Sketch: Greg Meets The Orc

It had shown up on Greg’s doorstep one day. A package, no shipping label or address, with just his name written on it. Wondering if it was from one of his neighbors in the apartment building or something, he took it inside his place, opened it up, and just stared at the thing in the box, trying to figure out what, exactly, it was. It was big, for one thing. Big, and…green, mottled, or almost looking a bit like a camo pattern. He picked it up–it was made of rubber, or maybe silicone…and it felt…good in his hands, somehow. Almost warm, if that made sense, or like there was a little whisper of delight, the feeling after a parent pats you on the head and tells you that you did a great job. Then he realized what, exactly, he was holding, and he dropped it with a shudder.

It was a cock. Not a real cock, of course. It was a dildo, a freakishly large dildo, slightly larger than a beer can at its thickest point. Easily a foot long, the shaft almost bulbous, the head thick and flared, with PA in the head, two balls below it–all of it in the same dingy green pattern. All he could think to do was go wash his hands, but it didn’t do anything to get rid of that…sensation, from when he’d touched it. Greg was straight after all. He’d had girlfriends with toys, though nothing like this, and he’d never touched them. This…wasn’t for women anyway. Somehow, he knew this was for…men. For gay men. It was also meant for him, but that couldn’t be right. He would never touch something like this again–in fact, he was going to throw it out, and forget this ever happened.

Except he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away. He looked on the internet, saw how pricey these sorts of things were, and thought he might as well resell it…but he found it hard to do even that, for some reason. It just sat in the box on his side table. He would look at it before and after work, and all he could think about was that it seemed…lonely. It was a thing–things didn’t feel loneliness, but he…maybe if he touched it more, it wouldn’t…feel that way.

It was irrational. He felt like he was going a bit insane, but he was certain. The toy was lonely. It wanted his company. It wanted him to…to touch it. Not even put it inside him (not that he would ever do that) just…for him to hold it. One day after work, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he plucked it out of the box, took it with him to the couch, and sat with it touching him while he watched TV–and he was sure now. The toy…was happy, and he…he was happy too, wasn’t he? It felt good to touch it, good to spend time with it, made him feel horny, being with it…

Greg didn’t know how the idea came to him. It felt like his own, but he wasn’t sure. He went to his computer, sat down, toy between his legs, his own cock pressing against it, and he started watching porn. But the dildo didn’t want his straight porn–no, that was disgusting. It wanted…leather. Big, muscular leather men, tall muscular brutes dominating other men, sweaty smelly alpha men…Greg was lost in the videos, grinding his cock against the dildo between his legs, humping it until he came in a massive climax more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. He took the dildo with him to bed, no longer feeling the least bit weird about this, licking and sucking at the head, and the dreams…he had such strange dreams.

It got harder and harder to be away from the toy. Or from the Orc, as he’d started calling it, or maybe that was just its actual name. Why wouldn’t it have a name? It had feelings. Desires. Thoughts. He could almost hear it now–its voice. Rough and deep and guttural. But The Orc didn’t need to speak for Greg to know what it wanted…even if what it wanted seemed…extreme.

It wanted Greg to quit his job. Wanted Greg to spend all of his time with him. Wanted him to focus on working out, wanted him to wear leather, wanted him to jack off all over himself all day long. Wanted him to stop showering and stop shaving. He resisted for a while, but more and more, his time away from The Orc was…painful. It was hard to focus at work. He was short tempered and angry. Finally–he’d had enough. He quit without notice, planning on living off his savings, and spending time with what really mattered–with the Orc.

