The Power of Society (Part 6)

WARNING: INCONTINENCE, SCAT

Simon tugged his shirt down again as he walked, trying to cover his hairy gut as best he could already sweaty and winded after the one block walk towards campus proper. Fuck, why did he keep doing this? He hated walking, he hated going to class. He felt like a fucking dumbass now–and everyone at the frat hated him for even trying. Hell, he kind of hated himself for trying, even, but he did it anyway. Sure, he was just a fat, slovenly, cum-hungry nerd, but maybe he could still make something of himself. There had to be something more to life than jacking off to filthy porn and playing video games, right? Well, maybe there was, for guys who weren’t nerds like him, but something still told him that he needed to try.

“Oh fuck, is that–who the fuck let the fucking Nerd out of it’s cage?”

Simon had crossed the road over to campus proper, only for a guy passing with a friend by to shout that at him. He looked over, embarrassed a bit for even existing, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the look of sheer revulsion in the young man’s eyes, looking at him. It was like he’d never seen anything more disgusting in his life, like Simon was a smear of dog shit across the man’s carpet. He tried to stammer a reply, but he’d developed a severe stutter after discovering what a nerd he was, and so he’d never really been able to get words out of his mouth.

“Dude, I know it’s gross, but if you say shit like that to it, you’ll only encourage it. You know how nerds get,” the guy’s friend said, and tugged him along.

The guy followed reluctantly, “If we don’t say anything, then the fucking things will start thinking they’re allowed here.”

Simon just stared after them. He’d thought he’d built up a resistance to it–to the stares, the disgust, the avoidance, the pity–but something about that cut right through him. But rather than feeling hurt, what he found instead, was that…it had turned him on, somehow. Unable to help himself, he groped the front of his filthy cargo shorts, feeling a wad of precum squeeze from the head of his filthy cock, forming a bit of a wet spot around the fly, and then yanked his hand away. Class–he needed to get to class. He had to stop worrying about what people thought of him–just because he was a perverted, disgusting nerd, didn’t mean he couldn’t go to class…as long as he controlled himself.

Where that last thought had come from, he wasn’t certain, but it was…right, somehow. Everyone knew nerds had no real self-control. Simon kept walking, trying to avoid people as he headed for class, but along the way, he let off a massive, stinking belch–it tasted so filthy he just stood on the sidewalk a moment, groping himself helplessly, and every cruel comment from the people passing by only made him hornier. He had to stop. If he kept this up, and campus security caught wind of him, he’d really be in trouble. He spied a bench along the path, and thought that if he could just sit for a bit and collect himself, he might be alright. After a few more heaving steps, he got there and plopped down on the bench, as a massive fart escaped his ass…and a little something more than that, which he could feel, warm, in the back of his crusty, cum coated briefs.

He’d just farted so hard, he’d shit a bit in the back of the pants. Fuck, he’s such a fucking nerd–such a disgusting, ugly, fat, perverted, filthy nerd! He licked his bearded lips and started clawing at the front of his shorts, hauling up his heavy gut so he could haul his cock out of the front of his shorts and start jacking off in public, sitting in the stench of his own shit, staring down the people passing by, wanting them to insult him, wanting them to be utterly disgusted by him. After all, he couldn’t really help himself–he was just a fucking nerd. This is just what nerds do, right? He ground his fat ass against the bench, feeling the shit smearing between his cheeks, the first load exploding from his cock, arching up onto the front of his t-shirt. A guy passing by saw him–smelled him, and stumbled past, retching. Simon just laughed, and started jacking off again, but didn’t manage to finish before the campus security guards found him. The two hulking guards ran up, wearing gas masks and their standard rubber containment gear, and the first to arrive used his cattle prod right on Simon’s junk, making the nerd scream and writhe on the bench.

“Fucking nerds–you just can’t fucking help yourselves. An infraction this bad–you’re getting house arrest for two months, you fat fuck.”

The men dragged Simon’s fat ass back to the frat house–he was laughing and belching the whole way. He couldn’t believe he’d lost control like that, but fuck, it had just felt so fucking good! On the porch, the guards secured a shock collar around Simon’s neck and armed it–if he stepped more than ten feet out of the range of the house, he’d receive a debilitating shock and security would be alerted to his violation. Then they opened the door and shoved him inside, still laughing.

“Fuck Si, is that you?”

He looked up and saw a couple of his fellow nerds on the couch, staring at the screen, playing a video game together. “Got all the way to campus, you should’ve seen them. Shit myself on a fucking bench!” he laughed again, and started jacking off again, “Fuck, why the fuck did that feel so fucking good?”

“You shit yourself in fucking public! I bet you fucking jacked off after that,”

“Oh fuck man, I fucking did!”

Fuck man, you’re such a fucking nerd!”

“I know, right?”

