Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 12)

Sorry for the delay on this, Christmas week turned out to be a lot busier than I was planning.

WARNING: SCAT


Skip could do nothing as the genie twisted Jason’s words yet again:

“Please, I just wish we would get fuckin’ dumber!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer trap!” Skip said again, feeling a slight sense of deja vu as it happened, looked over at the genie, who snapped his fingers, and Skip could almost feel the thoughts in his head slow down to a crawl. “Fuck…I…Fuckin’ feels so…so fuckin’ good,” Skip said, and gave a great guffaw as he pounded deeper into his son’s hole, “Don’t it feel good boy?”

“Fuck, I…I didn’t mean tah, why, I…why’s it so hard tah think?” Jason said, his hole finally adjusting a bit to his daddy’s cock, and the pleasure started to overwhelm him a bit as well. “Fuck…feels…better Daddy, feels good havin’ ya inside me.”

Skip didn’t reply, he didn’t have the mental processing power to fuck and talk at the same time. He was just grunting and snorting behind him, driving in faster and harder until he exploded inside his boy’s guts, an even larger load than the one he’d shot in the restroom just a few minutes before this…but had he even been there really? Everything seemed like a dream to him all of a sudden, and his simpler mind couldn’t really comprehend what was happening to him. He pulled his cock free of his boy’s hole, suddering a bit, and whirled on the genie where he floating in the corner of the filthy bedroom, and stomped over to him. “I might not be the smartest fucker, but I can tell when someone’s fuckin’ with me. What the fuck are ya doin’? Yer messin’ with the shit we say, ain’t ya?”

“I can assure you, Skip, that I am fully within the bounds of the contract of my service to you, that you consented to when you made your first wish with me.”

“Contract? What fuckin’ contract?”

The genie waved in the air, and a thick document appeared in his hands, written on rather ancient parchment. He handed it to Skip, who stared at it for a few moments, and shook his head. “I can’t read fuckin Arab or whatever this is!”

“Oh, I gave you a copy in English, Skip,” the genie said.

Skip stared at it again, and realized that his son’s wish had made him illiterate on top of everything else. He threw the document in the genie’s face, who made it disappear again before it got anywhere close to him. “Fuck you, I want ya tah change us back!”

“I only accept requests in the form of a wish,” the genie said, shrugging and smiling at Skip, who scowled at him, and turned back to where his son was lying on the bed, sweaty, fat stinking, trying to sort his own thoughts out. 

“Come on son, we gotta figure this out. If we put our heads together, we can figure out a wish that’ll fix this.”

Skip concentrated–or at least he tried to concentrate. His face turned a bit red, and just as a thought was coming to him, a loud fart escaped his ass, and distracted him. Jason thought that was a hoot, and laughed on the bed, his dad cracking a grin as he did. “Oh ya liked that, huh? Ya like yer dad’s smelly farts?”

“Fuck no Pa! Yers are the worst!”

Skip lifted a leg, gave it a shake, and let another one loose in Jason’s direction, before climbing up on his boy, already feeling a bit horny again, his worries about the genie pushed to the back of his mind where they disappeared.

“Fuck Pa! Git offa me,” Jason said, “I can’t breathe with yer stink in the damn air everywhere.”

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya as horny as hell.”

Too late, he realized he’d just made a wish. The genie twisted things around, and what came out the second time chilled Skip to the bone:

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya hungry as hell fer shit.”

Skip saw the swirl of color in his son’s eyes, and Jason liked his lips, his stomach growling. “Fuck Pa…ya…ya got a load fer yer toilet boy yet? Sure smells like ya do.”

Skip shook his head, and looked over at the genie, “Ya fucker! What the fuck?”

“Come on Pa, yer boy’s so damn hungry, feed me yer shit.”

“Fuck no, git a hold a yerself, that ain’t…I mean, we’re dirty fellas, but that’s just gross.”

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ me shit,” Jason said, as Skip looked at him in horror, and it only got worse after the genie twisted it:

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ on shit with me.”

Skip felt his stomach give a great big growl, and the smell of his farts on the air was…enticing. “Fuck…fuck, you sick son of a bitch…”

“Come on Pa, feed yer dirty fuckin’ pig boy.”

