Flash Commission – Greene Aged Tobacco

Garowan the tanuki brought the package inside from the porch, his striped tail swishing happily to and fro, excited that his tobacco sampler had finally arrived. It was a new variety of aged tobacco he’d seen advertised online, from a company called Greene’s. Curious, and happy with the low price, he’d ordered one just to give it a try. He opened up the box, and let out a little disappointed growl. What a ripoff! Sure, the sampler had been discounted, but inside the wood box with the Greene label on the front, there had been nothing more than a single cigarette rattling around.

A fucking cigarette! He didn’t even smoke cigarettes. He’d had a couple when he was a teenager, sure, but he preferred cigars. He picked it up, wondering who he was going to have to contact to complain about this, and brought it to his snout to take a sniff. It didn’t smell like the cigarettes he’d had before, actually, which had a sharper, cheaper scent. It was pleasant, actually. A little woodsy, a little rum, a little vanilla. He looked at it, and decided why not? He’d ordered it, he might as well try it. He could still complain about it to the company and get his money back, even if he used it. The box was decently sized, after all–it was probably supposed to have more stuff in it than this, and someone had packaged it wrong. He went into his living room, got his lighter, and lit the cigarette, taking a small draw on it, holding the smoke in, and then exhaling it into the air around him.

It was nice. Really nice. All of those flavors he’d picked up with his rather sensitive nose were still there, blended nicely together, without being too cloying or artificial. He gave his sizable nuts a scratch as he took a deeper drag, inhaling some of it this time, and felt a surprising little zing that went right to his head, making him feel a little light headed and dizzy. Apparently, whatever aging process they used made sure the tobacco packed a punch as well. He enjoyed the rest of the cigarette for a few minutes, that rush suffusing the rest of his body, and smoked the cigarette down to a small butt, before dropping it in the ashtray. It hadn’t been a total waste then–the tobacco was great. Now he really did wish he’d gotten a complete sampler, instead of just that little taste. He started back towards the kitchen, where he’d left the box, but before he could get there, be passed by a large mirror hanging on the wall in the living room, and then paused, staring at his reflection, a little confused.

He looked different. Not…all that different, he supposed. The fur on his cheeks and around his muzzle was thicker and a bit darker brown, looking like a proper beard that older tanukis usually grew. His body looked a little heftier. His arms were thicker with a bit more muscle, and his belly had grown fatter. Not my much, really. Just enough to really be noticeable, and to make his underwear look a little strained, especially since his nuts had grown as well. For tanukis, that was one of their main signs of age–their substantial sacks grew their entire life, and elders in particular often had sacks so large it made it a bit difficult to move around at times, though they usually managed. The fur on his belly had darkened and thickened as well, becoming a substantial treasure trail running up his larger gut. If he had to guess, he looked like he’d aged about ten years or so, into his mid-thirties, but he looked…good, somehow.

He went to the box, wondering if it might have some explanation, but there wasn’t anything like a note or warning. There was something new in the box though, something that hadn’t been there earlier. It was impossible that he could have missed something, it must have somehow just appeared there after he’d smoked that cigarette. It was a sizable smoking pipe, dark brown with a bent stem, and a little pouch of what he assumed must be tobacco along with it. He picked up the pouch, paw shaking a bit, opened up the top, and gave it a little sniff. Sure enough, it was the same aroma, though a little stronger, the flavors a little deeper, melded differently. Aged more. He could just tell from the darker, deeper scent. But if this tobacco was aged more, did that mean that, if he smoked it, he would age more too?

He went back to the mirror and looked at himself again, at his older body. He tried to imagine what he might look like even older and…and why was he even considering this? He couldn’t smoke this shit, who knew what it might do to him, he needed to get help. He went back, intending to throw the pouch of tobacco in the trash, but smelled it again, found himself getting a bit lost in it, and realized when he pulled it away from his snout that his cock was leaking in the front of his tight underwear. Without taking time to second guess himself, he picked up the pipe, dumped the tobacco in it, and tamped it down. The whole pouch fit in the bowl perfectly, and he went back into the living room, got his lighter, and lit the pipe, drawing the sweet smoke through the stem, relishing the flavor again, enjoying the subtler notes he’d missed before.

He sat back, took an inhale off the pipe, and again, felt that same surge of energy off the tobacco as before, but while he still felt alert and energized, it was coupled with a rather profound sense of relaxation. He sank back into his armchair, and this time, he felt it as it was happening, his gut grumbling slightly, and then began to expand. Pipe in his mouth, he rubbed it with his paws, groaning a bit from the pressure. The gut was rather soft and pillowy, flowing around him, spreading out across the chair, thighs growing closer together. He could see the fur on his belly that had grown in before thicken further, and when he was about halfway through the bowl, it changed color again, the brown lightening to a steely grey, contrasting with his the prown pelt across the rest of his belly. It was joined by his beard, he realized after a moment, which was long enough to reach his chest now, and the same greyish color–almost the same color as the smoke coming from the pipe itself. His chest was growing as well, packing on fat until he had two sizable moobs resting on top of his gut. His nipples in particular grew as well, and the two piercings he had in them grew as well, from a pair of studs into two sizable gold rings.

He smoked the pipe down to ash, and then sat for a moment, looking down at himself, surprised he wasn’t more horrified. He set the pipe aside, and hefted himself up from the chair, his legs and back aching in ways that he didn’t expect, but which he supposed came with his new age. If he had to guess now, he was probably in his late forties. As he walked into the kitchen, he could feel his nuts swinging against his knees as he walked, the constant stimulation provoking a constant leakage from the head of his cock. Along the way, his underwear finally gave up and shredded away, leaving him entirely naked.

