My Town (Part 3)

“Calm down dad–no one is going to notice a thing, as long as you don’t moan as loudly as you did when I fucked back at home,” Todd whispered in his ear, one gloved hand massaging the crotch of his slacks.

The two of them had spent the afternoon and early evening getting acquainted. Todd had finished his cigar while his father sucked him off nice and slow, and then he’d fucked him on his bed and made sure Edwin was nice and loud with the window’s open–enough that the neighbors outside might have possibly heard the commotion. So far, Todd had done his best to keep the gloves from altering his father too much, but the exciting afternoon had left a few effects. The most notable one, by far, was the beard Edwin was sporting across his face and neck–thick and bushy, and a bit greyer than the hair on his head. Still, a little weight there, a little hair there–he’d beared up nicely. By the time Todd was finished, he almost looked like someone he wanted to fuck.

Still, Todd wasn’t planning on keeping his dad as a personal slut. Sure, that had been his fantasy for years, but with his new gloves…well, he’d decided that he could set my sights a bit higher than that now. Still, his dad, and the rest of this fucking town, needed to be taught a lesson–a hard one. Well–really Todd was just going to make them live by their own rule–that appearance and presentation are everything. If Todd was going to hurt his father like he deserved to be hurt…well, he was going to have to suffer a few changes right?

But for now, they were relaxing for a moment, just a couple of guys in a booth at the trucker bar on the outskirts of town, the one his dad had always warned him about. It wasn’t quite a rowdy as it had been twenty years back, but it still carried a reputation. “Drink your beer, dad–look like you’re enjoying yourself a bit.”

Edwin picked up the mug and drank about half of it, and then set it back down. “Look, Todd, I’m sorry, alright? But enough is enough. I am your father, and I demand you get your hand off of my crotch.”

Todd just smiled, “Dad, I still don’t think you quite realize the level of shit you’re in–why don’t we go ahead and head into the bathroom for a bit?”

“Please, not here.”

“Calm down–we’ll do it wherever I fucking want, but this is going to be…different.”

The glove pointed to the bathroom, and his dad was compelled to go. Todd waited a beat, and then followed him. The bar was lively, and no one was paying them much mind. Inside the bathroom, he told his dad to go into the handicap stall, and then the glove ordered the other two guys present out of the room. They obeyed…but weren’t quite sure why they did. Then, Todd slipped into the stall with him.

He took a moment to look his dad over. Aside from the beard, and a bit of weight on his midsection, he was still the upstanding elder of the community he’d always believed he was. Todd had even made him dress in the same outfit he’d come home in, the waist of the khakis a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise untouched. “Now dad, you were always so ashamed of me, and my lisp, and my size. You had me marked as a faggot from the age of then–the fact that I like cock was always incidental. If I’d been more of a man, I could have at least hidden it, right?”

Edwin’s silence at the accusation was all the confirmation he needed.

“Well dad–since you think appearances matter so much, I think it’s time you tried on a new look.”

With both hands, he reached out and took hold of the suit coat his father had on, gave it a tug, and they both felt it squirm in his hands. A moment later, it wasn’t a coat anymore, but a ragged looking leather vest.

“How…how did you do that?”

“It’s easy, if you know the trick,” Todd said, ran a hand over the shirt, and the buttons disappeared, the front coming together seamlessly until it was just a grubby looking t-shirt, emblazoned with the logo of some forgotten truck stop, and the pants were next, turning into a pair of old jeans, the belt unlatching, and slinging over his shoulders into a set of suspenders. Lastly, he bent down and tugged at his shoelaces, watching as they grew up his ankles into a set of grubby work boots, caked with mud. “See? A brand new wardrobe in ten seconds flat,” Todd said, “but it’s what’s underneath that counts too, right?”

Todd grabbed hold of his father’s crotch with one hand, kneading his cock again, and this time Edwin felt a shift as his six inch cock began to retract, halving in size as his balls pulled up tight. His son’s other hand stroked his stomach, and it began to round out, becoming a hefty beach ball of a gut, stretching the t-shirt to the limit, the words of the logo a bit warped by the size, his father forced to lean back a bit to counter it. Todd came close, pressing his own stomach to his dad’s new belly, reached around, and palmed his ass, feeling it grow out as well, filling out the seat of his new jeans. Lastly, he mussed up his father’s hair, watching it grow out a bit and turn lanky, his beard tangled, and with a snap of his fingers a trucker cap appeared in one hand, and he rested it on his father’s head.

“Go on dad, have a look–but I think you’ll like what you see,” Todd said, stroking his father’s cheek with one hand.”

My Town (Part 2)

Edwin took good care of himself, and was in fine shape for a man nearing sixty, but he was someone who had always considered a proper, masculine, appearance to be the most important quality a man could possess. He was dressed in his usual Saturday attire–a bit dressed down from his usual suit and tie for the weekdays. Clean shaven, hair maneuvered into position over his receding hairline, sweating slightly from the hot day outside. He loosened his tie and shut the door, walked into the house and noticed the furniture had shifted, and that a relative stranger was sitting in his chair, facing him, smoking a cigar.

“Who the fricken–” he said, and then looked a bit closer. It had been a long time, but the resemblance was there. “Todd?”

“Hey dad. How have things been?”

It didn’t…quite sound like Todd, though. In particular, that lisp was gone. Edwin had always hated the sound of his youngest boy’s voice, it had always given away the little faggot’s weakness, and it had implied weakness in Edwin as well. He’d never really cared who the boy wanted to fuck, but his sissy ways had undermined the family, in Edwin’s mind. He’d been happy to see the boy leave, and was pleased that the time away had apparently helped him man up somewhat. In fact, Todd looked…good. Healthy, clothes on his back, didn’t seem to be drugged out. “Son, I…wish you’d called, and told me you were coming.”

“And spoil the surprise?” Todd grinned around his cigar, and with one gloved hand, beckoned his father over to him. “Come on daddy, let your boy get a good look at you.”

