knees, and started sucking.

“Fuck, what’s up with you tonight?” Jerry asked, “Usually you go right for it.”

I didn’t know what to say…but as soon as his cock was in my mouth…I could feel him. Not just his body, but his spirit too…and there was that same whisper, and…and I started sucking. Not at his cock, but at the spirit inside his cock and balls, if that makes sense. It’s hard to explain. I suck, and I can…taste it, his spirit sliding down my throat, and my own cock starts to…tingle. Dennis isn’t exactly well endowed, but when I reach down, I feel my new cock start to swell a bit, getting harder and longer than I’d ever seen Dennis’s little three incher get before…and Jerry’s huge tool was suddenly a bit easier to manage in my mouth. I was sucking it away, I realized–and so, I started sucking harder.

Jerry gasped and moaned–whether in pleasure or discomfort, I never found out. He didn’t stop me, in any case, as I sucked and sucked and sucked, draining away as much of the spirit from his cock as I could, feeling Jerry’s cock shrinking more and more in my mouth. He was shuddering and shaking, almost convulsing. Finally, I felt something…culminate. A huge load of spirit flooded my mouth, throwing me away from him, almost forcefully. I watched as the rest of his cock withered away to nearly nothing, just a nub, his sack just a loose flap of skin–no trace of his balls to be seen.

Jerry sat there, panting and shaking, probably finding it difficult to process what had just happened to him while he was sitting there. Then again, if I’d expected a blow job, only to have the cock sucked out of me, I’d probably have reacted the same way.

“What…what the fuck did you do?” he said, reaching down and feeling his little clit there, “I…my fucking cock! What the fuck did you do to my cock!”

I let off a belch, and then laughed at him, and I saw how angry he was getting–angry, but also terrified. I undid the front of my pants, and let my new cock flop out–all ten inches of it, and just grinned at him. “Looks like I know right where it ended up, Jerry.”

He got his first inkling then, I think, that I wasn’t really Dennis. Dennis–and pretty much everyone else–always called him Jer. I was the only one who called him Jerry–partly because he hated it. He looked at me, grinning at him, and his face went a bit white, and he bolted for the door–I didn’t let him get there though. Dennis was a big fellow, after all–six foot two, a bit over 300 pounds. He’d played football, and even though I didn’t have the knowledge, his body did–if that makes sense. I had him tackled to the ground and pinned under my sizable bulk in a few moments, enjoying the sensation of his squirming around under me.

“What’s wrong, Jerry? Didn’t think you’d have to talk to me again, did you? You fucking son of a bitch, you fucking kill me, and think you can just wash your hands of me? Well fuck you, you piece of shit. I’m gonna fuck you up real fucking good, just you fucking wait.”

Gripping him like I was…I wasn’t just holding his body down, I had my hands on his spirit too, sitting inside that shell there, and…and fuck, it was just…I could do anything to it, I realized. He didn’t even know it was in there, I don’t think–most people don’t have a clue. I could kill him. I could rip that soul out of him, shove it somewhere–maybe even into a literal piece of shit and flush him right down Dennis–but no–he needed to suffer. I wanted to ruin him. Ruin his body, ruin his mind, ruin his life…

I started tearing at Jerry’s clothes, ripping them away with a strength that surprised us both. Again, I had the distinct sensation that something was…helping me. Pushing me along a certain sort of path I could barely make out. I remembered how, earlier, I had accidentally pushed my way out of Dennis’s belly button, and when Jerry rolled over, and I saw his…well, I plunged my dick right into his gut before I’d even really wondered if I could or not. 