That was a couple of years ago now. Greg hardly ever leaves his apartment for anything anymore–after all, he has everything he needs right here. He wakes up, cradling The Orc close to him, and spends an hour worshipping it, cleaning it with his tongue, before beginning his routine for the day. First, breakfast–high protein–then his workout. He sets The Orc on its seat, flexes for it, showing off his body for The Orc’s pleasure, and then works out–after two years, Greg hardly looks like the slender, lean fellow from before. He’s massive–nearly 280 pounds of almost pure muscle from head to toe. He works out naked usually, or if The Orc prefers, in one of his leather harnesses, all of then custom made for his size. After a workout, if The Orc is pleased, he gets to cum–grinding his cock against The Orc until he cums all over the dildo and licks it clean again, before lunch–and then he usually spends the rest of the day doing whatever the toy wants. Sometimes they watch porn and jack off. Sometimes he puts on leather and toys with himself for the dildo’s pleasure. Sometimes, there are special days too–days like today.

Today, someone is coming over, and that means…The Orc needs to be inside him. It took a lot of training to get to this point, and Greg is proud of how well he did, training his hole up, so he would be worthy of holding The Orc inside of him. He spends a moment lubing up the massive toy, and then squats over it–it takes close to half an hour before his ass closes around the base, feeling The Orc’s balls against his own…and then it happens–Greg opens up his mind just as wide as his ass, and he feels the dildo slide deeper inside him–and then, he isn’t Greg anymore.

Now, he is The Orc. He grunts, and strokes his cock for a moment, happy to have a body for a while, though he knows that it can’t last forever. There’s a knock at the door, and The Orc answers it–it’s a young man, quivering a bit in the doorway–and The Orc leers at him, grabs him by the collar, and drags him inside. Greg watches from inside his body, as The Orc ravages the boy, feeling his own cock sliding in and out of the young, tight hole, but feeling more pleasure at the pleasure of his Master. In the end, it turns out that he is little more than a vessel for The Orc’s desires. It…terrifies him, sometimes. The Orc…wants his body for real, but isn’t sure how to make it happen, but there are…stories. In any case, it doesn’t matter what Greg wants, does it? The Orc cums, filling the boy up with his seed, and holds him for a while, letting the boy worship his musky, stinking, muscular body, and then sends him on his way–the boy leaving a few thousand dollars on the nightstand. After that, The Orc leaves him again, sliding back out of his hole, and Greg is back. He cleans The Orc dutifully, and then it is time for dinner, and time for bed. Tomorrow is a new day, after all, and a vessel’s work is never done.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 7)

He almost missed it, lying there on the floor under the desk. Marcus had to get down on all fours and crawl under to grab it, but he managed to fish out the odd little key he found there, and held it in his hand. It was quite small–most likely the key to a padlock, or perhaps a little chest. It was also quite old, looking a bit rusted, though not rusted enough to be unusable. He figured he should probably ask Mr. Woodrow about it, but decided against it–he was nice, but there was something…off about him. Of course, there was something off about Taylor and Quinn too, but that was harder to sort out. Marcus was certain that something strange was going on here, but didn’t know what exactly–he had his doubts that a little key would answer the questions for him, but it wasn’t like it would hurt, right?

So he left his unpacking for a while, absorbed in his mystery, and started snooping around. None of the doors had locks on them, so that was a bust. Quinn and Taylor were…busy down in the basement, from the occasional moans rising up from the stairwell, but he didn’t know what would be down there anyway to unlock. Instead, he checked the attic, but there wasn’t anything up there at all, much to his surprise. He was about to give up, looking out his window, when he noticed something in the yard he hadn’t before–back behind a row of overgrown hedges, there was a small roof–probably a shed of some sort, out behind the pool–but not the pool house itself. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to look, he went out into the backyard, and found his way through the garden to the door of the shed.

Sure enough, it was secured with a padlock. He tested the key in it, and while the lock was about as rusty as the key, it did finally give way and pop open, letting Marcus undo the hook, and swing open the door…and he let out a little gasp. 

It wasn’t a shed…exactly. It looked more like, well, a workshop. Something he might imagine out of a fantasy novel, if anything. There were flasks and vials on shelves all over the walls, several benches with papers strewn across them, most of it looking like no one had been out here in quite a long time. He poked around, carefully, looking at the books laid out–most of them grimoires written in languages he didn’t even recognize…and that kernel of doubt and suspicion that had been rising in him was getting larger. Something was going on here–he was sure of it–but even for him, with the evidence looking him in the face…magic seemed a bit far fetched for an explanation. 