Something in his son’s tone set Edwin’s hair on edge, but he walked over anyway, eyes locked on the gloved finger drawing him in. He could almost hear the slight squeak of the leather as he drew closer. He intended to stop a few feet away, but his feet kept walking him right up in front of his son in the chair, until the finger stopped moving. Before he could move away, his son’s other hand reached out and stroked the side of his thigh, and Edwin…shivered. It had felt wrong, being touched by that glove, but why? The hand took his own, and the feel of the leather against his fingers, it was so supple. He barely heard his son’s voice speaking to him.

“Go on daddy, drop those pants, and take off that shirt.”

Edwin did has Todd told asked, and when the leather glove brushed it’s way down his bare thigh, he realized why it had felt so wrong. It was because he’d had clothes on, of course. The leather…it felt so good on his bare skin, better than anything he’d ever felt. Todd kept stroking his father’s thighs and small gut, listening to him mutter and sigh as he undressed, until he was naked in front of him. “Looking as good as ever, Daddy–but looking good is all that ever really mattered to you, right? That, and always making sure you kept proper company.”

Edwin knew this wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be naked like this in front of his son–especially not his faggot son–but everytime one of those gloved hands ran down his thigh or stomach, he lost a little more will to care–he just wanted to be touched. Todd tugged down on his father’s hand, and watched him wobble, and then sink to his knees in front of him. Lightly, he caressed his face with both gloved hands, watching his jaw go slack. “That’s good, daddy, that’s very good. Now, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, and I want to see your real face around my cock first. Then we’re going out tonight, and we’ll see what sort of company you keep from now on, daddy.”

Todd unzipped the fly of his jeans with one hand, and pulled his cock free, shuddering as he did when the leather touched flesh. Helplessly, he watched his hand stroke his own cock, beyond his control, the shaft lengthening and thickening from a modest four inches to seven. Then, he took his father’s head in his hands, and pushed the dribbling head to his lips, Edwin happily accepting it, so long as the lovely leather remained against his skin a while longer. Todd took a long drag off his cigar, and released a thick cloud of smoke over his father’s head, making him cough. Edwin had always hated smoke, but he fought through it, eyes burning slightly, because the gloves wanted him to. Because Todd wanted him to. Todd pushed his father’s mouth off his cock, holding him in place with both hands, took another draw off the cigar and locked lips with him, pushing smoke deep into his father’s lungs, making him hold it until he coughed and gagged–then he rammed his cock back into his mouth and fucked his face roughly for a few minutes, barely giving him space to breathe.

“That’s right you fucker–your boy’s back in fucking town. Is this man enough for you, daddy? Is this man enough for you yet? Because trust me, I’m going to be more man than this little fucking town can handle soon enough, just you fucking wait and see.”

The gloves, he could feel them fighting him, and one peeled away from his father’s head and dragged his hand back towards Todd’s body, hauling up his shirt and grabbing his nipples, twisting and pulling at them. Todd groaned, feeling them grow larger and fuller the more the glove played with them, and with a sharp pain, he looked down and saw metal piercings had appeared in both of them. Apparently satisfied, the glove allowed his hand to return to Edwin, stroking his smooth cheek, feeling a thin layer of stubble grow under his fingers. There would be more of that, soon enough, Todd thought, thinking of his plans, of the plans of his gloves, and he filled his father’s mouth with a massive load, listening to him choke it down like the good whore he was going to be soon enough.

Emptied Out (Part 10)

Leonard had to admit it felt good too. Sliding deep into his son’s filthy ass, but he knew it was a tempting delight, one he needed to resist…but when he tried to pull away, he couldn’t. He didn’t have access to the rest of the body anymore–Leo had managed to lock his mind away in the cock, and as pre-cum leaked out, Leonard felt his strength ebbing more and more.

“Yeah, it feels real good, don’ it? Just let go ‘n enjoy yerself. Don’ worry ‘bout nothin’, I’ll take real good care a yer body fer ya–and yer boy here.”

Leonard tried to rouse himself one last time, for the sake of his son, but he couldn’t–and so he just rode the pleasure, feeling more and more of himself draining away, the pleasure building higher and higher in his balls as Leo fucked Nathan harder and harder. Then, his balls contracted, there was a great wave of pleasure, and he was gone. Leo felt him go, felt his entire body belong to him and him alone, finally, and collapsed on Nathan with a grunt, hugging him close, groping his flabby sides and fat belly. “Damn boy, yer a real good fuck–gonna have to make sure Master let’s me visit ya on occasion, help me blow off some steam while I’m on the road.”

He hefted himself back up and let his cock side from Nathan’s ass with a wet fart, and whistled at the new cock he had, now that he didn’t have to lug around that worthless, stodgy fuck anymore. It was a real man’s cock–nine inches, thick as a beer can, with a thick foreskin hanging over the head, even when it was erect. He rolled Nathan over onto his back and straddled his fat chest. “Here boy, got a treat fer ya–clean off my nasty cock. Make sure ya get under that foreskin fer yer dessert too.”

“Please…” Nathan said, “Please, don’t…just leave. Just leave me be, please, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Leo ran one huge, greasy paw over Nathan’s buzzed scalp and jaw. “But boy, I ain’t ‘bout tah leave ya unsatisfied–that just ain’t mah way. ‘Sides, ya mean tah tell me a dirty pig like you is gonna pass up the oppontunity tah give me a real nice tongue bath?” He drooled a stream of tobacco spit onto Nathan’s chest, and felt the boy’s breath quicken under him. Leo took off his sweaty shirt, revealing a barrel chest covered in hair, and leaned in close. Even from a foot away, Nathan could smell the powerful stink of Leo’s pits, and his nose was drawn to them, licking at them tentatively at first, but with a bit of encouragement from Leo, he dug into them, savoring them in between drags off his fag. Leo hauled off his cowboy boots next, and once Nathan got a sniff of those, there was no going back. He spent half an hour with his face plasted to the soles, giving them long, loving licks from heel to toe, torn between his absolute shame and humiliation, and a lust he could neither articulate or deny.

Leo’s cock didn’t stay down for long, not with Nathan paying him such good attention, and he fucked him again, slower this time, with his real cock–his bigger cock. Nathan tried to hold off, tried to keep his fat from jiggling too much against the head of his dicklet, but it was too much. With a series of snorts he came, pumping the last remaining traces of himself onto the mattress below him, and Nate’s dumb grin spread across his face once again, bucking back harder into Leo’s cock.