Unable to stop himself, Skip got on the bed, squatting over his son’s face, and bore down, licking his own lips as he did, smelling his own shit, hoping his boy saved him some…but then, his boy loved feeding him too…didn’t he? Yeah, of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

***

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of an alarm on one of their phones, still in the pocket of their pants, and Skip and Jason untangled their filthy bodies from one another, still in the bed. Shit was…everywhere, but then, when wasn’t it, when they got down to business? “Fuck boy, we’re gonna be late fer fuckin’ work,” Skip said, checking the clock on his phone. Gotta…gotta make ourselves a least a bit…presentable…”

Skip went into the bathroom to wipe some of the worst shit off his face, and Jason rolled out of bed, licking the dried shit off his lips. “Fuck Pa, I don’t wanna go tah work.”

“Gotta pay the bills son, come on.”

The genie was still there in the corner of the room, and that was when Jason had the idea. A great idea. An idea that could fix everything, right?”

“I wish we got paid just tah eat shit.”

The genie’s smile grew wider than Jason had ever seen it:

“I wish we got paid just tah eat trucker’s shit ‘n piss.”

Skip didn’t hear his son’s wish over the running tap, and after they threw on some clothes, they got in the truck, and headed down the interstate to a little truckstop owned by a friend of Skips–one who understood the special sort of needs a father and son like this could have. There, they took up their place in the back of the trucker’s showers, ready to take whatever the trucker’s passing by wanted to give them–piss, shit, cum–they had no limits. They were infamous really, and they truckstop was always busy with all sorts of nasty fuckers off the interstates, but Skip and Jason were happy. They had a job perfect for a couple of illiterate, filthy shit-scarfing rednecks like them, and the genie left them there, certain they would manage well enough on their own from here on out.

Where did the genie go next? We’ll have to find out some other time–but needless to say, be careful what you wish for.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 11)

“I wish we were big, filthy rednecks!” Skip said, full of enthusiasm, but he realized, a moment after the words came out of his mouth, that they were not quite the words he had meant to say. “Wait, what? I–”

It was too late to take anything back though–the genie snapped his fingers, and both Skip and Jason shuddered as the changes swept through them, and both of them began to grow. Taller, first–neither of them had been very tall to begin with, Jason coming to around five foot ten, and Skip a couple inches shorter than that. Their bones swelled, and both of them were soon pushing six foot three, and the rest of their bodies were growing as well. Thick with muscle first, but it wasn’t long before a layer of fat started to cover that up. It was more pronounced on Skip, who was older. He ended up with a sizable beer gut hanging out over his waist, making him lean back a bit just to keep it well balanced. Jason had a gut of his own, but broader shoulders and hips to carry it a bit better, giving him the general shape of a barrel. 

The filth came next. Their uniforms went from relatively clean to looking like they hadn’t been washed in weeks–the fronts of both were covered in food stains, oil, dirt, grime, and who knew what else from all of their tasks around campus. Skip caught a whiff of himself and gagged a bit, before he found himself growing more accustomed to it. He swung around and looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, at the hair growing down the back of his head (he’d had a mullet ever since high school after all, and Skip wasn’t really one to change something that worked), the yellowed, crooked teeth (he’d never taken good care of them after all, and all the cigarettes he smoked had, well, his boy didn’t seem to mind the taste of his mouth at least) and the scraggly beard around the rest of his face (why cut it? It just grew back anyway!). He shook his head, pushing the rationalizations away as best he could, and looked over at his son, sweaty, his own bearded face covered with acne, smelling just about as rank as his father did in all honesty. “Fuck Pa, what the fuckin’ hell happened tah us?” Jason asked, looking down at himself, running his big, grimy hands over the front of his soiled uniform, “Why the hell’d ya make us a couple a filthy rednecks?”

“I didn’t, I mean, it ain’t what I wanted tah wish fer!” he said, and turned to the genie, “Ya’ve been fuckin’ with me, haven’t ya? Messin’ with what I was tryin’ ta say!”

The genie just shrugged, “My powers allow me a small amount of leeway, to ensure that my Master’s wishes are fulfilled in ways that are most amenable to reality, and to me.”

“Ya fuckin’ piece a shit, change us back right the fuck now!”

The genie smirked, “Would you care to phrase that as a wish, Master?”

Skip scowled at him, not really willing to risk it. He didn’t know how the genie was messing with him exactly, and so he couldn’t try and reverse this.

“Pa, who ya talkin’ to?” Jason asked, and Skip looked at his boy, wide eyed and a bit terrified, obviously, to see his father talking to air.

“Fuck, would ya just show ‘em?” Skip said, and the genie nodded, and appeared for Jason as well, who’s jaw just about dropped to the floor. “That’s…that’s how ya been doin’ it? There’s a fuckin’ genie! Fuck you, you…you fuck!”

