Suggested Story: House of Fears

Something a bit strange and silly for Halloween. I do little sketches like this for Patrons a few times a month, based on their requests! If you aren’t supporting me over there, and have some ideas for stories, that’s the best way to get me to write them. This month, we also had a rather eccentric veterinarian performing heart surgery, and a fellow trying out a new fantasy game on a VR system that gets a bit too real for him.


“Please, there’s no way it can actually work like that,” Derek said, as he and his friends from the wrestling team all waited in line for the haunted house.

“I’m fucking serious dude,” Jay said, “Marc went last week, told them he was scared of bats, and the whole fucking place was fucking full of them!”

“Well no shit, that’s fucking easy!” Derek said, “They probably already have a bunch of shit in there. People are always gonna say obvious fucking shit like that.”

It was a new kind of haunted house, or at least, that’s what they were advertising it as. Completely personalized–whatever you were scared of, the place would be full of it–and a lot of people were saying it was true. But Derek thought it was bullshit, obviously. There was just no way it could possibly be true, that they had a scenario for everyone’s weird ass fears. So he decided, right then and there, that he would do something to show them. “Tell you guys what, I’m gonna tell them I’m afraid of something so stupid, they’ll never be able to come up with something for it.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Derek thought for a second, “How about milk, man? Who the fuck could be afraid of milk?”

The other guys on the team all laughed, but they all agreed it sounded like a funny idea, and it wasn’t like Derek was going to take it seriously anyway. They got to the front of the line a little while later, and the attendant let them in one person at a time. Derek was sent into the complex, and found himself in a little black room, where a guy in a rather realistic werewolf makeup was waiting for him. “Tell me your fear, so you may pass through our gauntlet of terror,” he said in some spooky voice that just made Derek want to giggle, but he tried to control himself.

“I’m afraid…I’m afraid of milk,” he said, but couldn’t control himself, and just started laughing in the guy’s face, but the man didn’t react. He hit some button of some lever or something, a trap door opened under Derek, and he slid down a slide for a while and landed at the bottom on a dingy mattress in the dark.

“What the fuck, where the fuck am I?” he said, and looked around. The floor and the walls were all stone–real stone, not some fake shit, and it was all lined with torches. He started down the passageway, amazed at how real it was, but there sure wasn’t any milk anywhere–this didn’t make much sense at all to him, really. He went down the passage, and came to a fork in the path, and then another one beyond the first–it was a maze, or a labyrinth of some sort, wasn’t it? He hadn’t bothered to trace his way at all, and so all he could do was wander blindly through the halls, though occasionally he would hear noises. The scrape of something hard against the stone, and then a scent on the air, a bit rank, like…like spoiled or sour milk. It was freaking him out a bit, and he walked faster, until he came to a large chamber–the center of the maze, and there, he found himself staring at the minotaur.

He was massive, at least eight feet tall, and heavily muscled. But what Derek found himself staring at was the minotaur’s cock–a massive, two foot long bull’s cock, leaking thick white cum onto the stone floor, and the minotaur’s overdeveloped pecs were leaking the same thing, while the beast leered at him. “Come on then, get your milk boy,” he growled, and charged at him.

It was a haunted house, right? He couldn’t actually touch him. But the beast barrelled into him, and started tearing off his clothes as he laughed, and then forced Derek’s mouth against one nipple, holding him there, forcing him to drink down the rank, sour milk coming from his teats. It was disgusting, but he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing, and as he did, his body began to change, growing fatter and pudgier by the moment, until the minotaur dropped the once husky wrestler to the floor, who was now over 300 pounds, with a gut full of milk.

“That’s looking better already–but this bull needs a real cowboy to play with,” he said, rolled Derek over, and started working his cock into his hole, lubed up with just his milk, pumping him full from the other end, and Derek kept changing. He grew fatter and fatter still, passing 400, and then 500 pounds. HIs cock and balls began to engorge, until they looked like one massive teat, and began to leak milk of his own all over the stone floor, making a puddle underneath him, his fat tits doing the same, as black and white fur covered his body from head to toe, little horns poking out from his temple, as he mooed and lowed in pain from the minotaur’s cock fucking him. At last, the beast came, and the milk pumped his so full that he gagged, and it spewed out of his mouth, all over the ground in front of him.