He gasped and groaned, but there was nothing he could do. I had him and his spirit impaled on my cock, and I started sliding in and out…and as I did…it almost felt like I was pissing. It wasn’t piss though, not really, but I as I fucked his gut, it started to grow–whatever I was putting inside him, it was inflating him rather dramatically–and fuck, seeing this slim fucker suddenly sprout this massive, hard, gut…fuck! I gave it a few slaps–it was heavy, but also…resonant. It was fat, certainly, but it didn’t feel quite like anything I had felt before. My cock was doing something else to him too…something hard to explain. I…I wanted to ruin him, and Jerry had always been so clean and neat, and…well, suddenly, he wasn’t. Hair sprouted all over his body, but especially all over his gut. His clean shaven face sported a thick, tangled beard. I could…smell him too. A thick, heady musk from all over him, as he started sweating. I pulled free, and he groped himself in horror, murmuring and groaning and grunting in confusion, barely able to roll over and get himself up on his hands and knees…and that’s when I saw my next target. Again, I don’t know what drew me there, but I saw his ear, and before I could really stop myself, I shoved my cock right inside his skull.

I couldn’t believe how easily it slid in. I also couldn’t quite believe it when I saw the head of my cock slide out the other ear, his entire head skewered on my cock…and he didn’t do anything. At all. Just stayed there, mouth agape and drooling, and I hauled my cock free, and watched him shake his head, eyes unfocused. “F-Fuck, what the fuck was…was that?” he said, a bit slow. With a leer, I gripped his head, shoved my cock back in, and gave Jerry the proper mindfuck he’d always needed, in my opinion.

Too smart for his own good. Too smart for anyone’s good really–I doubt that I was the first sucker that Jerry took for a mark. So I worked over his brains, really messed them up…and fuck, did it feel good! No sex like aural sex, if you know what I mean. Gets…real intimate, everything that you can feel. You see into them, every little bit of them, and they’re like putty. Make them forget whatever you want. Warp them around all of your little kinks and desires. And Jerry–well, Jerry was going to have a rather specific set of desires from now on, I can tell you that. He wants to make me happy–and he’s willing to do anything that I ask, if that’s what it takes. I came in his head–I don’t really know how it works, to be honest, but I came…and a bit of me seeped into him. I could…feel him, somehow. He was a part of me. I…owned him, body and soul. I was exhausted when I pulled my cock free from his ear, and his head only turned a little bit, mouth still hanging open, drooling, and when he saw my cock, he went right for it, slobbering all over it like he needed it more than anything, and fuck…I could feel it, on both sides somehow. It was fucking hot, I can tell you that, hot enough that I pushed him over, and gave him a real fuck in the ass–blowing even more fat into him in the process, but hey, he needed a a fat ass to counterbalance his massive gut, let’s be honest.

Jerry was much more compliant after that, and we sat in his office and had a bit of a discussion, about how things were going to work around this restaurant from now on. Jerry would, of course, sign all rights over to Dennis–me, naturally. He knew that what he’d been doing was wrong, and he felt oh so bad about it now that I’d fucked his head up, and he was so grateful when I offered him a job, so he’d be able to pay me back for all of the trouble he caused me.

The restaurant didn’t quite open back up on schedule. I had to take about a week to reverse all of the stupid, gimmicky changes that Jerry had planned for the “re-opening” and when the doors did open, everyone was welcomed into the same cozy space I’d always loved. Several regulars, in expressing their regret in my passing, told Dennis that the food was just as beautiful as when I’d been cooking it myself. I wanted to tell a few of them the truth…and maybe another day I will. Being a new person is…surprisingly nice, once you get the hang of it.

And so, here we are. Me, in the kitchen. Jerry in the back, washing dishes every night, which is the only job he can do without fucking up everything. Once the doors close, Jerry is more than happy to take a load from my cock, rubbing his own little clit–though he has no balls anymore to cum himself. The only time he gets off is when I fuck him–and he only gets that when he’s a very good boy. After that, he gets to work cleaning the bathrooms. He has a very special relationship with one particular toilet, you see–he’s the only one who can clean it. Dennis requires special care, after all, and Jerry is more than happy to give him a tongue bath, from top to bottom, every evening. Dennis has settled into his role rather well. He’s ebbing a bit, or maybe solidifying is a better word. After all, souls aren’t really meant to live inside inanimate objects like that–he shouldn’t really exist, and so, he’s changing somehow. I can sense it, but don’t really know what to make of it. I’m changing too, I’ve noticed. Something is…happening, but it’s a bit hard to explain. There’s still that whisper, you see–but following it’s nudges worked out well for me so far, so I…trust it, I suppose. I’m alive again, and that’s what counts–and I’m not going to let go of my second chance for anything–dead or alive.

