Pigtown Provides: Episode 1 (Part 1)

All Ashford wanted was for his son to talk to him again. It felt like it had been ages since they’d last sat down together–over a meal, or playing a game, or just out on the back porch–and really talked to one another. When Carter had been younger, he’d never had a problem telling him anything, and Ashford loved listening to him, and learning from him. There was something about how a child saw the world that made you look at things differently, sometimes like you were seeing them for the first time ever, and Carter, too, had always seen his dad as some amazing repository of knowledge. Everyone had to grow up sometime, though, and Ashford could have accepted that, or at least, he’d told himself that he’d need to accept it at some point.

For a time, he’d been able to pass the distance growing between them off as as just that–his son just growing up, and while he was never quite the buoyant, precocious little twerp he’d been before, he still was, well, normal. Normal interests, like a normal boy. But things had started to shift at some point–Ashford had never really been able to pinpoint where exactly, but things certainly hadn’t been easy, after his son had told him he was gay. While Ashford did his best to be supportive, he knew almost nothing about it. It wasn’t that though, but it was something else like that. He started keeping secrets from him, outright lying to him on occasion. Ashford was too afraid to put his foot down, worried he’d just drive him further and further away, but he just kept drifting all the same. Still, when Carter graduated from high school, he could still recognize him. It was sometime during Carter’s sophomore year at college that…something struck him, hard.

Carter had gone to the state school in the city, close enough that he could live at home, and take the lightrail to campus each day. Ashford gave him the space he felt he needed, but did his best to enforce some boundaries too–making him get a job and buy his own groceries and pay for his own transportation. He had a habit of staying out late with his friends, and Ashford didn’t pry into where he was going, or who he was seeing, figuring Carter would bring someone home when he was comfortable doing so. Then, from one day to the next, one Carter left to go to school in the morning, and the next day, a…different young man left his son’s room, came down, and ate breakfast with him at the table. His head…told him he was his son, and he had no trouble recognizing him…but how had he grown a beard overnight? And why did he smell like cigars?

Carter grew more and more distant after that. His grades were suffering too, and the friends he’d been hanging around with before had been replaced with others, older men mostly, scruffier, and not the sort of type Ashford wanted him associating with. On one hand, he was his own person, but didn’t he have some duty as a father to make sure he wasn’t in trouble? Frustrated that Carter wouldn’t talk to him about what was going on with him, wouldn’t explain why he kept wearing all that leather, and who those old men commenting on his facebook selfies were with all that…inappropriate innuendo. In the end, he did it not for Carter’s sake, but for his own peace of mind. He just had to know that he was alright, that he wasn’t in any real trouble. So here he was, on a Saturday night downtown, following his son down a lonely sidewalk, watching the cloud of cigar smoke drifting up as he strode in his leather pants and jacket, looking lonelier than Ashford had ever seen him in his life.

He just wanted to rush up to him and hug him, tell him everything was going to be alright, tell him that no matter what it was that was going on with him, whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into, that he’d help him if he could. He didn’t though. He hung back most of a block behind him, waiting as Carter chatted with a few guys he passed along the way, laughing and chuckling, more than one sharing a kiss with them, and the occasional grope. He’d never imagined Carter doing something like that…maybe he’d never known him as well as he’d thought. He followed him deeper into the city’s gay district, away from the well travelled streets and down into the alleys, where he stopped at an unmarked door–aside from a sign hanging above it with the face of a cartoon pig winking on it, and rang the buzzer. After a moment, the door opened, Carter slipped inside, and then he was gone.

Was that it? What was behind that door? A club of some sort, probably. But what was wrong with that, exactly? He hadn’t been buying drugs. He wasn’t working the street as a prostitute…probably. But none of his questions were answered by this…but maybe, if he went in…and then what? Maybe he should just accept that his son had grown up and away, that there was nothing he could do to fix the distance between them. He was, most of all, tired–and wanted to go to bed. He turned around, when three burly guys turned the corner in the alley and started coming towards him. He froze. The space was a bit too narrow to pass them easily, and he didn’t really want to get into trouble with anyone.

One of them whistled. It took him a moment to realize it was directed at him–that all three of them were staring right at him, coming closer, the one in the back openly groping his crotch. “Now what’s a cute little business bear like you doing in a scummy little alley like this?” one of them said, closing the distance between them, the others circling and pinning him to the brick wall in a semicircle.

“I was just…leaving, actually, if you wouldn’t mind,” Ashford said, and tried to push his way out of the three of them, but when he tried, one of the bears just spun him around, pushed him back to the brick and leaned into him–where he could feel the man’s hard cock pressed against his ass through both of their pants.

“Leaving? But the night’s just getting started. You weren’t gonna leave without going inside, were you? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you around here before, buddy.”

“Get off me, you fucking homo!” Ashford said, and shoved back from the wall, making the bear come away from him laughing. The other bears were chuckling too. He tried to get back out of the mouth of the alley, but before he got very far, two of the bears grabbed him, and the third, who he’d shouted at, stepped very close to his face.

“Homo, eh? And what does that make you?”

“You don’t…I was looking for my son.”

One of the bears whistled, and the bear put on a mocking grin, “Oh daddy, don’t worry about your little boy, I’m sure he can find someone better than you in there. Hell, he probably already has. But I’ll tell you what–why don’t you let the boys and I give you a tour? See if we can find him for you. Or who knows, maybe you’ll find something a little better–us homos have a way of knowing what men are looking for,” he reached out and started rubbing Ashford’s cock through his pants, and with the other hand, grabbed him around the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss, Ashford trying to pull away from the man’s breath that mostly smelled of cigars, until he pulled away. “Come on guys, let’s help the daddy find a boy–or something better. After all, you never know what you might find in Pigtown, right?”

My Summer Job (Caption Sketch)

Trevor had just graduated from high school, and had the summer stretching out ahead of him–his last summer stuck here in this small, rural town, before he went off to college in the fall, which, he hoped would let him get out of this place forever. However, college was…expensive, and while he had a good amount of assistance, he needed cash too. However, the town was…not in the greatest of financial shape, and so it was difficult finding a job. In the end, he just advertised around town as willing to do whatever work people might have for him on his property, and it ended up working out well–at least, until he drove out to Arthur Johnson’s rundown old lot a ways outside of town.

Arthur was well known as a bit of a loner, and he wasn’t seen around town very often. Trevor was nervous, but the old man greeted him warmly enough, shirtless and smoking a cigar in the already hot morning, and set Trevor to work clearing blackberry bushes from the side of his house. After a few hours, Trevor was exhausted, and when Arthur offered him a break and some lunch, he was more than happy to take him up on the offer. After they’d eaten, Arthur also offered him a smoke–Trevor had never smoked a cigar before, but smelling Arthur’s all day long had…piqued his interest. Arthur showed him how to punch and light it, and Trevor took the opportunity, once Arthur had left the room, to take a picture of himself with it, for something to tell his friends later.

But a couple of minutes later, he started to feel…a bit strange. Still, he passed it off as nothing important, and got back to work, still smoking, but the stick was making him feel a bit sick, and his head a bit…thick, somehow. He saw Arthur watching him from the porch, smoking as well, and Trevor found himself…aroused, somehow. Still, he pressed on, the nausea passed, and he felt…invigorated. After another couple of hours, Arthur offered him a beer on the porch, and one thing led to another…and Trevor found himself on his knees in front of the fat redneck, sucking his cock, groping his own member, but it felt…strange. A bit shorter than it had been, and hadn’t he had a gut, and…and why was it so hard for him to think, all of a sudden? Arthur fed him a load, and Trevor asked to use his bathroom–and in the mirror, he just stared at himself–at the body he had suddenly. He looked to be in his forties, with a thick goatee, heavily muscled, skin tanned from hours and days working in the sun, with a short, thick cock drooling precum…but was that so wrong? He fiddled with his cock until he came, and as he did, the nausea came back–as did his real body.