“Don’t worry cowboy, we have all night in here before I have to let you go, and we’re just getting started,” the minotaur said, and worked his cock in again.


“Where the hell is he? He went in second.”

“Don’t fucking know–do you think he really said milk like an idiot?”

“Of course he did.”

“Is that him? There he is!”

Derek was stumbling out of the exit of the haunted house, back to his normal body, but he could barely speak to any of his friends, as they ushered him away from the house, asking him what had happened to him. He couldn’t bear repeating it to any of them–it had been too nightmarish, but when Derek flipped out after seeing the milk boxes at school the next day, none of them knew what to make of it.

Every night, he dreamed of the minotaur, and every time, he had to run, and run, and run through the labyrinth and escape him. He knew if the minotaur caught him…he wouldn’t wake up. He’d be stuck there, as the monster’s perverted little cowboy for the rest of his life, and he would wake up screaming, hard as a rock and soaked in precum, unable to talk about what was happening to him to anyone, not even his friends in the dorm, or his parents. On the morning after Halloween, his roommate woke up to find that Derek wasn’t in his bed–and no one on campus had seen him either. They searched for him, but there were no clues at all–it was like he had just vanished from his bed. 

The minotaur had caught him, and now Derek was in the maze forever, massively obese and soaked in milky cum, all because he thought milk couldn’t be scary at all.

Interactive: Porno Virus (Part 9)

Jacob and Tobias hadn’t had much luck that day–a few conversations with some other folks looking to talk to anyone willing, even a couple of mormon missionaries, and usually that was nice–even if they didn’t want to talk about religion after all. Jake and Tobias were from different parts of the country, but had formed a decent friendship on their mission trip due to their similar backgrounds–both of them had just graduated from high school and were taking a gap year before starting college, and probably getting married to the young women their parents were busy arranging for them back home. It was the closest the two of them had ever gotten to freedom, and even this brief taste was enjoyable–though rebellion didn’t come naturally to either of them.  After a few houses that didn’t even bother opening the door to them, they came to the Drake residence, where Harry was adjusting to his new, older body, and to his new desires the virus had warped him around.

The doorbell went off, and while the old Harry wouldn’t have even bothered checking to see who it was, unless he was expecting someone, this new Harry was horny enough that he was willing to try for anything. He opened the door, saw the two young men on the stoop in their pressed shirts and pants, their black ties, and he couldn’t suppress the leer that crept across the face. “Afternoon boys,” he said, “How can I help you on this fine day?”

“Afternoon sir,” Jacob said, “We wanted to know if you were interested in talking to us about the Church of Latter Day Saints?”

“Oh, well, I haven’t been to church is quite a long time boys, but it does get rather lonely around here–why don’t you come on in and have a glass of water at least, and we can chat a bit.”

Neither Jacob nor Tobias was really interested in chatting with the old man who’d opened the door–he stank, and there was something…sticky on his hand, Jacob noticed when he shook the older fellow’s hand, and Tobias flinched at the stench of his breath as well–but that was enough for the virus to slide into their bodies and get to work.

“There you are boys, have a seat on the couch there while I get you a glass of water.”

The two missionaries sat down on the couch in front of the TV, which was still playing a stream of disgusting gay porn more depraved than anything either of them had imagined possible. Jacob went to stand up and leave, but felt dizzy and hot. He tried to take a step, but faltered, and ended up slumping back on to the couch. Beside him, Tobias was feeling the same heat coursing through him, both of their foreheads beaded with sweat.

Harry returned with a couple of glasses of water he’d spiked with some shots of cheap vodka. “You boys do look hot–here, drink these down quick–you’ll feel better in no time.”

Both Jacob and Tobias took a glass, obeying Harry’s orders without even considering not doing so, and drank the glasses down. The alcohol rushed right to their head, making them feel even stranger, and again, Jacob tried to stand up, but Harry pushed him back down. “Now now, you look much too hot boy, let daddy help you out of those clothes there…”

Jacob tried to push him off, but he was too weak–Harry stripped him down to his underwear, and then tore that off as well, and Harry started groping his cock and sucking on his nipples–and as he did, Jacob felt something inside him…shift. He could feel his cock growing in Harry’s hand–not just growing hard, but actually getting larger–the same with his nipple, he was, when Harry pulled away–it was massive, and after Harry suckled on the second one, it was just as large as the first. “Yeah boy, that’s good–play with those for a bit, while Daddy gets your brother out of his clothes too, before he burns up.”