Ethan’s Birthday (Part 5)

The rest of the men all gave off a series of grunts, lows and barks in agreement, and Wes stepped away from Ethan, letting him get a better look at himself in the mirrored wall on one side of his bedroom. The horse behind him was still fucked him rough, but the cock was no longer struggling to fit inside him. Ethan could…feel it. Hell, he could see it, when the horse drove in deep, the tip pushing against the inside of his belly. He couldn’t see any flesh remaining on him anywhere–his entire body, inside and out, was coated in the same orange rubber as the mask itself. Wes came closer to add one final touch–he squeezed a big handful of rubber into his hands and slopped it over Ethan’s lower back, pulling and shaping it into a thick fox tail. He gave it a tug, and Ethan let out a surprised mew–he could feel it, suddenly, swish it back and forth, and it felt…right. He felt right.

“Yes, looking good, though you’re still a little…big, I think,” Wes said, laid his hands on Ethan, and he felt the rubber contract, pulling tighter and shrinking, his frame shrinking until he was nearly a foot shorter, just barely cresting five feet tall, and the massive horse leaned over him, grabbed him, and picked him up in his hooved hands, fucking him roughly on his massive cock in the air, Ethan feeling it sliding the entire length of his body to the middle of his chest, his own puny fox cock dribbling its own rubber cum onto the floor. “Better–much better…but you know? I just don’t buy it, you know? Such a slutty fox, and only two holes to use. We can do better than that, can’t we?”

Wes stepped up and started rubbing Ethan’s tight rubber ballsack in his hand, and then started pushing it up against his body. He could feel them shrinking and collapsing in on themselves–it was painful, but also so…delightful, feeling his body manipulated while this horse impaled him. Wes pushed two fingers in, carving out a little indentation below the fox’s puny cock, and then widened it, his balls now gone entirely, a narrow slit replacing them, and Wes pushed in deeper still.

“Yeah, how about that? Now you have a little slutty pussy to go with that tiny little cock of yours. Hey Rover–get over here–let’s put that big red bone of yours to work on this slut’s newest hole.”

The bright red pup bounded over, eager at last for some attention. The horse sat on the side of the bed, and Rover rammed his knot into Ethan’s new pussy, the two cocks meeting in the middle, inside of him, and wave after wave of pleasure washed over Ethan, his body and his mind, pummeling him and his will into submission until at last, he felt a final orgasm over take him, his puny cock spraying a load of bright orange cum in a fountain between him and the dog, still fucking him quickly, and close to orgasm himself.

“Yes, I think you’ll do very nicely,” Wes said, pulling something out from his coat, something of black rubber, and sliding it over his head. It was a mask of his own, solid black with a white stripe running from the top of the forehead down the back. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and revealed a thick black member underneath, stroking it, watching the thick black ooze begin to slide over his body, the musk of him growing even more powerful as he changed, growing even larger than the horse, body thick with muscle and fat. He climbed up and forced the massive cock down the fox’s throat, and the three of them fucked his small frame, stretching and abusing him, and the rougher they were, the more pleasure he got from it. The heady musk in the room was working on all of them, reminding them that they were owned by their master, by this rubber skunk, that even when their bodies had returned to flesh, and even when the masks came off, none of them would be free souls ever again–none of them wanted to be free ever again.

For the next several hours, Ethan was pummelled from all sides, fucked by every animal multiple times, rainbows of rubber cum spewing from every hole he now had, until at last, exhausted, Wes allowed them all to begin to change back. All of them except for Ethan, at least. He remained in his fox form, mewing and growling softly, one hand toying with his tiny cock, while the other sliding into his new pussy, amazed by how sensitive it is. Wes allowed his other animals, now back in their masks, to return to the party, leaving him and Ethan alone. “Now, as for your birthday present, I happen to have a friend with a kennel full of dogs–all of them studs. How would my little fox like to spend the night with them, getting his little pussy filled with the real doggy cum?”