He fled, Arthur laughing as he ran off, got in his car and drove off, vowing never to go back there again…but that was before the headaches set in the next day, and the nausea, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to cum, no matter how horny he got. He…could still taste the cigar smoke on his tongue, and a few days later, drived by desperation, he went back to Arthur’s place, took another cigar from him, and spent another day as Arthur’s burly handyman, fixing up his house between servicing Arthur’s cock.

He told himself that he only had to get through the summer…but as time wore on, and he spent more and more time smoking Arthur’s cigars, he found himself…losing his younger identity more and more. His car changed into a beat up pickup full of tools. His body would change back less and less. He couldn’t think as well, and the accent he had grew slower and thicker. No one else seemed to notice a thing–and when the end of August rolled around, he said a tearful goodbye to his mom and dad, but didn’t drive to school–he drove to Arthur’s, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever be his real self again.

Trev, after a day of work, with his old truck.

Trev appeared in town like he’d always been there. He was none too bright, but he could fix pretty much anything that needed fixing, and he was never hurting for work around town as a capable handyman. He lived with Arthur, and everyone suspected they might be a couple of faggots, but no one knew for sure–no one, except for any man who got a good whiff of Trev’s cigar smoke while he was working. Any man who did would find themselves unable to resist using Trev’s holes, filling the stupid, muscular redneck with their cum while Trev begged them for it, always paying him for the pleasure, but forgetting about having done it soon after–but Trev never forgot. Deep inside, Trev knew this was a lie, but he was far too addicted to go back to who he should be, and in time, he learned to accept it, and even, at times, believe it. Still, when he found out he would be spending a week fixing his parent’s roof–he rebelled, as best he could, but Arthur had plenty of ways to put Trev in his place.

And so, Trev found himself passing his father the cigar Arthur had given him. He watched as his father turned into a musky, hairy, big gutted and big dicked redneck biker, who beat Trev into submission before fucking him raw. He tried to deny liking it. He tried, but he couldn’t. And when his dad begged him for another cigar the next day, even knowing what would happen to him, and another the day after that–he knew that Arthur had plans for their little town far beyond just Trev. They both ended up back at Arthur’s that night, Arthur and his brute of a father fucking him senseless…but what could he do? He was just a stupid, weak, hick faggot, like they said he was, and that was all he’d ever be, forever. At least, once Arthur opened his cigar shop, he wouldn’t be the only one–hopefully.

The Frat’s Dirty Laundry (Caption Sketch)

I’m posting captions and taking requests for captions over on my discord server for patrons supporting me with at least $5 a month! Here’s a couple from a five part series I wrote for them over there–if you’d like to get access to the rest, and to all the other captions I post there, you can sign up on my Patreon here and get access!

Alpha Beta Sigma was a dirty frat on campus–drugs, rape, drinking and partying–but because all of the young men who belonged to the frat were legacy students, or similarly important to the schools reputation and bottom line, no real punishment ever really came down upon it. Well, one group of students is fed up with it, and has decided to cast a spell over the young men of ABS–from now on, all of their laundry will be as dirty as they are, and they won’t have a choice but to air it out for all to see.

The first young man to fall victim to the curse was Lyle Everston. He was a legacy, the son of a senator from a southern state, and Lyle’s conservative politics were apparent, but well hidden. Still, there had been a rash of hate crimes across campus, and while no one could pin them on Lyle…well, the washer and dryer in the basement of the house knew the truth.

Most of Lyle’s clothes were dry clean only, of course, but he did have some things that he could wash onsite. He went down into the basement, went to pull his clothes out of the dryer…but they weren’t his clothes, and they most certainly were not clean. Instead of his underwear and lounge clothes, he found a pair of filthy beige work pants, some rubber boots caked with mud,a tattered john deere hat and a sleeveless shirt with the rebel flag across the front. They smelled rank, and yet somehow familiar. In a daze, he found himself stepping out of his clothes in the basement, and pulling on the ones from the dryer instead, his physique packing on some muscle, stubble spreading across his face. Part of him fought–but it no longer had control of his body–Lyle was trapped inside himself, watching and feeling his body change, feeling his body start to tug on his cock, a grungy, cheesy foreskin growing up over the head, and he drooled some dark spit onto it to lube it–dark from the tobacco leaf that had appeared in his mouth.

“Hey boy,” a voice growled behind him, “If’n yer gonna tug on that thing, might as well do it o’er here, wit’ yer Pa.”

Lyle spun around, but as he did, the room blurred–he found himself not in the basement, but in a filthy, rundown trailer, and there, on a small couch, lounged…his daddy, his pa. Not the pa he’d had, no, this one was a lazy, fat, nasty piece of redneck trash…just like Lyle was now. Drooling a bit more spit on his cock, he went and sat down next to his Pa, the older man’s thick musk making the boy moan, and it wasn’t long before they were swapping tobacco spit, hands on each others’ cocks, and inside his mind, all Lyle could do was scream.

Slowly, the house began to feel a bit…empty. None of the remaining young men inside could quite understand why it felt empty, why the rooms that had been doubles were now singles, why the common rooms were a little less filled, but laundry–well, laundry always had to get done.

The next young man to try his luck with the washer and dryer was Henry, one of the school’s star football players. He was an egotistical narcissist, assumed he was the paragon of masculinity, meant to be worshiped by everyone–well, by women of course. Men, especially fat men, were there to be ridiculed and humiliated–and so that’s what he spent his time doing, bullying other fellows on campus. However, when he went to pull some of his practice gear out of the dryer…well, it was a jersey that he pulled out, it just wasn’t his.

It also wasn’t the least bit clean–instead, the front of it had all manner of stains on it–food and drink stains as far as he could tell, and the fabric was stretched out, faded, and, well, reeked. Reeked like it had never been washed in ages…but the smell was familiar. It was…his. His smell, of course. Because it was his jersey. He could remember it better now, but he knew he’d have a better memory if he put it on, so he pulled off the undershirt he had on, and pulled on the jersey, and the memories can flooding back to him–as did the horror of what he’d just done to himself, but it was too late.

The jersey was his, of course. But he was no longer a star running back. No, he’d been a linebacker in high school and college, before he’d dropped out, and not a particularly good one, but man, he’d always loved wearing his jersey. It…made him feel young again. He tugged it down, knowing it had fit better than this at one point, but he wasn’t in college anymore. He’d just turned fifty five, in fact, lived in a shabby single wide all by himself, and spent his days working menial labor, and his afternoons and evenings glued to the TV–usually watching sports.

Football was his favorite. He loved watching his crushes on TV, cheering them on, fucking himself when they scored, imagining they were fucking him in celebration. When football season was over, he usually found solace in wrestling instead–but that was for later. The game was almost on, after all. He pulled on his tight, cum crusted sweats, chugged down most of his beer, and headed to the living room to get settled with the rest of the twelve pack and his favorite dildo (one he’d had custom cast to match the hard cock of his greatest football crush), hoping this game would be a damn good one.

A Family Man (Caption Sketch)

For those of you who like these sorts of caption stories, I’ve started writing and posting them with some regularity over on my discord server for Patrons! It’s open for everyone supporting me at the five dollar level and up, and includes the ability to request captions, get exclusive access to all the captions I post (because I won’t be posting them all here) and you can also help me out by play testing some of the odd transformation RP games I design in my rare spare time. You can find more details here! I hope y’all had a nice holiday!