“Now son, calm down,” Skip said, “We gotta think about this.”

“Fuck you! Genie, I fuckin’ wish this fucker had never run intah me!”

The genie smiled, and Jason felt the odd sensation of time running backwards, his words knitting themselves together into new patterns, and what came out instead was:

“I fuckin’ wish this fucker would always piss intah me.”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and snapped his fingers, both of their eyes clouding over for a moment.

“Get down on yer knees son, Daddy’s gotta piss after ya sucked the cum outta me,” he said, and Jason found himself unable to resist. He got down, took his Pa’s cock in his mouth, and Skip pissed right down Jason’s throat, while the genie just laughed and smiled at them both. When Skip was finished, Jason sprang back up, stormed over at the genie, tried to punch him, but his fist went right through him.

“Now now, Master, I can only grant you what you desire,” the genie said, and Jason punched at him again. 

“Fuck you, ya fuckin’, if I could hit ya, I’d…fuckin’ hell!”

“Jason! Calm down!” Skip said, but it was clear Jason wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon.

“I wish I was back tah normal!” Jason shouted at the genie, but again, the words twisted, and out came:

“I wish we was back home fuckin’!”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and with a snap, the smoke engulfed them both, and when it cleared a moment later, they weren’t in the bathroom anymore–they were home. Or rather, they were in the single wide trailer the two of them now called home. The place was a sty, with dirty laundry, empty take out bags and containers, and beer cans strewn about everywhere. They were in the bedroom, Jason on the bed, naked, his father behind him, and without any warning, Skip found his cock thrust into his son’s hole, making Jason holler in pain.

“Fuckin’ shut up, you dumb fuckin’ shithead!” Skip shouted at him, unable to stop his body from forcing his cock in deeper. 

“Fuck it fuckin’ hurts! Stop!”

“I can’t stop boy! It’s what ya fuckin’ wished for!”

“But it fuckin’ hurts!”

“Take it like a fuckin’ man, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Jason started blubbering a bit, and even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good, he said, “Please, I just wish you would stop fuckin’ me!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer damn trap!” Skip said, but it was too late–the genie was already warping his next wish, and giving Jason exactly what he asked for next.


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Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 10)

Time flowed forward again, and Skip’s wish came out a bit differently this time around:

“I wish you were working with me in maintenance. That way, I could use this mouth whenever I wanted!”

The genie smirked, snapped his fingers, and Jason was enveloped in a cloud of swirling mist. The young man stood up, interrupted in his sucking for the moment, as he coughed and gagged, trying to get the sickly smoke away from him. It dissipated after a few moments, leaving him feeling dizzy and discombobulated. He was looking at…at Skip there, leaning against the counter, but he didn’t know how he knew the older man’s name all of a sudden.

Like magic, an answer appeared in his mind. He knew Skip because they worked together, of course. They were both in the university’s maintenance department, and would regularly meet up on the job so Jason could suck Skip off. His mind repeated all of this at him like it was perfectly normal, and Jason had to fight it. He looked in the mirror, and with a dull horror, saw that his preppy clothes had disappeared–he was wearing the same work uniform as Skip was. The same work uniform they both wore everyday…because what else would be be wearing, anyway?

“No–no, this isn’t right, get me the fuck out of this shit!” Jason said, and started pulling at the front of his shirt, but the genie made it impossible for him to remove his uniform for the moment, enjoying watching the young man struggle with his impossible buttons. “I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this shit to me, but I’m not some fucking handyman! I’m a fucking college student!”

Skip laughed. “Maybe you were, but not for long. I wish you were a high school dropout.”

The genie made a few quick edits:

“I wish you were my son, who’s a high school dropout.”

Jason shook his head, but he could already feel it, his memories of college disappearing from his head, along with a good amount of his intelligence. “No dad, don’t…I don’t wanna be dumb! I wanna go to college again!”

“Shut up you stupid fucker. I wish the only thing you cared about was pleasing my cock.”

Or rather, once the genie was finished with it:

“I wish the only thing you cared about was pleasing my thick, chessy, uncut cock.”