Ethan tried to say something, tried to do anything at all, but at a touch, the rubber coating him had solidified, and was shrinking further, until he was small enough to slip into a pocket–which Wes did, taking his leave. He’d return Ethan home in the morning–probably–if the little fox hadn’t been so mindfucked by the end of his very special birthday to remember he’d ever even been human at all.

Ethan’s Birthday (Part 4)

“Now, how about something a bit more challenging for you?” Wes asked, and beckoned the man wearing the yellow horse mask, with the massive equine cock hanging between his thighs, over to him, and Wes started stroking it, the man giving a whiney of excitement as the rubber began to extend and grow over the rest of his body–though something else was happening too. The rubber wasn’t just covering him, the man was growing taller, and wider. The rubber seemed to be going on thick, adding to the man’s already muscular frame, until he was standing in beside him, over seven feet tall, built like a hard working draft horse, thighs almost as thick as Ethan’s waist…and the cock. It was no horse cock, not anymore. No, it was the horse cock of horse cocks. Two feet long, thicker than most men’s thighs. Ethan stared at it in some confused daze of lust and horror, not quite sure what to make of the thing at all.

“You want it in you, don’t you, you little, slutty fox,” Wes whispered into his ear.

“I…I can’t take that. No one can take that.”

“No one?” Wes said with a laugh. “Show ‘em piggy.”

With an excited grunt, the pig bent over, ass towards the horse, and he clomped over on his now hooved feet. He had to squat slightly to get is cock lined up with the shorter pig’s hole, but he pressed the head to the pink opening, and it simply slid into the pig’s hole without a single moment of resistance. It didn’t look like he was fucking an ass at all–just a toy like a fleshlight, though from the look on his face, the pig was enjoying the fuck greatly. The horse slid all the way in, up to the hilt, and them slipped back out, the cock coming free with a pop, the pig’s ass closing up perfectly like nothing had been inside it a moment before.

“He didn’t seem to have any problem with it, did he?”

Ethan started clawing at the rubber again. It was impossible. All of this was impossible, but Wes shoved him against the wall, leaning in close, and Ethan was suddenly aware of how…small he seemed, compared to the big bellied bear leaning into him. “Please…I don’t…”

“No, you do,” Wes said, leaning in and kissing him on the lips of the mask, and Ethan felt it, smelled his breath, smelled the cigar and the whiskey he must have had earlier. His cock was aching now, not inside the rubber, but as the rubber. It was hard, and horny, and he could feel it warping his mind, and his perspective, especially once Wes started rubbing it while he kept kissing him. He did want it. He wanted to know…what that felt like, but the only way that could be possible was if…if that pig was more rubber than he was human. But if that was true…then how could he possibly change back? Did…did he want to change back, really? Had he ever felt this much pleasure in his life, even at the greatest highs he’d experienced? No, this was new. This was something better, and as strange and terrifying as it was, he knew that if he backed out now, he would spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he’d just said–

“Yes…Yes, I want it in me, all the fucking way.”

“Well, we’d better make sure you have protection. I wouldn’t want my cute little slutty fox getting hurt, now, would I?” Wes asked with a grin, his hand shoving some of the rubber coating Ethan around to his ass, his thick fingers shoving it between his cheeks, where he could feel it sticking to them. “Such a nice hole you have–still, there’s room for improvement everywhere, don’t you think?”

One finger slipped into his hole, and then another. Wes pulled his hand out, spun Ethan around so he was facing the wall, and pushed him up against it, telling his ox to come over. He milked more of that strange, clear goo into the palm of his hand, coating it, and then went back to fingering Ethan’s hole, working the substance into him, watching it change to a bright orange and slip inside of him until he could slide his entire fist in without any resistance at all. Ethan just kept rubbing his tiny cock, but now, it was no longer the most sensitive thing about him–no, his ass was nearly bringing him to his knees. Everytime it stretched to let Wes’s fist inside, there was no trace of pain, just the most delightful stretching sensation he’d ever known, something he didn’t even have words to describe.