It had been a long day for Roy, and a bit of a strange one at his job, and he was glad to finally have the chance to put the day behind him and head home for some peace and quiet. Roy was an office manager at a sizable tech firm, and part of his duties included hiring, and firing, personnel. In particular, he had let go one fellow by the name of Evan the week before. He hadn’t been performing up to par, and had been blaming it on his family–but families were a choice. Kids were a choice. Roy didn’t have kids–of course, Roy was gay, so he had no interest in making them at all. Roy mostly just liked being by himself, that, and working.

But today, Evan had stormed into Roy’s office, and lunged at him, grabbing him by the hair and yanking some out before security hauled Evan off him. Roy was planning on charging him for assault, as soon as he knew more, but that was a problem for another day. Today, he just wanted to get home, relax for a while, listen to some music, cook himself a nice dinner, and go to bed, alone, like always.

Except when he got home to his condo, he realized he wasn’t alone. Someone heard the door, and in a young, male voice called out to him, “Daddy! Daddy come here, I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

No one called Roy daddy–none of his last relationships, and none of his fuckbuddies even. Confused, he went into his bedroom, and saw that it was…different. Everything was filthy, and there on the bed, on hands and knees, was a young, chubby man, his dirty ass facing him, wearing just some ragged, filthy underwear and nothing else.

“Come on daddy, you’ve been away so long today! Your boy needs you so badly…” the young man said, and shook his meaty ass at Roy…and Roy, found himself…confused. He didn’t know this young man, and yet…and yet, something about him seemed…right. “Such a naughty daddy–you don’t understand how important family is at all. Well don’t you worry, I’m going to be all the family you ever need, and you want to be my perfect daddy, don’t you?”

Roy nodded, his mouth dry and unable to speak.

“Take off that suit–my daddy doesn’t work in an office. No, my daddy stays here with me as much as he can, taking good care of me, and making sure I’m nice and happy. Now come on daddy, my crack is so dirty, and you love making sure your boy is nice and clean, don’t you?”

Roy stripped out of the suit, but the clothes didn’t just fall to the floor–as they came off his body, they just vanished away. He didn’t wear a suit after all, he was…he was just a daddy, and maybe something else, sometimes, but always a daddy first. Still, Roy needed lots of reminders about what kind of daddy he was. How old he was. How dirty he was. How fat he was. But most of all, how much he loved his boy, more than anything else in the entire world. After a few days, the old Roy was completely gone, and in his place was the perfect family man–or at least, the perfect daddy for a twisted son like this one.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 9)

This is the end of the story as far as I ended up writing it–sorry again for the odd update schedule, life, etc. I’ll have some bonus posts tomorrow to make up for the gap.

The credits for the movie rolled. There were six actors, and all of them were naked, with Logan thought was very funny. The movie started, and an older man close to Grandpa’s age, and his grandson were in a bedroom together. The grandpa was tucking his grandson in…and Logan felt such a longing, when he looked at the grandson, at his chubby, smooth body; his small peepee; his short stature. That was what he’d wanted to see in the mirror, when he climbed out of the tub, that’s what he felt he should look like. The grandpa kissed his grandson goodnight, but then they started kissing longer, and the boy asked his grandpa why his peepee had gotten hard, and so the grandpa showed his grandson how good peepees can make you feel. In the room, Edgar had wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him close to him, rubbing his belly as Logan stared at the screen, rapt in faascination, and Edgar reached around and started rubbing Logan’s peepee again, making him shiver and moan.

The movie kept going. Soon, the grandpa put the grandson’s peepee in his mouth, and the grandson did the same. Then, the grandpa pushed his grandson onto his belly, climbed up, and put his peepee in the boy’s hole. When he saw that, Logan laughed, boucning up and down on the edge of the armchair. “I knew it!” he exclimed, “I knew you could do that with a peepee!” he leaned back, and looked at his grandpa with a suddenly serious expression, “Grandpa, I want you to put your peepee in my butthole, like that grandpa’s doing there.”

“Goodness boy, are you sure? Your grandpa’s awfully big, and you’re awfully tight.”

“I don’t care! Do it, I want to make your peepee feeel good.”

“Then you need to get it wet first. You remember what that grandpa told his grandson? Like a lollipop, but no teeth?”

“Yeah! I can do it…”

Logan wrenched himself out of his grandpa’s arms and got on his knees in front of him, licked his lips a few times, and then gave it a try, sucking on his Grandpa’s peepee as hard as he could, listening to him moan, knowing he was being such a good boy. With one hand, he reached back and started pressing on his hole, already so excited to feel his grandpa’s big peeepee in there…it was going to feel so good!

“Alright…alright, it’s wet enough,” Grandpa moaned, now get back up on my lap, and sit on my cock, boy.”

“Cock? I thought it was a peepee.”

“Boys like you have peepees, but grandpas and daddies have cocks.”

“O-Oh. Ok.”

It was the first thing he’d done in grandpa’s trailer that hurt, but he didn’t care, because after a minute, it felt so good he didn’t mind the pain, bouncing up and down on his grandpa’s cock, while grandpa rubbed Logan’s peepee. Logan groaned, and some strange white stuff sprayed out of his cock, shooting across the room. “Oh you fucker, you made a mess,” Edgar said, “Such a naughty dirty boy…”

“Oh…Oh, I’m sorry grandpa!”

“Heh, you can’t even stop yourself, came in here, and look at you now, just a boy desperate for grandpa’s cock. Been lonely for a long time boy–decades. I don’t get out much, and I’ve only seen a visitor after someone else has claimed ‘em, but you’re mine, you’re mine, and you’re gonna make me so fucking happy…”

Grandpa shoved Logan off his cock, sneding his boy sprawling across the carpet, but before Logan could do anything, Grandpa was on top of him again, ramming his cock deep, but now it really did hurt. Now, it wasn’t making him feel that good at all, and he started crying.

“Shut up! You think this is bad, heh, I can only imagine what those nasty fucks are doing to that nephew of yours. You should be thanking me–you’re going to have a good life here, keeping me happy. You’ll understand soon enough…”

The pain was bringing back other memories, and he remembered Tyler in that trailer, with those rednecks. What…what was he doing here? How much time had he wasted, and why…why was he letting his grandpa fuck him like this, and why was he enjoying it so much. He kicked and screamed, and managed to crawl away from grandpa, stumbling up. “No! No, I have to help Tyler. I have to call the police.”

“Heh, you should worry about yourself–not get back over here, before you make grandpa angry, boy.”

Fuck. Fuck, he didn’t want to make grandpa angry, but…but he needed to get help. He needed to get away from here, but he didn’t have any clothes, he didn’t have anything. He looked back towards the bedroom, but he’d never make it–all he could do is take a chance. He bolted for the door, slamming it open, and hit the ground running, and didn’t dare look back, not even when Grandpa screamed at him from the doorway, not even when his heart ached with guilt and shame, not even when he hit the edge of the trailer park and turned back the way he’d come. This place was insane, and he had a feeling he was going to be in so much trouble with grandpa when he got back home.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 8)

Sorry again for all the missed posts, and the double posts after the fact! Things are settling down (a bit) so hopefully the consistency will be back soon.

As he crept through the park, he began to realize how foolish this had all been–he hadn’t even let Howard know what was happening. He pulled out his phone, but the screen was cracked, probably from his fall off the truck, and he hadn’t been able to get service all day anyway, so it would have been next to usless working. All he’d really done is get equally lost himself–it wasn’t like he could just whisk himself back to the gas station–no, what he needed to do, first, was find that damn truck, and then find the police, and put these sickos where they belong.

