New You Resolutions (Part 11)

Hugh stood on the stage, looking out at the audience of men below him, and tried to make out what they were saying–but he couldn’t tell anything about what they were thinking. Should he beg? Ask them to change him back? Would they take mercy on him, or would they just be even more likely to make his transformations just that much more extreme?

He didn’t have a chance to decide, in the end. There was a chime, and the first choice from the audience appeared on the screen–that Hugh would now have a history of taking steroids, growth hormones, and various other cocktails to make himself as muscular and masculine as possible. Then, he started begging, begging them not to do this to him, falling on his knees, but before he could get much out, he collapsed further, feeling the new drugs flooding his body shifting and changing him in ways he couldn’t predict.

He was growing, that much was certain. His muscles were thickening under his skin so fast, that he started showing stretch marks all over–even on his arms over his biceps, on his thighs, on the side of his gut, which now had the distinct, firm roundness of a roidgut. HIs face broke out in acne–but that was soon covered over by the hair that was filling in across his chest, back and face. The hair on his head receded, however, pulling back into just a horseshoe fringe–a side effect of the testosterone he was taking–and he also felt his chest swell yet again, his pecs ballooning to an almost comical size, his nipples swelling and growing more sensitive–that had to be the growth hormones.

He was horrified, but felt…unstable. He was so angry all of a sudden, full of energy, but he had nowhere to put it. He didn’t notice the next announcement above him, that in addition to these changes, he was going to lose some of his cognitive ability, and actually devolve somewhat–becoming hairier more apelike in appearance. The hair covering his muscular body thickened even more, making it difficult to even make out the skin beneath it from a distance. The hair on his face thickened as well, his beard creeping up his cheeks, though nothing grew back on the top of his head, even as his brow thickened, his eyebrows joining into one single brow.

HIs bones were aching as well, his legs shortening slightly as his arms grew longer–not quite enough that he actually walked like an ape, but enough to make him seem out of proportion–and the muscles of his shoulders, neck and arms exploded in size again, only making him seem more imposing, even hunched over as he was.

In his mind, Hugh felt like everything was closing in on him somehow. His emotions were running wild, and his rational mind was crippled–mostly, he was terrified. Terrified of the men laughing and jeering at him, terrified of the bright lights of the stage. All of this was too much–and he made a break for the side stage, only to be rebuffed, a collar fitted around his neck, and he was shoved back out.

He wasn’t alone now though, there was someone out there waiting for him, a chubby, grungy looking fellow leering at him like he was looking at a pet. Someone had purchased him–but as far as Hugh was concerned, he had no intention of leaving this place in a cage. Still, before he could do anything, the man hit a button, the shock collar activated, and sent Hugh to his knees, screaming in surprise and pain.

The rest of the men watched as the fat slob coerced the monkey man onto all fours and fucked him, Hugh terrified of the shock now, and how powerful it was. The man told him that he was going to be the newest member of Hugh’s family–that he’d seen what a cute little pig his son had become, and he’d just needed to have them both. Of course, Hugh wouldn’t be able to work looking like this, but that was alright. His new Master had plenty of money for them to live on, and Hugh would be able to focus on being their personal sex pet from now on.

When Hugh woke the next morning, back home but now in his new steel cage, he was furious. Furious at…well, at he didn’t know what, but he was angry. His son entered, naked with his new uncle, and gave Hugh a shock to quiet him down, and then the two fat slobs shared a kiss. They would play with their pet later–but for now, his new uncle wanted to see what his new nephew was capable of.

And meanwhile, a new set of men were receiving new letters from New You Enterprises, offering them a chance to change their lives–maybe not always for the better in their mind, but they were always changed–that much was certain.

THE END — A new interactive (of some sort) will start next week!

Of Favors and Family – Episode 1 (Part 5)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s…uh, more like twenty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yes Pa, but…but I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whore on Demand (Patreon Exclusive)

Here’s another story based off of the suggestions from folks who support me on Patreon! In this sketch, a lecherous father decides to get a specialized whore for his son’s bachelor party, but things don’t go quite how he expected. You can find the story here! Anyone supporting me at the one dollar level or more can get access to all of these short stories, and also gets the ability to make requests of their own!

New You Resolutions (Part 7)

The list that Hugh had in his hand had the following resolutions on it:

Instead of gaming, I resolve to spend my time working out, and masturbating to kinky gay porn from now on.
I resolve to swap ages with my father, and he will become my son. I will also take over his job and role in life.
I resolve to become submissive to my new son, and service his every need and demand, no matter how perverse and humiliating his demands might be.