“Fuck, I could shit myself right now, man,” one of the nerds said, and bore down, letting off a vile fart. Si crawled over, smelling the fumes as he jacked his own cock. He was stuck in here with these fucks for two months, but it was worth it, right? Some part of him told him this was wrong–the same part of him which tried to get him to leave the house that night, until the collar went off. It summoned security, who beat his fat ass on the lawn and threw him back in the house. There was no denying it–as far as the world was concerned he was just a fucking nasty nerd, and he’d never be anything else–best to just accept it.

True Happiness (2 of 2)

That first night together, Kyle–or rather, Ky, as he soon demanded everyone call him–learned what he’d really needed all along to be happy. He needed a daddy. Someone to hold him close, someone to fuck his tight, fat hole. Someone to change his diapers and treat him like the little baby he’d always wanted to be.

When he’d returned home, reeling from the night’s revelations, he hadn’t known what to think. One part of him kept insisting that it hadn’t been him, that he hadn’t wanted to do those things, that Robin had…been controlling him somehow. But if that was the case? Why couldn’t he stop sucking his thumb? Every time his attention lapsed, it would go right back into his mouth, and he’d suck it like…like he’d sucked daddy’s cock the night before. He was hard again, and trying to jack off, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right not being in a diaper, not having his…his daddy looming over him, helping him, telling him what a good boy he was. He soaked a pair of shorts in his piss again, and while it made him incredibly horny, he still couldn’t cum, no matter how hard he tried.

Robin called him that evening, to check in on his little boy, and hearing his daddy’s voice was enough to trigger the load which had been building all day long. He didn’t even touch himself–as soon as he heard those words, cum just spilled out into the front of his pants, mixing with the cold piss, and he realized he hadn’t even changed from his experiment earlier. He knew he should feel ashamed of himself, but he just felt so…happy. Joyous even. He chatted with his daddy, not noticing how he slipped into childish language after a few minutes, and he sent a car to bring Robin to his home, along with an overnight bag–but Robin never did leave.

Robin couldn’t leave–Ky needed him. After a week, Ky had lost all control of his bladder and bowels, forcing him into diapers all day, every day. But he was so happy. After a month, he transferred most of his wealth to his daddy, but that too, made him extremely happy. Six months later, he barely even left the house anymore–he stayed home in his room, looking quite different than earlier that year. Daddy had shaved off that hair and ugly beard, leaving his face clean as a baby’s bottom. The tattoos were for fun–and for Ky’s other role as a masked, kinky sub Robin would drag around to the city’s bathhouses when his baby had been extra naughty. But Ky was happy, at last–at last.

Source: littlebabbyhammer

True Happiness (1 of 2)

“So wait–this is your limo? You didn’t just rent this for our date?”

“My own personal limo. You want some champagne? I always have some ready.”

“This is…I have to say, this is probably the strangest first date I’ve ever been on,” Kyle said, leaning forward to take the flute from Robin after he’d poured it. The two of them had gotten to chatting online, and struck up a bit of a fledgling relationship, and while Robin had dropped hints at his wealth, the sheer scope of his date’s extravagance was…surprising to say the least. Robin took a sip of the champagne, looking rather embarrassed. “I’m not quite sure what you see in an old bear like me.”

Robin was in his 50’s, Kyle in his late 30’s, and had amassed enough wealth to essentially retire. “What can I say? I like old bears. It’s hard to explain why…” Kyle was a bit on the chubby side, with a scruffy beard, button down shirt and khaki shorts. He looked like he’d learned wealth gave him excuse to look however he damn well pleased. In fact, Robin was the first time he’d ever dated someone older than him–he’d always been one for twinks, but something about the fellow just…seemed so endearing.

“It’s a shame you aren’t happy, though.” Robin said, meeting Kyle’s eyes. The bluntness of the statement obviously caught Kyle off guard, but when he tried to look away, he found he couldn’t break eye contact with the older fellow, seated across from him. “I can tell, you’re rather…miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” Kyle said, but he was as surprised by the doubt in his voice, as Robin wasn’t.

“It’s hard to admit, I know. Wealth can be such a burden. So afraid to let anyone see the real you.” Robin moved from sitting across from Kyle to sitting beside him, pressing him up against the side of the limo with his own sizable frame. Kyle could…sense something strange was going on, but knew too little to resist. “It’s ok, Ky,” Robin said, “You can let go–just relax. Daddy’s here.”

Kyle wasn’t sure what he meant, but his body reacted it too ways. First, his thumb slid itself into his mouth, and he started sucking it, and second, he felt a warmth in his pants, as his bladder released, soaking the front and rear of his pants, and the seat of the limo with warm piss.

“That’s a good boy. Now tell your driver we’re skipping dinner. How about we go to my place?”

Hypno Me Please (Part 2)

Well? What do you think? What a difference a year makes, right?

Heh, it took two months of baby steps before I dared take him out for his first test drive–that is, before I made him take the first step down the path I’d been designing for him in my head, a path he would have never agreed to in his life. So what did I make him do? I made him cut his hair. He knew exactly what he was doing, as he went into the bathroom, powered up his razor and shaved off those beautiful locks–I watched on the cam of course, pleased beyond the belief, even if he was sobbing and furious by the end of it. I told him it made him look better, and he told me he’d never chat with me again–as if he could help it.