Tobias could barely fight as Harry pulled the clothes off him, and again, Harry attacked his nipple, and he felt a sharp spike of pain that made him jump–when Harry pulled away, he saw a metal stud in the nipple that hadn’t been there before, and Harry bit down on the other one, leaving a ring there as well. Unable to resist the desires running through his mind, Harry started biting Tobias all over, leaving studs and rings all over his face–in his ears and lips, in his eyebrows and tongue–and each time it happened, the pain was no less sharp…but a certain kind of pleasure was flooding him as well.

“D-Daddy, I–I’m making a mess…” Jacob moaned next to them, and Harry looked over to see that his sizable cock was leaking a steady stream of precum from the tip–and that his new, larger tits were leaking milk as well.

“Well go ahead and eat it, boy–it’ll make you big and strong.”

Jacob…didn’t want to eat it. He didn’t want to be here, he tried to tell himself that, but it was easier to…do what daddy said, and so he started licking the cum and milk from his fingers, and each drop he ate made his body swell larger and thicker, muscle piling on muscle piling on fat, and the larger he got, the hairier he became, the harder and harder it became to think about anything beyond…pleasure.

Tobias was more difficult. He tried to fight Daddy off, tried to get away, and so Daddy had to be creative. More rings appeared up and down the sides of his body, the insides of his arms, and the insides of his legs, thick, heavy duty rings that tugged on his flesh, and daddy strung rope through them, knotted his legs together and his arms to his sides, so that whenever Tobias fought, he could feel the rings pulling at his flesh, hightening his pain and his pleasure. Jacob fed his new brother his milk, watching Tobias swell larger and larger still, while Daddy sucked on Tobias’ cock, his slobber sliding into his genitals and swelling them to an obscene size, like they’d been filled with silicone and pumped larger and larger than humanly possible.

Tattoos appeared on them both, as Daddy warped their minds more and more, and by the end of the afternoon, both of them had completely forgotten who they’d been before this, but that samw religious fervor remained. But now, it wasn’t a godly church they served–no, they served a church of pleasure, and porn, and depravity, just like their daddy did. They worshiped every inch of Harry, every place where he walked, eager to do anything they could for him–Jacob a massive hulking brute, tits and cock perpetually leaking cum all over the ground, beastly and filthy tattoos running down his hulking arms and across his chest. Tobias was smaller, somewhat, with tattoos all over his body, including his face, cord run through the rings that were driven through every limb, every movement tugging on them, making him moan and grunt with delightful pain at the sensation.

As evening died, daddy sent his two boys out into the world, but with a new mission–to corrupt any man they came into contact with, and to spread their new dogma of perversion to them using whatever means they had at their disposal. Harry, however, had a different destination in mind, and he drove off to seek out his own ends.


Alright, so there’s two options for Harry here, and two others that suggest we should follow either Jacob or Tobias in their new forms. Depending on how I’m feeling, I can try to get to each of them at some point, but we’ll see if I can keep it up! Here’s the bonus Patron poll as well!


April 2018 Suggested Stories Ready for Download | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

The suggested stories from this month are also ready to download! One dollar a months gets you access to three or four vignettes, like the one below, each month (as well as all of those I’ve written previously!) It also gives you the ability to suggest ideas for these at the beginning of each month.


Milk the Fat Right Off

“Dude, you can’t keep eating like that! Coach told you that you have to start cutting–we have a meet next week!” Reggie said, as he watched Max pile up yet another full tray of food and start gorging himself.

“I can’t help it man, I’m fucking hungry.”

“Well no shit you’re hungry, you’re cutting.”

“No man, trust me, I got this. There’s this new fucking place in town, it’s fucking amazing. You go there, for free, and…I don’t know the details of it or what they do, because they put you under or something for the procedure, but when you leave, you’re fucking cut, like they sucked the fat right off of you.”