In the corner where he’d settled, invisible, Greg watched the former father and son continue to fuck, pleased with the latest additions to his stable. He allowed them to finish, before revealing himself, and walking over to Nate, where he was dazed on hands and knees, feeling empty again. After all, he needed to get filled up one last time, and so Greg filled him in on what sort of life Nate could expect going forward. Greg had lots of daddies, and many of them traveled through the city on occasion–daddies like Leo, who was going to start work as a trucker the next week. Nate was going to be a very good host to all of them, Biff’s little whore boy, satisfying all of them, doing whatever they ordered him to do, and loving every moment of his new life, because it was exactly what he wanted.

They didn’t stay for dinner. Leo and Greg got back in the car, and Leo thanked his Master for the body by giving him a quick blowjob in the cab–Greg enjoyed sex most when he knew they could be discovered, after all, not that anyone would be able to stop him, of course. Leo finished, wiped the cum into his beard, and drove off to the bank. There were some papers that needed to be signed, by “Leonard”, transferring all of his assets to his new young dependent for safe keeping and dispersal, but Leo didn’t want to be rich. No, all Leo wanted was a life on the open road, smoking cigars, dipping, and drinking whiskey, fucking pigs in rest areas, resting his feet in front of some porn on the weekends. It might be an empty life, but for all of Greg’s daddies, it was the only life they could imagine ever wanting.

Emptied Out (Part 9)

Greg opened the door, and there, in the midst of the flithy laundry, on a mattress that reeked of piss, was the fattest, nastiest fucker Leonard had ever seen–but he couldn’t deny it, it was Nathan–it was his son. He rolled over from where he was snacking and looked at the door, “Oh hey! Ya must be daddy’s friends he said were comin’ o’er. Ya…wanna come play with me?”

“Hawt damn boy! That’s one sexy fuckin’ pig, it’ll be a fuckin’ honor tah pump a load in his dirty hole.”

“No! Nathan, Nathan, you have to listen to me, you have to get out of here!”

“Nah boy, just stay right there, and get that ass ready fer some redneck fuckin’.”

“Both of you shut up for a second,” Greg said, and both Leo and Leonard felt their lips knot up, while Greg stepped inside and went to Nate on the bed, pulling a used condom from his pocket. “I’ve been saving this for you, Nate–the little bit I saved of Nathan back before you left, one load of cum you pumped out for me on the couch before Biff arrived. It isn’t much, so be careful with it. Biff told me how fast you lost the rest, so maybe now you understand how important this is a little better.”

Nate didn’t quite know what Greg was talking about, but he did love cum, and so he guzzled down the chilled cum from the condom, and when it hit his guts, Nathan shuddered in horror. He was so fucking filthy, and all the filth he’d done with Biff over the last two weeks…he looked over at his dad in the doorway, or the nasty fucking redneck who had been his dad, and still was his dad…sort of.

“Now, why don’t the two of you spend the afternoon together? Just so you know, if you can refrain from any…funny business, both of you will be back in control, eventually. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be able to manage, right Leo?”

“Fuckin’ right! I’m fuckin’ that fuckin’ piggy, and gettin’ mah big, nasty fuckin’ redneck cock, just like Master promised me!”

He lunged for the bed, and all Leonard could do was tip him off balance so he missed, and landed among the filthy laundry around the bed. He did his best to keep control of his body–but Leo was horny, and fucking strong willed. It made sense, after all–he was the brains, and Leonard was just the balls. Nathan stayed on the bed, paralyzed. He didn’t know what to do, or even what to believe. He hadn’t had any Nathan in him in so long, the clarity, and the shame, was…horrifying. He didn’t really hate himself this much, did he? He grabbed for another fag and lit it, holding it in shaking fingers, trying to sort out what was real, and what wasn’t. He looked for Greg, but he’d slipped from the room–maybe. With all the control over them that he had, maybe they just couldn’t see him.

Leo smacked himself in the junk. “Ya ain’t in fuckin’ charge no more. Master gave this body tah me, ‘n I happen tah fuckin’ like it! Now, yer gonna get blown intah yer son’s hole, ‘n there ain’t nothin’ ya can do tah stop me.” Leo lunged for the bed again, but Leonard pulled him back, both of them screaming and shouting at each other, but Leo had another idea. Instead of going for the bed, he instead hauled his cock out of his jeans–or Leonard’s cock, since that was the one thing Master hadn’t changed about him yet–and stroked it slowly. Caught off guard, Leonard moaned in sudden, unexpected pleasure. His cock had never felt like that before, but then again, he’d never been entirely in his cock and balls before, had he? Leo just kept stroking, and Leonard lost focus, Leo whispering sweet things to him, telling him he was going to make him feel so good, and he made it onto the bed.

Leonard knew he should stop him, pull him back, but…but he didn’t want Leo to stop touching him. Nathan put up a bit of a struggle, but while Leo was fat, he had much more muscle than Nathan did at this point. “No…no, I…let my dad go, let us go, please let us go…” he said.

Leo slapped him–hard. Harder than Biff had ever hit him, and Nathan just sat on the bed, stunned. “Pig, I can fuck ya real gentle ‘n nice like, right here, right now, ‘n have ya squealin’ in delight, or I can go git the rope outta mah truck, hogtie ya, beat ya, ‘n ream yer ass raw. I don’t care how I gits this load in ya, but it’s goin’ in. Now–ya gonna go easy like?” Nathan looked at the filthy roughneck leering over him, and rolled over, presenting his hole to him. Leo…was kind of sexy, and he…he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He didn’t want to be this, and he didn’t want to think about this anymore–it was too tiring, the horror of it all. It had been so easy just…feeling good, and when Leo slipped the head of Leonard’s cock into Nathan’s ass–it felt like the answer to all of his problems.

Emptied Out (Part 6)

“Ya know, ya hurt my feelin’s boy, sayin’ ya didn’t like the smell a mah farts. Ya didn’t really mean that, did ya boy?”

“N-No daddy,” he muttered.