“Alright, I think he’s good and ready. Have your way with him–and make sure it’s a good rough fuck, just the way he likes it.”

The horse came behind him, pushed the head against the entrance to Ethan’s now rubberized hole, and forced it inside of him with a thrust, the cock sliding almost a foot into him before it hit a moment of resistance, making Ethan moan in pain. The horse didn’t stop though–it just kept fucking into him, driving in a bit deeper each time, panting and huffing, gripping Ethan’s hips hard enough that he was certain he would bruise. All the while, Wes just kept milking his ox, smearing more and more rubber onto Ethan’s frame, feeding it to him off his hands, shoving it down his throat, Ethan feeling it stretch with the same delightful pleasure as his new ass–and he imagined that after everything he’d swallowed from the pig earlier, the horse would have no problem fucking his throat either. Wes didn’t wait for the horse though–he simply slid his entire hand into Ethan’s snout, and he felt his jaw stretch around the entire fist as it wormed down into his throat, the only thing he could see was Wes’ thick, hairy forearm pushing deeper and deeper into him, before sliding back out again. “F-Fuck, never…had my throat fisted before,” Ethan said, or tried to say, but all that came out of his mouth was a high pitched mewing, almost like something between a moan and a sigh.

“Yeah, don’t worry about talking little fox–none of my toys need to talk while they’re playing, right toys?”

Ethan’s Birthday (Part 1)

Ethan could cope with most things, but if there was one thing that absolutely chafed him, it was missing out. Missing out on a party, missing out on the newest gear, missing out on the hottest clubs and the best shows. So Ethan had resolved to simply make sure that everything of any consequence happened around him–preferably at his place. The reputation of his parties, in particular, were already legendary, but if you were anyone, you made sure not to miss his birthday parties, especially if strange, kinky sex was your thing. For Ethan, that was one of the things he hated missing out on the most.

But this year, he found himself in a huff. He most certainly had missed out on something, and to make matters worse, people were here, at his party, flaunting it in his face. It was these masks. Now, Ethan had a thing for masks–particularly animal masks, and even more particularly sexy animal masks. But these…well, he’d honestly never quite seen anything like these before. He had seen four of them so far–a pig, a horse, a bull, and a pup, and usually with masks of this sort, you either had something thick and clunky, but which appeared lifelike, or you had something contoured to your face that lost the realism, but allowed a bit more…interaction. These though–someone somewhere had discovered how to bridge the gap, and never had Ethan been so envious in all his life.

Five feet away, the man in the pig mask was laughing. Laughing! With a mask on! The mouth opening like a real jaw, and he’d ever heard his snorting in it. Pigs were not particularly Ethan’s preference, but it didn’t matter. He wanted one, but he was too embarrassed at not knowing about them to dare go up to a stranger and ask where he’d gotten them.

And so he was miserable, mired in jealousy at his own party, desperately attempting to appear to be having as much fun as possible to try and cover up the fact that all he really wanted for his birthday was something no one had thought to give him–or so he’d thought. “Hello–you must be the birthday boy, is that right?” Ethan turned, and found an imposing fellow standing behind him, a couple inches taller than six feet, with broad shoulders, a hefty, hairy gut, wearing black jeans and a rubber vest, black, with a white stripe running down the back, mirroring his beard. He had on a small, black masquerade mask covering the upper half of his face, allowing a thick black beard to spill out below, with a bright white stripe running down the center. Ethan didn’t know him–but that wasn’t surprising. His parties usually attracted daisy chains of plus ones.

“Yes, uh, hi–that’s right,” Ethan said, the man shaking his hand, Ethan’s rather petite fingers engulfed in the stranger’s sizable palm.

“My name’s Wes. This is quite the party, I must say. However, I wanted to give you my gift before things got too…rowdy in here,” the man said, and handed Ethan a flat box, wrapped in black paper and a white bow. “I think you’ll enjoy it, given the sort of things I’ve heard about you.”