Reggie just looked at him like he was crazy…but Max had been acting kind of strange for the last few months, and his weight had been swinging wildly. He would gain 25 or hell, even 50 pounds in a few weeks, stuffing himself night and day, disappear for a day, and come back in time for a meet, and somehow slide right into his ideal weight class. It didn’t make sense, but Reggie was sure it was some eating disorder…and he was really worried about him. He’d gone through a real rough patch of binging and purging in high school, and he knew what it looked like, even if he’d never swung quite as wildly as Max managed on a regular basis. Still, Max kept eating, and Reggie decided he was going to follow him, and see what, exactly, this magical place was he was talking about.

The Friday before the meet, Max headed downtown, and Reggie followed him to a rather boring looking office park. There, he went into the Fat Studies Clinic, a place Reggie had never heard of. He gave it an hour, and then went in after him, just to see what was going on. He meant to ask the receptionist what they did there, but the nice young man chatted with him for a while…and there was an odd buzzing in his ear, something he couldn’t quite pin down. Before he really understood how it happened, he’d agreed to a trial–he was ushered into a small room, where a man drew some blood, announced he was a viable candidate (whatever that meant) and they took him deeper into the building, and the buzz kept getting louder, and his head kept getting more and more thick.

They got him undressed, and they gave him a shot–a very large shot–and one that hurt like hell, all over his body. He demanded to know what they had done to him, but they said nothing, and just dragged him into a room full of food–and as soon as he saw it, he had to eat it–he was ravenous. He didn’t know how long he stuffed himself in that room–all he knew was that he was still hungry when the men pulled him away, and when he looked down at himself, he was horrified to see he had somehow gained nearly 100 pounds of pure fat, a huge gut and two moobs hanging off of him, as the doctors, ecstatic at his performance, dragged him to another room, strapped him into a chair–and then he saw the thing filling the rest of the room, and started shaking.

He didn’t know what it was at first, just some heaving blob of flesh. As they secured the milking tube over his cock, he realized it was actually…a person. A massively obese person, larger than should even be possible, just staring at him, licking his lips…but the sound he’d been hearlng was even louder here, and Reggie found his disgust giving way to fascination, and then to arousal. He was…beautiful. So massive, so fat–it was good to be fat, but he…he didn’t deserve to be fat, no, he…he only got fat so he could serve him, his massively obese master, his god.

His cock was rock hard, and the doctors slipped a tube over it–and then the milking began. It ached for a few moments–but the flow of his cum began right away, and the pleasure was unlike any orgasm he’d ever felt before. The cum looked strange as well–too thick, and almost like cream. It flowed through the tube and over to the obese man, who drank it all down, from a massive pipe hanging over him on the ceiling, and Reggie watched it run down his multitude of chins–wishing it could be him devouring it, getting fatter and fatter…and to his horror, he realized he was shrinking. The cum he was putting out wasn’t just cum, it was all of his fat, all of the fat he’d just gained was disappearing. After an hour with the machine, he was more cut than he’d ever been in his entire life, but depressed and angry and sad at his body–a body he knew he should desire, but that he no longer wanted. Once they released him, he went right over to the massive man in his grief, over to his Master, his God, and began worshiping his fat, serving him, cleaning him, longing to be close to him, knowing that he could at least provide his god with the fat he desired, that he wasn’t worth of gaining any himself.

Max was there too, climbing over their Master, and they fucked for his amusement right there on his massive gut, both of them eager to do whatever they could for their lord–and that evening, they left with no solid memories of their time there. Both of them won their division at the meet that day, but the hunger never went away, the desire to gain, and Dennis discovered that everything they ate became fat nearly instantly. Reggie packed on the pounds especially quick–three days later he was back to being morbidly obese–not quite as large as he’d been in the lab, but close. He was horny too–so horny, but he couldn’t get off, no matter how hard he tried, even if Max helped. He…he had to go back. That was the only place he could get relief–that was the only place he’d find relief ever again.

April 2018 Suggested Stories Ready for Download | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

The Carnival (Part 3)

I already announced that the winner of the first poll was the cow option, and the victor of the runoff poll, by two votes, was the gator option! Hope you enjoy!


“Cowboy!” the audience shouted, and Adam let out a moo of surprise, as his cock and balls began to inflate in front of the entire audience. It was clear he was trying to say something, or object, but the only sounds he could make were low and mooing, and as his genitals inflated, his cock bulging out and filling out with his balls until they were more udder than cock, two short horns pushing out from his forehead, and a thick brass ring appearing in his nose with a click of Dr. Watch’s fingers.