Jason shook his head, but with a snap of his fingers, the genie invaded the young man’s mind once more, his eyes turning the same shifting shades as the genie’s smoke, and he took a couple steps forward again. Fuck, why had he stopped sucking his dad’s cock anyway? It was always a treat when they finished a job up quick, because his dad would give him some time to suck him off before going back to the maintenance office. He got back down on his knees, licking his lips, and sucked his dad’s cock back into his mouth, enjoying how the thick shaft stretched his jaw. He cleaned under Skip’s thick foreskin and found some cheese he hadn’t eaten earlier and swallowed it down with a moan, shoving one had down the front of his work pants to start jack himself off as well.

“Yeah, that’s better, isn’t it son? No need to worry about anything complicated anymore, you just let your daddy handle all of that stuff from now on. After all, I’m the smartest one in the family now–the one who managed to graduate from high school at least! The only way you got this job is because I work here–you’re too stupid to handle it without me, you know that right?”

Jason nodded in agreement, and Skip noticed, up close, how much the young man resembled him now. It was a bit…uncanny actually, but in all honesty, it made the whole scene so much hotter. He was getting close to blowing a load down his son’s throat at this point, and it was clear that Jason was hungry for it. With a moan, Skip unloaded down Jason’s throat, his boy swallowing all of it eagerly, and licking his lips afterwards. “Fuck dad, I love your fuckin’ cock so much…”

“Yeah, you’re as much a perverted fuck as I am,” Skip said, and helped Jesse up, sizing up his boy a bit more, now that the excitement was ebbing away a bit. He was a good looking young man in a lot of ways, but he was a little too skinny for Skip’s taste. He liked guys with a bit more muscle on them, in all honesty. It was an easy fix, of course. “I wish you were big and muscular,” he said.

The genie smiled, and decided that Skip’s wish could use a little more imagination.


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Archive: Matchmaker

Originally published July, 2012

Figured I might as well get back into cleaning up and reposting some old stories of mine! This was an old one with quite a few pics to go with it. This is the original version without much doctoring. For those interested, I added a few notes on to the end.

Synopsis: A young construction worker finds himself the heir to an unlikely legacy, and uses his new powers to help the men in his family find some unlikely romantic matches.

Click below to read more!

Continue reading “Archive: Matchmaker”

The House Made Me Gay (Finale)

Phil went to the door and unlocked it, and in came a young man, probably in his mid twenties. He was…well, he didn’t look particularly clean, for one thing. He was chubby and greasy, his clothes covered in food stains–and probably more than a few cumstains, from the shape and placement. The young man ran over to where Ethan was strapped to the chair, cigar lodged in his mouth, and he looked extremely pleased. “Fuck man, he looks so fucking good! I knew you could do it.”

“I know it can’t really replace what you lost, but I think he’ll do you just fine.”

“No way man, I think he’s even better.”

The young man’s name was Josh, and since he was eighteen, he had been in love with his father. He’d learned how to be a dirty pervert from him, sitting around all day, jacking off, swapping cum and spit and piss–and sometimes, if they got a bit drunk, even more than that. But tragically, Josh’s father had passed away–a heart attack–the year before, though he’d left his son a sizable life insurance policy. A good chunk of that was now invested in Ethan–who was going to be Josh’s replacement slobby father.

Josh ran his hands over Ethan’s massive cock, watching the older man shudder, his eyes fearful, and Josh…felt bad for a moment, but he was so turned on by the man Phil had created–and he knew that, before too long, his new daddy would love him just as much as his old one had. He went around and gave him a sniff–and wrinkled his nose. “He smells too clean still.”

“I was going to wait on that until you got here. He still needs a few more tatts before he’s really done,” Phil said, “But first–you still want those rings we talked about?”

“Oh hell yeah!” Josh said, “That sounded so hot.”

“Alright–then let’s get those in you both first.”

Phil worked quickly. With a box of matched rings, he quickly pierced both of them in the septum, in both their nipples. “That’s all we need to start, I think,” Phil said, “Why don’t you climb on and give daddy’s cock a ride boy? Then we can see how those work while I finish daddy up.”

Ethan struggled as Josh climbed up, and started lowering his ass down onto his massive cock. Josh’s first daddy had always loved opening up his son’s hole over the course of an afternoon, before sliding in his fists–but his cock had always been too small to really fuck his son. This new daddy though–he was going to be perfect in every way. Josh groaned as he felt his hole open around Ethan’s massive cock, taking it slow–but Ethan’s cum was the perfect lube now, helping stretch the boy’s hole. When he was halfway on, Phil took the cigar from Ethan’s mouth, and Josh leaned forward–Ethan heard the click of their septum piercings–and Josh kissed him, the boy’s rank mouth tasting of beer and cigarettes. He tried to pull away, but felt a tug on his nose when he did–their piercings had…merged. Josh leaned in closer, pressing their chests together, and their nipples stuck in the same way–Josh was now impaled on his cock, and latched to him, slowly sliding lower onto his massive cock, as Ethan panicked.