Something had appeared in the box again, where the pipe had been. It was a cigar, and not a small one, either. At least an 80 ring, if not larger, and close to nine inches long. He’d only seen cigars that large in pictures on the internet, never in person. He picked it up, paws shaking a bit, and brought it to his nose. The smell of it made him salivate–he could almost taste it, just from smelling the wrapper…but he shouldn’t, right? If he did, how old was he going to get, anyway?

He resisted the urge for a little while, moving around in his new body, getting used to hefting around his new weight, his sizable balls. He couldn’t stop thinking about the cigar though, and come evening, after a sizable dinner to feed his new bulk, he sat down with the cigar in the living room, punched it, and after a moment, brought it to his lips and lit it.

It took some work, getting it started, because it was so large. The thing was so big it stretched his snout uncomfortably wide. At last, he was satisfied with the light, sat back, and took a sizable draw off the end, a bit greedy for the smoke even, and sighed out a thick plume, delighted with the flavor. The cigarette had been just a tease of this depth of flavor. It was the most delightful, savory smoke he’d ever had, in fact. Again, he felt the smoke spread through him, permeate him, and he grew again. Soon, his fat was spilling over the sides of the armchair, which was creaking under the weight of him, his balls sagging lower until he realized they were large enough to rest on the floor in front of the chair, his meaty thighs pushed wide apart by the massive sack. His jaw was aching from holding the cigar, but when he pulled it free for a moment to give it a rest, he realized that wasn’t the only reason. His tusks were coming in, his lower jaw jutting out, growing thicker, and two stubby incisors pushing their way out of his lower jaw. He put the cigar back in, happy to discover that it was much stronger, and could support the cigar easily while his paws explored his growing body.

His fur thicker, and all over his belly, the brownish grey lightened further to a stark white, as did his beard, which now reached down to the massive belly button in his massive gut. His moobs were even larger now, and when he squeezed them, he let out a little grunt of surprise and pleasure when he felt something leak from the nipples. Looking down, he realized he’d matured enough to start lactating, something that didn’t happen to every tanuki, but if it did, it didn’t usually happen until they were in their sixties. It felt…good, and the rings in his nipples grew even thicker, almost as thick as the massive cigar he was smoking. The smell was beginning to permeate him now, and the smell of the tobacco was joined by a scent of his own musk, growing stronger and more pungent, with a definite pang of smoke–but that wasn’t surprising. After all, he’d been a near constant smoker for years now, why wouldn’t he smell of smoke?

He shook his head, but that memory was real, as real as his other ones. He could find himself remembering other things, a whole life that he’d lived now, leading to this new body. He was happily retired, well supported, and didn’t have to worry about anything. He could even sense, somehow, that he hadn’t really lost any years off his life, through these changes. He would stay like this for years now, for as long as the years he had lost, probably close to forty or so, before aging any further. He finished the cigar, set the butt down in the ashtray, and heaved a final, contented, smoky sigh. It was a lot to consider, really, but he didn’t regret any of it, though he was horny as hell after all of that, and his massive balls were aching for release. He pulled himself up, and saw he’d already accumulated quite a puddle of cum around his balls on the floor. No matter, he knew a few cubs around who would be more than happy to clean it up for him–maybe while he had another cigar, or two.

Arctos: Mall – Part 4 [Interactive]

As the candy melted away and was absorbed into Jeremy’s ass, the first hidden layer of the sizable asslicker could be seen, but Saul wasn’t quite sure what it was at first. It wasn’t until he brushed it with a gloved hand, and saw the surface lift slightly, that he realized that what was covering the surface of the dildo was hair. Jeremy smacked his lips once or twice, and grimaced. “Why does it…taste a bit like dog hair all of a sudden?”

“Guess he never managed to work out that little kink,” Saul said, and pushed the dildo in deeper, watching the surface of Jeremy’s skin for the first telltale signs of what was going to happen next. Sure enough, after a couple of pumps, he could see the first little pinpricks of hair appearing down Jeremy’s back on either side of his spine, fanning out rather quickly as they grew. If he was sprouting this quickly, and this thickly, he was going to be quite the hairy beast in a few minutes, once this layer was finished.

“What…what the fucking hell,” Jeremy moaned, looking at his forearm, where hairs were sprouting as well.

“Don’t worry about it too much, Jeremy, it’s going to feel perfectly natural in a few minutes, I assure you.”

“I…where the fuck is all this fucking hair coming from? What the fuck is that thing doing to me?”

“Well, you see, buried in each of these asslickers are a few different layers–and while they do all come with a signature flavor, they also come with other benefits too.” Saul ran one gloved hand up and down Jeremy’s furry back, and watched him shudder in surprise. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being hairy enough that you can be petted like a big fat dog?”

The hair kept coming, growing in thickest on Jeremy’s back, forearms, chest–and his beard. That grew in the fastest of any of it, and after two minutes, it was already two or three inches long, hanging down to the display case he was bent over, while his hands kept exploring his skin, feeling all of the hair everywhere, and surprised at how horny he was feeling as he stroked it.

When that layer finally finished, the hair was so thick in places that the skin beneath was difficult to see. Saul, however, was looking at the asslicker, ready to see what the next layer would be. The hair kept peeling away, and he could see something…fleshy underneath, like muscle. It…disappointed him a bit, to be honest–he had done such a good job fattening his customer earlier, but he supposed it couldn’t be helped.