He gave a tug on the ring, and Adam stumbled forward, the intellect draining from his eyes as the rest of his body shifted, losing muscle and gaining fat, especially around the hips, until he had a thick, wide ass, his hands and feet growing together into heavy, useless hooves that he stared at dumbly, certain that something was wrong with him, but no longer smart enough to understand what was even happening to him. The one thing the cowboy was certain of, was that his udder was full–so full that it hurt.

With another moo, he gripped it with his hoof-like hands, hefting it up and letting it all–the slapping sound it made against his thighs was loud enough to be heard throughout the entire auditorium. “Now Mr. Addison, you said you were a farmer, right?” Dr. Watch said to one of the townsfolk.

A man in a suit stepped forward, but when he stepped and nodded, “Yes sir, been on a farm all my life!” The audience laughed–he’d gone up on the stage a banker, but accounts were now the furthest thing from his mind.

“Well, why don’t you help out our cow here. You can milk a cow, can’t you?”

Mr. Addison nodded, Dr. Watch handed him a bucket, and he started squeezing the cowboy’s new udder, and Adam moaned in delight, humping his wide hips as Mr/ Addsion squeezed out his fresh manmilk into the bucket, the whole audience either shrieking in disgust or laughing at the absurdity of it. When the bucket was full, Dr. Watch told Mr. Addison to take a taste–and as he guzzled it–he too began to inflate, the suit bulging against his growing waistline until it could hold no more, and it shredded to pieces, leaving Mr. Addison as naked as the cowboy next to him, weighing almost 400 pounds, licking his milky lips.

Roger had watched all of this in horror, and had tried to move off the stage, but his feet were rooted in place. “One more animal everyone–what do we have to say to Roger here?”

“Gatorboy!”

Roger shuddered, and the first thing everyone noticed was his skin. It dried out immediately, and started to flake and turn into scales, his nails growing into long claws. His frame bulked up substantially, filling out with muscle as his neck disappeared, his face broadening and growing out into a short snout, his mouth filling in with tight rows of sharp fangs, his eyes turning yellow. His legs bowed slightly as a thick tail grew out above his ass, but he ended up taller than he’d been to begin with, and as his human mind faded, a hunter’s instinct took over, and he gazed hungrily over at the cow still full of milk next to him.

However, before he could lunge and go for the kill, someone else slammed into him–the third member of the townsfolk, dressed in only a pair of muddy overalls, tackled him with a whoop and a holler, got him into a headlock and rolled with him all over the stage, to the thrill of the audience.

“See? And you all thought I was crazy for giving our hypnotized hillbilly here a penchant for gator wrestling! Look at Billy Bob go–think he’s gonna break that big ol’ gator, or is the gator gonna break him?”

In the end, Billy Bob came out of top, Dr. Watch handed him a collar, and he forced it around Roger’s neck. Immediately, the gatorboy grew calm, and the big hillbilly hauled his cock free of the muddy overalls, and slid it into the gator’s ass, the lizard humping the stage, his own slimy, reptillian member sliding free of its sheath to rub against the wood of the stage, until it spewed a load of cum in a spectacular climax, along with Adam and Jared still sucking his own cock in a grand finale–and then the lights went down, and the stage was empty.

The frat bros, none of them quite able to believe what they’d just witnessed, hurried out of the tent. Jared, Adam, and Roger were nowhere to be seen…and somehow the group knew that they needed some time to be debriefed by Dr. Watch before they could be released back into the wild again. They would catch up with the group later in the carnival, maybe, or they’d find them back at the house the next morning.

In the meantime, the remainder of the group ended up splitting into two smaller groups, who each headed in a different direction. One group of three headed for the tunnel of love ride, thinking they’d seen some sorority girls head in that direction, while the other three went into the funhouse across from it, to see what they might find in there.

*

This next poll is going to be a short one! We’ll get to both locations eventually, but which would you like to see first? 

The Twitter Poll!

The Patron Poll!

This poll is only live for a day!

Winston’s Stable: Titpig (Part 3)

Winston double checked the monitors to confirm that Mark was unconscious–he still had a hard time believing that the match was so successful, that he’d fallen asleep so deeply with just a command. The few subjects he’d found before, they usually required at least a sedative, but Mark was by far the best match he’d ever seen. He went ahead and placed the anesthesia mask over his face, just to make sure he stayed out once he started the procedures he was planning, but first he had to wait and for some of his initial tests to finish.