The trailer part was structured around a loop, and at the back end of the gravel road, he spotted it–they had come in here, and they were probably in that trailer right next to it. Part of him wanted to investigate further, and see if he could save his nephew himself, but getting help wwould probably be a better idea, as much as he might want to be the hero. Should he knock on a neighbor’s door, or might they be in on whatever was going on? Without a phone, his options would seem to be, either, to ask to use someone’s and risk it, or to try and find the police station in town, wherever it might be. The first would save time–and who knew what those two might be doing with Tyler–but the second was probably safer. Still, he needed to figure out what was going on as quickly as possible, so he chose a trailer a little ways back which had seemed to be fairly well maintained, with the lights on, walked up to the door, and knocked.

“Just a minute!” a voice cried, male, sounding aged, and after a few moments, the door swung open, and on the other side of the screen door, wearing his a pair of boxers, was a man slightly older than Logan himself. He had a prominent gut, but the rest of him looked rather feeble and unthreatening, with a thick, but neatly trimmed white beard, glasses, and a small pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth, putting off a sweet scent that immediately set Logan at ease. but he seemed rather surprised at the sight of Logan, “Oh! Do I…know you? Don’t see out of towners around here very often.”

This, he thought, is a man I can trust. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but this is an emergency. I’m on a road trip with my brother and my two nephews, and while we were gassing our van, the two rednecks who live a few trailers down from you–they kidnapped one of my nephews! I…I followed them by riding on the back of their tow truck, as crazy as that sounds, but I need to call the police right away–do you have a phone I can use?”

“Oh my goodness, that does sound serious–yeah, Skip and Pa can be such troublemakers, I know just who you’re talking about, and we’ll get everything sorted out. I’m sure they don’t mean the boy any harm, though. Now come in, the phone’s inside. My name’s Edgar.”

“Thanks, Edgar. I’m Logan,” he said as the older man opened the screen and pushed it open for him, and as he climbed the stairs into the trailer, Edgar blew a could of pipe smoke right in his face, making him cough.

“Oh goodness Logan, I’m sorry about that–I smoke so often I forget I have it in my mouth sometimes.”

“It’s…it’s fine,” Logan said, clearing his throat, “I don’t really mind it that much, actually. In fact, it smells really…kind of sweet.”

“Oh, I’m too old to smoke the rough stuff anymore–sweet and young and soft, that’s what I like these days, you know?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Oh, now what did you do to your arm, boy?”

Now that he could get a better look in the dim light of the trailer, Logan figured that his earlier assessment that everything was fine might have been a bit hasty. There were no deep cuts, but his arm was covered in blood. “I…I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, and your face,” Edgar said, graabbing Logan’s chin in his hand and turning it towards him, Logan getting another face full of smoke in the process. “Did Skip do that to you?”

“No, it was…the older one.”

“I keep telling you to be careful around him, and you just don’t listen–well we’ll get you cleaned up, alright? Now get out of those clothes, they’re filthy, they have to be washed.”

“I-I think I really just need to use your phone…”

“The clothes, boy–you can use the phone later, but I won’t have those filthy rags getting my trailer filthy, and then you’re going to have a bath.”

Logan thought about protesting, but it was Edgar’s trailer, and he did want to be polite. He pulled off his shirt, doing his best to get catch the fabric on his bloody arm, his shoes and socks, and then dropped his pants, and without really thinking about it, he took off his underwear as well. Tsking, Edgar gathered up the pile of laundry and disappeared into the back of the trailer with them, leaving Logan naked, and feeling rather uncomfortable. He looked around, and saw the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchenette…but he really should ask permission first, shouldn’t he? He looked around the trailer a bit more, which was clean and rather spartan, though everything exuded softness, from the overstuffed armchair in front of the small TV, to the cushions on the chairs at the table, and he breathed a sigh of ease, the tension and terror that had been gripping him releasing slowly. His clothes were filthy, and a bath did sound wonderful, especially since all he’d had lately were low water pressure showers in grungy motel bathrooms. Tyler…he could wait a bit, right? Edgar hadn’t made it sound like he was in grave danger or anything.

He heard the sound of water running, and Edgar appeared again. “The tub’s filling up, now let’s take a look at that arm. Come here, over by the sink and we’ll see what that boy did to you.”

Logan followed him over, Edgar inspecting his arm under the light, before taking a fluffy washcloth and going to work, getting most of the dried and caked blood off. Like Logan had thought, it wasn’t as bad as it looked–but it was pretty bad all the same, with much of his forearm scraped away. Edgar didn’t say much, just smoked his pipe, pushing the smoke in Logan’s direction each time, watching his visitor inhale it now, a bit hungry for it, though Logan didn’t notice that the sweet smell was growing more and more appealing to him. When the worst of it was off his arm, Edgar turned his attention to Logan’s face, wiping the blood from where his lip had split, feeling the swelling there, watching him wince, though…his touch was still so gentle, just like the room around him, and Logan almost didn’t mind the fact that his touches brought a bit of pain–he…he just wanted Edgar to touch him, and…and be close to him. His cock had grown hard, but he hadn’t paid it any mind, but the old man saw it, and smiled. “Come on, boy–let’s get you in the bath.”

That was the second time Edgar had called him that. It was…strange, that he’d call him that, but he’d missed the chance to tell him to not call him that the first time, and now, his words felt so soft, he worried that if he asked him not to call him that, he might injure the old man. He was…so kind, and gentle. Logan didn’t want to do anything to upset him, of course. He followed him into the steamy bathroom, a large tub about half full of water. “Alright, get in and let’s get you all cleaned up.”

The water was hot, and bubbly–obviously Edgar had put something in to make it froth this much, and the room smelled sweet–kind of like his pipe smoke, but more bubblegum. It didn’t seem very appealing, but once Logan had settled down in the water, he gave a little gurgle of pleasure, He hadn’t taken a bath in ages–in his mind, baths were for kids, or something you did at spas, or something. Of course, his bachelor pad only had a shower, so it wasn’t like he could take a bath even if he wanted one. Still, this was…nice. In the back of his mind, he felt like he was getting off track. What about Tyler? He still needed to call the police, and tell them what had happened, or call the gas station, and try and get in touch with Howard, Jeremy or Dave. But all he really wanted to do was sink under the water for a bit. After all, it was just a bath. He knew where Tyler was, and he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Edgar got down on his knees next to the bath, and picked up a big sponge and dipped it in the foamy water, before pushing Logan forward and starting on his back. “There we go, let’s get my boy nice and clean.”

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of washing myself…you don’t have to…to help.”

“I know, you’re a big boy who thinks he can take care of himself,” Edgar said, but he didn’t stop, and Logan didn’t press the point, because…because he liked having the man touch him. That seemed…odd. Logan had never really liked being touched, but everytime his instincts told him to cringe, when the older man touched some other place, he instead felt…good. Soft, and good. “Alright, let’s shampoo that hair–close your eyes, you don’t want to get any in there.”

Logan obliged, squeezing his eyes shut tight while Logan massaged the soap into his scalp, telling him he was being such a good boy, and so patient, even thought Logan was squirming a bit, wanting to open his eyes, but he’d keep him shut, because…because he’d said so, because he didn’t want to disappoint him, right? Edgar took a small glass and used it to rinse the soap from Logan’s hair, and told him how good of a boy he was, keeping the soap out of his eyes, and…and Logan heard himself giggle.

He flung his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. What the hell was that? Edgar just laughed and rolled with it, soaping down his shoulders and front, running the sponge under the water over his belly and under his arms, which again, made Logan giggle. “That…that tickles!”

“Oh? Is someone a bit ticklish?” Edgar said, and pushed his hands into Logan’s armpits, wiggling his fingers, making the grown man lose himself in a spasm of giggles and sqirms, water splashing everywhere as they both laughed, the room full of smoke and steam, “No, Edgar! Stop!” he said.

“Call me grandpa, and I’ll stop!”