Ethan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but couldn’t resist the gift, even if it was certain to be something he had at least three of in his collection. He popped open the lid, and gasped. Inside was a bright orange rubber mask. He picked it up and held it in his hands, examining it, the sharp pointed snout, black whiskers and pointy ears.

It was the same as the ones he had been envying all night. But for him–and it was a fox, his favorite. “How…how did you know?” he said, looking up at Wes, “I mean, thank you! I…to be honest, I’ve been seeing these all night, and wanting one for myself, but…what are they? Who makes them?”

“Oh, well, I do,” Wes said. “Custom made–I have quite the waiting list, actually, but I’ve heard that having you in one would do wonders for my exposure, so I thought, why not?” He looked around, “I…may have invited a few of my other clients around, as you have apparently seen. Nothing wrong with drumming up a little business, right?”

Ethan didn’t care. It was his. He found the hole in the bottom, made sure he had it facing forward, lest he make a fool of himself, and pulled it over his head. Wes helped him get it situated, feeling the rubber molding tight to his face, and he hurried over to a mirror hanging on the wall to see for himself, Wes following behind, smiling. It was…amazing. Ethan opened and closed his mouth a few times, watching the rubber follow his jaw movements perfectly. He could even wiggle the ears by wiggling his own ears and scalp. “It’s…wow, this is so generous, thank you so much,” he said. Wes came up behind him, and placed his rubber gloved hand on the back of Ethan’s head, rubbing the rubber there, and he felt the younger man shiver slightly.

“I chose well. It looks very good on you, I must say.”

Wes kept rubbing, slowly, and Ethan grinned, the rubber fox face in the mirror smiling with him. “You want to be a good little fox boy, don’t you?”

Ethan nodded. The man wasn’t necessarily his type, but the gift was generous, and the way he was rubbing his head…he did want to be a good little fox for him, actually.

“I did have one other small request. Now that I have the five of you together, I was wondering if we could get a group photo. You know, for publicity. Do you know where the six of us could get a little privacy for a while?”

“Y-Yes sir,” Ethan said, “We can all use my room. It should be big enough.”

“Good boy. Wait here while I round them up–it’ll just be a moment.”

The Fetish Gun is Loose! (Part 6) [Interactive]

Well it looks like we have a power struggle! The votes (on both polls!) were tied between Rick and the bouncer, so we’re going to have a little skirmish between the two and see what happens.


The bouncer, named Parker, hadn’t been able to believe what he’d seen happening in the bar over there. Some chubby guy, on the younger side, wearing a diaper, and some older, much filthier old man, also wearing a diaper of his own–though his was much fuller and sagging around his waist–on his hands and knees, sucking the young man off. Parker had no interest in letting play like that happen here in this bar–but as he went over to eject them both, something strange happened. The young man saw him coming, held up a strange looking gun, and before Parker could try and dodge it, it fired a yellow ray of light that engulfed him…and when it faded, he felt…decidedly differently about what he was seeing than he had before.

He walked over, taking the flogger from his belt (a flogger he both knew he always carried with him in the bar for fun like this, but which he also couldn’t ever remember having in his life) and started laying into the old faggot’s back with it, laughing as he moaned and cringed in pain–but he deserved it. Anthony was such a fucking pig slut–Parker had beaten him multiple times before, always with Rick’s blessing of course. Anthony’s son had some…strange tastes in play, but Parker wasn’t going to question it, so long as he got to hurt someone. After beating him for a few minutes, Rick shot Parker again, and a whole new set of ideas filled his head–disgusting, wonderful ideas.

He hauled down Anthony’s full diaper and started fisting the old man’s shitty hole, Parker’s own cock throbbing in the front of his own filthy, leather pants. Part of his was still reeling, however, and he looked at the gun Rick was holding. Everytime he shot him with that thing…something changed. About him, about what he wanted. Rick kept fucking his father’s face while Parker fisted him, leering at him. “Fuck, look at you, you nasty piece of work. Can’t decide if I want to keep you as some fucking bruiser, or turn you into my diaper for a few days–or maybe you’d rather be my dad’s diaper–he could use a new one at this point.”