Jeremy felt his body start to heat up, and there was a new taste in his mouth. Sweat, almost, and metal. His breath was getting quicker, and he could taste…exertion, somehow. It felt like the inside of his mouth after running a mile back in high school gym. The fat on his body–some of it, at least–was disappearing and being converted into new muscle by his body. His apron shrank up into a full, heavy gut, but hardly disappeared, still looking like a firm, hairy ball jutting out from his body. His fat thighs lost their wobble, but were just as thick–just muscular now, so wide he had to adjust his stance somewhat to accommodate them. The same with his arms, the flab hanging off shifting into thick biceps and triceps, his neck filling out and absorbing one of his three chins, and his chest–he didn’t lose all of the fat there, either, but they grew flatter and firmer as the pectorals underneath developed into heavy slabs of muscle. What remained was a solid mix of both, a huge, powerlifter shaped beast, bent over the display case, still moaning in pleasure as the shorter, older chubby fellow kept hammering the now smaller dildo into his hole.

Saul sensed something happening, however. The dildo was becoming a bit…gelatinous, the red and steel colored layer giving way to something more cream colored. “It…tastes like milk, or cream…” Jeremy muttered, panting after the exhaustion of his body growing scores of pounds of muscle in just a few minutes.

Saul realized what it was, and shoved the dildo in deep, allowing the end to slide into Jeremy’s ass as well, the hole closing up behind it. Jeremy tried to stand up and say something, but his eyes went wide–he felt the asslicker pop inside his ass, releasing all of that built up cream into his guts. He groaned, feeling all of that liquid surge through him, flowing into his balls first, feeling his sack swell up, larger than a grapefruit, then larger than a small watermelon, firm and taut, full of milk. The rest of the cream surged upward, into his chest, and he could feel it…changing it, warping the tissue there, swelling his fatty pecs ever larger, losing some of their firmness, his nipples growing and swelling larger, until with a grunt, he felt cream burst forth, flowing down his hairy chest, his cock exploding all over the front of the display case, milk gouting from him as he moaned and mooed, the orgasm ripping through his entire body as waves of pleasure. He collapsed to the floor against the case, sitting in a puddle of his own milk, heaving for breath, Saul looming over him. The confectioner scooped up a bit of cream on his finger and tasted it.

“Fuck, it’s…delicious…” Saul muttered.

“Let…I have to get out of here, I…” Jeremy muttered, but before he could stand, Saul shoved another sucker into his mouth, the Dum Dum wrapper cast aside, and watched as the intelligence in Jeremy’s eyes drained away as he sucked, one hand tweaking his nipples, the other groping his still leaking cock–and Saul helped him up.

“Come on–tasting that…I think I’m going to need your help in the kitchen, buddy–you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being my helped back here?”

Jeremy…knew he should do something, think something…but thinking was hard, and once Saul had him hooked up to the milking machine–well, he didn’t think about much after that, or ever again, and Saul new line of cream filled truffles–well, they’re popular, even if they have a few…additional side effects.

***

“Hey, stop thief!”

Marvin just streaked past the burly clerk and sprinted down the concourse, the ring he’d just pilfered gripped in the palm of his hand. He doubted it was worth much, really, but he liked the thrill of the theft more than anything else, really. He hadn’t quite counted on the clerk being so sharp eyed, however, or on the guy giving chase. Still, he was a lot younger than the old man–he’d get away–probably. What happens with the thief next?

Alright, time to start another little vignette! We have a young shoplifter on the loose, who will probably need some sort of comeuppance for his crime, but he’s a wily fellow–let’s see what his next move is first. Here’s the bonus Patron poll as well!

Winston’s Stable: Titpig (Part 5)

Winston decided, when Titpig woke up after the fifth and final dose of serum, he wanted him to be alone. Well, not completely alone, of course. Titpig was lying on the bed in one of Winston’s guest rooms–the same one where they’d played a week and a half earlier. Much to Winston’s dismay, the milk and cum had stained the carpet rather badly–he was going to have to rip it up entirely, along with much of the carpet throughout the rest of his home, if he was going to have Titpig roaming anywhere beyond the basement dungeon below. He could see both Titpig, and the stained carpet, on the various cameras he’d set up around the room earlier, so he could watch his finished freak fully discover his new body on his own, before his master joined him. “Alright Titpig, it’s time to wake up.”

Through the speakers, he heard a deep groan, and a second later he saw the figure on the bed begin to roll about. For the moment, he had suppressed most of the mental shifts he’d been drilling into the slave’s mind for the last week or so–for the moment Mark was in the driver’s seat, though the serums had done some damage to his mental faculties. It wouldn’t be too big of a deal–after all, he didn’t need to be a genius to see what’s right in front of his face.

In the room, Mark was having a hard time getting up from the bed for some reason–every time he tried to sit up, his upper body would drag him back down, almost like he was pinned down by something on his chest. In the end, he was forced to roll to the side and then onto the floor–he tried to get his feet under him to balance, but he had to throw his upper body back to try and stay upright, nearly toppling over. Instead, he flung himself forward, hunching over, his hands far closer to the floor than they should be, right?