He kicked the latch, before he knew what it was–a trapdoor set in concrete floor of the shed. He hauled it open, and peered down into the dim light below…but he wasn’t sure exactly where the light was coming from. Still, he climbed down the ladder, hit the ground, and heard the snorting behind him–he turned around, and just…stared at the thing there, across the room, also staring at him.

It…was a pig? It was a man? No–it was something between them, standing on hind legs, cruel, yellow tusks pushing out, with two equally vicious horns pushing from the things forehead. It’s eyes were bright red, and…and the air stank. It stank of piss, and shit, and musk, and manure, and all sorts of vile things. He was staring at Marcus is calm, measured silence, and then it spoke.

“Come closer, boy–let me get a look at you.”

It wasn’t…speech exactly, and Marcus took a few steps forward, the smell intensifying…and the terror mounted as well, when he saw the thing’s cock slip from its sheath, a massive, twelve inch member with massive hairy balls below it…he wanted to run, but something…had him, was forcing him forward, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

“Yes, you’ll do nicely, it’s been so long since I’ve had company. You want my company, don’t you boy? Yes, of course you do, you can’t stop staring at it, can you?”

There was…a circle on the ground. A foot away. He tried to stop himself, tried to hold back, but…but that cock, it was fascinating to him, he…he needed it. He crossed the circle, felt the power it held collapse, and then he was on his knees, worshiping the demon’s filthy cock, and the beast laughed, and snorted, and grunted–free at last!

He rutted against Marcus’s face, and came, his vile, yellow grey cum filling the boy’s mouth, spewing from his nose, forcing its way down into his guts, filling him up with the demon’s corrupt seed, and Marcus sat back, dazed and horrified at what he’d just done, but unable to stop it. “Good boy–you’ll be my first. A few more loads, and we’ll be ready to show that warlock a thing or two of our own, don’t you–”

There was a bright flash, and then the demon was gone–banished, back to where he’d come from, leaving Marcus groaning on the floor, as Mr. Woodrow stepped forward, shaking his head, looking at all of the demon seed absorbing into Marcus’ body. It was too late now, he knew–he would just have to wait and see what sort of corruption spread through the boy’s body–then, maybe, he could come up with a solution for him. He cursed himself for losing the key in the first place! Still, at least it had been found, in the end.

Marcus moaned, feeling his body shifting and aching as the seed spread inside him, begging the older man for help as he began to change…


Here’s the next poll! I’ll be mixing and matching a few of the more popular options from the selections below. You get three choices in the poll. My patrons get an extra bonus poll over here as well, which is weighted five times heavier!

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 6)

Quinn was certain that the mirror was doing something to him. It wasn’t hard to figure out, of course, but while he was a bit…terrified, in all honesty, it felt so good to let go around his reflection that he was willing to just embrace it. He didn’t know whether the idea came to him on his own, or if it was planted in his mind like so many others, but he knew, somehow, that the easiest way to get Taylor into bed with him, would be to…to get him to look at the mirror himself. Get the mirror inside him, somehow, in the same way in was inside him.

Of course, Taylor spent most of his days working out, and he wasn’t particularly keen on being interrupted, so Quinn had to wait until the late afternoon, when he heard Taylor tromp up the stairs and towards the kitchen, probably to start making himself dinner. Quinn was ready though, and he intercepted him before he could get started.

“Hey man, could you come look at something in my room real quick? I just wanna know if I should ask the landlord about it.”

Taylor’s brow furrowed, “What’s up?”

“I think my window has a bad seal or something, I can hear some wind through it.”

“I’d just call him,” Taylor said, and continued into the kitchen, “Mr Woodrow’s a good guy, he’ll sort it out.”