“Calm down now,” Phil said, as he got his tattoo needle ready again, “They come apart once you both cum. Just enjoy being close to your son, Ethan.”

“He’s not my son!” Ethan shouted through Josh’s mouth, and Phil just smiled, and got started on his arm, quickly sketching out a classic heart with “My Son” in the middle–and an arrow through it–or a cock, really, a cock spewing cum and piss down the rest of his arm. Josh could…feel this ink differently. Each little prick seemed to shift something in his mind, and as it took form…he found he could remember Josh–because Josh was…his son. His real son, and he…he loved him so much, didn’t he? Josh moaned, his ass now resting on the base of Ethan’s massive cock. “Fuck son, dadd’s so fuckin’ proud of you!” he said into Jason’s mouth between kisses. “Ride daddy’s big tool boy–I wanna see that hole gape.”

“Oh daddy…I…I missed you so much,” Josh moaned, and started sliding up and down on his new daddy’s cock, both of them kissing more passionately and Phil kept working, moving over to his other arm now. First, some lettering at the top of the shoulder– “Months Since Daddy’s Last Shower:”–and then below it, Phil started making hash marks, and after each one, Ethan started getting dirtier, and dirtier, and dirtier, as his memories of showers, of any hygiene really, faded further and further into the past. It…His son had wanted him to stop bathing, he said he wanted to see just how nasty his daddy could be. So they’d agreed on a tattoo to…to keep track. But that had been…months, no a year, no two years, no…no almost five years ago now, right? The hash marks ran down the outside of his arm, almost to his wrist–marking off four and a half years since his last shower–and Ethan stank to high heaven of musk, and smoke, and cum, and piss–but it was only driving Josh into a frenzy. With a roar, Ethan came, flooding his boy’s hole with his massive load of cum, feeling it drain out around his cock and into his lap–and that was enough for Josh to cum as well, shooting a much smaller load all over his daddy’s belly. They kept kissing for a moment, and then pulled apart–their rings separating again like magic.

“Fuck man, you…really outdid yourself. He’s fucking perfect,” Josh said to Phil, cum running down the inside of his legs. “Really…I know…I paid, but I…”

“It’s ok–what you had was special, and I’m happy I could give it to you again.”

“T-Thanks…we talked about some other stuff, can we…”

Phil laughed. It’s been a long day for your dad in that chair–why don’t you take him home for a while? When he comes in next month for his update–we can talk then, alright? I might even do those pro bono–you two are fucking hot to watch.”

Josh beamed, went over, and undid the straps holding his father to the chair, and Ethan stumbled up out of it, trying to figure out what, and who he was. Josh got him dressed in some of his filthy whities and a scummy tanktop crispy with cum, and then pulled his daddy out of the shop and to their little truck. By the time they got home to their little stinking trailer, Ethan was feeling almost normal again–that, and he was already horny as hell for his son’s hole. Josh was only too happy to ride his dad’s massive cock again of course–and by morning, neither of them could remember that their lives had ever been different from this.

Adventures of a Himbo Daddy

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Fuck, why did Nick have to go and make things so complicated? That’s what William kept asking himself every time he got home from work and climbed out of his car, and saw Nick’s bike by the garage looking like its tires need inflating, or saw Mary–his next door neighbor and Nick’s mom–working on something that he could have helped her with–as good neighbors ought to do. 

Mary and Nick had lived next door to William and his family for years now–Mary had moved in after divorcing her asshole of a husband, ditching him on the other side of the country, where he probably belonged. William was married to his wife, June, and they had two girls, but William had always wanted a son. Nick had been lonely, and hadn’t had a decent father figure in his life, so William had, well, helped out. He’d made sure that the boundary was always there between him and Mary–but she never seemed that interested in an affair anyway. This was confirmed a few years down the road, when Mary introduced him to one of her girlfriends–not that there was anything wrong with that, of course! Nick had glommed onto him something fierce though by that time, and for quite a few years, William was happy to be his neighborhood step-dad–coaching him in sports, helping him with his bike or his scooter, giving him “the guy talk” when Mary asked him to one evening. 