No, he found himself unable to resist replying to me, and if I sent a hypno file to him, he’d find himself unable to resist opening it up and watching it. He tried to tell me the files weren’t working–but the fact was, he simply hadn’t noticed what they were doing to him. He’d stopped going to the gym a month later, and look at him now–that new gut of his, those flabby arms. I’ve been considering making him gain…but I’ve had other priorities.

See–he’s starting to like it. He won’t admit it easily, but I’m wearing him down, bit by bit. Being forced to do public cam shows for anyone who wants to watch, those new tattoos of his–and the diapers of course. I made him wear them once as punishment, and his reaction was so extreme–he sobbed for hours–that I had to make them part of his wardrobe permanently. Yes, permanently. He knows he has to wear them, but what I don’t quite think he’s noticed is how much control he’s lost over the last few months–but when I make him go a month without them, and he pisses and shits himself at work–well, he’ll be begging to be back in them soon enough.

Still, I have a flight to catch. A little one year anniversary surprise–he gets to meet his master in person for the first time. We’re going to have so much fun for the next week, and for years to come. Oh yeah–years. What can I say? He’s worth the commitment, whether he wants it or not.

Derelicted (Part 1)

“If I can get it off him without him waking up, then you have to blow me again,” Wyatt said, slipping closer to where the homeless derelict was slumped over in the alley. The man looked like the rest of the trash around the city, but the medallion around his neck had glinted in the streetlights, catching the young man’s eye. He would have taken it even if he wasn’t with Caden–but hey, if he could get another bj out of his closeted friend, why not kill two birds with one stone?

“Dude, I was drunk, I’m not–” Caden shook his head. Wyatt wasn’t exactly a good friend. In fact, he was a shitty friend, but he was Caden’s only real friend, and so he tagged along like he always had, trying his best to keep the trouble that always followed Wyatt off himself. He looked at the necklace which had caught Wyatt’s eye for some reason–it was hard to tell in the dark of the alley, but it looked like a rusty gear hung around the guy’s neck with a piece of twine. “What the hell do you want that for anyway? It’s just junk.”

“It’s not junk, it’s a challenge,” Wyatt said, the metal glinting for him in a way that it didn’t for his friend. It wasn’t the first time he’d lifted something interesting off a hobo–he stepped close, checking to make sure the guy was deeply out, then he carefully caught the disk in his fingers, and lifted it away. The hobo’s head was hanging forward–all Wyatt had to do was slowly guide the ring back over his head, slipping the twine out of the man’s filthy, matted hair, and it was his. “Yes!” he said, skipping down the street with the medallion in hand, “One free blowjob for me!”

“I never even said…” Caden started to say, but Wyatt was already off down the block. He took another look at the man, and then hurried after. Once he’d caught up, he tried to finish, “I never said I would blow you Wyatt! That was an accident last time, and you said–”

“You know you can’t trust anything I say,” Wyatt said, “Besides–I’m horny. Come on to my place, my dad’s working all night.”

Caden didn’t dare say no. He’d snubbed Wyatt a few times before, and every time his wrath had been quick and humiliating. Now, Wyatt had his deepest secret, and he’d be holding it over his head until Caden had the courage to come out proper–and maybe even after that. If he ever said no…well, Wyatt would be more than happy to tell the whole school for him, he was sure. So he followed after, Wyatt slipping the medallion around his neck before lighting a cigarette from the pack he’d stolen earlier for himself, and handing a second to Caden.

They were back at Wyatt’s place fifteen minutes later, and it was empty, like Wyatt had promised. “You need to get drunk again, or do you want to get straight to it?”

“A drink.”

Wyatt brought him a beer and cracked one for himself as well, and they both watched TV for a bit on the couch, smoking and sipping, and occasionally Caden would catch a whiff of something…else. It was like musk, but fouler somehow. He gave himself a sniff first, but it wasn’t him–was it Wyatt? Something in the apartment? Granted, neither Wyatt nor his father were big on hygiene, but even this was bad. Two beers later, he didn’t notice it as much, and Wyatt started getting insistent on his blowjob–so Caden swallowed his pride, got down in front of him on the couch, and waited a moment for Wyatt to undo the fly of his shorts.

Wyatt wasn’t anywhere near being a looker–chubby, hairier than most of the teachers at school at seventeen, with a scruffy beard, girls weren’t exactly lining up to be with him. He bragged a lot, sure, but Caden knew he was a virgin–aside from his mouth of course. He himself was a bit cleaner, less hairy, but mostly the same. Together at the bottom of the social ladder–he couldn’t fucking wait to go to college. Wyatt opened the fly, and that stench appeared again with even greater force–and Caden saw right where it was coming from–Wyatt’s cock.

He’d been drunk, sure, but he still remembered what he’d seen. Wyatt had been cut, with smallish balls, about four inches and decently thick–but the thing he had in there now–it was eight inches at least, with low hanging balls coated with hair–but mostly it reeked to high heaven like it hadn’t been washed in ages. Even more disturbing, a foreskin had grown up over the head–as it hardened, the head emerged, crusted with cheese. “Wyatt…Wyatt, what the fuck happened to your cock, man?”