“Just come listen real quick, would you? I don’t want to call him for nothing. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

Obviously annoyed at his routine getting disturbed, Taylor followed Quinn up the stairs and into his room. Taylor went over by the window to listen, while Taylor went and stood next to the mirror. After a moment, Taylor shook his head. “I don’t hear anything, but maybe we should call him just in…”

Taylor had looked back at where Quinn was standing, and ended up looking right into the mirror next to him. Quinn knew it must have worked–he could see that same…shimmer in his eyes that he saw in his own reflection, when the mirror…had him too. He cautiously walked over to his muscular roommate, laid his hands on him, feeling his body still clammy with sweat from his workout, and Quinn shuddered. This close to him, he could…smell him now, and fuck, he smelled rank, but it wasn’t…bad. It was just strong, and heady, and Quinn’s cock got hard just from leaning into Taylor’s pits for a sniff.

“You ok Taylor? Don’t worry, we’ll…we’re going to have lots of fun this evening, isn’t that right?”

Taylor nodded.

“See…the mirror is…is mine, Taylor. And as long as you’re in it, that means you’re mine too, doesn’t it? You have to do everything I say. It will feel good to do everything I say.”

Taylor nodded, and moaned now, his own cock tenting out the front of his shorts, leaking a bit.

“Get on your knees boy, suck me off.”

The voice that came out of his throat surprised Quinn. It was gruff and…and deeper. Not quite his own, but it was…his. Taylor got down, pulled down the sweatpants Quinn was wearing, and started sucking on his cock, hungrily, and Quinn had to lean on the wall to stay standing, his eyes drifting over to the mirror, seeing himself there, his burly, fat, hairy body getting serviced by this hot, musky jock…there was a twinkle in his eye, just a suggestion really…

“Get up,” Quinn said, “Go down into the kitchen, bring me some snacks. Daddy’s hungry boy.”

“Yes…daddy,” Taylor said, and stood up, leaving the room and heading for the kitchen. Quinn worried that being away from him and the mirror might snap him out of it, but a few minutes later, Taylor arrived back in the room, eyes still shining, arms loaded with beer, and snacks, and Quinn’s mouth started watering at the sight.

Quinn ordered Taylor to feed him for a while, while he just relaxed on his bed, telling Taylor in between mouthfuls how much he was enjoying this. How he wanted his daddy to be happy, how he loved feeding him, how serving him in whatever way he needed just felt so good to him, made his cock hard, made him want to service him more and more. Quinn took over his own eating, and ordered Taylor to start worshiping his body–especially his belly. Told him that Taylor loved being muscular, but that servicing fat men like daddy was what he was born to do, what made him feel complete. 

The mirror was getting…restless. It wanted to be fed, as much as Quinn did. He ordered Taylor up, told him to face the mirror, brace himself and bend over–daddy was going to breed his boy for the first time of many. They had no lube, but Taylor’s hole was hungry and wet, Quinn’s thick cock was leaking profusely, and they slid together like it was all part of some larger design. “Oh fuck, jockboy, fuckin’ hell you feel real nice around daddy’s cock…” Quinn moaned, and started fucking him long and deep. “Yeah, stupid fucking jockboy–good thing you have a nice daddy around here to keep you in line. You love doing everything daddy says, it makes everything so much easier for you, doesn’t it? Easy, and you get to feel good too. You just let all those complicated thoughts drain away, right there into the mirror. From now on, you just need to worry about getting bigger, and keeping daddy as happy as can be, you fucking got it? Oh fuck boy, here it fucking comes!”

It was the first load that Quinn hadn’t shot into the mirror since arriving at the house. It felt explosive, and bright, like he was firing hot light right into Taylor’s body. His boy groaned, reared up, and shot his own load all over the glassy surface, where it shimmered for a moment, and then melted into the surface, and both of them felt the mirror’s hold over them ebb away, Taylor turning around, holding his aching head.

Quinn was…nervous. Would he remember, or would he not? “Fuck daddy, thanks! You’re dirty jockboy needed that real fuckin’ bad…” Taylor said, leaned in and gave Quinn a deep kiss, massaging his big belly as he did, and Quinn melted into him, pulling his boy close, knowing he was his from now on. His…and the mirror’s. “Alright boy, that’s enough for now–get down there and make daddy some dinner.”

