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.

Here’s the twitter poll

Here’s the patron only poll

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.

The Carnival (Part 6) [Interactive]

They couldn’t see, they couldn’t move–trapped within layers and layers of rubber, Jake and Will could only feel the vibration of the conveyor underneath them roll them into the jaws of the factory’s machine. Inside, the heat was unbearable, but it was enough to loosen the goo enough that they could almost move–though not fast enough. Jake and Will were sorted into separate production lines, sliding down chutes into their own nightmarish horrors neither of them could have begun to imagine, and which neither of them could really remember, after the fact. Just a constant sensation of pushing and stretching, the rubber goo coating them sliding into them, inflating them, changing them, warping them into something else entirely–not entirely flesh, but not entirely rubber either. Then, tools appeared, drilling and stretching, tugging and squeezing, and both Will and Jake felt something else–the rubber wasn’t only sliding into their bodies, but also into their minds. Their thoughts slowed down, became simpler. They weren’t people anymore–not even to themselves. They were…things, of a sort. Things meant for particular purposes, designed for specific tasks and desires–and everything else, beyond that, was melted smooth, filled in by the silicone and latex of the machine.

At last, both of them were trundled out at the other end, each emerging from a separate chute, sliding down and landing in a concrete, similar to a loading dock. They struggled with their corrupted minds, trying to remember who they were, trying to recall their humanity, and largely failing. If there had been a mirror nearby, they would have been able to see that their physical humanity had largely been corrupted away–neither of them knew what to make of themselves, of the new sensations their bodies were experiencing, which their simple minds couldn’t describe. However, they saw one another, lying there, and something inside them…knew they needed one another.

Will could see Jake lumbering towards him–or at least, parts of him looked a bit like Jake. The hair, the forehead, the stance…but whatever Jake had become…he was something else now. Something monstrous. It was his tongue that drew his attention most. It hung from his mouth, thick and tentacle-like, the end searching in the air, hunting for a hole–just like Jake’s cocks. There were now four of them, jutting out from his crotch, and two massive balls swinging below against his thighs. Everything about him seemed so slick–the saliva coating his tongue seemed the consistancy of lube, as did the precum dribbling from all four of his cocks–each a different shape, though they were all massive.

Jake, on the other hand, saw Will rolling around of the floor, struggling to get upright–mostly because his body was…so much larger. At first he thought it was fat…but it didn’t quite seem to…shake right, as he wobbled on the ground–or rather, it seemed to shake too much. It also didn’t fold, like most fat bodies did–it had too many channels lining it, and as Jake’s cocks found them, they could feel how his entire body was ribbed and channeled, almost like it was meant to be…fucked. Then Jake found the holes–so many holes all over his body, and slid into him, exploring him, listening to the fuckable, living, silicone blob below him quiver with need, and moan–at least until Jake’s thick tongue found his throat, and slid down his gullet, choking him for a moment, until Will realized he could…breathe through all of his holes, somehow.

This continued for a few moments, until someone emerged from the shadows, and both of them froze solid, unable to move their metated bodies an inch, as they were loaded into a massive crate–still locked together in sex–and rolled into a truck, to be shipped off to who knew where, in the morning.


Meanwhile, somewhere else in the underground maze, Daniel was…struggling. He’d imagined that a mirror maze would be the simplest way out of this strange fun house, but it felt like he hadn’t made any progress at all…and these mirrors. He didn’t think these were normal–well, of course they weren’t normal, they were meant to distort, after all…but his reflections almost seemed…alive, somehow, inside of them.

Thus far, he’d managed to keep himself from running into anything like an idiot, but then he ran right smack into a mirrored wall–cheek to cheek with his reflection…only, it wasn’t exactly a reflection he recognized. It was him, sure, but the beard was something different, and the look in his eyes. He tried to pull away, but the glass clung to him, almost like there was suction between him and the glass–like it was trying to pull him inside, the other him clawing at the glass, through the glass, trying to reach him and pull him in.

He managed, finally, to tug himself away from it, and nearly stumbled into another one–like the first, the reflection was odd, and it didn’t seem to follow him perfectly. It was trying to get to him, trying to draw him closer, so it could pull him in too. Disturbed, and not at all certain if this was real, or just his paranoia playing tricks on him, he called out for Jake and Will, but the shouts just echoed around the mirrors, sounding like laughter as they died away. He proceeded carefully, and the reflections grew more animated, more desperate, shouting for him on the other side of the glass, and they grew more distorted and grotesque, the deeper he went.

Fat versions of himself, muscular ones, ones in leather and ones with tattoos. Filthy versions lying in mud–so many possibilities, and they all desired him most of all. They all wanted to become him, and claim his real life for their own. He saw the exit sign ahead, and rushed for it without thinking, and when he entered, a mirrored door slammed shut behind him, trapping him in a room of mirrors, every version of himself clamoring for him–and the walls began to close in. He didn’t have time to try and find the exit–he just turned and rushed for the nearest possible opening, and slammed into another mirror–but this time he couldn’t escape. The reflection’s hands grabbed him and sucked him into the mirror, the two of them melding together, until it shattered, and a very different Daniel was left on the ground–and the real Daniel could be seen screaming in the shards of glass scattered across the floor.