Biff threw an arm around his shoulders, and pulled Nate into his sweaty, musky pits. “Yeah boy, ya love how yer daddy smells. The smell ‘n taste a mah pits, my grungy belches blown in yer face, but ya love the smell of a good fart more ‘n anythin’ else–ya think they’re funnier than hell too, laughin’ every time ya fire one off. Can’t remember how many times I’ve caught ya on the toilet, jackin’ off tah the smell a yer own shit, snortin’ like a nasty piggy.”

Nate was listening, but was much more interested in Biff’s stinking pit. He dug into the sweaty hair, sucking it clean, lifted a leg and let out a long fart, giggling as he did, feeling the gas jiggle his fat ass.

“Yeah, yer a real dirty boy–nastier ‘n yer daddy. The funk rollin’ off a ya–hot damn, whenever I take ya outside, people get one sniff a ya ‘n run fer the hills. Ya love it though–wouldn’t ever think a showerin’, just like yer daddy.” He pushed Nathan away from him, and stood up, “Here boy, ya like this crack better, right? Daddy don’t wipe too good–can’t really reach, and neither can you. Still, we’ll take care a each other, right Nate? That’s what family’s for.”

Nate heaved himself forward and started chewing at the back of Biff’s whities, and all the skidmarks on the ass. Biff let loose with another fart right into his son’s face, and Nathan let off a long moan, feeling his mind begin to resurface as he laughed. “Fuck daddy, that was a real good one!”

“Felt a little wet boy. Git in there ‘n clean it out fer daddy like a good son should.”

He peeled down the back of Biff’s whities, spread his hairy ass with both hands, and caught a whiff from his incredibly ripe pits as he did. Damn he smelled good–not as good as daddy did, but Nathan had always had a special love for his daddy’s musk for as long as he could remember. He got into the crack and licked at it, cleaning it out and moaning, Biff firing off one fart after another right into his boy’s face, driving him into a sexual frenzy. “Fuck daddy, yer so fuckin’ sexy.”

“Ya wanna hump daddy’s ass boy?”

“Fuck yeah daddy, fuck!” Nathan said, and heaved himself up. He picked up his huge apron of fat and dropped it on the small of Biff’s back, and started grinding his cock against his daddy’s ass drooling and belching as he did, thinking about all the porn he’d watched, thinking about how hot it would be too fuck his daddy like the bears were doing on the screen. “Fuck daddy, can I stick my dick in yer ass like in a real porno daddy? I bet it’d feel real good.”

“No boy, just hump my crack–and keep those whities on. Blow another load fer daddy like a good boy.”

“But daddy, I…fuck, I wanna fuck ya,” Nathan moaned.

“No boy, I just wanna feel ya ruttin’ against my fat like a fuckin’ mutt–now hurry up ‘n cum.”

Nathan nodded, and kept humping. He threw up one of his arms, smelling his own musk, snorting it down, but it wasn’t until he let off a wet fart of his own, the stench filling his nose, that he lost it and came again, snorting and rutting for a moment, until he froze, eyes slack again, even more of Nathan disappearing into the grungy whities he had on.

“Now boy, ya should apologize fer wantin’ tah fuck me,” Biff said, “After all, we both know that little dicklet of yours is too small to git in anyone’s ass, right? Hell, ya can’t even reach it–good thing it’s so sensitive that ya can get it tah blow just by grindin’ it against yer fat gut in yer whities.”

“S-Sorry daddy, I just got so horny,” Nate said, swaying slightly.

“I know boy,” Biff said, heaving himself up, “But when ya get horny like that, what ya really want is fer yer daddy tah fuck yer ass, right boy? Ya love gettin’ fucked more ‘n pretty much anythin’. Ya gotta have somethin’ up yer ass all the time, or ya just don’t feel right. All day long, sitting here, bouncin’ on dildos, farting around them with that loose hole of yours, feelin’ yer fat jiggle against that inch long dick a yers until ya cum in yer whities, beggin’ me tah fuck ‘n fist ya. Ain’t that sound like what ya’d do boy?”

“Aww fuck yeah, daddy, fuck me with yer big dick.”

Biff pulled his boy into their bedroom, filled with dirty laundry and ashtrays on every surface, and shoved his obese son onto the bed, yanking down his whities. “Fuck boy, been so long since I been with anyone, n’ now I got mah very own pig tah fuck all day long. Ya’ll like that, won’t ya? Bein’ mah whoreson?” He got down and started eating out Nathan’s dirty crack. “Come on boy, gimmie a fart–Daddy loves the smell a yer gas, gets me hard as a rock every time.”

Nate bore down with a grunt, and let loose another fart, right in his daddy’s face, and listened to him moan, while he laughed. “Fuck daddy, that was a good one,” he said.

“Sure was boy, got yer daddy all hard ‘n horny fer yer nasty hole,” Biff said, running his dick along Nate’s spit slick crack, before sliding it into his son’s well practiced hole. Nate begged his daddy to fuck him harder and deeper, feeling the sweat dripping from Biff’s face onto his hairy back. Still, Nate loved every moment of it–because he loved getting fucked, especially by his daddy. He ground his puny cock against his gut, but he was exhausted after humping his daddy a second ago, and ended up just lying there, enjoying his daddy’s cock inside him. After a while, Biff came, filling him up, and Nathan pushed his way back, but there was so little room for him now–Nate seemed so much more…normal to him. Everything else just seemed so…wrong.

Emptied Out (Part 5)

Nate nodded dumbly, and Biff helped him out of the tub, and led him by the hand out into the living room, and sat him down on one side of the couch. Licking his lips and groping his own cock, which he still hadn’t shot today, though he’d soaked the front of his whities with plenty of precum already, watching his son change right in front of his eyes, he put on his favorite porno of two slobs cleaning off each other’s fat bodies, and let Nate watch for a bit, while he went into the kitchen and returned with two big bottles of soda and bags of snacks, which he sat by them both. “What ya love most of all, Nate, is the same thing Daddy loves–wastin’ yer whole day on this stinkin’ couch, watchin’ porn, ‘n edgin’ yer cock. Fuck boy, I been alone so damn long, dreamin’ ‘bout this day, thinkin’ ‘bout when I’d finally get a son a my own, and now we can do it together–ya love spendin’ the whole damn day edgin’ with daddy, right son?”