“Don’t try backing out now,” Wyatt said, “A deal’s a damn deal man.”

Before Caden could protest further, Wyatt grabbed him by the hair, yanked a bit, and when Caden’s mouth opened to yelp, slipped his cock into his mouth. The taste was horrific, but Wyatt held on tight, skull fucking him a few times. Wyatt was a quick shooter, and he felt himself getting close–but it wasn’t cum that filled Caden’s mouth–it was piss. Horrified, Caden flung himself back away from Wyatt, who realized what his cock was doing–the stream was still flowing, arcing from where he was sitting onto the carpet. “Dude–what the fuck!” Caden shouted, wiping his mouth and spitting, before reaching for what remained of his beer in an effort to get rid of the taste.

“I can’t–it won’t stop!” Wyatt said, gripping his cock, piss still streaming everywhere. “Shit is this…what the fuck is this thing! This isn’t my fucking dick.”

“That’s what I tried to tell you!” Caden said, he looked up at Wyatt from where he was sitting on the floor, and saw something else–Wyatt’s cock wasn’t the only thing that had changed. It was a bit difficult to figure out what was different at first–he just seemed grungier than he had been. Beard longer and tangled. The hair he usually kept cropped close had grown out and was receding, flecks of grey appearing in it. His skin was shiny, whether from oil or sweat Caden didn’t want to know. He was looking both fatter and skinnier than he had been–his arms and legs wasting slightly, while his gut and chest filled out with fat.

Dream Camp (Part 11)

***Warning*** Here’s where things start getting really strange. You might just want to stop here if watersports, scat, anal vore, or snuff freak you out–which just to clarify, they probably should freak you out. Still, these are horror stories! You’ve been warned!!!

“Silly, silly little boy. Playing at being a grownup this whole time, but I remember you, oh fuck, do I remember you now,” Kyle said, as he stalked closer to him, “Weak, fat, terrified. My son was right to beat you up, you little shit!”

Spittle flew, smacking Barry in the face. He kept trying to move, trying to run, but his feet were glued to the ground, stuck in the mud, and he felt…shorter. Smaller and weaker than before, this monster bearing down on him, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing–he was…was weak. He was just…just a pig, just a boy, not a man at all…

His body was changing, and he was aware that it was his own loss of confidence causing it, but there was no stopping it, nothing he could do, because Kyle was right. ScoutMaster Hoffson was right, had been right about everything. He could feel his muscles diminishing as his fat spread all around him in every direction, rooting him into the ground even more, sinking into the mud which had begun bubbling around him. It…it would feel so…so good, to just stop. To stop fighting, to just…embrace this. He was too heavy to do anything, too heavy to fight anymore. His legs began to wobble, and finally collapsed beneath him, mud splattering out and up, sinking into his folds, cold against his balls and cock, and he could feel them shrivelling up, growing smaller and smaller, tucking themselves away into his fat where he’d never be able to reach them, where no one would be able to reach them, where they should just stay. He didn’t need them, he didn’t even want them.

Master Hoffson walked over, pushed him backwards into the mud and climbed on him, pinning him in the muck, his huge cock pushing itself into his soft gut, “Not even a pig–fuck no, just a hog. Worthless as a fucking man, no fucking balls at all–all you’re good for is eating and abusing, isn’t that right? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To eat? To drink? To serve? To be abused?”

Barry knew, in his head, that everything he was saying was a lie, that he didn’t–that he shouldn’t–want these things, but feeling his balls shrivel further and finally disappear, feeling his snout start drooling, he was…starving. Every hole of his was starving. Master stood up again, leaving him in the muck, walked around to his head and squatted down over Barry’s now porcine face, his hairy ass right over him, and Barry knew, what he needed. Knew what would satisfy his hunger, and he began licking at his Master’s pucker, feeling it loosen, and the shit start pouring over him, and he swallowed down as much of it as he could, the filth choking out any shame that remained in him, the desire for filth overwhelming him, dominating every last chunk of his small mind, feeling his own bladder release, piss cascading from his gunt and out over his fat thighs, shit spilling out into the mud beneath him, warm muck between his cheeks. Master Hoffson finished his load and allowed his pig to lick his crack clean, and then washed off his face with a blast of musky piss, marking him now, demonstrating to them both that this was not just any hog–but his hog. His toilet. His cumdump. And Barry no longer could conceive of wanting to be anything else.

He looked up and saw his Master had changed–no longer simply a beast, he had reclaimed his some of his humanity, even as Barry had lost his own. His cock was still slimy and inhuman, but his face had lost its snout, now merely angular and hyper-masculine, with a grin full of sharp, pointed teeth, a body coated with hair, bulging with muscle without a single trace of fat anywhere. To Barry, he was simply a god, everything he wasn’t. Everything he could never be. The only life he could imagine was one serving this god, of providing the only services he could now–as a hole. As a dump.