“No! That’s…that’s silly, you aren’t my…my grandpa!” Logan managed to stutter out in the midst of the man tickling him, but his chest and jaw hurt from laughing, “Alright! Alright, grandpa, stop! Grandpa!”

“Haha, that’s my good boy,” Edgar said, pulling his hands away, letting Logan catch his breath, still giggling a bit, smiling wide up at Edgar. “Alright, now get on your knees in there, let grandpa wash the rest of you up, boy.”

“Ok,” Logan said, and repositioned himself on his knees in the tub, and Edgar sponged him lower, around the outside of his thighs, his butt cheeks, and then the inside of his thighs, which made Logan shiver again.

“Ticklish?” Edgar asked., setting his pipe to the side with his free hand.

“N-No…no, just…funny, grandpa…”

“Funny good, or funny bad?”

“Funny…funny good.”

Yeah, that’s a good place, isn’t it? Your peepee?” Edgar asked, sponging Logan’s hard shaft under the water, then under to his balls, and between his thighs.

“Really good Grandpa, feels really…good…” Logan sighed, humping his cock into the sponge.

“Do you like how Grandpa makes you feel? How grandpa makes you feel good and soft and clean and happy?”

“Y-Yeah, grandpa, you make me feel really good, oh…oh grandpa…”

“That’s a good boy, my good, good boy,” Edgar said, letting the sponge float to the surface, wrapping one hand around Logan’s cock, stroking it slow, his other hand slipping under the water and around behind him, between his cheeks, lightly pressing against Logan’s ass, listening to his groan. “Do you want Grandpa to make you feel super extra good, boy?”

“Y-Yeah…” Logan moaned, a quiver of doubt in his voice, not quite sure what he was doing or why, but he didn’t want to stop. “Grandpa, why…I don’t…”

“Shush boy, everything’s fine, you’re happy and safe with Grandpa, I promise. Give Grandpa a kiss.”

“W-what?”

Give Grandpa a kiss.”

Edgar leaned over the tub, locking lips with his boy, and his doubts caved after a moment, Logan turning towards him as he humped into his grandpa’s hand, letting his grandpa shove his tongue deep in his mouth. It tasted of smoke, and was so soft, he didn’t notice that grandpa’s finger had slid into his ass until the pleasure surged through him like a bullet. “Oh…Oh Grandpa!” he cried into the older man’s mouth, but it was too late, he was shaking and cumming, spraying his cum into the bath water. They kept kissing a few minutes, until Logan had come down from his pleasure, Grandpa’s finger still probing his ass, and Edgar pulled his hands out, wiping them with a cloth, before picking his pipe up again. He took a deep inhale of smoke, and kissed him again, feeding him the smoke straight this time, and it was like Logan had never breathed fresh air before, the way he sucked it from his lungs. After a minute of sharing their air, they pulled away, both of them panting.

“I…love you, grandpa.”

“I love you too, boy…but we should get the rest of you cleaned up.”

“But….but I want…I want you to make me feel good again, like that.”

Edgar chuckled. “I’ll tell you what–let’s finish your bath, and then we can watch a movie that’ll make us both feel good.”

“Movies can make you feel good?”

“You’ll see. Now sit back down, and lift up a leg so I can wash it.”

The rest of the bath proceeded largely without incident, aside from another tickle attack on Logan’s feet, which again sent him into spasms of giggles and laughter, water flying everywhere as he kicked and splashed, but finally they finished, drained the bath, and Logan stood and climbed out, but froze when he saw his reflection.

“Grandpa? Why…I look…” he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. What he saw was…how old he looked. With his grey hair, and wrinkled face. His sagging gut and tits covered with hair. His goatee and receding hairline. That…that was what he’d always seen in the mirror, sure, but…somehow, looking at himself, he saw just how many years he’d put on, without even noticing, and…and he hated it, but that wasn’t quite right. After all, he loved how grandpa looked, he looked…looking at him made Logan really happy, in that good way, in the way that made his peepee hard, but that wasn’t how he wanted to look! That…that wasn’t how grandpa wanted him to look either, he bet. “Why am I so ugly?”

“Oh, don’t worry about how you look right now, you’ve had a rough day–all you need is your beauty sleep,” Edgar said, as he started towelling Logan down from head to toe, paying special attention to his boy’s peepee, of course, his boy leaning against him, feeling how soft and comfortable his grandpa was, how much he loved being close to him, how much he loved touching, and being touched by him. “Now, we were going to watch a movie, right?”

“Yeah…but…”

“What?”

“There was…Wasn’t there something else I needed to do?”

“Like what?”

Logan searched his head, trying to remember, but couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it–just let grandpa take care of the hard stuff, alright?”

“Ok, sounds good, grandpa. But what movie are we watching?”

“Oh, it’s one of my favorites–I’ve watched it lots of times.”

“Really? What’s it about?” Logan asked, as they went back into the living room.

“It’s about a grandpa and a grandson who love each other very much, and who love making each other feel good and special.”

“Kind of like us!” Logan exclaimed, with a laugh.

“Exactly like us! That’s why I know you’re going to love it.”

Grandpa put the video in the player, and turned on the TV, then went over and sat in the armchair. “Now come on boy, come sit in grandpa’s lap, and let’s watch together.”

Logan sat down between his grandpa’s legs on the chair, and felt his grandpa’s peepee poking him in the butt, but he didn’t mind…thinking about his grandpa’s finger in his hole, and how good that had made him feel…maybe…maybe that’s what peepees were for…even? He felt like he should know that, and yet the idea felt so staggeringly revolutionary to him, that even if that wasn’t what peepees were for, he…he kind of wanted to try it anyway.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 6)

Tyler looked at his extended index finger, at the filth under his chipped nails, skin crusted with grease and who knew what else, but like in a dream, his hand floated up, grabbed hold, and gave it a tug–and immediately Skip let loose a loud, noxious fart with a chuckle. Tyler chuckled too, but half-heartedly, but once the stench him him like a truck, he let out a groan, and collapsed to his knees. “Oh…Oh fuck! What the, fucking hell, it…smells so fucking…”

“Yeah, probably shoulda warned ya. Pa ‘n I got us some fuckin’ nasty gas. Still, ya don’ mind it that much, do ya?”

Tyler didn’t reply. On his knees, his eyes watering, but vacant, tongue lolling out from his gaping mouth.

“Heh, didn’t even pull that hard,” Skip said, unbuckled his belt and dropped his greasy jeans as he turned around. He didn’t have underwear on, and he stooped slightly, so his ass was inches from Tyler’s face. “Good thing Ah got plenty more.”

“No…No, don’t.” Skip looked up, and saw Dave there, shaking his head, “Please…if…if you have to, just…take me. I need…need some more, please–I’m thirsty still.”

“Shut up, you’re not man enough for me anyway. You’ll get what you need from someone else, but I’m fuckin’ busy. I don’t want to hear a fucking peep, or I’ll give you some shit to eat to keep you occupied.”

Dave looked like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Instead, he grabbed his sopping wet shirt, pulled the collar up past his mouth and started sucking the piss from it.

“Better–now where where were we?” Skip said, looking back at Tyler, “You ready? Cause here it fuckin’ comes!” Skip grabbed his own index, and gave it a hard yank–and this time a massive fart ripped from his hole, powerful enough to ripple his cheeks slightly, and all of it blasted directly into Tyler’s face, who started snorting it up, mouth turning up into a sneer, and with his hands he spread Skip’s ass and shoved his face into the ripe, filthy crack, licking and chewing at the hole while Skip encouraged him with another fart or too, until Tyler was snorting and grunting uncontrollably, his hands fishing his cock free from his pants so he stroke it, shooting a load all over himself, the back of Skip’s boots and the asphalt in a matter of seconds.