He looked over the naked man’s frame again and felt his cock stiffening in his leathers. He hadn’t bothered changing after arriving home with his catch–he was much too excited to get underway. Instead, he’d led the young man down into the basement, strapped him in, and taken the first samples of blood, along with a basic health assessment. The young man was relaxing into the pheromones nicely, and adapting to them well. The initial grogginess had passed at this point, and he no longer seemed particularly troubled that he obeyed Winston’s orders without question. He stroked the boy’s cheek with one gloved hand, and saw his cock throb, and smiled. Even asleep, he knew what he needed. Still, after searching for so long for a proper match, it was thrilling to imagine one had fallen into his lap like this. Winston contained his excitement–the pheromone could signal a match, but false positives had happened before. The results came up a few minutes later, and he gave a sigh of relief, and a laugh. 97.8 percent–nearly perfect.

Winston might be a fetish freak by night, but by day he was much, much more than that. He was a medical researcher renowned for his work on genetics, but most of his research was conducted…under the table. Winston had longed for something his entire life, a proper slave to match his deepest fantasies, and now, with Mark here, it was finally within reach. He walked over to the cooler where he stored his various genetic serums and tests, groping his crotch as he did. All he’d ever needed was one. With one as a carrier, he could do so much more. He pulled out the first stage of the prime serum, and added it to Mark’s drip, watching the green liquid slide into his vein.

A 97.8 percent chance. Winston held his breath as the sleeping Mark laid there for a few moments. If his body rejected the serum, he’d be sick for a few days, but suffer no lasting effects. Winston, disappointed, would send him on his way with no memory of what happened. Still, if it worked, he should see some of the effects take hold in the first few minutes. He forced himself to leave the basement, set a timer on his phone for ten minutes, and paced around the floor of his immaculate house, stopping only to take a cigar from his humidor and light it for himself. The timer went off, and he returned to the basement, bracing himself for failure.

He let out a sigh of relief–it was working! The changes were small, but they were there, most visible in the chest, of course, where the most development would take place. It was clear that Mark had spent quite a bit of time developing his chest, but in a matter of minutes they had grown swollen and inflamed, his breath quickening. Winston pulled off a glove and touched the surface gently, feeling the heat of new developing tissue, his other hand unzipping the fly of his pants in order to free his cock, stroking it slowly.

“You’re going to be beautiful, more beautiful than you can even fucking imagine, Titpig,” Winston said over the sleeping Mark. He…shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. He went down the the foot of the table where Mark was lying, started pulling him down, his legs up in the air and resting on Winston’s shoulders until his ass was at the edge, and he rubbed the wet head of his cock against his hole. “I wish you were awake for this, I really do, but fuck, I can’t fucking wait, you fucking freak,” he said, drooling a bit of spit into his hand, which he rubbed on his head and shaft. He slid into Mark’s hole as gently as he could, his eyes glued to Mark’s pecs, watching them turn redder and swell larger as he fucked him. Winston didn’t last long–he pushed in deep and came inside Mark’s hole, and then pulled out, carefully returning him to his prior position on the table before cleaning off his cock.

He wanted him to know so badly, he wanted him to see himself–but he could wait. He wanted Mark to understand what was happening to him, before it was finished, he wanted to see the terror on his face dissolve into pleasure as his master used him. Still, it would be a week or so before that–he wanted to wait until the third stage was finished. But soon, Mark would see for himself. He’d see what he was really meant to be.

September Patreon Suggestions Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s suggested stories are done and ready for all you patrons to download! 

Each month I take suggestions, and use them to write a few short pieces based on those prompts. This month, there’s a sequel to an older story of mine called “The Audition”, some weight gain and mind drain, piss addiction and mind control, and an inanimate pipe TF and some pipe bear fun to go with it! All it takes is one dollar a month to be able to submit ideas, and read the completed stories. To give you an idea of what these look like, here’s a suggestion I took from August.