This had to be a joke–was this some stupid thing his dad had come up with or something? He knew that his dad was pissed at him for not doing something with his life (something that Hugh was in the middle of trying to figure out!) but this weird shit was uncalled for. He stormed upstairs and showed the list to his dad, demanding to know what this was all about, but his dad didn’t seen to have any idea–but that didn’t stop Hugh from getting angrier and yelling at him–at least until Carl shouted at his son to shut the fuck up–and he did.

Hugh tried for a moment to keep talking, but he suddenly felt such a wave of shame at what he’d been saying to his dad, that he couldn’t muster the anger anymore, as his father tore into him, telling him he needed to get his act together, that he needed to grow the fuck up…and he was right. Carl ended the argument by telling Hugh to clean up his room at the very least…and much to their mutual surprise, Hugh…complied. He went downstairs and cleaned his room for the rest of the afternoon, trying to figure out why…he was so hard all of a sudden. He took a break to look at some porn, but the usual sites wouldn’t load for some reason–they kept diverting him to new ones, kinky sites showing muscular men being dominated by smaller guys, and Hugh found himself watching them, obsessed with them, imagining himself a big guy like that getting ordered around by his father…

He shot before he even realized what had happened, and was horrified at the thoughts going through his head–just like the strange list had told him to do. He finished cleaning his room, and tried to start up his game again…but he couldn’t focus. He…needed to get rid of some more energy first, and so he started doing some calisthenics in the basement, until dinner was ready, and then kept working out after dinner too, stopping only to watch more strange videos, and jack off.

He didn’t play video games for days, and then weeks. He found himself drawn back to the gym, lifting weights, wanting to get bigger, and stronger–stronger so he could…could be even more humiliated, like the videos he found himself obsessing over now. His father’s control over him was growing stronger as well, as his dad discovered just how much he could make his son do…and much to Hugh’s horror, he found himself urging his father on, suggesting more and more humiliating things he could make him do. By the end of the school year, Hugh was thick with muscle, and had taken over most of the household maintenance–cooking, cleaning, repairs–doing most of it while only wearing a skimpy set of underwear, his father laughing at how ridiculous he was, before ordering him to give him a foot massage, or suck his cock like a good boy.

Over the summer though, is when the rest of the changes hit. Every few days, his father would lose a year, and Hugh would gain one, and as he grew younger, his father would grow more petulant, and more and more lazy. Soon, the game system was back out, but it was Carl using it now, taunting his son (or brother now, really) with it, telling him that if he worked really hard, maybe he’d let him use it for an hour each week–but Hugh knew there was no chance of that. As he grew older, he only grew larger and larger, even bigger than his dad had been before, but while he could appear imposing, inside…he knew he was weak. He was just a big muscle slut enslaved by his fat, lazy son, and as humiliated as he was by the fact, it also turned him on to no end. Come August, he took over his father’s position as coach at the high school, and the entire role came perfectly naturally to him, like he’d been doing it for years, but seeing all these young sweaty men, all Hugh really wanted was for them all to dominate him, just like his son had. Still, he had the whole school year, right? Maybe…maybe he’d be able to resist. All he had to do was make it to the party at the end of the year, and maybe–maybe he’d be able to convince this company to give him his life back.

Alright, this is the end of the setup–let me know what sort of ending you might like to see for our four characters here. I might not use the winning suggestion for every single character-if some of the other options are popular, I might use those where it makes sense with the characters here. The public poll is below, and the patron only poll can be found here.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 7)

He tied him up and beat him–flogging him at first, but working up to a proper lash, leaving long red welts in his father’s back, working himself up into a froth, his cock…throbbing with excitement, but he knew not to cum too soon. If he came, his father wouldn’t let him live it down for weeks, for a disappointing session with him. He…hated how much he cared about what his father thought of him. That was it, wasn’t it, in a way? He had always cared about what his father thought of him, and now, that strange desire had twisted around into something awful. He wanted his father to like him, and if his father wanted him to be some twisted, abusive top…then that was what Carter would become, for him, at least. It wasn’t what he wanted, he knew that…but then, how did he know that? He didn’t know what he wanted, after all.