It wasn’t too much longer that Pa, came out of the store with a twenty-four pack of cheap beer under his burly arm, walked over to the tow truck and tossed it back behind the seat, and then looked around for Skip. He didn’t see him anywhere–but fuck, he could smell something filthy back around the building–hell, he could smell his boy coming from a mile, he knew his stench so fucking well. So he followed his nose around the side of the building, and sure enough, there he was, bent over, with the face of one of the boys he’d seen earlier shoved in his crack, encouraging him, urging him to dig deeper, suck harder on his filthy hole, get it nice and clean.

“Didn’t think ya’d start without me,” he said, “Heh, ya should see what’s goin’ on inside, fuckin’ Bubba ‘n his gang got a hold a one–almost feel sorry fer ‘em. Sure glad Ah ran intah you ‘n not them.”

Skip pulled his ass away from Tyler, and he tried to follow, tongue greasy, nose a bit brown, eyes still empty of everything other than hunger. “Come on Pa, let’s git ‘em in the truck–we got plenty a time tah dawn tah work on ‘em tahgether.”

“Sounds like a plan tah me!” Pa said, reached down and hauled Tyler up by the arm. His legs were like jelly and Tyler didn’t know who this guy was supporting him, but…but fuck, he smelled good. Almost as good as Tyler. Pa had his arm under his, and Tyler leaned it to the redneck’s exposed pit, licking at it with as much eagerness as he had Skip’s hole, and Pa laughed. “Fuckin’ eager!”

“Ah think he’s gonna be perfect. Ya’ve been needin’ some help.”

“Heh, as much as Ah love ya son, yer too much fer one daddy, I know. Come on man, let’s git ya’ll home, where we can have some real fun.”

“S-Sure…home…” Tyler mumbled, and let Pa and Skip help him over to the tow truck.

Pa popped open the driver’s door and helped Tyler inside. “Only one bench, so ya’ll have tah sit between us–don’t think ya’ll mind though.” Tyler shook his head, still not quite sure what was going on, but…but he was happy. Still, shouldn’t…shouldn’t he be in the van? That van, over there? He saw his Uncle Logan get out of the side yelling at Pa for some reason, but before he could say do much Pa laid him out on the asphalt with a haymaker to the jaw, and then Skip climbed in the passenger side, Pa hopped in–smashing Tyler between both their filth, and drove off with tires screeching. Tyler wanted to look back, and make sure his uncle was alright, but when he turned to the side he found his face in Pa’s armpit again…and he’d rather lick that anyway, right?

“Heh, found an eager one, fer sure,” Pa said, lifting his arm a bit higher to give Tyler better access, steering with his left hand.

“Fuck, shoulda seen the other one, sorry piece of shit. Got one whiff a me ‘n pissed himself.”

Pa laughed, “Don’ know, sounds right up our alley tah me.”

“Nah, don’t need no fuckin’ jittery fucker, Pa,” Skip said, “Not fer what Ah got in mind.”

Pa looked over at his son in the passenger seat, illuminated by the dim instrument panel and the tip of his cigarette, “Yeah, Ah think Ah see what yer lookin’ fer. Just…don’t replace me, ya know?”

“Ain’t nobody getting replaced Pa, don’ be gettin’ all sappy on me, ya fucker–’sides, yer gonna be helpin–he’ll be yers as much as mine.”

“Shit Skip, ya know all Ah need is you.”

“Yeah, but is that all ya want?” Skip asked, and looked over. He could smell how horny his daddy was, with this fucker’s mouth suckin’ at his ripe pit, he knew he wanted it. “I know ya got lots a love Pa, Ah made ya that way, ‘n I gots plenty too.”

Tyler, between them, was only able to half listen to the conversation. The rest of him was either enthralled by the filthy smell of Pa’s pit, which only seemed to be growing fouler the more he cleaned it, or terrified beyond belief. What in the hell was he doing here? Had he really just climbed into some strange tow truck, by himself, with these two freaks? What had he been thinking? Then again, it felt more like he hadn’t been thinking, ever since…since that first nasty fart. Fuck, that…that had smelt so damn good, fuck! No–No, he had to get out of here, he had to. It took all the force he could muster inside himself, but he managed to rip his face from Pa’s pit with a gasp, wipe his slobber from around his mouth on his arm, and say, “No, no, I want to go back.”

Skip laughed, “See what I mean? Got a strong one.”

“Ah heard strong ones are just annoying,” Pa said, “Always gettin’ in tah trouble before they finally settle down. Hell, Hendrick was one a those, ‘n ya hate that fuck.”

“Yer fergettin’ Pa, tha ya were pretty strong willed yerself, ‘n look at ya now. Most fuckers jus’ don’t know how tah break ‘em right, make ‘em need ya.”

“I said I want to go back–please, just let me go back.”

“Pa, why don’ ya go on ‘n let one loose, give ‘em a taste a yer shit–he already got a taste a mine.”

Pa smiled around his own cigarette, lifted his inside leg and let a long, loud fart loose towards Tyler. In the small cabin, which already reeked of musk and smoke, he hadn’t imagined that it could smell worse, until the dank, rotten egg slammed into his nose. It wasn’t quite as pungent as Skips had been, but it didn’t matter–unable to stop himself, he was snorting and inhaling deep, bucking his hips mindlessly.

“Fuck, look how riled up that got ‘em–’n that wasn’t even that nasty! Damn Skip, ya sure can pick ‘em.”

“See Pa? He’s fuckin’ perfect. ‘Sides, ain’t ya always wanted a brother? Some filthy fuck to pal around town with?”

“Ya mean–”

“Ah jus’ want ya tah be happy Pa, that’s all.”

“Aww fuck son–I love ya so damn much.”

Between them, Tyler was trying desperately to get his body back under his control, but he couldn’t avoid the stench. Skip lifted a leg and let loose a fart of his own, and that only made things worse. He couldn’t think about anything beyond the smell, and how…and how much he wanted it. It reeked, sure, but he wanted it all the same, wanted it all. He only dimly realized that, at some point he had undone the fly of his pants and had begun jacking off. The first load blasted out of him, cum splattering across the radio in front of him, Skip wiping some of it off with a finger and giving it a taste.

“Fuck, why…why do I…why do I want this…” Tyler gasped, sobbing, and Skip hushed him, wiping his tears away with one hand.

“Don’ worry ‘bout that Unc. Here–let’s git ya somethin’ tah settle ya down.”

Skip pulled out a box of cigarettes and tapped one out, stuck it in Tyler’s mouth and lit it for him. It wasn’t the first cigarette Tyler had tried–he’d attempted to smoke one once back in middle school, with some “cool kids”, but this was different. Obviously unfiltered, and the leaf was cheap and rank, and yet, just like the filthy musk rolling off the two men who’d kidnapped him, he couldn’t stop once he got a taste. When Skip handed him a beer, he didn’t bother questioning it, and after a few more miles, as they all started rolling past the outskirts of Kingsford itself, he had a solid buzz going, and had his face happily stuck in Skip’s pit now, licking it clean, taking the occasional moment to take a drag off his cigarette or slug some of the beer down. Before too much longer, he’d stopped finding the whole situation so strange. If anything, this is where he belonged, right? At least that’s what Skip and Pa were telling him, and…and they wouldn’t lie.

At last, they rolled into a very rundown trailer park–one of several they’d passed along the road in varying states of disrepair. The sign out by the road called it “Louisiana Acres.” Pa drove them around until they came to a well-rusted single wide, pulled the tow truck up in front of it, and got out.

Well Unc, welcome home man.”