Loopholes

Barron could, in some possible world, forgive one of his neighbors for having a dog, even if it was against the rules of the building. He had, in fact, tried to be patient. Most of the time, in fact, the dog seemed to be well behaved, or at the very least quiet, but this was the third Saturday in a row where he had been woken from a dead sleep at six in the morning by the sound of the mutt yapping its head off through the wall. He dialed the number for the building office below, but got no one–maybe it was too early. In any case, something had to be done–Barron was sick of it. He threw on some clothes, left his condo, and pounded on his neighbor’s door.

It was a few moments before the door opened, and a younger man peeked through the crack. He was new to the building–in fact, Barron hadn’t even gotten the young man’s name yet, but this was as good an introduction as any. “Hey, I’m your neighbor–I can’t help but hear that you have a dog in there–through my wall. You know this building has a no pet policy, right? It’s in our contract?”

The young man smiled, “Ah, I had a conversation with the office about that actually, and we worked out a clarification to that. See, it isn’t a no pet policy, really, but a no “animal” policy. I found that to be fair for me and my pup.”

Barron just stared at him confused.

“Look, step inside and see for yourself! He’s very nice, and he loves strangers,” he said, and opened the door so Barron could step inside. He did so, and in the living room, he found himself looking at…well, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but even he had to admit that it wasn’t a dog. It was a man. A man in a rubber suit of some sort…but even that wasn’t quite right, because looking at him, on all fours…his body was all wrong.

“Isn’t he cute? His name is Rover Collins. Say hi Rover!”

Rover turned in a circle and gave a bark, giving Barron a chance to see all of him–including his face, the lower half of which was obscured by a rubber mask, which wrapped up the side of his head to a pair of floppy rubber ears. The eyes–he knew those eyes. “Wait, Robert?” Barron asked, “Is that you?”

Rover didn’t reply, but Barron knew it had to be him–Robert Collins, another neighbor of his on this floor.

The young man came up behind him, and Barron turned and saw that he, too, was wearing a rubber suit, with a generous opening for his cock and balls in the crotch. “Robert and I had a nice chat a couple weeks ago. I told him how much I missed having a pup, you see, and he was more than willing to help, right Rover?”

“This…what the fuck is this?”

“But I thought, why stop at puppies, you know? I have so many ideas, and so many neighbors! Like you. I was hoping you’d come by today, Barron–I’ve had Rover barking his head off, just for you.”

Barron shoved his way past the young man and ran for the door, but he ran right into someone standing in the doorway. Looking up, he recognized the face of Mr. Harrison, the building supervisor, leering down at him with a cruel grin on his face, under the rubber hood he was wearing, and the rubber shirt, and vest, and pants, and boots. “See? Part of my understanding with management was that Mr. Harrison was going to help me with…enforcement, right Harrison?”

“Yes master,” Harrison said, stepped forward and began tearing at Barron’s clothes until he was completely naked, and then the young man grabbed him in his rubber coated arms, and he felt the rubber turn wet, and begin creeping over his skin. “Now now, just relax. You’ll enjoy being my big bull so much, trust me, you’ll love it.”


“Yeah, come on, that’s it,”

Barron moaned, a bit groggy, and tried to move, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to be working correctly, leaving him flailing on his side.

“Come on ya big lug, you can do it. Harrison, he’s heavy! Give me a hand.”

Barron felt four hands on his back, but instead of helping him stand upright, they rolled him towards his belly. He felt his arms and legs get under him, somehow, and he stood, shaky, looking down at the carpeted floor below him, disoriented.

“There you go, Mr. Bull! That’s very good.” The praise made his heart flutter a bit, but everything still seemed so…strange to him. What was going on? He didn’t remember much at all, beyond Robert, and then Harrison. The young man tugged something in front of his face, and he felt a sharp pain in his nose. “Come on, I want you to see.”

His arms and legs walked, but it didn’t seem to be in a way he found familiar. For one thing, why were his arms and legs the same length? He tried to look down and back under himself, but the young man kept his head up by tugging on whatever was attached to his face, until they arrived in front of a mirror, and he let Barron see his body.

The rubber…it was everywhere, but it didn’t feel like he was wearing it. It felt…like his skin, like it was a part of him. It covered his arms and legs, and they were molded to look like a cattle’s four limbs, with thick shoulders and haunches, and heavy hooves where his hands and feet ought to be. Were…were they in there? He couldn’t feel them at all. He lifted one front leg and shook the hoof, scared out of his mind. There was a rubber bull tail whipping above his ass, and his cock…what the fuck had happened to his cock and balls? He saw a thick, black cock slide out of a rubber sheath running along his belly, close to a foot long, but his balls…they didn’t look like balls anymore, they looked like an udder. His face was covered mostly in rubber, like Robert’s was, aside for the eyes. His mouth was twisted into a bullish snout, and in the end was a thick steel ring–that’s what the young man had been tugging on.