Nate nodded, and started groping himself again, staring at the screen. Biff stuck the cigarette back in his mouth, and he started digging into the snacks and drinking the soda as well, letting off belches as he did.

“Yeah, just a dumb ass boy, as dumb as your daddy. Can’t read, can’t really think ‘bout anythin’ important, but sure does love feelin’ good, ‘n this makes ya feel real good boy, endulgin’ like this, without a care in the whole world, just a horny, filthy pig,” Biff sat down with him, the couch sagging between them and making them roll together slightly, “A fat horny pig just like yer daddy.”

Nathan surfaced again, but slower this time. He could tell something was very wrong with his head, like someone had taken his brain and smoothed out some of it’s bumps and ridges. Still, watching porn was fun, and he had plenty of snacks to eat and fags to smoke–but he couldn’t help but feel like it was…wrong. He looked over at the computer, knowing he’d thought about something earlier, something about how to use it to get away, but getting up just seemed like so much work. Better to just sit here, and watch the two fat pigs rutting on the screen, like his daddy was doing. One movie ended, and Biff got up and started another one. There wasn’t a clock that he could see, and the windows were blocked out–Nathan had no idea what time it was, or how long they’d been here, groping himself in his daddy’s nasty underwear.

“Enjoyin’ yerself, Nate?”

Nathan didn’t know quite what to say, but after a moment, he nodded. He…was enjoying himself, he supposed. He liked sitting this close to his daddy, groping his cock, feeling their big bellies shifting against one another–even if his daddy kind of stank, and not in a good way. Still, this was wrong. He knew this was wrong. “D-Daddy? I don’t think we should be doing this…” he said, hesitantly, not quite sure how to put his reservations into words.

“What are ya talkin’ bout son? This is what we always do, ain’t it?”

He was right–but he could remember something else, he could remember himself this morning, dressed in pressed khakis and a button down shirt, excited to go home for the summer and to finally be away from his nasty housemate. He…knew that was right, somehow, even if it now felt so far away. “I…I want some more snacks, daddy,” he said, got up and waddled towards the kitchen, passing close to the computer along the way, but when he saw the keyboard, all of the letters swam around him–he had no idea what any of them even were. That…wasn’t surprising, though–he never learned to read, right? Daddy didn’t see any reason for a nasty boy like him to learn much of anything.

“Thought ya were gettin’ snacks, son,” Daddy said, his voice a bit cautious, seeing Nathan staring at the computer, thinking hard, “Why don’t you come on ‘n sit back down here, ya still got plenty tah eat ‘n drink.”

Nathan waddled back over, and sat down with a mighty belch, making his daddy laugh, and he chuckled too.

“Nice one son, but get a load a this,” Biff said, leaned away from Nathan and let loose a long, wet fart in his direction. The stench brought tears to his eyes, and he coughed, nearly dropping his cigarette.

“Fuck daddy, that’s nasty,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” Daddy said, leaning in close and digging his hand under Nathan’s huge gut to his cock. “Smellin’ mah farts always makes me so damn horny, boy. Fuckin’ kiss me, give me some a yer smoke.”

Nathan leaned in and they smoked each other out, one eye still on the porn playing on the TV, and Nathan didn’t feel like this was…so bad, really. He liked how his daddy rubbed his cock, and how it gave him two free hands to stuff his face, when he wasn’t breathing in Biff’s cigarette smoke. The front of the whities he had on were sticky and wet still from the other load he’d shot into them–not to mention how sweaty his gunt had become as well in the hot, stuffy apartment. He was humping into Biff’s hand now, feeling his gut shake around him, Biff using his free hand to tweak his boy’s nipples, watching him sweat and get closer to another orgasm. “That’s a good boy, gonna get ya so empty…”

Empty. He remembered Greg then, remembered himself, his old self, but it was too late to stop it–he came again, and felt himself fading away, falling back against the couch.

Pigtown Provides (Part 2) [pics]

The thing most people don’t realize, I think, about Pigtown, is that most of us want to be there. Or at least, I want to be there, and most of the people I know there never want to be anywhere else. It’s the only place a lot of us want to be, because it’s the only place where any of us can be ourselves. Do you know what that’s like? Probably not–not many people do, or ever get the chance, but ever since I was young, I knew that I was…different.

Not gay. Gay isn’t…anything anymore. Anyone can be gay, which is another way of saying that if you’re gay, you can be anyone–which really means no one. Which means you go to school, you get a job, you find someone equally no one to your no one, and you settle down, make more no ones, and die, eventually. But that wasn’t me, that wasn’t what I wanted. It’s what my dad wanted though, he wanted me to be nothing, just like him. Maybe it would be better to just tell him, to break him, finally, and show him who I am, but I can’t yet. Maybe, because I don’t really know who I am yet, either.

People like me, we know all about Pigtown, even if we’ve never been there. It’s everywhere on the internet, in all the places you go, if you need what Pigtown can provide. Most people never find it, because no one really knows where it is. No one even knows what it is, to be honest. All there are out there are stories of it. Anecdotes, rumors thrice removed. I thought it was just a jack off fantasy, I never imagined that it could actually exist, until I almost walked right past it.

I could barely believe it, when I stepped inside. It was like coming home. It was like meeting the family I had never known, the real family I had always wanted and fantasized about. I was changed, when I left–like everyone always is, as you know–but for me, it was everything rewired on the inside that really mattered. I was different. I was braver, and more confident. Not…confident enough to confront my dad about anything, but confident enough to at least buy cigars and smoke them. Confident enough to…go back.

I needed to be there. I needed to be the person I could be there, that I couldn’t be anywhere else. But I had to be someone else for my dad, for the entire world. Some people just…stay. They remain in the orbit, and they never have to leave Pigtown. They never have to remember that there’s anything beyond this. I don’t want that, I don’t think, but I would like…to have who I am in there match who I am out, but I’m not there yet. Maybe one day, I’ll figure out how. Until then, there’s just this. I walk up the stairs and into the bar, I hand the gimp my coat, and as soon as it’s off, I don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m just…me.