The smoke from them both built up, and Carter could stop thinking about it, in the haze, focus on his strikes, and then, once his father was begging him to stop–and meaning it–he released him, bent him over, and fisted him, pummeling his father’s hole until he came all over the concrete floor, and only then, did Carter shove his cock into the now loose hole, working it for a while until he came in deep, his father thanking him, and praising him, and…loving him. Afterwards, they cuddled for a while, Ash whispering the sweetest things into Carter’s ear, telling him what a good son he was, taking care of his daddy like this…and he felt that first spark of terrible pride in him start to blossom, and he tried to crush it before he could even recognize it. He would not like this. He would not stay like this, he would not.

When they emerged hours later, they were both starving. Ash cooked them some dinner, and Carter sat alone in his room–a room he could barely remember sleeping in, now, and thought about what he had just done, and who he was becoming. Who his father wanted him to be, and how it curdled his stomach just as badly as his father’s dreams of yesterday had–even though they were very different. It was like he had fallen through some strange, warped mirror–all the feelings were there, all the frustration, but the context was all scrambled. Mentally, and physically, exhausted after his day, he went down, ate his dinner in relative silence and shame, and went to bed early.

Ashford stayed up a bit later, trying to grapple with what he’d just done, what Pigtown had done to him…but as hard as he tried to muster substantial guilt, there simply wasn’t any. This was what he wanted, in the end, and he was too satisfied with the result to feel particularly bad about it. He…loved his son, and he knew that Carter loved him too, or else he wouldn’t still be here. His rebellion at the moment was just a phase–he’d get over it soon enough, and just enjoy it. After all, Ash knew what was best for them both, he told himself. Upstairs, he thought about pestering his son for another fuck…but decided against it. Best to let him be for a few days, maybe. Another couple of visits to Pigtown next weekend would be what they needed to help set things straight for them both.

And perhaps it would have. After all, by Wednesday, Carter had half-convinced himself that this was, perhaps, for the best in some non-specific way. After all, the sex was hot, and while he’d never really imagined himself as a top, he was already surprising himself at how decent he was at it. It felt…natural, and his dad, while a brat, was a good sub too, and plenty eager of course–that didn’t hurt. Perhaps, come the weekend, after a couple of nights in the pits of Pigtown, with some more distance, Carter could have forgotten about his doubts, and given it a shot. Instead, what happened, was he got put in a group for one of his classes at college with a young, husky fellow by the name of Justin, and things got…more complicated.

The group didn’t have too much time to work in class, but Carter and Justin hit it off as friends right away. Carter had to admit that he’d spent quite a bit of the class already keeping an eye on the handsome cub a few seats over, but had assumed he was straight. In the hall after class, a wink, and brush of his cock with Justin’s hand, and an invitation to lunch suggested otherwise. Lunch was short–the afternoon in Justin’s dorm room went on for significantly longer.

Afterwards, sitting at the dorm window, smoking a cigar into the early evening, Carter told himself this had to be a one time thing. If his father found out he’d fucked someone else…well, he wouldn’t mind, really…but Carter was feeling something else, suddenly, looking over at Justin, who was just giving him baby doll eyes from the covers, telling him that he thought his cigars were pretty sexy…

It wasn’t love, not really. Love couldn’t be this easy. But is wasn’t his father. It didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach, lying in bed with Justin. He suggested that Carter stick around for the night, but Carter made an excuse of some kind that he had to get home. He didn’t remember the lie, later, but he had to tell him something. Still, he promised him he’d be back the next day to work on their project–Justin suggested he bring an extra cigar, because he’d like to give one a try.

Carter’s heart leapt, and ke could barely croak a goodbye, he was so turned on at the thought of fucking Justin, both of them smelling of smoke…

He got home late, and his dad pestered him why–but what could he say, really? He was falling in love with someone else? Ash felt it, felt Carter pulling away suddenly, all over again, and bossed his son into another session, but while Caster performed well…Ash knew something was wrong. Carter wanted something, really wanted something, for the first time in his life, and lying awake in bed that night, he wondered if he had the guts to actually grab hold and take it, his father, and Pigtown, be damned.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 6)

Carter tried to deny it, but Ashford was certain it had been him. He was the last person he remembered, the person he had gone home with, or who he felt he had gone home with. He’d…begged him, he’d wanted to be his slave, forever, and the man had laughed, but he’d taken him…hadn’t he?

For Carter, the idea was ridiculous. Sure, he couldn’t remember much of the night before, or anything past his first couple of drinks, which was admittedly less than usual, but he’d never done anything like that before. He’d never wanted to do anything like that before. Perhaps…he could imagine someone doing it to him, but he…wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t there looking for anyone at all, really. He was just there looking to become the person he’d always thought he should be–the man he couldn’t wait to grow into. But who was that, anyway?