“Max, get the fuck up–you’re fine. No son of mine is going to let a pig control him, right?” Barry could barely lift up his head to see Max, where he’d been lying on the ground, hole wrecked, begin forcing himself up at his father’s command. “No, you’re a real man, a true beast, like me. Show this pig what he deserves–I want to see you destroy him.”

The feral anger in the bully’s eyes no longer filled Barry with fear–only with a crude desire. He wanted this beast to abuse and wreck him, wanted it more than anything. Max forced him to roll over, his body expanding with bulk, his mind filling with cruelty as his father filled him up, and he hammered his cock into Barry’s disgusting hole, and Barry squealed with pleasure, his cock forever soft, but his new ass now incredibly loose and sensitive to even the smallest probing, his fatty folds shaking and shivering with pleasure, but Max didn’t last long–after a minute and a half, he finally spasmed and exploded deep inside the pig’s filthy bowels, and tried to pull out, but Barry wasn’t satisfied. Barry wanted…more, and with a sudden motion, he clamped down his ass on Max’s cock, locking him in, even as Max, in a bit of a panic, started yanking at it, clawing at the pig’s ass, but Barry wasn’t done yet–Barry needed…more. He needed everything Max could give him, and he was going to take it, whether he wanted to give it to him or not.

Neighborhood Pub (Sketch)

“Hey! Faggot! Why don’t you get fucking lost? Ain’t no guy here wanna have you round, lookin’ at us like that,” Nick puffed up his chest and got in the stranger’s face, leering at him. No one knew who this fucker was–the pub here was really only frequented by guys from the neighborhood, guys who’d know each other for years. Sure, the occasional stranger would slip in, but they got the idea pretty quick that new folks weren’t very welcome in there. But this guy, he hadn’t gotten the hint at all this evening, and worse, it was clear the guy was a total faggot.

He was an older guy. He’d shown up a few hours previously, and ordered a beer with a bit of a lisp and the bat of an eye from Sammy, the bartender. Usually Sammy wouldn’t even bother serving freaks like this, but for some reason he’d just given the guy the beer he’d wanted, and the fucker had just made himself at home. Very, very at home. He’d spent the night wandering around the pub, busting into other people’s conversations so he could flirt and feel up the local guys…and for some reason no one was doing anything about it! Well Nick had had enough of this clown–he’d throw him out himself, since no one else could bear to do it, for some reason.

The stranger grinned at Nick, and moved in closer, pushing his gut into him. The man was older, balding, sweaty and hairy. At some point he’d lost his shirt, so nothing covered his ugly fat beyond two suspenders keeping up his pants. Nick’s first instinct was to recoil, but he wouldn’t give him the…the satisfaction of knowing he was…was scared or…or turned on…or…if he pushed closer, into the man’s gut, maybe the strange butterflies fluttering in his gut would go away. They didn’t they got worse, but that was alright, and something…something about the way the man smelled, something was…was so…good.

The bar had grown quiet. No one had known what to make of the man, no one had been able to resist him, and terrified, no one had dared challenge him. They had all secretly hoped that if they just…let him feel up their bodies, and lick their necks, and whisper…horribly, sexy things in their ears, that maybe…maybe he would leave them in some kind of peace. But Nick–fucking hotheaded Nick–the man ran one hand over Nick’s stubbly face, watching his jaw droop, eyes turning glassy. The stranger put his hand on the top of Nick’s head and applied a gentle pressure, the bar watching as he dropped to one knee, and then both, the man guiding his face to his crotch, where Nick began grinding his face into the man’s crusty jeans.

He had no control. He couldn’t…couldn’t stop himself, didn’t want to stop himself. He could…could see…visions, in his mind. Of himself, but…but different. He was wearing something…shiny and black, all over his body. It looked like rubber, but so…so reflective, black, but with yellow. Yellow…like piss. Fuck, like piss! He felt the warmth in his crotch as his bladder released into the front of his pants, running down both thighs to the floor of the pub. Everyone else could smell it too, they could smell it, and they were growing…growing hungrier, like when they’d all first smelled the stranger, and they could see what Nick was now–a urinal, a fucking tool, a dump for them to use and abuse as they wanted. The man undid his fly, pointing his cock at Nick’s face, who waited patiently, the puddle growing around his knees until the man released his own piss, and Nick drank down as much as he could, feeling everything he couldn’t get down soaking his body, his clothes so…wet now. It would be so much better if he was wearing rubber, all rubber, all the time, for…for the rest of his life, yeah, a rubber urinal, just an object.

The man finished, Nick kissed the head of his cock, and started licking up his own piss from the floor of the pub, the weaker willed men around him standing up and walking towards him, their own bladders begging to be emptied, and the man drifted off to other men, toying with them, slowly for the rest of the night, and he never returned to the pub again…not that he needed to. The pub was…different from that day on. Every man from the neighborhood would come dressed in leather and rubber, most of them smoking, all of them constantly horny. New men were always welcome–none of them could resist the heady, musky smell of the place for long, all of them ended up going home with some other patron of the club to discover the new desires brewing in their guts. Nick, however, lived in the bathroom, chained to the floor. He’d grown fatter, his gut massive, stretching the rubber bodysuit he now wore to the limit. He hadn’t left the room in months, but Sammy took good care of him, making sure he got all the nutrition he needed and stripping him out of the suit once a week to hose down his fat, and shave his body smooth. It was up to the rest of the bar to keep him full of piss and cum, to keep him happy, forever.