I’m a cigar cub. I’m on my knees at the feet of every smoking bear in sight, my tongue on their leather or rubber boots, ready to be of service in whatever way they so desire. I have my favorite daddies, of course, and plenty who have taken quite a liking to me. But I haven’t…found anyone yet, who I want to be with yet. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me, and why I can’t stay. Because I’m not here just looking to be someone…but I’m looking for someone too.

The night rolls, and we’re all rolling with it. In Pigtown, everyone is in flux. If you try to focus too hard on it, it’ll just break you apart–you just have to exist, in the moment, and trust it to take you to a level of ecstasy that you pray exists. Well, it does exist. I know, I’ve hit it before. Three skinheads forced me into rubber one night, hooded me, fed me smoke for…I don’t know, days. I lost everything. I lost so much of myself, and all that remained was pleasure. I think…I would have stayed, if they’d kept at it, but the night ended, like always, and outside, I was me again, mostly. The hair stayed–it hasn’t grown a millimeter since.

But that night, there is someone new. He’s there with some other bears I know well–they laugh when I ask about him, and they say they found him outside, just staring at the bar, and they…invited him in, as we all do on occasion. He was handsome, especially with the massive cigar in his jaw, and I was more than happy to serve him…but he had something else in mind.

Before I know what’s happening, he has three cigars wedged in my mouth, his boot planted against my chest, and I can feel my cock throbbing as smoke surges through me…and I know. I know this is something I could get used to. Someone I could get used to. We find a rhythm. He’s new to all this, but he’s enthusiastic, and I’m eager for whatever he might give me. I find it again, that supreme desire and pleasure, chained to the wall, now four cigars wedged in my mouth while he and another bear flog the shit out of me, and I have to know him. If he stays, I’ll stay. But things roll, and we separate, and the morning comes and I’ve lost him, and I cry on the tram going home, because men like that, men who get pulled in, men who aren’t looking for Pigtown at all…well, chances aren’t good, one might say.

I crawl into bed, and sleep in on Saturday. I somehow still get up before my dad, early enough to sneak a smoke in. We cross paths later…and I gotta say, he looks like shit. But I get close, and I smell…something, and see a little flicker in his eyes…but no, it couldn’t be, right?

Then again, Pigtown provides.

Acceleration (Part 9)

They were ok. They were really ok! Russell looked down at the watch, only for it to smoke and spark suddenly, and they both rushed to get it off him and toss it away, where it gave a few pops, the screen cracking–but at least it didn’t explode. But a moment later, there was an odd flicker in reality, and it completely disappeared. Whatever it had done, there was no going back, it seemed–not that either of them was interested in that possibility. They were here, together, and that’s what mattered most.

Looking around, it was clear something had changed. The couch they were sitting on was, well, massive–Russell could sit on it well enough, though it was still a bit too large for him, and for Finn, he would have looked like a kid sitting on it. There was, however, a second sofa across from them with proportions more…appropriate to his size. The ceilings were higher by several feet–nearly thirteen or fourteen, most likely–but that was all Russell had a chance to notice before he heard the garage door open, and he realized their fathers were home.

Wait–fathers? From the confusion on Finn’s face, it was clear he was wondering something similar. Finn hauled himself free of Russell’s cock, still nursing his cum stuffed gut, and a couple minutes later, Russell saw a man he…somewhat recognized as his father enter the house–but he was, well, massive. Easily twelve feet tall, and completely naked–not that it much mattered. He had so much hair all over his body that he might as well have been clothed in it. His cock was easily three feet long, with a massive foreskin–and smell! It was like his own musk, but so much more intense. Looking over at Finn beside him, he was drooling and groping himself, before he struggled off the huge couch and waddled over to him, hugging him at the waist, humping at him. “I missed you daddy!” he said, and Russell’s father laughed.

“I missed you too, boy–but it looks like you and your brother found ways to entertain yourselves while we were gone,” he bent over and gave Finn’s belly a pat, throwing Russell a wink. “Looks like someone is finally getting frisky.”

Russell didn’t quite know what he meant, at first, but memories flooded in a moment later–how not even a year ago, he had been a little smaller than Finn, still waiting for puberty to kick in–and had it, in grand measure. In just a year, he’d become the massive man he was now–and his father assured him he had plenty more growing to do–he was already outpacing him, after all.

Behind his father, Russell saw a second, smaller man come through the door–who he recognized not only as his own dad now, in this reality, but as Finn’s old father as well. He was about eight feet tall, hips wide, gut distended, looking like a slightly larger version of Finn now. “Finn, I know you’re horny, but you can’t take advantage of your brother like that.”

“It was him!” Finn said, “He just smells so…good! Like…like daddy…”

“Do you need a ride on daddy’s cock, son? Seems like that’s the only thing that will settle you down,” Russell’s dad said, and looked back at his husband, “Puberty, remember?” He bent over and picked Finn up like he weighed nothing, and threw him over his shoulder before heading upstairs, and Finn’s dad shook his head, and walked over to Russell, only to get a funny look on his face as he did.

“What’s…what’s wrong, dad?” Russell asked.

“Damn–Finn’s right…you are smelling…ripe today.”

“Sorry…I can go shower, I’m just not used to it.”

His dad stopped him, and climbed up on him instead, licking at his pits. “No son–don’t…unless you don’t want to give your dad a good fuck, first?”

“Are…are you sure?” Russell asked, but he knew his dad never joked about this sort of thing.

“Come on–I got a good load from your dad at the store this evening–I’d love to feel the seed of the two men I love most in me together.” He got back down off the couch, and onto his hands and knees, “Now come on son, pump your slutty daddy full your that seed of yours–show me what kind a man you’re gonna be!”

Russell wasn’t going to object to an offer like that. Upstairs, he could hear his brother and other father moaning loudly in the bedroom, the rafters shaking slightly as they fucked–but Russell was enjoying his father’s ass too much to really notice. Fucking his brother was fun…but he just wasn’t very experienced. The things his dad could do with his hole–fuck, Russell might be topping him, but it was his dad calling all of the shots. Three loads later, his dad had had enough and sent Russell upstairs to shower. As he did, he had a difficult time believing–or even remembering–that things had ever been different. As far as he was concerned, everything was exactly how it should be.