That was the question, he supposed. The question he didn’t know how to answer, the question he asked himself as he walked to the bar each night, wondering who he was going to become, excited to find out, but also wondering if any of them would…stick. Afraid that something might stick. The potential was so vast, and men there were so…wild, and he was so new still, and how could he ever know what he wanted, really? How could anyone really know what they want in the world?

“This is my fault,” his father said into the silence.

Carter shook his head, “No, I should have been honest about what was going on, I–”

“I asked for this. I wanted…it wasn’t that I just wanted to know where you were going, Carter!” Ashford said, “I…you were pulling away. Pulling away from me. I didn’t want to lose you, and…and in the bar, all I wanted to do was to find you, wherever you were. It was like…like it knew, and this guy, big guy, he pointed you out, he helped me find you, and…I was happy. I don’t want to be away from you ever again, Carter, I’ll do anything. I’m…your father, but all I want is you now, you’re the only guy I can think about, so…so please don’t leave me.”

“Dad, think about what you’re fucking saying! We can’t–we have to go back, tonight. We have to go back, and…and Rod will be able to do something, but we can’t stay like this. I’m not–I’m not your master, and I don’t want to be, alright? This is fucked up! You know this is fucked, I know you know, in there. You have to push back, alright?”

“That’s…what you said at first, yeah, but not…not what you said last night, son…Sir…”

The word send a shot of excitement right to his cock, and Carter tried not to let on how flustered he was. His dad…had always been able to get under his skin, and into his head like that. He’d been…so apprehensive, those first times he’d had sex with his dad–that, and fall down drunk. It hadn’t really occurred to him then that his father was taking advantage of him, or using him…but soon enough, it didn’t really matter, because…because had started to like it, eventually. How submissive his dad was, how eager he was. They’d started watching porn together, almost always some kind of BDSM, and afterwards, his father would egg him on to try new things–piss play, fisting, CBT, bondage–always with his father as the sub.

“Dad, this isn’t us, this is just what that place does to people! Can’t you see how fucked this is?”

“Well why don’t you do something about it, Sir? There’s all those gags in the basement, and I know how you like to punish me when I’m a naughty daddy…”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Carter roared at him, surprising even himself with the sudden outburst, and his dad sat back, face flushed with excitement. Carter…knew what the fucking pig needed, knew that there was only one way to get him to shut up about it, to quit taunting him like this, but he…he didn’t want to give in. “Fuck, get in the fucking basement.”

“Yes sir!” Ash said, and hurried out of his chair and to the stairs in the hall. Carter just sat there, shaking, unable to believe he was really doing this. He kept thinking otherwise, working his way out of it, but his mouth, and his cock, were betraying him. In the end, as always, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could go back to trying to pretend he was just a normal guy going to college, not some…unwilling master for his perverse slut of a father, unable to escape this nightmare of a relationship. He got up, and lit himself a fresh cigar–this was going to be a long session, he could already tell. Downstairs, his father was already naked, and dressed in his favorite gear, on his knees, collar in hand, waiting for Carter to come down and put it on him. Carter made him wait, taking his time getting into some leather gear of his own, drawing it out as best he could, but his father enjoyed that too, the suspense. Why not…just leave? He didn’t have to be here, he didn’t have to do this, did he? But he took the collar from Ash, buckled it around his old neck, and fed him some of his ash…and then, things went blurry, almost like they were still in the bar, or like they had brought a bit of the bar home with them, together.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 5)

Was he telling the truth? Ash searched his son’s face, looking for that…gruff figure from the night before, the young, muscular, leather clad master, who had chained him to the wall in the dungeon, whipped him until he begged for mercy, fucked him raw, the smell and heat of his cigar next to his ear…he’d broken him. He’d wanted it, by the end, all of it. He’d had no idea that had been his son, but now…now he wanted it to be him, more than anything. He’d been grooming him for this, teaching him how to smoke cigars ever since he was a teenager, training him at the gym, and when he’d been ready, he’d gotten him drunk, and Carter had fucked his father’s hole with his big cock for the first time…did none of that mean anything to Carter? Couldn’t he see how much effort he’d put into him, and now, he didn’t even remember the sexiest, hottest scene of both their lives?

He was reeling. All of this was too much, there was too much in his mind. Too many histories, too many wants, too many fantasies, too many realities. His son was right, this was…new. It just felt real, it was easier to want this to be real, because the truth was too…shameful to even comprehend. “What…what was that place? Where the fuck have you been going all those nights?”