But things had taken a complicated turn in the last few weeks. Nick was eighteen now, heading off to college in the fall. The two of them had been alone in the garage one evening, celebrating Nick’s graduation with a beer William had slipped him, when Nick confessed something–well, two things, really. First, that he was gay. And two, that he was in love with William.

William didn’t have anything against anyone gay, and honestly, he’d sort of suspected it of Nick, since the boy had never seemed that interested in girls, but when the eighteen year old tried to move in on him…well, he’d put that down fast–though as gently as he could–and Nick had refused to speak to him since. William didn’t want to tell his mom either (or his own wife), so the wound was just sitting there and festering. They’d had plans that summer–a few weekend camping trips up into the mountains for some fishing before he left for school–but it looked like things were going to stay cool for a while. Heartbreak was a bitch sometimes, even if you weren’t the one in love.

It was a Saturday afternoon, one of the rare moments in the week where William had the house to himself, that he heard a knock on the door. He opened it up, and there, on the stoop, was a small package addressed to him–he recognized the writing as Nick’s. He looked around, but his neighbor had already vanished–so he brought the package inside, wondering what this might be all about. Hopefully nothing trying to get William to have sex with him–then he really would have to have a chat with his mom about…boundaries. He tore off the brown wrapper, opened up the box inside, and grimaced. It was, apparently, as he feared–inside the box was a pair of underwear.

He picked them up, and received an odd little shock from them as he did–he assumed it was static. They were…risque, to say the least. Electric blue, the pouch was a see through mesh, and the ass–well, he wasn’t quite sure how the three straps were supposed to work, but it looked like, well, a jockstrap, almost. A really sexy jockstrap. He wondered, for a moment, what June might think of him in it–William was almost 50, and sliding gently into a dadbod–small beer gut, flabbier arms than he’d had when he was younger, though work at the factory kept him in almost decent shape, though he had a few more aches and pains than he would have liked. His physique wasn’t nearly good enough to flaunt this thing though. Still, there was something poking at the back of his mind, a…curiosity? More of an urge. What could it hurt, really? 

He went upstairs to his bedroom, stripped down naked, and pulled them on. It took him a few tries to get his legs in the right holes, but finally he managed, and he pulled them up around his waist, and chuckled. They did not look good on him. His ass was way too flat, and his bulge…well, it wasn’t quite sizable enough to fill out the very large pouch the underwear had. But as he watched, there was another shock–this one larger, and he felt something happening. His bulge started to swell, his cock growing to eight, then nine inches long–and his balls swelling as well. He turned around and saw that his ass was inflating as well, two globes pushing out the back of the underwear, each one framed perfectly by the straps in the back, with the middle sliding between the two perfectly and resting on his crack, making him shiver. William gasped in horror–and went to pull down the underwear, only to discover he couldn’t get them off, no matter how hard he tried.

“They look good on you, Daddy, just how I hoped they would.”

William whirled around, and found himself facing Nick, standing in the doorway to his bedroom. “Nick! What the fuck are you doing in here?” Nick had a key to the house, of course, but…wait, had he planned this? “Help me get these things off, now.”

“No daddy, I don’t think so,” Nick said, and dropped the backpack he was carrying onto the floor. “See? We could have had a good thing, but not…a long term thing, I see that now. You would never leave this life of yours, not for me, not being…who you are now. But I thought–why not change you? See, my mom…she knows people. Witches. She’s one herself, actually. She loves me–and she wants me to be happy. She helped–but then, she had her own reasons I think. After all, her and June, they’ve been fucking for ages now–did you not realize that?”

William just starred at him, unable to piece together the nonsense that had just come out of Nick’s mouth. Witches? Magic? The news of his wife’s affair barely even registered to him.

“I just want us to be happy, daddy. You don’t see how miserable you are–but you could be so much better! I want you to be better, you’ll see. Show me that ass–I mean, look at it, it’s divine. A huge cock too! What guy doesn’t want a huge cock?”

“Nick…Please, please don’t do this, I don’t understand…” William was babbling now, trying to piece together everything, but it felt like the foundation of his world had been turned upside down in a moment. June having an affair? With Mary, who’s a witch? Who is helping Nick cast…some sort of spell on him? That just gave him a gigantic dick and a perfect, fuckable ass?

Wait, fuckable ass?

William shook his head, and looked at his ass again in the mirror. It was perfect. He’d…fuck it himself, if he could.

“No no no…” William said to himself, “No, get the fuck out of my house, boy!”

“I’m afraid I’m the one calling the shots around here now, daddy–you have to put on the rest of your outfit–then we’ll get you right back out of it, I promise,” Nick said with a wink.