Home? It didn’t feel like home. Hadn’t…hadn’t he been doing something else? Been going somewhere else? Still, when Skip waved him to follow, his feet shuffled after him, up the steps, and into the trailer behind them.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 5)

“All ‘lone out here, eh?” Skip asked, taking a drag off his cigarette, and following it with a loud, frothy belch, “On a trip? Ya look perty young tah be travelling all ‘lone like that–pretty brave, pretty adult.”

“No…Not alone. My dad and big brother are inside, and my uncle’s in the van. My friend, too, over there.”

“Ah–a family road trip. Hate tah break up a family, ya know? Don’ know what I’d do without mah Pa with me.”

Tyler just squinted at him, a bit confused. “I don’t…what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Where’d you say that friend of yours was?”

“He’s…over there, around the side of the building. He’s being kind of pissy, cause we’re lost.”

“He, won’t be lost for long, trust me,” Skip said, walked around the van and off towards where Daniel was, “Heh, pissy.”

“Why are you going over there? He…He doesn’t want to talk to you, trust me.”

Skip turned and glared at him, and something…something in his eyes froze Tyler in place, “Git in the van boy, ‘n don’t worry ‘bout yer friend, I’ll take good care a him.”

Tyler was still confused, but his hand was already grasping for the sliding door of the van, and he climbed inside, even as he watch Skip slip around the corner and out of sight. What in the hell was that? It didn’t make any fucking sense at all, anything that had just happened. So he reached around and shook his uncle awake again.

“Wha–now what?”

“Uncle Logan, I…I think something weird is going on out there, these guys showed up, and…and I don’t know what, but David is out there, and I…”

“Tyler, you don’t have to be afraid of people, you know that–what’s your dad always tell you?”

“Most people are good, I know, but this was really weird, but would you…go check on him, for me?”

“Tyler, you sound like you’re six or something.”

The truth was, the way Skip had stared at him, the way he’d smelled–he’d felt like he was a child again–no. No, Skip had looked at him…it was hard to understand, really, like he’d been sizing him up somehow–not what he was, but deeper than that. No, standing in front of Skip, he’d felt…old, somehow. Older, maybe, but without control over himself, without control over anyone else. But…but maybe his head was just getting the better of him. This long drive, being lost. He was just…he needed to get a grip. Still, he should go see whether Dave was alright. He turned around and pulled the door open again, got out, and followed where he’d seen Skip gone, around the corner.

It was dark back there, but enough lights were around that he could see the scene clearly enough–Dave was where he’d been when Tyler left him, sitting with his back to the brick wall. Skip was in front of him, his jeans open and cock out, and he was…pissing on him. He could see the stream glittering in the dark, arcing through the air, hitting Dave in the face, his friend’s mouth open wide, eyes locked with Skip’s own. “What–What the fucking hell!” Tyler shouted, and Skip swung towards him, breaking eye contact with Dave.

Almost immediately, Dave tried to scramble away to the side, but all Skip had to say was “Fuckin’ stay still,” and suddenly he was frozen, unable to move an inch.

“What…what the hell are you doing to him, you fucking freak?”

“Nothing he won’t want more than anything else come dawn–go back to the van, this don’ concern you in the least, anymore, as greedy as I might like to be,” he said, and Tyler felt that pressure behind that glare, but this time…this time he was ready for it, and he fought back, holding himself in place as he feet tried to walk him away, back to his uncle in the van, but no–no, this wasn’t happening. This was fucking wrong. Skip sensed his resistance–for a moment he pushed harder, knowing it would be a small matter to break him…but why? Because if Skip was being honest with himself, he liked this one much better–he, at least, hadn’t pissed himself in fright as soon as he’d gotten his first whiff of him. He cocked his head to the side, and then broke his gaze with Tyler, and looked down at Dave, licking his lips of piss, but his eyes were brimming with terror and confusion. It’s true, breaking up a family was cruel, but it wasn’t like the rest of Kingsford would feel the same way, so why not go with his gut? Because…because he liked this one. This one was going to be so much more fun to break, than the whimpering pisser he’d found back here. “Ya know what? have it yer way, I’ll leave’m alone, ‘n take you instead. Ah like you better anyway.”

“What?” Tyler asked. He tried to back away, but his feet had now glued themselves to the pavement, as Skip approached him,” What are you talking about?”

“What, you think we’d just leave ya fer the rest a the town? Nah, been looking tah round out our family a bit, git’s a bit lonely, just the two a us–but Ah also like a bit of a challenge…” he walked closer to Tyler, and with each step, the intensity of his stench doubled. In his mind, Tyler wanted to run, but the smell seemed to be wrapping itself around him, weighing down his limbs, holding him in place somehow as the redneck approached him. This close, nearly toe to toe with him,. it was getting hard to see, hard to think about anything beyond the stench. “Too bad Ah wasted mah piss–still, there’s more than one way tah git a bit filthy, ya know? Go on buddy, pull mah finger, ‘n see what happens.”

The Kingsford County Line (Part 4)

“Look, you two stay here for a bit, I’m gonna go see what’s taking dad so long in there,” Jeremy said, and he opened the passenger door and climbed out, disappearing into the gas station after his father. Tyler and Dave watched him, and then Dave slid open the side door of the van, undid his seatbelt and got out.

“Dave? Where are you going?”

“We’ve been in this damn van all fucking day, it feels like. I just want to stretch my legs for a bit is all.”

Tyler thought about telling him to stay–they shouldn’t just walk away without telling anyone. He undid his own seatbelt, flipped around and shook his uncle’s belly, until the older man started awake.

“H-Huh? What?”

“Hey, we stopped to get gas. Dad and Jeremy are inside, Dave and I are gonna walk for a bit, stretch our legs.”

“Oh, uh, sure…don’t go too far…”

By the time Tyler had climbed out of the van and slid the door shut behind them, he was already mostly asleep again, and Tyler hurried to catch up to Dave as he slipped around the corner of the gas station. “Hey, wait up? Where are you going?”

“I was just gonna walk around the building is all–you didn’t have to come along.”

“No, it sounded like a good idea, getting out for a bit. And I told Uncle Logan where we were going, so they wouldn’t worry.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but that snort Dave made usually meant he was rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“Do you…I mean…No, just forget it.”

“Come on, what–you haven’t said anything all day, what’s up?”

Dave stopped walking and leaned against the brick wall of the building, “Fine, but you have to be honest with me, promise?”

“Sure, of course.”

“Are you actually enjoying this as much as it seems like you are?”

Tyler shrugged, “Look, this isn’t the most exciting trip we’ve been on sure, but that’s just how it goes, sometimes. Once, I remember we were going through North Dakota, and–”

Dave turned and walked away, making that snort again.

“What? Come on. If you hate it this much, then why’d you come along?”

“Because I thought we’d be going somewhere interesting, but it’s like…like none of you want to go anywhere fun!”

“Hey, that second largest ball of yarn was kind of fun–who the fuck cares if it’s the second largest, right?”

“That’s exactly my fucking point! This trip is fucking boring, and your family is fucking boring! What the fuck is even wrong with all of you, that you don’t see this whole thing as a fucking disaster? I mean, we don’t even know where the hell we are!”

“We’ve gotten lost before, we always just get directions back to the highway.”

“That’s not the–gah, I hate it when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Nevermind, just…just go back to the stupid van or something, I don’t fucking care, just leave me alone already.”

“Whatever,be miserable if you want, I don’t fucking care,” Tyler said, and walked back towards the van, but didn’t get back in. He saw that while they’d been talking, a muddy tow truck that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years must have pulled up to get gas while Dave was trying to get him to join in his poutfest. It wasn’t like Tyler was having a great time, or anything, but this still wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him on a road trip. This did suck, but so what? Sometimes…sometimes things sucked, but you had to take the good with the bad. If there was anything these road trips had taught him, it was that. Be patient, solve the problems you come across, and everything will be alright in the end if you stay positive. He thought about getting back in the van, but he did want to walk a bit, so he took a few laps around the pumps, and a couple of people got out of the tow truck. The first was an older guy with a huge beard and big round gut jutting out, wearing clothes that looked like they’d last been washed at the same time as his vehicle. The guy saw him, grinned, and started toward him, when a second voice spoke up, “Pa, stay focused–go git yer beer, I got it handled.”