One thing was for sure, and that was that Parker had no intention of doing what anyone else wanted him to do. He was in charge! He hauled his fist out and lunged for the gun, grabbing hold of the barrel before Rick could fire it at him. They fell to the ground, fighting for it, the dial spinning around in their hands.

((Gun fires randomly! Setting C [objectification]))

Rick thought he had Parker in his sights, but he hadn’t realized the dial had spun to setting C, objectification. He fired a bit wildly, and hit Parker in his biker boot–it glowed for a moment, but did nothing else. Confused, he went to fire it again, but Parker shoved the barrel to the side, and the beam struck Anthony instead. They both watched as he moaned, and shrank in on himself, the ray not dissipating until all that remained where Anthony had been was a filthy looking boot, lying on the ground.

“That was my daddy, you fucker!” Rick shouted, trying to wrench the gun away from Parker once and for all, and they kept fighting, the dial getting spun around once more.

((gun fires randomly! Setting E [absorption]))

Parker, however, had both height, and strength on him, and at last, he hauled the gun away from Rick, turned it around, and shot him, not realizing that the gun was on setting E, absorption. He held it down, and then released it–both of them confused that Rick hadn’t seemed to have changed at all. He fired again, holding it down longer, but he didn’t realize that the one changing wasn’t just Rick–but them both. Rick charged him then, and the gun got knocked from Parker’s hands, but he was…confused. The aggression, the filth, the sadism–it felt like it was draining from his mind, the more they fought, but more than that. He’d been…big before, but suddenly, Rick was…monstrous. A huge, leather clad, heavy bearded beast, who pinned him to the ground and sent his head reeling with a punch to the face.

Rick stood up, amazed at how…good that had felt. Then he looked down at himself, and then down at the gun, and realized why–he had been absorbing all of the fetishes and changes he’d put into Parker while they’d been fighting. He wasn’t complaining though–but he was angry at what he’d done to his Pa, turning him into a boot like that–though he was a sexy boot for sure. In fact, so sexy, he could use a friend.

Rick turned the dial around to C, and fired at Anthony, and then turned the gun at Parker, trying to stand, blood flowing from his nose, and shot him with the gun, until he was a perfect match to Anthony–both of them new boots for Rick to wear for the rest of the evening, while he had some more fun around here, with his toy. He stepped out of his old shit kickers and into his new ones, and grinned. They felt real nice–Parker especially. He might let his dad change back in a bit, but Parker–Parker might be staying as his boot for a good long time.

He was still fucking horny though–he’d have to find someone else to play with, until his Pa changed back.


What happens with Rick and the gun next?

  1. He decides to make himself some more clothes from the people around him.
  2. The gun sustained some damage during the fight, and releases a few random bursts of power before returning to normal.
  3. Davie confronts him, gets the gun away, and uses it on Rick.
  4. Anthony and Parker both change back, but now, Parker is Anthony’s identical twin brother–the gun copied everything when it shot Anthony as a boot.

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Voting ends on Thursday!

What Would I Do To You? #4 (Leatherhead)

I’m currently open for flash commissions like this one! For more details, check out this post, or send me a message!


Sure, maybe it was a bit early in our relationship for kinky gifts, but you see how eager I am when you pull the thing out of the box…though you don’t know what you are looking at. It looks a bit like a leather bag of some sort, but it is stitched in the strangest pattern, so that it looks almost lumpy. You ask me what it is, and I tell you it’s a sheath–it’s meant to go over your cock and balls–I tell you it feels amazing, and you give me an incredulous look.

It isn’t like you haven’t worn leather before. In fact, you quite like it, but this seems a bit ridiculous. You don’t want to seem ungrateful though, so you agree to try it on. The leather, when you first felt it in your hand, seemed kind of thick–but when you pulled it over the head of your cock, it was surprisingly supple instead, and the sensation of the leather against the head made you get erect almost immediately. You didn’t know what kind of leather it was made from, but it had quite a bit of stretch to it. It took both of us to get it in place around both your cock and balls, and then pull the drawstring running through the base tight–I knotted the cord around it again, which only made you harder, and then gave you a teasing stroke.