He was up, and he was stable, but why in the world was his upper body so…heavy? Looking down at himself, he could see why, clearly enough–the thick pecs he’d developed had easily doubled in size, forcing him to hunch over, knees bent, just to keep himself upright. His spine, however, felt…comfortable in this position, however, and he looked up and around the room, wondering if he might, still, have an opportunity for escape–but it was doubtful. Master–whatever he was doing to him, he must have been planning this for a very long time. He turned a bit so he could face a mirror, and what he saw…it couldn’t be, could it? It had to be a lie, or a trick. He waved a hand, and the figure waved back–it was him, it was really him.

His shoulders and neck had grown at pace with his chest, his shoulders in particular widening to accommodate the additional muscle and breast tissue forming across his pecs. They hung down in front of him, massive slabs of meat with two thick nipples jutting from each of them, both of them nearly three inches long, and as thick as a garden hose. The natural coating of hair which had been there before had disappeared entirely–the skin on his chest and belly was completely smooth, but it had grown in thicker elsewhere–his forearms, legs and ass in particular. His legs were slightly shorter than they were before, which accounted for how his arms were so close to the ground in his new posture, and they bowed out considerably to make room for the massive ball sack swinging between them. His scrotum was taut, and each testicle could be made out clearly–they were almost visibly churning as he watched them, and a bit of cum started to leak from the head of his puny, inch long nub of a cock, where it ran back along the short shaft and down the front of his balls.

Like his chest, his head was similarly devoid of hair–his scalp and face completely bald, aside from a thin eyebrow–but his facial features…he no longer resembled himself, as far as he could recall. In fact, he no longer looked entirely human. His brow was thicker, eyes set back a bit further in his skull, and his nose, mouth and ears all seemed a bit too large. The result was rather ugly, and quite beastly, if he was honest with himself. Still, with a body like this, he doubted that anyone would really find much reason to focus on his face…still, he wasn’t as terrified as he knew, in his mind, he should be. In fact, he was…excited.

Thrilled, in fact, with his new body. Something told him that they weren’t his thoughts, but looking at himself, at his huge chest and giant balls, his hunched posture and ugly maw…it was him. It was who he wanted to be–no, it was who he was supposed to be. But more important than even that, it was what Master wanted. The door opened, almost on queue, and he turned to see his Master in the doorway, wearing his customary uniform, his cock already hard in his gloved hand, cigar lit and clamped in his teeth. “Alright Titpig–get the fuck over here and put that ugly mug of yours to work.”

Titpig lumbered over, and as he did, he felt like his mind was…dulling away. No, he could feel it, actually. It was harder and harder to think, and before he could even try and fight it, most of his own will had disappeared. He gave his Master’s cock a long lick from root to head, a bit of drool escaping from his mouth as he grunted, balancing with one hand while the other reached around and probed inside his loose asshole. Winston saw Titpig’s eyes dull and glaze over–the mental programming had worked as he’d hoped. For now, at least, Mark was nothing more than an animal–his animal–but he would be so much more than that, soon enough. Yes, Titpig was the key, and now that the first stage had come to fruition, Winston could finally begin constructing the thing he’d wanted his entire life.

He could finally begin filling his stable, and he thought that the perfect place to start, would be with Mark’s old friend Joey. After all, he’d seemed so…vanilla, and such a bore–and proud of it. Well, Winston would make sure he wasn’t a bore any longer–no, Joey would be something just as special as Titpig–and just as much the property of Master Winston.

Winston’s Stable: Titpig (Part 4)

“No–that’s…that can’t be me, what the fuck have you done to me, Sir?”

It was two weeks since Winston had dosed Mark with the first serum, and he’d done an additional stages in five day cycles. Tomorrow, he’d dose him with the fourth serum, but he thought Mark had earned a night awake for being such a wonderful subject. Besides, too much time spent unconscious could be unhealthy for a mind–and Winston wanted to make sure that any damage done to Mark’s head was damage he’d wanted, not anything he’d done on accident. He’d kept him in a hypnotic state earlier, and moved him from the lab downstairs into one of the bedrooms upstairs, where they were standing now, and where Mark had come back to himself. In the full length mirror in front of him, he could see the extent of the changes which had swept across his body, and though they were unfinished, to someone unprepared for them, they would seem…staggering, he supposed.

Of course, the most dramatic shift was his chest. With each dose of the serum, the tissue of his chest had reentered a state of heightened development–but most of the tissue developing wasn’t muscle fiber, but rather breast tissue. The result was something rather unnatural looking–his chest still had the appearance of two muscular pecs, but the surface, rather than flat, was instead rounded and puffy. His serum made sure the breast tissue was still firm and didn’t sag, but the texture could be disturbing to some, though Winston found the appearance highly arousing. He watched Mark gently rub one of his inflamed tits, shuddering as he did, his cock spewing a sudden jet of cum across the carpet in front of him.

“That’s a very naughty Titpig–get down there and clean up that mess you made. I take cleanliness in this house very seriously, so you will have to learn to contain your messes.”

Mark tried to resist, but he got down on all fours and licked his own cum from the carpet, but once it had started his cock refused to stop–it kept leaking, forcing him to try and keep a hand underneath the head, collecting the precum, and he slurped it up once his palm was full. Winston knew that the increased cum production was an additional effect of the serum–Mark’s balls had so far tripled in size, stretching his scrotum tight, even as his cock had shrunk. Now it was just four inches, down from it’s original six, and he hoped that after the final serum it would be closer to one or two inches at most–perhaps even outsized by his nipples, which were just as inflamed as the rest of his chest had become. Each was at least as thick as Winston’s thumb–he straddled Mark where he was still cleaning the carpet, reached under and gave them both a tweak, and Mark nearly squealed as thick milk spurt from them both onto the carpet below him.