“Look, dad. You need to eat something. Have your cigar, have breakfast, calm down a little bit, and then…I’ll tell you what I know about Pigtown, and then you need to tell me about what happened last night, at the bar–or at least what you remember.”

Ash…knew his son was right, but fuck, if he didn’t want to suck another load out of his boy’s cock right then and there, or better yet, get fucked by him. They could have the whole day together, chain smoking cigars, hotboxed in their bedroom, woozy and horny and wasting the whole day in a sexual haze. It wouldn’t be the first time. He pushed it away though, sat down, and ate the breakfast his son had made for them, and the normalcy of it helped break the spell of his lust, and he managed to calm down, though he had to look away from Carter, who was sucking hard on his cigar, looking flustered and uncomfortable, and sexy as hell.

They finished, and Carter filled him in on Pigtown–the legend, and the reality, and his own journey there. How, when he was nineteen, he’d started chatting with a guy who claimed he knew how to get there–who claimed he had been there before. Carter didn’t know if he was lying or not–at the time, he still wasn’t convinced that the whole thing wasn’t just…stories they all told each other. Stories they told to try and convince themselves that change was real. That there was a place for them, somewhere, where they could be what they wanted to be. It wasn’t the first time having sex, for him–he’d had a dalliance with a few guys in high school, but nothing serious. This…He was different. He knew Carter, knew what he wanted, could feel the need in him, and Carter had…thought he’d loved him. Loved him unlike he’d ever loved anyone in his life, and then he’d just vanished. Ghosted him. It had hurt, but the man had left him some leads, a few other older guys he’d fucked around with, more timidly, and those guys knew enough about Pigtown to get him closer, and closer still, until finally a year or so later, he was there.

It was the first time he’d told anyone the story. The shame he felt at it–not the shame of what he’d done (and who he’d done) to get there, but the fact that, looking back on it, he was so…weak. So contemptful. Now that he was closer, he could see how little the distance was that he’d actually traveled. He was nowhere, really. He’d taken steps, so far, that he could have taken without Pigtown entirely, steps he would have probably taken, eventually, but the place–now that he had been once, he craved it. Admitting that to his father, the one he’d been trying so hard to hide all of this from, he hated it. How weak it made him seem, how desperate. Somehow, seeing how…into it his father was, only made it worse, like it was nightmare reflection of himself, of his own desires laid bare so he could see them clearly. He wrapped up the story quicker than he’d started it–especially once he saw his father’s hand drift down to his lap, and start working his cock. Instead, he asked his father about what had happened the night before, back at the bar–and so Ash told him about how he had followed him to the bar, from the station–though it seemed odd, telling him that now–because it wasn’t him who had followed Carter, not really. That version of himself, that person, he didn’t exist anymore. Should he feel…grief, at that? He felt like he should, but he didn’t. He told Carter how he’d watched him go into the bar, and then he’d planned to leave, but before he could, three leather bears, likely bound for the bar themselves, had cornered him, and dragged him inside–and once in…well, it had been the greatest night of his life, not that he’d thought so at first.

At first, he’d been terrified. Fighting them, all of them, but there were more than just the three who had dragged him inside now. Now, there were many. So many, each of them different, and he’d scanned the crowd for Carter, called out his name, but everyone in there had just laughed and laughed, then they’d put the first glass to his lips, that first taste, and he’d fought a little less. The hands groping him, tugging at his clothes, they were no less violent than before, but now he found himself enjoying the force, and also pushing back, but everyone around him was so much…stronger than he was. Another drink past him lips, and he felt like they were molding him. Another drink, and he could feel the air itself pressing into him, the bar shaping him, like there was some other skeleton inside of him, some other lattice of self he had never known before, but this place had awakened in him–and now it was reshaping him to it, built around pleasure–and pain.

So much pain, more pain than he’d ever felt in his life. He’d fallen into the lap of a sadist, and he had been more than happy to give Ashford an introduction to his paddles, whips, the end of his cigar, the toe of his boot to his balls–and when he’d finally given into it, when he’d allowed that pain to blossom into a new kind of pleasure, that’s when the brute appeared. Huge, tattooed, from the depths of the bar (or so Ashford had thought, because he couldn’t have imagined someone like that coming from anywhere else) and Ashford could barely describe the ecstacy to his son sitting across from him, much less believe that he had, in fact, been his son the whole time.