Epilogue

The next Monday at school, everything felt like it was mostly back to normal, though some things were harder to adjust to than others. The fact that there were no women, most of all–just two types of men, though the line between them was…blurry. It was hardly uncommon, after all, to see a hulking, fifteen foot tall beast with a fill gut distended by cum. Or a (relatively) short fellow with a five foot cock, long enough to rest of the ground, smelling strong enough to bring even the largest of men to their knees in eager worship. Everything was so new, and everyone so strange, that at last, it was easy for Russell to feel, well, normal.

School, however, was strange. Mandatory showers to start the day, and every few hours, to help keep everyone focused on the tasks at hand. Still, it wasn’t uncommon to see students (and occasionally teachers) rutting in the halls, though it was preferred that such activities be restricted to the designated areas. It wasn’t until the afternoon that Russell saw Jack in the halls, and his jaw nearly dropped. Just under six feet, his hips were wide, his body smooth, and when he saw Russell standing there, the desire in his eyes was impossible to mask.

He waddled over, tugged Russell down by the front of his shirt. “You and me, the bathroom after school. You wanna?”

Russell smirked. Now that was the sort of invitation he could get behind.

Homeschool (Sketch)

Rudy shut the door of his truck, and heaved a sigh. Another day at the site, and he was exhausted. He kicked his boots off on the steps next to the garage and walked inside the house. “Garth? You home?” he shouted for his son.

Enough lights were on that Rudy assumed he was, but with his son, he never really knew. Things had…spiraled a bit out of control, over the last couple of years, since Garth’s mom had passed. Rudy was having a difficult time with it himself, and before he’d even really realized it, his son had started having issues. They would have screaming fights, he would skip school, some nights he wouldn’t even come home, spending it who knew where. Rudy did his best to talk to him about it, but Garth wouldn’t open up to him about anything. He got no reply from his son, so he was either sulking in his room or gone–in either case, Rudy was too tired to cook anything, and so he headed into the kitchen to phone for some pizza, stripping off his shirt and pants as he did–but as he entered the den, he stopped short.

Someone was sitting there, on the couch, reading a book. Similar in age to Rudy, but quite chubby, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. He looked up and smiled. “Ah! Rudy, I presume. Garth told me to expect you home around now.”

“I’m sorry…who are you?” Rudy said, “And what are you doing in my house?”

“Oh goodness, I suppose Garth probably hasn’t mentioned me. I’m Mr. Emory, the school psychologist. Garth was exhibiting some…rather distressing behavior at school, and he was referred to me for counseling, after his mother’s sudden passing. He’d been showing such good progress…but I’m afraid I just can’t allow him to attend school, not in his current emotional state.”

“Are…are you telling me my son got expelled?”

“Oh no–I’ve merely recommended him for a homeschooling program. I will be your liason, and provide all the lesson plans and things of that sort, but I think he will respond best to an…authority figure he’s familiar with.”

“I…I can’t homeschool him,” Rudy said. “I don’t have time. I work six days a week as it is, and my mortgage–”

“Hush now. Everything will be taken care of. This program comes with a sizable grant attached, which will provide you plenty of income for the duration of the program. Now come on over here and have a seat, Rudy. We should…chat about some of the things Garth has told me about you.”

Rudy didn’t know what to do, but he was feeling…rather strange, and lightheaded. He stepped forward and sat down on the couch beside Mr. Emory, who slid over closer, and wrapped an arm around Rudy’s shoulders, pulling him closer, watching the older man’s eyes do a bit distant. Mr. Emory had that effect on people, you see, and they began their conversation.

Rudy had never really opened up with anyone about his wife’s death to anyone, not even his close friends at work–certainly never to a therapist, but to his own surprise, he started…pouring everything out to Mr. Emory. How he felt like he’d lost control of his life. How…angry he was, at himself, at the world, for letting it happen.

“Yes, that’s good, Rudy, you should be angry,” Mr. Emory said.

“I…don’t wanna be angry…tho…” he muttered.

“Yes, but you are angry. You can’t help it. You have more anger in you than you know, but it won’t go away until we…channel it. Until we show you how you can direct it where it belongs,” he leaned in closer, lips almost pressed to Rudy’s ear, “Garth, your boy, he…craves control. He feels so adrift, now, and you–you’ve been abandoning him, Rudy.”

“What?”

“Your boy needs a firm hand, someone to control him, someone to shape him, help him channel his grief. You’ve been so focused on your anger, on yourself–but he can help you Rudy. Your boy is upstairs, right now, and he wants to help his daddy deal with his anger.”

Mr. Emory stood up, and Rudy stood as well, and followed him upstairs, like a zombie. In his son’s room, they found Garth, wearing an assless rubber singlet, on his elbows and knees on his bed, eyes vacant, mouth drooling…just waiting. “Time for your first lesson, Rudy. Your boy’s hole is very tight, but he needs to loosen up and learn to relax,” he said, as he pulled down Rudy’s underwear, and slid a rubber glove over his hand, “You can help, can’t you? Think about how good it’ll feel, taking out your anger on your boy’s hole. Think how good he’ll feel, under your control. It’s what you both need, Rudy–now let’s get started.”

Rudy knew this was wrong, and he fought…but Mr. Emory was right. He was trying to think too hard, but he wasn’t really someone who should be doing much thinking, was he? No–he was just a stupid, high school dropout–what did he even know about anything? Mr. Emory knew lots of things–it was important that Rudy listen to him, and obey him without question. After a couple of hours, he understood what Mr. Emory meant–how good it felt to have his whole fist buried in his son’s hole, listening to him moan, his own cock drooling, thinking about when he gets to fuck his boy for the first time, Mr. Emory naked now too, sitting in his seat, and edging his own cock while he directs the action, recording everything for review, later.