“Please…please, just…change me back sir, please. I don’t know why you’re doing this to me.” Mark said.

“Because you’re special, Titpig. Besides, you don’t really want to go back to who you were, do you?” Winston gripped Mark under the arms and hauled him up and knelt down behind him, so they were both on their knees in front of the mirror, Winston behind him, gloved hands caressing his tits gently. “This is what you want to be, after all, you want to be a freak–you want to be my freak.”

“N-No…” Mark said, but he could feel his Master’s words sinking into his psyche. Now that he was over the shock of it…it was kind of sexy, wasn’t it? Winston groped a bit harder, and Mark moaned, his nipples leaking more milk which ran down his chest and belly in tear trails.

Winston caught some on his fingers, brought it to his lips, and gave it a taste. “It’s delicious, Titpig–you should be proud.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“What do you think slave? Are you happy with what I’m doing to you? It sure looks like you’re are–that cock of yours is still leaking all over my nice clean carpet, even though I ordered you to stop it–but I don’t think you can stop, can you?” Winston twisted Mark’s nipples, making him cry out in pain, milk spraying out and hitting the mirror in front of them, where it dribbled down. “Lick it up slave, before it hits the floor.”

Mark crawled forward and licked up the milk–Master was right, it was delicious. Winston reached out and slipped a finger into Mark’s ass, and to his surprise it slid right in, and he groaned in pleasure, and pushed back, finding his body eager to be filled.

“Tell me what you are, and I’ll fuck you.”

Mark hesitated, locking eyes with himself in the mirror. “I–I’m your…Titpig sir.”

He slid another finger in, “And what do you want to be?”

“I want to be your freak sir, I want to be your Titpig, please fuck my hole, please…”

“Yeah, that’s what I like to hear,” Winston said, and slid his cock into Mark’s hole, listening to his grunt and groan in delight, his cock leaking a steady stream of precum below him, where it puddled on the carpet. “You know you’re only halfway through, right? After we have a nice long night together, I’m going to put you back to sleep, take you back down into the lab, and shoot you up again. If you think you’re a freak now, just you fucking wait, you’ll be my proper monster soon enough.”

Mark found himself pushing back, eager to have more of his Master’s cock planted inside him. He’d been fucked before, but it had never felt like this–it had never gone in so easily, or felt like it…belonged in there.

“Yeah, do you like your new ass too? It’ll take anything now–it’s almost as hungry for cock as your mouth is going to be.”

“Harder Sir, fuck me harder!”

Winston was more than happy to do as his Titpig requested, reaching around and tugging on his tits, spewing enough milk to soak the front of his body, and when the Slave came, without even touching his cock, he spewed almost as much milk from his chest as he did from cum from his puny cock, but Winston wasn’t done yet–he wanted this fuck to last a good long while. They had all night, after all, and Winston wanted his new slave to appreciate the control his new Master had over them both before they went back to the lab and resumed their work. We he did cum, he filled his slave to the brim, and his sloppy hole leaked most of it back out, much to Mark’s embarrassment. Winston left him there, soaked in cum and milk, shaking with pleasure, unable to process most of what had he had just experienced, but desperate to feel it all again.

“Well, you’ve made quite a mess slave–I’ll have to punish you for that later. For now, though, why don’t we give you your first milking? I can always flog you once we get you hooked up, and kill two birds with one stone.”

Mark followed his Master out of the room, dripping and exhausted, and terrified of what he’d find, of what would happen…and yet, the sheer pleasure assaulting him ensured that by the end of the night, he was begging for more–and Winston assured him he’d get it, when he woke again in a few more days.

April Suggested Stories – Ready to Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Hey all! I posted this month’s short stories written from your suggestions over the weekend! Anyone who contributes $1 or more a month gets access to these stories, as well previous months’ suggested stories. Here’s one from last month, if you’d like a taste!

Shined Like a Mirror

“Detail oriented”. “High achiever”. “Perfectionist”. These were all terms people had used to describe me at one point or another. So, it wasn’t…surprising that I was being bothered by this, but at the same time, I didn’t exactly make it a habit to notice the condition of people’s shoes around me on a regular basis. Maybe it was the fact that everything else about his wardrobe seemed so…immaculate. The leather shirt that clung to every curve of his torso with barely a wrinkle. The skin-tight gloves holding that thick cigar of his, which I had watched him light with such care a few minutes earlier. The shine off his metal belt buckle–a detail I figured few people would even consider, or notice. The way his pants wrapped his thick thighs as he leaned against the bar, facing out, chatting with another cigar bear beside him–but then, I got to his boots, and the reason for my…annoyance. They rose up to his calves, his pants sliding inside them, and all over, the shine was immaculate, except…except for one blemish on the side of his left boot.

It was easy to see, from my perspective, because one of the lights in the bar was centered on the scuff–there was a perfect circle of shine, with a chunk of matte in the middle. I don’t even know why it was bothering me so much at this point, but I haven’t…really been able to look away from it this entire time. If he’s noticed me staring he hasn’t indicated any sort of interest–and honestly, I’m not interested in him sexually. Leather and kink aren’t really my cup of tea, but still, I should…tell him, shouldn’t I? I mean, if I’d put that much energy and thought into my outfit before going out, I’d want someone to tell me. It’s like…when a friend as food in their beard. Sure, it’s a bit embarrassing–I myself never grow one anyway–but they’d always rather you tell them than just…have them walk around looking like that.