Grandpa’s Lil’ Boys (Part 3)

***WARNING: Scat ***

The bedroom was small, and dominated by a massive, king size bed that barely left enough room to walk around it, the floor littered with dirty clothes so thick Blake couldn’t even see the carpet. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, trying to focus and keep his wits about him…and trying to keep himself from becoming too aroused, as the sight of his snoring Grandpa right there, a few feet away. He was turned away from Blake, sleeping on his side, and blake could see the necklace’s gold chain wrapping around the back of his fat, flabby neck, swallowed by a couple folds. He shouldn’t…shouldn’t be in here, he shouldn’t be doing this. Grandpa…Grandpa kept him safe, kept him happy. This felt just…so wrong.

He pushed against the doubts, knowing they were being sown by whatever magic was in that necklace. He had to fight it–he could do this. He crept closer, trying to keep the diaper around his large waist from crinkling too loudly, and hoisted himself up onto the mattress as gracefully as he could, but at his shorter height and new heft, he couldn’t help letting out a grunt. Still, Grandpa was sleeping soundly, and he stayed there on his knees, in his messy diaper, just…just looking at him. No, admiring him, how manly he was, how…strong and powerful and sexy. He could just…imagine being wrapped up in his arms, his Granddaddy’s cock slipping into his ass, pulling…him close. No, he had to fight it–he crawled closer, but the doubts only got louder, the closer he got. This was bad. He was being a bad boy, and he didn’t want to be bad, did he? No! No, he wanted to be good, but he didn’t…didn’t want this, did he? But why…why wouldn’t he? The closer he got, the less he understood, why he was trying to do this at all, and the guilt overwhelmed him as he reached for the chain, and he broke into loud, heaving sobs, tears running down his smooth face.

Grandpa woke up, and rolled over. “Boy! What the fuck are you doin’ in my room? Didn’t I tell you to stay out there and play with your brother?”

“I–I…s-sorry Grandpa, I…” He tried to muster an excuse, but all that came out was more sobs. Grandpa rolled up and pulled him close, into his chest. He was so close to that damn necklace, but all of the thoughts of stealing it had disappeared. He was just a little boy, a bad little boy. He had to confess, he had to tell Grandpa what a bad boy he’d been, trying to steal from him. In between choking sobs, he told Grandpa what he’d been trying to do, but that he hadn’t been able to do it. Grandpa listened and consoled him until Blake’s sobs finally calmed down and became sniffles.

“It’s ok, Blakey. I know that little boys like you can get stupid thoughts like that sometimes, it’s ok, but I think you need to be punished, don’t you? So you learn that little boys shouldn’t have thoughts like that, that they shouldn’t try to get away from Grandpa, right?”

Blake nodded. “I know Grandpa, I was a bad boy. Are…are you gonna spank me?”

“No boy, I think we need a bigger punishment than that. I think until you can learn to keep that naughty head of your under control, we’d better just keep it occupied with more important things for a while,” the necklace began to sparkle, and Blake tried to turn away instinctively, but his eyes were already locked with the light, as it grew stronger, “Yeah, we’ll make that brain of yours much more productive. Filthy, filthy piggy thoughts. Yeah, you’re gonna be my pig boy for a good long while, and maybe I’ll give you a chance to think about something other than nasty filth in a few weeks, once you’ve learned your lesson good ‘n proper.”

His words faded into the light, like a single force burning into Blake’s head. It finally faded away, and he felt…different again. Better, even. Blake gave a loud snort, and he could feel another huge load of shit following from his ass into his diaper, and unable to stop himself, he felt an orgasm rip through him, his cock pumping a massive load of cum into his diaper as he snorted loudly.

“That’s a good piggy, now why don’t you go get filthy? I bet your brother can help you out. After all, I can’t have a clean piggy in the house, right? I’ll feed ya too when I’m done with my nap.”

Blake nodded dumbly, drool falling from his open mouth, and he crawled off the bed, tried to stand up at the edge, and ended up falling to his hands and knees, unable to walk. He must have gotten even fatter–he could feel his flab scraping against the stinking dirty laundry and the carpet on the floor and he crawled back to where Nate was sitting in his own messy diaper. He tried to talk to him, but Blake pushed him over yanked down the waistband of Nate’s diaper and shoved his face into his brother’s messy crack, slurping up the shit, oinking and grunting, thrusting into his own nasty diaper. Nate was just happy it wasn’t him, this time. He’d spent enough time as Grandpa’s pig boy before, to know you don’t try to fight too hard, but Blake would learn that soon enough–he was smart. The three of them could be happy together–Nate knew that. All they had to do was be good boys and keep Grandpa happy, and everything would be just fine–forever.