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 4)

Ashford didn’t realize he was jacking off until his hand was around his hard cock, and once he realized it, he didn’t want to stop. It would be better anyway, to get rid of some of this…pressure, in him. He hadn’t been horny like this in years, not even when he’d been with Carter’s mom…not that he’d ever really been…that attracted to her. Was that true, or was that new? He couldn’t quite tell. It was like someone had jumbled up the puzzle of his life and fit everything together differently, not the way it should have been, but somehow this arrangement made perfect sense. More sense, maybe, than the last one. He’d been gay. He’d always been gay, and in denial. He’d divorced, and…and when his son had come out, it was only natural to…to show him…

He came hard, all over the toilet. The shame was almost enough to make him puke again, realizing what he’d been thinking, how easy it had been for him to think it at all. He made his way to his own room, where he found his wardrobe had…changed. Not only did the more…normal clothes fit him now, even though they were a size larger than before, he found a new selection of clothing hanging in the closet, everything he recognized as the leather gear he’d ended up in by the end of the night, all of it well used and smelling of smoke–fuck, he could use a cigar. He bet Carter could use one too. He grabbed a couple from the humidor, clipped them, and lit one and then the other, holding them both in his mouth while he went downstairs (the bears always got a kick, seeing how many he could fit in his mouth at once) and Carter was in the kitchen, still naked, working on breakfast for them both. He turned around when he smelled the smoke, saw his dad with the cigars, and his cock went immediately rigid at the sight.

That was enough to make Ashford feel mortified. What the fuck was he doing, walking down here naked, with a couple of cigars in his mouth. He wanted to retreat…but didn’t. He walked over, handed a cigar to Carter, and then got on his knees, exhaling a plume of smoke over his son’s cock before sucking it down his throat.

Carter was frozen. The eggs were burning, and his father was smoking a cigar and sucking his cock at the same time. He pulled the pan off the burner, and then devoted his full attention to fucking his dad’s throat–he loved his dad’s blowjobs along with their first cigars of the mornings…didn’t he? Why did this feel so normal? Why did he remember doing this so many times before?

It had been like this, after his first time. Reality warping around him, the stash of cigars in his closet, smoking one out his window after his dad had left for work, like he always remembered he had. It was normal, even though he’d never done it before, and now, this was normal too. He knew he should feel ashamed, but he didn’t. He…loved it. They both loved it, how open they could be with each other…right? With his son’s cock finally in his mouth, it was the best Ashford had felt all damn day. He pulled away from Carter’s cock, opened wide and stuck out his tongue–Carter rolled the ash off onto his dad’s tongue, watching him quiver as he ate it. Carter loved the taste of ash, but he doubted anyone loved it as much as his dad did. He held it there a moment, savoring the heat, and then took it in his mouth, soaking it with his spit, and then went back to sucking, the ashy paste in his father’s mouth rough on Carter’s sensitive cock, some of the dark spit running down into his father’s beard.

“Fuck, Ash–fuck…” Carter moaned, tugging on his nipples until he unloaded into his father’s mouth, Ash drinking down all of his son’s cum, tasting the ash with it, and after a couple pumps of his own cock, he came again all over the kitchen floor, in front of his son. Both of them looking at one another, panting slightly.

“Thanks, boy,” Ash managed to say. Was his throat dry more from shame, or from the ash he’d just eaten without a second thought? But why would he feel shame? There…there was nothing wrong with this. He’d…wanted this. From the moment he’d found out that Carter was gay, his sexy, hairy, handsome boy…Ash had wanted this. First, just with inside himself, secretly…but he didn’t need it to be a secret anymore, how much he loved turning his boy into the cigar master of his fantasies.

“Dad–we…we can’t do that again, please don’t do that again,” Carter said. “I can’t do this to you.”

“Boy, I did this to you! I did this because I wanted this–we’ll keep doing it all we want, who cares what other people think?”

“No dad! That’s just–that’s what it wants you to think, how that place twisted you. I know you’re still in there. I know it hurts, but you have to fight it.”

“Fight it? That’s not what you wanted me to do last night, boy, all you wanted last night was for me to submit, and give in…and what, now you have second thoughts?”

His father sounded…hurt. Again, Carter tried his best to remember the night before, but he couldn’t–just little bits. Red light, a howl of pain, the feel of a lash taut between his thick hands… “I don’t remember what happened last night. I’m sorry…for what I did, I wasn’t…me. That wasn’t me. No one in there is who they are, really–that’s what that place does.”