I get up and walk over to him, he notices me as I do. His look is…disinterested. Whatever he’s looking for tonight, it isn’t me. That…makes things a bit easier, I think.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that…well, there’s a spot on your boot that you must have missed earlier, that isn’t shined right.”

He looks a bit surprised, and I point out the spot to him I had noticed, but he doesn’t seem concerned, or particularly thankful. Instead, he just looks at me and grins.

“Well, what are you going to do about that?”

I assume I didn’t quite hear that right. It wasn’t my problem to fix. If he wanted to play leather fantasy, then he should at least care about fixing his error, right? He turns away from me and continues his conversation with the other bear, like nothing had even happened, but my eyes are glued to that blemish. I can’t…just leave it. It’ll bother me all night. If he…isn’t going to take care of his gear, it shouldn’t be my concern, but…but in a move that I swear made perfect sense to me at the time, I got down on my hands and knees and started licking at the spot, getting it wet with spit, and then I buffed it with the sleeve of my shirt. To my surprise, it looked…lovely, like the blemish had never even been there. It was so shiny, in fact, I swore I could see my own reflection in the leather. I leaned a bit closer, trying to find myself, and when my face swam into focus, I let out a cry, fell backwards, and then stumbled upright.

In the mirror behind the bar, I was still…me. Young, clean shaven, slight of build, not particularly tall, though I did have a bit of bootblack around my lips and mouth. The man looked down at his boot, appraising my work, and grinned at me again.

“Thanks, boy, that looks much better.”

He pushed off from the bar and walked a couple of steps closer to me. I wanted to back up away from him, but my feet felt rooted to the bar floor.

“Tell me, boy, did you like who you saw in there?”

What…had I even seen in there? It had been my reflection, or a reflection, at least. But…but had that really been me?

“Do you need to take another look, boy?”

The hand he put on top of my head wasn’t…demanding, but it was suggestive. I was…incredibly curious, I admit it. I got back down on my hands and knees, my eyes an inch from the shimmering leather, and this time, when I saw myself, I didn’t flinch away. It was…more than an image. I was there–a different me, a possible me, but even though I could only see my face, I could also…know so much else about him–about me–about…who I could be. I was muscular–massively built, putting in as much time at the gym, under Master’s direction, as I did at work now. Building my chest, especially, those…massive pecs and thick nips I could see in the black shine. My nips were leaking, but the hormones he had me on did that. Master liked milking me, draining my tits and my little cock all at once, while his little muscle tit pig groaned for mercy and release. Distantly, in my real body, I felt his other boot underneath me, rubbing against the crotch of my slacks, making me groan. I could see my massive frame strapped down over a fuck bench, here in the bar, with men lining up at both ends to use me. Master had taken complete ownership of his tit slave now, not that I was fit for much else beyond service. Something…he’d given me had ruined my brain–thinking about anything more complex than sex and working out was almost impossible. My tit milk was squelching under me on the bench–I could smell it, even…taste it, as it ran along my chest and dribbled to the floor–I lurched forward, groaning, my cock exploding in the front of my pants as I rubbed my face on Master’s boot, trying…trying to force my way inside, into that world, but…but it didn’t actually exist. It was just…just a possibility, a figment.

“Seems like you saw something in there you liked, boy.”

I looked up at him. It was the first time I had done so, and yet it felt like the thousandth, like he’d already been a part of my life for so long. I…ached for him, for that…version of myself, as disgusted as I was by the entire vision. But I couldn’t deny it. He didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night, but I spent it on my knees beside him, cleaning his boots, and the boots of his friends. I went home with him that night, for my virgin plowing, my clothes ruined and covered in boot black. I wanted to ask Master if he’d known. If he’d…forced me to see what I’d seen. It didn’t matter, in the end. I wanted it all the same–to be master’s big titted muscle pig, and I was going to do everything in my power to make that vision a reality.

Dream Camp (Part 3)

The disorientation and terror lasted for only a couple of minutes. It might have lasted longer, but the euphoria supplied by Alex’s milk made sure that neither Christian nor Barry were thinking of much for the next hour, while they drained his tits dry, both of them cumming several times over the course of their meal. Finally, however, they felt sated and sat back–both of their guts sloshing with milk, unable to believe how much they’d just consumed. Alex, too, looked a bit exhausted–he had cum several times as well, his milk production ramping up suddenly and pumping itself into both of them–that was the only way he could cum, after all, since neither of the Mendel’s had cocks, anymore. They didn’t have anything aside from a piss hole, in fact, not that they needed anything like that–their nipples gave them all the pleasure either one of them could need, after all. In fact, now that Barry was able to focus past his hunger, he saw that Alex’s nipples weren’t really nipples, but short, meaty cocks. His father’s were larger–each of the four were probably about five inches long, flaccid for the moment, but Barry knew that, at a moment’s notice, they could go hard and start leaking. He’d…tasted Eric’s milk a few times, in small doses. Too much, and he’d be an addict for the rest of his life. Alex could drink his father’s milk without worry–in fact, that was all he ate, now that Barry thought about it. Alex was still maturing–his milk not fully potent yet, hell, his second set of tits hadn’t developed to their full size, which wouldn’t happen until he was around eighteen. How Barry knew all of this, he didn’t know. How any of this was even possible, he didn’t know that either.