The next day, Rudy called in and told his foreman he would be quitting, effective immediately, His son, you see, was having disciplinary issues–very bad ones–and Rudy was going to be homeschooling him for the foreseeable future. Mr. Emory praised him, when he hung up, and rewarded Rudy by allowing him to suck his cock like the dumb brute he was, Garth riding a thick toy for the camera, watching it all with his dazed look, so happy to be learning so much, from his daddy, and his master.

Daddy’s Little Man (Part 1)

This story is a rather old one, and a rather infamous one, which caused a bit of a ruckus over on the old NCMC when I first posted it there. It got removed (for fair reason) and I never bothered to post it anywhere else, though I thought I had posted it here at some point! In any case, it involves a lot of diapers, and rather severe mental age regression, which is the reason it got removed to begin with. If that’s not your thing…well, don’t read it.

It started simply enough–James was out shopping at a department store looking for some new clothes before the start of his university classes the next week, and wasn’t finding much he liked. He had just about resigned himself to finding nothing there and heading for the next shop, when he smelled something that made him panic a bit–smoke. He looked around, wondering whether something had been set on fire and if he should try to warn people, but he didn’t see anything like that, and when he caught another whiff of the smoke, he realized that it didn’t quite smell like smoke…well, that wasn’t the best way to put it. It didn’t smell like, “something is on fire” smoke. It was sweeter, and he could recognize it from some of the seedier pubs he’d crawled past with some of his friends after finals. Someone was smoking a pipe or a cigar in here–but this was a department store, right?

He took another look around, and sure enough, he could see the haze thickened up around the suit department. Curious to see who would be so brazenly breaking the law about smoking indoors, he headed in that direction, and from a bit of a distance, spotted the culprit–an older gentleman in the middle of getting measured for a suit. He was a sizable gentleman, well, sizable was a nice way of putting it. He was fat, and quite fat at that, and rather old, probably in his sixties or so, with a horseshoe of white hair and a full but neatly trimmed full beard. The shop assistant had just finished measuring him, and was helping the man back into his anachronistic suit, all perfectly starched and pressed, and after a couple of minutes, James realized that he’d simply been staring at the man blatantly the entire time like a fool. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his mind was feeling as hazy as the room around him. He needed to find someone to get the man to quit smoking.

He saw another attendant working the suit department, and James strode over to him. “Hey,” he said, “aren’t you going to do something about that?”

It took a few seconds for the attendant to realize someone had spoken to him–his eyes were distant and a bit glazed over, but finally he blinked a few times and noticed James standing next to him. “Oh…I’m sorry sir, is there something I can help you with?”

James rolled his eyes, “Yes, you could get the guy to quit smoking for one. Don’t you people know it’s against the law?”

“Oh…” the attendant said, “Well, that’s Mr. Rawlins. He always smokes when he comes in here.”

“And you just let him?”

The assistant just stared at him for a few moments, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Yes…we always let Mr. Rawlins do…anything he wants…” he said, his voice trailing off, and then his eyes glazed back over and he forgot James was there entirely, going back to sorting his suits.

“What in the world is going on here?” James said to himself. Everyone in the store was acting strange, and he suddenly wondered if he shouldn’t have even gotten involved. It would have been smarter to have just left, and taken his business elsewhere. He turned around, ready to leave, but saw that the way was blocked by Mr. Rawlins’ himself, fully dressed and smoking his pipe.

He was big. Bigger than James had first thought. Certainly he was fat–but he was also tall, and the way he loomed over James somehow made him feel like a little kid looking up at the principal. He stammered for a second, looking for words, but his voice failed him, and he just lapsed into silence.

“Hello there, young man. I don’t remember seeing you here before. Do you work here?”

“Oh…uh, no sir…I’m just a customer. I uh…should you uh…be smoking in here sir? I thought…well, I just…isn’t that against the law?”

Mr. Rawlins let out a booming laugh which was somehow infectious, and it seemed to James that his earlier concern was somehow childish. Of course Mr. Rawlins could smoke in here–Mr. Rawlins could do anything he wants.

“Tell me, little man, what were you shopping for today?”

“Oh…uh…just some for some new clothes for school.”

“Did you find anything you like?”

“Not…Not really…” James said.

“Yes, well, I imagine it would be difficult finding clothes to fit a husky boy like yourself.”

Husky? Who even used that word anymore? Besides, James was anything but husky–he was as thin as a rail.

“Well, come on, my little man, and let’s see if we can’t find something that might fit that frame of yours so you’ll look good when you start school next week.” Mr. Rawlins held out his hand for James, and without really knowing why, he took the gentleman’s hand and let him lead him towards the fitting station. “Howard,” he said, addressing the man who had measured him earlier, “I’d like to fit my little man here for a school uniform. We’re having a hard time finding something in his size.”

Howard, that same glassy look in his eye, smiled. “Well of course Mr. Rawlins, anything for you, sir.”

“Good man. Alright young man. Get up there and Howard will get you all measured for your uniform.”

Something wasn’t right, and yet, he was here for school clothes right? It was just lucky for him that Mr. Rawlins and Howard were here to help him find something in his size. He got up on the stool and looked at himself in the mirror, but it seemed like his reflection was perfectly normal–his usual, slender frame. But then why had Mr. Rawlins called him husky earlier?

Howard got his fabric tape and came over to James. “Alright young man, how about we get some measurements? Lift up your arms for me.”

James did as he asked, and Howard pulled the tape around his chest, noted the measurement, and then did the same around his waist. “Alright, looks like a…48” inch chest, and a 50” waist. Goodness, you are a big boy, aren’t you? Mr. Rawlins does love his little men big, doesn’t he?”

James did some mental math in his head when he heard the numbers, but his head was moving so slow. After all, he’d just barely started multiplication in school, but still…48 and 50 seemed like rather big numbers. Hadn’t he had a 28 inch waist last time he’d measured himself? But in the mirror, there was no way he could have a waist that small–he’d been eating too well and for too long for that. Indeed, he could see that his chest was thick with fat, with two big moobs hanging down, pushing out his t-shirt, his apron of a belly dropping a couple of inches below the bottom. He felt suddenly embarrassed to be wearing something so ill fitting in front of Mr. Rawlins, but the old man was staring at him with such lecherous eyes, he didn’t think he cared.