Grandpa’s lil’ Boys (Part 2)

The light dimmed slowly away from his vision, and Blake felt…strange. He certainly didn’t feel…right. Grandpa was standing in front of him, and that made him feel better…or did it? Something, something told him he needed to get away from him, that he needed to run, but…but why would he run from his Grandpa?

“Come on boy, give me a big hug,” the old man said, and after a moment of hesitation, Blake walked to him and let Grandpa pull him close, smelling the old man, feeling his cock hardening in his diaper.

Wait…diaper? Hadn’t he been wearing jeans a minute ago? But why would he be wearing jeans? He…he only wears diapers. That’s Grandpa’s rule. Little boys who can’t control themselves have to wear diapers, like him and his…brother…

He looked over his shoulder at Natey behind him, still on the floor sucking on his binky, rubbing himself through his diaper. He…he wanted to do that too, fuck. Yeah, it feels kind of good, grinding his soft crotch into Grandpa. Blake looked up and found Grandpa looking down at him…but he hadn’t been that tall, had he? It seemed like he’d shrunk by about a foot, and his rugged, muscular body was so much softer, and smooth. In fact, he didn’t seem to have hair anywhere other than his hair, where it was thin, soft and strawberry blonde. Grandpa’s calloused hands on his soft skin made him shiver, and when he bent down to kiss him, he couldn’t resist, allowing Grandpa to rape his mouth with his tongue, as a blast of piss erupted from his cock, soaking the front of the diaper, feeling it grow heavy around his waist, the stench melding with Grandpa’s filthy musk and scent of tobacco smoke.

“Yeah, that’s a good boy, a very good boy,” Grandpa said, “Now why don’t you get down there and suck Grandpa’s pacifier?”

Blake knew something was wrong, but…this couldn’t be it. He loved Grandpa’s pacifier. He got down on his knees, finding himself faced with Grandpa’s thick, cheesy cock head, and he sucked on the head, getting it good and wet, two hands on the front of his diaper rubbing his cock as hard as he could through the soggy fabric.

“Hey Natey!” Grandpa said, “Get over here and give your new brother a hand–or a mouth.”

The cock plug binky fell from Nate’s mouth, and he crawled over next to Blake and began giving Grandpa’s balls a tongue bath. Somehow, he had changed too–he had seemed normal before, but now, like Blake, he was shorter and chubbier as well.

“Fuck, two boys is definitely better than one. Nate here, he was never really your friend, you know–I sent him out just to find another boy to bring back here with him. It took him a while, but I gotta say I couldn’t be happier, and the two of you are gonna be such good, loving brothers, right? Taking care of Grandpa and each other? Fuck, here comes your first taste of Granddaddy’s juice boy!”

Grandpa wrapped his hands around Blake’s head and pumped his cum right down his gullet, and Blake, still unable to believe what was happening, drank it all down. Grandpa pulled his cock free from his mouth, and Nate licked his way up Blake’s fat mouth and started kissing him, sucking the last bits of cum from his mouth, and Blake, still knowing this was wrong, couldn’t help but kiss back, pushing their wet diapers together.

“Such good boys,” Grandpa sighed, “Anyway, ya’ll interrupted my nap, so I’m gonna go back to bed. I’m sure the two of you can play together for a bit, right?” he chuckled, and tromped back to the trailer’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him–and as soon as he was out of the room, Blake felt his mind clear a bit more, and Nate pulled away–a bit reluctantly.

“What…what happened, Nate? I don’t…”

“I told you to leave, Blake, I told you…I didn’t want this, I liked you, but you–”

Blake just stared at him, unable to believe what had happened to him–to them. “You…you were my friend, just to…bring me here?”

“No!” Nate said, “No, that’s what he wanted me to do, but the further I get from that necklace, the better I can resist him. I made a friend like he wanted, but I was never going to bring you here–but then you just showed up anyway!”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know? I just thought you didn’t want me to see where you lived…”

“Well it’s too late now…”

Blake looked at the shut bedroom door. He could already hear his Grandpa snoring behind it. “It’s that necklace, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So…let’s just get it off him.”

“He never takes it off. It’s hopeless. If you just…just let it happen, it’s a lot easier,” Nate said, and started rubbing the front of Blake’s diaper, making his shiver, “It’s…kind of fun, even, sometimes. And I don’t have to be alone now, we can do it together, we can…survive,” Nate leaned in and kissed him, and Blake gave in, pushing their fat guts together, feeling their diapers rustle–until his bowels suddenly loosened and he filled the back of his diaper with a huge load of shit, and he pulled away in shame.

“Fuck, I just shit myself!”

“You’ll get used to it, trust me.”

“No! I don’t want to get used to this. This is so…wrong!” Blake heaved himself up, feeling his messed diaper sagging around his waist under his flabby body, “I’m getting that necklace and I’m getting out of here. I want to go home!”