He looked over at Christian, who, after his momentary confusion at Alex packing on two hundred extra pounds of fat onto his body in an instant, had settled into this without further incident, like nothing strange was happening at all. Needless to say, Barry was vigilant for the rest of the ride, not daring to fall asleep again, out of fear more than anything else. After another half hour, they arrived at the campsite, and all the boys in the troop started unpacking their gear from the back of the cars. This trip was really just car camping–they were staying at a national park, though it was mostly deserted at this time of year–something Barry was thankful for, since he didn’t want this amulet affecting too many people, especially after what had just happened.

Thankfully no one was at all disturbed by the Mendels’ new appearance. In fact, most everyone treated them both normally, like they’d had plenty of time to adjust to their odd physiology. In fact, several of the scouts all took some time to suck at Alex’s tits, all of them cumming spontaneously as they did, and the other adult leaders seemed…focused on Eric: licking their lips, rubbing their gurgling guts, thinking about their own next meal. The only people who were different were The Hoffsons and the older scouts. In fact, Mr. Hoffson seemed outright hostile towards Eric, actively avoiding him, glowering at him–but Eric didn’t seem to mind, if he even noticed.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully–setting up camp, a few hours of free time for the scouts, which Barry and Christian spent playing cards and sucking more milk out of Alex, then it was time for dinner, some time spent around the campfire, and then bedtime. Barry and Christian were bunking together in one of Mr. Mendel’s very nice tents he’d bought for the patrol, and Barry finally found an opportunity to ask Christian what was wrong. His friend had spent the entire day in a funk, but he hadn’t seemed particularly willing to open up around anyone. Barry didn’t want to force him to talk about it, but he couldn’t help being worried.

“My…Dad left,” Christian said after a moment of silence.

“What do you mean?”

“My mom…well, the court has been siding with her, and my dad, he just left. No one knows where. I mean, it’s just…”

“You liked him better.”

“That’s not really fair, I know, but…yeah.”

“He didn’t tell you where he was going? At all?”

Christian shook his head, his eyes tearing up, “I thought, I mean, I guess I just thought that, if he was going to leave, he’d…like, tell me. Or take me…I mean, he couldn’t just take me, I couldn’t just leave with him, but he didn’t…tell me anything. One day he’s going to pick me up on Wednesday like usual, and then he doesn’t even show up, and he’s just gone. I…I thought he cared more about me than that.”

“I’m sure he cares about you, Christian,” Barry said, but it was clear from his friend’s eyes that his words were no real comfort.

Christian didn’t reply, he just climbed into his sleeping bag and turned out his flashlight, but neither of them slept for a while. Christian was sobbing as quietly as he could, and Barry was pretending not to hear him. He didn’t notice the amulet warming up again, against his chest, pulling him down into another slumber, and into another dream.

Dream Camp (Part 2)

After the pack check and more ribbing from some of the older scouts about his size, the troop split themselves up into small groups paired with the adult leaders, so they could all carpool to the campground. The older boys all climbed into Mr. Hoffson’s SUV. Barry ended up in a car with two other scouts–Alex Mendel and Christian Brooke–driven by Alex’s father, Eric Mendel. The three of them were all in the same patrol, but while Barry was good friends with Christian, Alex was rather cool towards him. Then again, Alex and his dad were cool towards everyone. The Mendel’s were one of the wealthier families in the troop–Eric worked at a tech start-up that was raking in capital, but he loved the outdoors as only a tech guy could, always buying the latest and fanciest gear for him and his son, and even financed new equipment for the rest of the troop as well. Alex thought the money made his farts not stink, but at least he wasn’t cruel. Christian was overweight himself, and his parents weren’t very involved in scouts. Well, his parents weren’t involved in much–they spent most of their energy tussling in divorce court. Christian liked camping because it was at least a few days away from his parents without having to stress about money, custody, or anything else a teenager shouldn’t have to deal with.

Alex was in the passenger seat, leaving Christian and Barry in the back. It was clear from the dour look on Christian’s face that it had been a bad week with his mom or dad, and didn’t feel like talking. The Mendels were engaged in their own conversation, and Barry realized he’d left his snacks in his pack, and so he was left to stare out the window at the passing scenery, one hand gripping the amulet around his neck…and he realized it felt…warm. Warmer than it should be, from just being close to him. Even though he knew that should concern him, for some reason it just felt…comforting. The amulet had felt warm like that before, on those nights before he’d had those dreams, but that had been in the evening, but right now it was the middle of the morning. Part of him unburied the worries that he’d been having all week about the necklace–mostly the fact that he really had no idea how the thing worked. He knew that it made his dreams come true…loosely. The dreams had, so far, always involved him and the people around him nearby. He’d been pleased with the results, but it wasn’t like the dreams were things he’d…planned. Like the night before last, when out of nowhere he’d dreamed his mom had a cock and was fucking his dad, and woken up to discover she’d become a…well, a hermaphrodite. Not…Not that there was anything wrong with that, he told himself. Hell, his dad loved it, but…it had been unexpected.