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 3)

The man in his bed pulled his head back up and looked at him–and he saw it now. He’d changed, like everyone did, but it was him. The cheeks were rounder, he had tattoos on both shoulders, and he was much, much hairier than he’d been before, but it was him. It was his own fucking dad. He tried to piece together the night before, tried to remember anything about how this could have happened, but it…wasn’t there. That wasn’t uncommon, really. Usually he half-recalled what happened the night before, while he was in the bar, but the more he changed inside, the less he became himself, the less he remembered the next day. After all, the person who’d done it didn’t exist anymore, except in the bar, he supposed. The only night he remembered was that first one. Everyone remembered the first one, forever. He’d have dreams sometimes, when he hadn’t been to Pigtown for a while. It would be like he was back there again, and when he woke up from them, sheets soaked in cum…he knew he wouldn’t sleep right until he went back again.

“No–that couldn’t have been you, it…he was so big, and…and fuck, his cock…smelled so good, feeding me his ash…” Ashford was rocking gently now, lost in the memory of the night before–the night he’d never be able to forget, and a night Carter would never be able to remember. Carter didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, so he did what he would have wanted, what he hadn’t had anyone to do for him, the morning after that first time. He climbed into the bed with him, and pulled him close, into a hug. Ashford tried to pull away for a moment, but then he shuddered, and started sobbing into Carter’s chest.

It was not the sort of position he was expecting. He had never seen his father cry, not even at the funeral for Carter’s grandmother. He held him awkwardly for a while, waiting for him to collect himself. He calmed down slowly, sobbing less, and sighed. “You…smell like him still. You smell good.”

Carter pushed him away then, not at all comfortable with his father saying something like that to him. “Dad, what the fuck were you doing there last night?” he asked, getting off the bed, “How the fuck did you even find Pigtown?”

“I fucking followed you is how!” he said, “I’ve been worried sick about you. You think I couldn’t tell something was wrong with you?” He shook his head, and then said, “What…was that place?”

“It’s…Pigtown.”

“I know the fucking name of the place! What the fuck…what the fuck did it do to me?”

Carter didn’t really have a good answer to that one. His dad was the first person he’d met who had gotten in without…wanting to get in.

“What…the fuck did it do to you?” his dad asked, looking over at him, “You were…huge. And…”

Carter was happy his dad didn’t finish the thought. He had zero interest in hearing about how he had fucked with his father the night before, and who he’d been when he’d done it.

“Look, you’ll feel better when you get some food in you, alright? Then…then we can talk about it,” Carter said, and headed for the door, “and…I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know about any of this.”

Carter had left the room and was out of earshot, and so he didn’t catch his dad’s soft reply, “Don’t be sorry…I…I wanted it.” Ashford hugged his legs to his chest, and fought the urge to start crying again. Why could he remember it all so well? He’d been so drunk, and yet, so clear headed at the same time. He’d wanted everything, all of it. He’d begged for it. He reached around and felt his back, certain he’d feel welts there, but there weren’t any. Checked his shoulder, where he could still feel the sting of that bear’s cigar burning into him, but nothing. He was untouched, mostly. At least, all the pain he could remember–there wasn’t a literal scratch on him. Maybe…it had been a dream, or partly a dream, because this was real. He threw his legs out of the bed and stood up. Even without a mirror, he could see he was different–not as different as he had been in the bar, after those three leather bears had dragged him inside and forced him to drink and smoke all that stuff with them, before he’d ended up in the backroom with him, with Carter–or at least, with the brute Carter had been.

As unfamiliar as this was though…it felt right. He could remember how he’d been before this, but he could remember this new body better. He went into the bathroom, feeling like he was going to puke again, but didn’t–he would have felt better if he had, he thought. He wanted it out of him, all of this, he didn’t want to remember that, he didn’t want to be in this body, he didn’t…want to keep thinking about how fucking sexy his son was, and contriving ideas to get him to fuck him again, maybe while he was smoking a cigar. Maybe he’d even feed him his ash, if he asked nicely…

Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 2)

Carter woke up in bed. His bed–the same bed he was always in, the bed in his father’s house where he’d been sleeping since he was a kid. He…held out hope, every time, that it might be somewhere else–that…he might be someone else, but apparently not yet. That’s what a lot of people didn’t understand about the place, he supposed–or what they wouldn’t understand about it. What people like his dad wouldn’t be able to understand. Normal people. People who were happy–or even those who weren’t happy. Maybe just at least content. Content with the world as it was. But for Carter…this world was terrible. He didn’t fit into it, no matter how hard he’d tried, no matter how well he could pretend…he knew there had to be something else out there. And then, he’d found Pigtown.