You shuddered, hard, which was sexy as hell. Much to your surprise, it felt way more intense with the sheath on, and I kept stroking while you laid back on the bed, moaning, and let me do all the work. I climbed over you, and lowered myself onto your sheathed cock, and you nearly came from the dual sensation of your leathered cock in my hole. I knew how to keep you on the edge though, and rode you for a good twenty minutes, before you finally exploded.

You apologized, certain that the sheath would be a mess when it came out…but when I got off…the sheath wasn’t there. It was just your cock–or a cock, at least. It wasn’t the cock you’d had before, that much was for sure. It was big–easily nine inches, even though it was a bit soft, with a thick foreskin, and balls the size of oranges. You inspected them–they weren’t the right color–they looked like the same light brown the leather sheath had been, but it was skin. You could see veins and hairs…and when you asked what had happened to it, I just smiled at you, and told you that I hoped you liked your present.

You certainly played with it often enough, after that. I would catch you jacking off, even when you weren’t thinking about it. It just demanded attention. You got used to the rough surface eventually, how leathery your dick skin felt, how much more sensitive it had become. You even forgot about the sheath after a day or two–this, in your mind, was the cock you had always had. That didn’t make you any less uneasy when I brought over a much larger gift the next week–an entire set of leather gear. There was a harness, a pair of gloves, a pair of biker boots, and some shorts. But with one hand on your new cock, it was easy enough to coax you into the gear, and as soon as it was on you, it was like you became a different person.

The harness made your whole body feel alive, the straps biting into your flesh, digging in, becoming a part of you. The gloves felt just like the sheath had on your cock–you could feel…everything with them, and they knew things too. How to spank my ass just right to make me cry out, how to choke me while you fucked me, how to use the flogger I shoved into your hand, your cum dribbling down the inside of my legs as you whipped me, and you came again, just from that. It was so intense–you could almost feel every strike you laid on me, against your own back as well. By the time we had finished, the leather gear had melded with your body, just like the sheath had–but the effects manifested over the next several days.

You grew constantly. I had to keep you fed all the time, because of how much mass you were putting on, until you were six and a half feet tall, full of muscle, with hair growing everywhere on your leather brown body. Your feet were massive now, size twenties, just like the boots I had given you. Everywhere you went, you would catch the constant scent of leather wafting from your body, and everytime you did, you got rock hard. If we were alone, you would fuck me, but if you were at work or in public, you would have to find some excuse to slip away to the restroom and jack off. You were so happy–you took every chance you could find to thank me for these gifts–but when I told you I still had one more to give you…you got quiet, and a bit hesitant.

I pulled you into the bedroom, and showed you the hood I had saved for last. It laced up the back, but didn’t have any holes for your eyes or mouth that you could see. You tried to tell me you were fine–that this was good enough, but when I ordered you to put the hood on–your leathery hand obeyed me, not your mind. You fought hard, as best you could, but your body wasn’t yours now–not really. It belonged to the leather, and the leather belonged to me. You pulled the hood on over your face, and I laced it tight against the back of your head. You couldn’t breathe, everything smelled of leather, and…and you were so horny, nothing else seemed to matter.

You found your way to my hole and fucked me, rougher than before, as the hood tightened around your face. I flipped over so I could watch the hood do its work, flattening the features of your head until it was nearly flat–just an anonymous leatherhead, on top of a hulking, hairy, dominant frame–just the kind of man I’d wanted you to be. Well, not really a man, I suppose, because you don’t do much in the way of anything human anymore. You live in my closet now, when I’m not using you, one leathery hand always milking your cock–but you can’t cum that way anymore–you can only cum inside me. When I get home and let you out, you do everything I want you to do to me–beat me, choke me, rape me–but we both know that I’m the one who’s really in control. You’re just a leatherhead, after all, and that’s all you’ll ever be.