Nate just watched him, as Blake creaked the door open as quietly as he could, and slipped inside. He should stop him, but maybe…no, it would be better for him to learn for himself. He’d tried everything already, but there was no way out of Grandpa’s clutches. The sooner Blake learned that for himself, the better off they’d all be.

Grandpa’s Lil’ Boys (Part 1)

“Look, you just…you need to leave, alright? You need to leave, and just don’t come back,” Nate hissed through the screen door of the double wide at his friend Blake outside. His neck was craned from the side, in an obvious effort to keep Blake from seeing his body–but from what he could see, Nate didn’t seem to have on a shirt.

“Dude, seriously? Is this because of what happened yesterday? Look, I…I ain’t gonna tell anyone man, it’s…it’s cool.”

“It’s not fucking cool–look, you gotta go, before…” Nate looked over his shoulder, “…before he wakes up. Just go, alright? I’ll…I can’t explain, ok? Just leave.” He shut the door in Blake’s face–firmly, but also quietly.

What had happened the day before, which neither of them wanted to talk about, was a bit of roughhousing while they had been cutting through one of Mr. Hawthorne’s tilled fields, muddy from the rain. Nate had started it, shoving Blake into the mud, but when Blake had tried to grab him and drag him in too, he’d only succeeded in yanking down Nate’s jeans–revealing underneath what could only be a heavily padded diaper. Nate had frozen, completely red in the face, and yanked up his baggy jeans before hightailing it away as fast as he could. Blake had tried to keep up, but the mud slowed him enough that Nate had too much of a lead to be caught, so he’d come by Nate’s house, where he lived with his grandfather, to try and smooth things over–but it looked like all he’d done was inflame things further.

Still, he wasn’t going to give up. He didn’t care if Nate had some…problems or whatever. They were still friends. He pulled open the screen and started knocking at the door, louder this time. Nate told him to go away through the door; Blake knocked harder, until he heard a low grumbling and the door swung open, revealing Nate’s grandfather. He was in his early sixties, most likely, and looked like he’d just woken up from a nap, from the boxers and wifebeater he had stretched over his fat body. The oddest thing, however, was a gaudy necklace the older man had around his fat neck, draped down on his chest. “Who the hell are you?”

Now Blake had never met Nate’s grandfather, and Nate had never told him much about him. He’d only learned where Nate lived because they took the same road home from school, and Nate’s trailer park came before Blake’s. “My name’s…Blake. I’m one of Nate’s friends.”

Nate’s Grandfather looked at Nate behind him, who was doing everything he could to avoid his gaze. “This the frienda yer’s ya told me ‘bout?”

Nate nodded.

“Get in here,” he said to Blake, and stepped away from the door. Blake tentatively stepped up into the house, where he found the reason Nate had been hiding his body–all he had on was a diaper and some strange object on a chain around his neck…and from the smell of the place, he seemed to have already used it. “Follow me,” he said, and Blake did, only realizing after a few moments that he wasn’t following him because he wanted to…but because he couldn’t quite stop himself, for some reason.

He looked to Nate, but Nate just whispered under his breath, “I told you to leave…I’m sorry…”

“Quiet boy–suck on your damn binky and entertain yourself–I don’t want to hear a peep from you until I need your mouth.”

The object around Nate’s neck appeared, now that Blake was closer, to be a small butt plug. Obediently, his friend took it and put it in his mouth, where he started sucking on it, face bright red. Then, after a few moments, it was like the life in his eyes receded; they grew glassy and Nate began to wobble, before toppling over onto his diapered ass. Much to Blake’s horror, he watched as his friend rubbed the front of his diaper, almost like he was planning on masturbating into it, but before he could watch further, Grandpa’s large hand wrapped its way around his wrist, and pulled him into the kitchen.

“Let me go!” he said, and tried to yank himself away, but a strange glow deep in the necklace’s large gem caught his eye, and he felt like he was being sucked into it, and he could hear…hear something, or maybe just feel it. Something like… “No control. No control. Weak. No control. Can’t stop it. Can’t control it,” a mantra repeating in his mind until the necklace dimmed. He tried to yank his hand away again, but even though he was big for his eighteen years, even though he was on the football team, he suddenly felt very very small beside this big man, and as hard as he yanked, there was nothing he could do to break the old man’s grip. The terror set in. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t…couldn’t control it…and he felt his crotch suddenly become warm as his bladder released, soaking his jeans, running down one leg and into his shoe and onto the tile floor. He looked up at the old man, and he was leering down at him, licking his lips, like he was on the verge of laughing.

“I thought I would be satisfied with one little diaper boy, but why stop there? And Lil’ Natey brought such a big friend along too–you’re gonna be such good brothers,” Grandpa said, his hands running over Blake’s shaking body. He wanted to do something, anything, but he was frozen in place, unable to even slow the flow of piss from his bladder until it had fully emptied itself onto the floor. “Don’t worry, you’ll be happy here with Grandpa, I’ll make sure of it.” The necklace began to glow again, even brighter this time, and Blake felt the light wash over him, pulling him into his new Grandpa’s sick, twisted fantasy.