So, what sort of reflection has taken Daniel’s place in the world, and left him shattered to pieces?

  1. An evil twin, eager to dominate and corrupt other people in the world.
  2. A physical opposite–old, obese, filthy, lecherous, and very horny.
  3. Several twins escaped, all of them reflecting different lifestyles Daniel could have lived.

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Polls close in two days!

Muse of Fantasy II – Reconciliation (Part 6)

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He…he knew who it was. It was a person, it was someone he knew, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t a person anymore. No–it was was in his domain now, it was his. He walked towards it and ran his heavy gloves over the thing’s face, pushing his fingers into its facehole, the flesh inside shivering and quaking at his touch, eager and hungry for his cock, to serve him, but more than anything else, to be abused and used and broken down to nothing. He gripped the thing’s head in his hands, forcefully, and pressed the massive rubber shaft to its hole. It struggled and resisted–it couldn’t help itself, the flesh inside wasn’t as cooperative as it desired to be, but Ed applied steady, constant pressure. It would relent–it always did, in the end. He would have his way with the thing, whatever the thing inside might be feeling was of no concern to either of them.

Oliver, lost to Ed in his mask, knelt down beside the chained Will, listening to him gag and choke helplessly as Ed drove the massive, foot and a half long rubber shaft into his gullet. His jaw was about to dislodge, he couldn’t breathe, and Will was beginning to wonder, seriously, if this might be where he die. “Now now,” Oliver said, stroking Will’s cheek with one hand, “There’s no death here–but there is change. Change is always a death of a sort, you know. But you have to give something up to change, Will. We both know that this is what you desire most–but that pesky flesh inside of you is going to have to yield, if you’re going to get what you want most.”

Oliver kept stroking his cheek, and he felt it–the jaw dropped, noticeably–but there was no pop. Instead, it simply stretched and warped, the bones of Will’s mouth turning to rubber, his throat and mouth no longer flesh, but simply a rubber channel leading into his body. With the resistance gone, Ed drove his massive rubber cock into Will, to the base, grinding the rubber of his overalls against him, before sliding back out, and driving in, quicker this time.

“See? Isn’t that better? Isn’t that what you want?” Oliver said. Will shivered in pleasure as Ed’s massive shaft drove into him again, the sensations of his now rubber throat driving him to new heights of pleasure he’d never imagined possible. “All it takes is a little imagination, and a willingness to let go. Let go of yourself, of that pesky humanity. You don’t need it anymore–you don’t need it to give him pleasure, you don’t need it to serve him as his slave. It will only hold you back, if you keep it.”

Will could feel his mind slowing, his thoughts turning to rubbery muck, but that was alright–he didn’t need to think. He just needed to exist. Anything beyond that, all higher order thought, would simply be a nuisance. It was so much better to just focus on feeling, and sensation–on pleasure. Oliver pushed Will over, the chains slackening enough that he fell forward, caught with his ass up. Ed stared at him, confused for a moment, and then stopped around behind Will and began his work on the gimps ass. This hole relented easier–Will already knew what he needed to do, now–release the flesh, allow it to become rubber, allow the rubber to invade him, worm it’s way around the fleshy core that remained of him. He could no longer exist without it, he realized–he was no longer even a person, just a thing. Whatever human chunks of him remained were trapped within a shell that would never allow them to be free again. Ed could feel the pleasure building in his cock and balls, churning and growing until in a massive gush he poured his seed, inky black and slick, into Will’s ass, the rubber channel overflowing quickly, most of it spilling out onto the ground below them both, the dungeon shrinking away from them both until they were back in the kitchen, both now warped beyond any recognition, their minds overwhelmed with the pleasures of their forms, leaving Oliver a moment to appraise them.

Yes, they were good–but was it enough to please his god? No–they could go further than this, he could push himself further than this. Besides, they were missing life. They had no context. What would he do, lock them both up in a dungeon, where no one would behold them? No–they needed to live. He walked up, to where Ed was still ramming his rubber cock into the drone’s hole. He tugged the hose hanging from his mask, and yanked it off of him, the clasps giving way, and Ed looked around the room, wide eyed and shocked, and then looked down at himself, at his rubber gear, and his cock buried deep into the thing’s ass, the pool of black goo he was standing in, and he staggered back, trying to pull off the gloves, the clothes, the cock–anything, but none of it would come away from his body. “No–what the fuck is this shit? Get it the fuck off me!”

“Now now, Ed–you don’t really want to take your gear off, do you? Not when you still have work to do?” Oliver said.

“Fuck you, this–this is fucking insane!”

“Now now, I can always put the mask back on, Ed. I can make sure it never comes off. You’ll be as much a rubber thing as that thing there, and you’ll never have another thought in your life. But that’s not what you want, is it? You want to go back to the country–back to the farm. Well I can make that happen, if you want.”