Nick picked up the backpack, and dumped the contents out on the floor around him, being careful not to touch any of it himself. There were two pink trainers with red socks, some lycra training pants–also in pink, with a red highlight. A pink muscle tank, and finally, a pink cap. All of it looked ridiculous–like something some, well, gay muscle hunk would wear. “I am not wearing any of that shit!” William shouted at him…but already, he could feel the clothes calling to him with the same spark of energy that the underwear had on him. Already, he was thinking about it, wondering what–no, who he’d look like, wearing all of that stuff. He’d…be an entirely different person. A whole new daddy, wouldn’t he?

Nick just stood back and watched as William stepped closer to the gear on the floor, as he bent down, and took the pink muscle tee first. There was another shock–and he could feel it resonating with the underwear, calming him down somehow. Everything was fine–he…he was supposed to wear these things. They were…made for him. The muscle tee had some writing on the front, the words “Butch Muscle Daddy” written in a curly, feminine font that made the whole thing a…study in contrasts. But it was too late, he’d picked it up, his arms were pulling it over his head and down onto his body. It was a tight fit–a size too small maybe, but it worked. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, and again, he felt the strange shift inside him–but this time, it was much more substantial.

His fat melted away, and muscle appeared instead. A lot of muscle. The shirt went from tight, to fitting easy, to tight again a moment later, as first his fat gut dissolved and his pecs expanded, pushing the fabric out so it actually hung slightly, touching his his shrinking gut, before it too disappeared, leaving a two pack that wasn’t half bad for a old gym rat his age. He flexed, watched as his arms bulged out as well, the size from working at the factory expanding larger, and also toning from years lifting weights…and damn, he looked good. Real good. His skin darkened as well to a deep tan, even as his body hair thickened a bit, growing a little thicker and denser on his forearms, down his chest and back. After all, he wouldn’t be much of a butch daddy if he didn’t have his body hair right?

Fuck, what was he thinking? He felt like he was going insane all of a sudden! These weren’t his thoughts–this was…something else. Why had he put this thing on? He needed to take this stuff off, right now, but then he saw the bright thong tan line around his crotch, only partly hidden by his favorite underwear, and he blushed, and looked back at the pile. He…he should cover that up, shouldn’t he? He grabbed the lycra shorts, and pulled those on too–they did nothing to hide his bulge, but then, why would he ever want to hide that? He loved how all the boys–and a few of the men–at the gym ogled him when he was walking around, bulge bouncing hypnotically. They all fucking wanted him, of course, he’d want himself too, if he could have him. His thighs and calves blew up just as his upper body had, bulging against the lycra, and he rubbed his hands on the fabric, shivering, feeling his cock starting to grow. “Fuck, I love the way I look in spandex, boy,” he said. His voice…was it deeper? But it also sounded different. Sensual, almost. A light lisp, but a playful one. It could make men melt–he knew that for sure.

“Of course you do daddy. I mean, it’s most of your wardrobe after all.”

That snapped William back for a moment, and he scowled at Nick. 

“What? Go look for yourself, daddy.”

William strutted over to the closet, opened the door, and discovered that Nick was right–all of his flannel, all of his jeans, all of his workwear–it was gone. Instead, it was just…his gym clothes, well, gym clothes and his club clothes too, of course. The singlets. The little strappy numbers. The thongs for the beach and the pool. Most everything was form fitted–aside from a few tastefully clever muscle shirts like this one, and not a sleeve in sight–just a couple of hoodies for the occasional rainy jog around the neighborhood.

But these weren’t his clothes. This wasn’t his life. “Alright boy, this is all very funny, and I do look like a hot fucking muscle daddy, I know, but you’re going to put me back right now, I fucking mean it,” he said to Nick, who just smiled at him, and pointed at the rest of the clothes on the floor. 

“You can take it all off, once you put it all on.”

Nick scowled at him some more, crossed his arms, but his gaze kept flitting to the shoes, and the hat. He was…still so dang curious, he couldn’t help himself. “Fine boy, have it your way.”

He grabbed the socks and trainers–and discovered they were…big. Bigger than his feet by quite a few sizes. Still, that hadn’t mattered for the other stuff, so he doubted it would matter here. He pulled on the socks, then the shoes, and stood up–but almost lost his balance as his feet started to grow–and then he started to grow too.