That, or Pigtown had found him. Online first, in chat rooms, on old websites. No one knew exactly where it was–unless you knew where to find it. You had to want it, or maybe you had to want something that was there, or maybe it was the place that wanted you first. All the stories said that if you found it, and you went long enough, eventually you wouldn’t be the same person who entered…but Carter was finding out the reality was a bit more complicated than the myth. Sure, the first time…the first time was a rush. You never left the first time the same as you went in. He’d been this skinny little twig of a kid, nervous as hell, standing around in the dim light with all these hulking men smoking cigars and wearing leather, and after that first drink shoved into his hand, the first kiss, the first fuck in the dark–he’d woken up the next day, back in his bed, and he’d been different. Thicker, hairier, with a constant insatiable need to smoke. Not a bear exactly, something more like a muscle cub, but the most important thing, was that it was difference. Progress, according to a certain scale.

But he’d still been here. Here in the same life, going to college, living with his dad–but now, somehow, he was more miserable. He had to hide so much more from everyone. If anything, he felt even worse than he had been before going–and the only place he ever felt better, was there, at Pigtown. He’d started to wonder if it was a grift–if the bar didn’t want things to get better, if it just wanted to eat him alive. He knew it could, he’d seen some of them in there, the ones who didn’t leave anymore, or couldn’t leave. They weren’t…anyone anymore. They were whoever you wanted them to be, whoever the bar wanted them to be. He didn’t want to lose himself though–he wouldn’t let that happen.

Changing after that first time wasn’t impossible–there were other guys at the bar who’d experienced it, and unless they were all lying…he’d get there eventually. He’d become who he wanted to be one day, even without Pigtown, though it would make it easier. It was then, as he lay in bed, thinking about this, that there was a sudden snore beside him. He looked over, and realized, with a bit of horror, that he wasn’t alone in his bed–beside him, rolled away under the covers, was the back of…well, someone else, still sleeping.

“Fuck,” he said, quietly, wondering what in the hell he was going to do. His dad was home, and he always got up before Carter, especially on the weekends. Now he had a stranger, from Pigtown, and he had to try and sneak him out of the house before his dad asked any horrible questions, or did something even more awkward, like invite him to eat breakfast with them. He got up, and threw on some boxers–hoped that the man would stay sleeping for a bit longer–and went out to scout the house, and see where his father was. With luck, he might be reading the paper in the backyard, and give him a longshot chance to sneak this guy out without being seen.

The house, however, was empty. His dad was probably running errands or something, thank goodness. He ran back upstairs, but stopped himself before shaking the man awake. He…knew that face, didn’t he? Was it someone he’d fucked around with before, in the bar? Someone he’d woken up with? This wasn’t, after all, the first awkward morning-after he’d had, but it was the first time anyone had come home with him. He couldn’t worry about this–it didn’t matter who it was, all that mattered was that he got this fucker out of his house as quickly as he could, before his dad got back from wherever he was.

“Hey, Hey!” he said, giving the man a shake, “Get up–you gotta go.”

The man gave a grumble, and rubbed his eyes, before blinking them open. “W-Where…what the fuck…”

“Yo, get up, get your clothes on. My…housemate can’t see you here.”

The man didn’t seem to be listening. He was just…kind of shaking, looking around the room, trying to understand what had happened. “I…I don’t…I didn’t want…” before he could get anything else out, he leaned over the side of the bed, and puked his guts up onto the carpet beside the bed. It was…grey. The guy must have been eating ash–Carter had puked shit up like that before himself, in the mornings after he got a little extra carried away. He sighed, touched the guy’s shoulder, and he flinched away from him, and scooted back away from him, wiping his bearded lips. The man looked at him again, his eyes focusing a bit better on him, and they went wide with shock. “C-Carter?”

Fuck, they did know each other, but from where? “Look, we can catch up later, you have my number, but you have to get out.”

“What the fuck–was that…was that you?” he said, “You…they…you fucked me, you…fucked me, and–and I wanted it, and…” He rolled over to the other side of the bed and tried to puke again, but his guts were already mostly empty, so he just heaved a few times.

Carter was mostly confused. This was the first time someone had reacted so badly after waking up–with him at least. He’d been pretty freaked out like this the first time–had it been this guy’s first time last night? But then how had they known each other? Gears clicked and whirred, and the realization came to him. He tried to deny it. It couldn’t be him. He’d been working late, and he’d left before he’d gotten home. Had he followed him? How had he even found it in the first place? Wasn’t…wasn’t his dad straight, anyway?

No, it couldn’t be his dad, it couldn’t be him…right?