“What do you think, Mr. Bull? You’re going to be providing a lot of milk for me and the rest of my pets. From now on. Good, healthy milk.” He got down, put a bowl under Barron’s udder, and tugged on one rubber teat. He moaned in pleasure as a squirt of thick cum jetted out into the bowl, and then another, each tug like a miniature orgasm, and each time, he felt his mind shrink further and further away from him, until he was mooing and looing like a real bull, eager for his master to hook him up to the pumping station for the day, and drain him dry.


On Monday, Barron tugged the sleeve of his suit down self-consciously, did one last inspection in the mirror, and slipped out of his condo. Robert was leaving as he came out, but avoided making any eye contact with him. He couldn’t blame him, really–but he felt his cock slip a bit out of his sheath at the thought of how he’d fucked Rover’s hole on Sunday, while Master and Harrison had cheered them on. His balls gave a little squirt too, and looking down he saw he already had a stain on the front of his trousers from them leaking. This…this was going to be a challenge.

The door beside him opened, and Master poked his head out. “Shouldn’t you be betting to work, Mr. Bull?” he looked down, and smiled.

“I…I can’t go like this. Can’t you change me all the way back? Please? Just for work?”

“Then how will you remember that you’re my pet?” Master said, “Come in, I can do something else for you instead.”

A few minutes later, Barron left Master’s apartment, fiddling with his crotch, blushing profusely. A fucking diaper–he was wearing a fucking diaper. On the subway a bit later, to his horror, he felt his cock release a blast of piss into his pants as well–but true to his word, Master’s diaper sucked it all down. It seemed…hungry. Was it…a person too?

He pushed the thought away, and focused on getting to work. Keep Master happy, and everything would be fine, he told himself. Be a good pet, and everything would be just fine.

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A Brief Revenge (1 of 2)


Vance woke up that morning–late, as usual for him–yawned, got up and when and had his morning piss, thankful that today’s hangover wasn’t too extreme. The party last night had been a good one all the same, even if that fucking old neighbor of theirs had caused a ruckus, barging into the party, trying to be a fucking buzzkill. He could have sworn he’d seen the old man in the hallway, coming out of his room before he’d kicked him out, but the memory was pretty hazy.

Vance was one of the hot jocks at the college nearby, and his off campus house was party central almost every weekend. It helped that his father was a local official, and so the police largely left him alone to do what he wanted, as long as he did his best to keep minors away from alcohol. He went back into his room from the bathroom, idly stroking his eight inch cock. The only downside from the night was that he hadn’t gotten laid, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. He opened his drawer and found a clean pair of underwear on top, grabbed it and put it on…and shuddered, looking down at the grey briefs.

It felt…alive, almost. Squirming around his waist, around his cock. He tried to push them back down and take them off, but the elastic…fought him, gripping his waist tighter as he pushed, growing a bit scared, when the underwear gripped his cock and pumped the first load out of him, making him moan in pleasure. He stumbled back, feeling a bit woozy, but his cock was still hard, and he could feel another orgasm building. It was as big as the first one, his vision going a bit swirly, and he tried to fall on the bed, but collapsed onto the floor instead.

He only remembered the first three or four loads, as the world started to dim, the underwear milking him for all it was worth, sucking him dry. He lost consciousness, and his skin began to turn pale, looking almost…dry and shriveled, the underwear still pulling his cum and life force right out of him, sealing his spirit in the cotton underwear. His muscles atrophied, his bones collapsed into jelly, his skin wrinkled and shrinking, the underwear dragging it all into its desperate, aching hunger. Anb hour later, Vance was gone–there was no trace of him anywhere, aside from a pair of grey briefs on the floor, but Vance was there, embodying his own briefs, trying to scream, but finding he no longer had a mouth. Later that day, the old man from next door slipped into the room, looked about, spied the briefs on the floor, picked them up and slipped back out of his house, happy to have another jock to add to his collection, and his business.