William wasn’t a tall fellow–just five foot nine, a little below average. But he shot up six inches in a matter of seconds, to six foot three. Everything about him broadened–especially his shoulders–and with the new height, the muscle tee went from being a little loose around his flat stomach, to being a tight crop top, showing off his whole belly–but then, he’d bought it specifically to show it off, of course. There was just one thing left now–the hat. He picked it up, and put it on his head–but this time, it was a different sensation altogether. He felt himself…falling into his mind, but not as the new self emerging–it was his old self, an aging factory worker named William, with a wife and two kids. William was falling away from consciousness, falling deep into the recesses of his mind–not erased entirely, but he found himself in a small box, barely enough room to breathe, or to scream–and outside, Billy was blinking to life. Billy, with his big, luscious lips. Billy with his short beard dyed platinum blonde. Billy with his head shaved bald. Billy, who wasn’t too smart, but he sure was a horny daddy–he turned around and saw Nick standing there–saw his boy standing there, his lovely, lovely boy who had made him, and he swept him up into his arms, picked him up like he weighed nothing at all, squeezed him, and kissed him deeply.

“Fuck son, your naughty himbo daddy is so fucking horny…” Billy moaned. 

“Well then get out of those clothes daddy, and let’s have some fun,” Nick said into his mouth.

Billy set his boy back down, and started peeling everything off–the hat, the shoes, the socks, the shorts, the tee–but Nick stopped him before he could get to the underwear. “Leave ‘em daddy, they’re so sexy on you…”

“Oh boy, whatever you say–you know I’ll do anything for you.”

Nick pushed his daddy backwards towards the bed, and Billy toppled back onto it. Nick climbed up on top of him, grinding his crotch into his daddy’s, still unable to believe just how…perfect he was. And he was his. All his. Nick knew this daddy would do anything for him, do anything he said. He’d never disappoint him, never. He was going to be absolutely perfect.

“What do you need daddy? What’s a horny himbo like you craving?”

“Fuck son, you know I need your boy cock in my dirty daddy hole,” Billy whimpered in his deep, sensual voice, and rolled over, grabbing the lube from the bedside table, where they kept it handy. Nick squirted some on his cock, butterflies in his stomach. It was his first time having sex, and it was with his perfect daddy, and he wanted it to be good, he wanted it to be perfect. Nick slid inside, and the sensation of Billy’s tight daddy pussy was enough to nearly make him cum, and Nick froze–waiting for the need to pass.

“That’s it boy, just relax–you’re doing great,” Billy moaned, “You’re gonna make daddy feel so good boy, so good…”

He picked up the pace slowly, Billy coaching him along, just like he’d coached him in baseball, just like he’d taught him how to fix a flat on his bike, just like how he’d shown him how to plant those squash in the backyard two summers ago. He was a great teacher, and Nick was eager to learn. Fifteen minutes later, they were both covered in a sheen of sweat, and Nick was pounding his daddy’s hole rough and hard, Billy urged him on harder, and with that Nick came–and as he did, they both felt the energy burst inside them, as the spell finished around them as well, sealing them, and this new reality, into place.

Nick rolled off him, and Billy pulled him close into his arms, telling his boy what a good job he’d done, fucking his daddy for the first time, how proud of him he was, and Nick cried a bit into Billy’s thick, hairy chest while Billy just held him close. William had been sealed away while the spell was finishing, but William…wasn’t sealed off anymore. William was gone, mostly, at least on the outside. He’d never existed now, but there were still pieces of him there. He still loved Nick, so much–and he was thankful, he was surprised to find. Thankful he could really love this boy like a son, and like a lover–and educate him in that way too–make sure that Nick became the best boy he could possibly be.

“Can…can you fuck me too, daddy?” Nick asked, “I’ve, I mean, tried with some stuff before, but–you would be my first.”

Billy put a finger to Nick’s lips. “I’m pretty big boy–you’ll need some practice. I have some toys though we could start with–I think you’ll like them, and I’ll like seeing you fuck yourself–getting ready for daddy’s big tool one day.” Billy hugged him close, and then rolled out of bed, and stretched, one hand grazing the ceiling. “Come on son–how about a workout? You’re not going to get as big as me wasting the day in bed–then later, we can have some more fun, what do you say?”

Nick thought that sounded great–and so he followed daddy down into the rest of their house that the spell had built for them–a bit surprised really that it had been so…all encompassing. There was a new pool in the backyard, a big spacious kitchen, a private gym, and down in the basement–he recalled, was Daddy’s playroom, too. It was a brand new life, and neither Nick nor Billy could wait to live it.