He gripped his necklace tighter in his hand, feeling the warmth permeate his fist and spread into his body, making his eyes droop. Was he still sleepy from the morning, or…was the amulet making him tired? At least he wasn’t thinking as much about how hungry he was. Mid-morning naps had never really been his thing, but he was definitely tired. It was about a two and a half hour drive to the campground, so he had plenty of time for a little rest, right? He should stop worrying so much. Everything…everything was going to be…just fine…

A rumble in his guts. He was…somewhere. Indoors. Featureless, dark walls. Not much light. Doorways, but no doors. No hallways between rooms. He’s looking…looking for food, but he also knows the place is empty. Barren. He sees someone leave a room as he enters it, he chases them. Gets a better glimpse–Alex Mendel, but he’s different. Fatter. A gut, but a huge chest, full moobs jiggling. Naked, naked and running, and he…he has food, somehow Barry knows. Smell, he can smell it. Chasing him, but can’t quite keep up, he won’t slow down. Barry gives up, exhausted, so hungry now, but he can still smell the food. Looks up and there, there is Mr. Mendel. Taller, obese–with tits. Two pairs, hanging down, swollen nipples, something running down…down his fat front, something sweet smelling, he’s gesturing him closer. Barry is salivating, latches onto a nipple and starts sucking, pulling out the sweet delicious milk, something tasting between cream and cum, eyes rolling back in pleasure, Mr. Mendel stroking his head, telling him to drink as much as he’d like. Other’s now, more coming, latching onto the tits, fighting for position, he feels buried, full, eager, hungry–

Barry woke with a start, flailing for space in the car, before realizing where he was, and where he’d fallen asleep, his heart racing. What in the hell was that? These dreams had only been getting stranger, but that one lingered with him, especially that smell. Sickly sweet and yet musky–it had him drooling. He looked up, and saw Alex leaning across the middle of the front seat, his mouth wrapped around one of his father’s nipples, sucking, milk leaking out the corner of his mouth, Barry’s jaw dropped. Ripped from his dream, Eric Mendel was easily five hundred pounds, nearly all of it concentrated in his chest of four, leaking tits. Barry could smell it, and he…he wanted it. Drool leaking out of his mouth, but his throat was too dry to speak. He saw Alex glance back at him, sensing his desire, and he pulled away from his father’s nipple.

“Somebody woke up hungry,” Alex said, and pulled his own shirt off, revealing a fat body. Like his father, Alex saw four nipples, but only two breasts had filled in. Still, Barry unbuckled his seatbelt and lunged forward, wrapping his lips around Alex’s nipple. His milk was sweeter, not nearly as musky as his father’s, but Barry had no interest in objecting, his cock swelling, his hands helplessly reaching into his uniform pants to stroke his big cock off, pleasure overwhelming him, the amulet still hot against his skin.

How about you, Christian?” Alex said, one hand under his other breast, “Want some, big boy?”

Barry glanced to the side as best he could and saw Christian now drooling as well, his eyes filled with confusion but his mouth already pulling him closer, and he took Alex’s other nipple, both of them sucking, Alex groaning and moaning with pleasure, his father egging him on, Christian and Barry helplessly jacking off as they fed. A more interesting camping trip indeed, Barry thought as he spasmed, blowing a massive wad of cum across the center console, and wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into.

Milk, by Donald T. Oolong

It was sweet and rich, flowing steadily into his mouth. Need more. Kevin opened his eyes, saw strands of wiry brown hair, and realized he was lying atop another man, mouth clamped tightly on his nipple. He jerked up and got a glimpse of the man’s face.

“Ah-ah-ah! You’re not nearly done.”

A strong hand pushed Kevin’s face down while another held him firmly in place. The man’s body was muscular, with a padding of fat and hair that tickled Kevin as he squirmed back and forth. “My friends—“ Kevin gasped before instinctively lapping up the whitish fluid leaking from the man’s chest. The four of them stopped at this motel… Paul said he saw weird dudes in the lobby…a knock at the door and…white. Kevin struggled a few seconds more before latching back onto the nipple. He resumed sucking.

“Safe; they’re being suckled like you. You’ll see them again soon, and be closer than you ever thought possible.” The man tousled his hair reassuringly. And Kevin did feel reassured. There was no place he’d rather be than cradled in this huge, bearish man’s arms, nuzzling his downy hair and drinking this—milk?–that to flowed endlessly from his nipple. The man squeezed his ass.

“You’re putting on weight. Gonna be a nice and thick when this is over. Hairier too. Me, Tony and Mick, we like our men on the husky side—strong, with a bit of softness. Keith, though, likes ‘em straight up fat,” the man chuckled. “Who’s that red-haired friend of yours?”

“Tm.” Kevin mumbled a reply around the nipple. He was getting drowsy again.

“Tom? Tim? Whatever his name is, Kenneth made short work of that swimmer’s build. Got a nice, big, bouncy ass on him already.”

Tim, a fat guy? He was good-looking already but could use some meat on his bones. God, he was beautiful. And Paul and Zach…Kevin realized how much he loved his friends. They were coming to terms with the same feelings right now, for each other, for him, and for these other men, three of whom Kevin hadn’t even seen yet. He knew it. Kevin was getting hard, and began to grind his cock against the thigh of his (Brother? Lover? Father? They were all right answers) and the other man stiffened as well. They rubbed against each other. Kevin greedily sucked down more milk.

“OhGodohfuckohhh-oh-hoh,” the man bellowed and pulled Kevin forward. He thrust his tongue into Kevin’s mouth and sprayed onto Kevin’s belly. Kevin came soon after, and they stared at each other as their semen grew cold. The man then pushed Kevin back down toward his chest. Kevin latched onto his other nipple.

“Thanks…other one was sore…Nice to have a family, isn’t it? To be loved? To know there’s someone else?” The man’s voice grew thick. He was dozing off.

He was snoring when Kevin finally fell asleep, but he continued to suck. It was sweet and rich.