The man didn’t look very happy about that, “Sure Skip, you…got it,” but he turned and started towards the station and went inside, while the second speaker came around the other side, a young guy who couldn’t have been much older than Tyler himself. He was…big. Probably six foot four or so, more muscular than his father, but with a good amount of fat padding him out as well, just making him look thick–the fact that all he had on was a ragged flannel vest, showing off two thick arms and a very furry gut only accented his size. Skip took a drag off the cigarette he was smoking, and looked Tyler up and down, before walking over. Tyler went back around the van, keeping it between them, ready to get inside or pound on hood to get his uncle’s attention if he needed to. The young man must have found something about this funny, because he grinned a bit, showing off teeth which were way too yellowed for a guy as young as he was. He was a good five feet away, but the most horrendous smell wafted over to Tyler from the young man. He started breathing through his mouth, but it didn’t really help–the only comparable thing he could think of was walking into the locker room at school once after a bunch of practices, how musk had permeated the air so much, it was like the air had taken on a life of its own. But it wasn’t just musk, it was also…pangs of piss, and rotten eggs, and cum, and…and was…was he breathing through his nose? Deep–Deeper? Maybe, maybe it didn’t smell all that bad, yeah, maybe…maybe he could even get a bit…a bit closer. He forced his feet to stay still, but something strange was going on, he could tell, even if he didn’t know what.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 3)

The three bikers left out the door, leaving Howard on his hands and knees, licking cum from the filthy tile floor, and Jeremy finally shot his third load, and Doug felt mostly sated for the night, and pulled away. Jeremy still hadn’t had enough though–his cock was on fire without a hole to shove it into, and when he saw his father turn around, his ass dribbling cum, he lunged forward and rammed into him like an animal, pistoning and thrusting, while Howard lost control all over again, spraying another load himself across the floor. It was only after Jeremy came for the fifth time that he was able to regain some of his senses, pull himself free from his father, and wonder why nothing he’d just done seemed to be bothering him in the slightest. It didn’t seem to be bothering his father either, who was pushing back onto his cock just as fervently, head still pressed to the tile and eating up the last of the cum from his own final load. Jeremy pulled out and stumbled back, muscles shaking from the exertion, his cock still throbbing with need, and he looked over at Doug behind the counter. “What…what the fuck did you just do to me? What happened?”

“Kingsford County happened. Don’t worry, it’ll feel like home soon enough. Still, all that fuckin’ worked up an appetite–how about you? Why don’t we binge for a bit, and you can plow me again once you’re good and drunk–I like my men with a hefty beergut, you know? Don’t worry, you’ll only end up as big as me if you want to…” Doug said, shaking his gut again, Jeremy feeling it tug at his attention, tug at his cock, tug at his sudden, visceral need, and he ran. Ran around the end of the aisle and burst out the door and back into the parking lot, but only after did he realize he’d just left his father inside. Still–he couldn’t go back there, he couldn’t go back in there. If he did, he had a feeling he might never get out of there again. He shoved his cock back in his pants, and ran back over to the car, where he’d told Tyler and Dave to wait while he went and saw what was taking his dad so long–and he discovered something even worse. They were gone. Both of them.

There was no sign of a struggle, and the doors were all unlocked. He opened the door and looked in the back, but Uncle Logan was gone too. They couldn’t have just disappeared, right? They…they knew better, didn’t they, than to just take off without saying anything? He realized the bikers had left before them–had they done something to them? Logan wouldn’t have let something happen to them, unless…unless something happened to Logan. But then again, it wasn’t like his dad or he had been able to put up much of a fight against them inside. He looked around, but the station was deserted from what he could see. “Tyler?” he shouted into the night, “Dave?…Uncle Logan?” He ran around the pumps, and hooked around the side of the building–it was dark, but he could see someone there, sitting with their back against the wall, shaking and shivering in the dark. He ran over and found Dave there, soaking wet and stinking of…piss? What the fuck had those bikers done to him?

“Dave? Dave! Can you hear me?” Jeremy said, giving his brother’s friend a shake, “What happened? Where are Tyler and Uncle Logan?”

“They…they took Tyler. Logan…he tried–” was all dave could say, before he clamped up again, eyes welling up, “The smell, fuck…smelled so good…”

“Who? Those bikers? Did they do this?” Jeremy asked, but Dave wasn’t replying, just rocking gently against the wall. He grabbed Dave by the arm and hauled him up, half leading, half dragging him back to the van, when he saw his dad stumble out of the station doors, legs wide, face coated with cum.

“Sorry…Sorry Jeremy, had to clean up after…after Doug in there too. Fucker got cum all over his fuckin’ chair, and I didn’t want him to have to just sit down in it, you know?”

“Dad!” Jeremy said, running over, “Those fucking bikers took Tyler! And I don’t know where Uncle Logan is, I can’t find him.”

Howard didn’t seem to be listening, he just lurched over towards his son, throwing himself at him, sending Dave tumbling to the dirt where he curled up in a fetal position. “Jeremy…would…hey, fuck me again, like you did in there. Real rough. Fuck your old man, really…really fucking give it to me. Never knew my son was a real stud like that, you know?”

He didn’t have much of a choice, did he? Jeremy pushed him away and slapped his father across the face, but it didn’t seem to help much. “Dad! They’re fucking gone! Don’t you fucking get it? Those fucking bikers must have taken them!”

“Nah…nah they…they wouldn’t…would they? Don’t think they’d do that. It’s me they want, they know I’m the best…best pig around here.”

“Dad, get in the damn car, we have to find them!”

“Sure sure, but what about that fuck son? Fuck me again, and we can do anything you fuckin’ want,” Howard said, leaned in and tried to kiss Jeremy, who side stepped him. Howard fell forward, trying to keep his balance, but fell to the dirt on his hands and knees–but instead of getting up, he undid his jeans and pushed them down, showing his ass to his son…and Jeremy…he wanted to, he really did, but he had to stay focused, he had to…to try not to think about what had just happened in there, what he’d done.

“You don’t want that ass–trust me, he’s taken.”

Jeremy looked over and saw Doug at the door. He must have finally lumbered over to the door, his massively fat apron still…still hanging down over his jeans, swaying a bit.

“Get back in here, we aren’t finished yet, not by a long shot.”

“No…No, those bikers, they took my brother. And my uncle.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, that’s none of your concern anymore,” Doug said, giving his fat a slight jiggle, Jeremy focusing away, but he could…feel it, feel that ache. “You’re mine, I claimed you. Now get in here–I’m fucking starving.”

No–No, he–he had to find his family. But later, maybe. Eventually? It was hard to really understand what happened to him every time he saw Doug’s gut heave again.

He grabbed his dad by the arm and hauled him up, dragging him over to the car, Howard stumbling with his pants and underwear around his ankles, and Jeremy shoved him into the passenger seat, as Doug pushed his way out, yelling and cursing, but he was too slow to stop him, Jeremy knew that. He grabbed Dave and helped him up from where he’d fallen, and shoved him into the back of the van, climbed in the driver’s side and started the engine, hearing it give a strange, grinding whine that it hadn’t been making before, but he floored it, and sped off into the dark. Still, he couldn’t…couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rearview mirror, where he could still see Doug silhouetted in the light of the station, until the road turned a bend, and he disappeared behind him in the dark.