Taylor gave him a wide, and kind of stupid, grin. “Sure thing daddy! I love cookin’ for you!” Then he was gone, and Taylor relaxed, snacking on the food his boy had brought him, but already hungry for dinner–and for another round with his boy’s hole after that.

***

Mr Woodrow was more than happy to accomodate the two of them a few days later, when they suggested that they move into the basement together, converting the larger space down there into a studio apartment for them both, the mirror hanging on the wall within easy view of the entire room. It was a few days after that, when Marcus, the third member of the house arrived to move in, a week before school started. 

Mr. Woodrow was there, waiting for him, ready to give him the tour. It was a beautiful house…but Marcus struggled a bit, when Taylor came bouncing up from the basement to give him a hug, and tell him how excited he was for him to be living there with him and his daddy. Marcus…couldn’t really recall who this was at all, at least not right away. Mr. Woodrow helped talk him down, and when Quinn got home from his job later that evening, working as the foreman for a construction company, everything made a bit more sense…kind of. He’d met Taylor at school, and been introduced to his boyfriend, Quinn, not long after that. Quinn was in his early 30’s–and hadn’t gone to college, but they were…well, love was a weird word for what they had, but it seemed to work for both of them. Taylor was studying exercise science–badly, really, but he was good enough to graduate and probably find work. But for the life of him…Marcus found it had to believe he would be friends with them…for some reason.

But Marcus settled into one of the rooms upstairs, and started unpacking–and like Taylor and Marcus before him, he too, discovered something…odd in his room as he did.


Alright, so what’s Marcus going to stumble upon in his room? As always, you get two choices in the poll. The patron only poll is over here, and votes are weighted five times as much!

Sketch Commission: The Diaper Slave Neighbor

Want a commission of your own? I’m still open! You can find out more details here.

Commissioned by WorldOfWetcraft. WARNING: Contains scat and diaper play.


Gregory flung open his door and got into his apartment, shutting the door behind him–red in the face and panting for breath. He hadn’t been able to make it. He’d done alright the first couple days of the week, leaving a bit early, making sure he was watching his fluids, he’d been able to make it back home without…well, without doing this.

He stepped out of his shoes and dropped his pants–which he could see were a little wet between his legs. There, instead of his usual underwear, was a diaper, sagging quite a bit from the load of piss Gregory hadn’t been able to hold back while riding the train home. People had…smelled it. He could smell it, how acrid it was, since he hadn’t been drinking much water at all. He was so humiliated he’d gotten off and walked ten blocks instead–but that had been worse, if anything.

Gregory was older, in his early fifties, and not exactly in decent shape. Now he was hot, sweaty, stank of piss, and his legs were even a little chafed. He heaved a sigh–there was no avoiding it, he was going to have to knock on Alex’s door.

Alex was Gregory’s new neighbor who had moved in a week ago–and he was also the reason Gregory was now in this predicament. Alex was not…an attractive fellow. He was fat, with greasy hair and a tangled beard, dressed like a slob, and Gregory didn’t think he left the house for much. But Alex…could do something to him, to anyone, probably, but something about Gregory had irked him–and now, ever since meeting him that first time, he couldn’t get out of these diapers. He had to wear them until he pissed in them, and then go next door, and ask Alex to change him–but the price of a change was usually going into his apartment and giving the chubby slob a blow job–something else the one time straight Gregory would have never done, but now…now he was even starting to like that. Anticipate it, even now, as he pulls up his pants and goes next door, and knocks on Alex’s door.

Alex answers, his hairy gut hanging out, wearing just a pair of filthy briefs, and he leers at Gregory–and sniffs the air. “Need a change, man? Come on in.” Gregory stepped inside, and Alex dropped his briefs down–but instead of telling him to suck his cock, instead he bent over the side of the couch, and pushed his ass towards Gregory. “Been needing a good cleaning–clean out my ass, and I’ll give you a night off, like usual.”

Gregory balked. “What? That’s…no! No, I won’t do that, you disgusting, fucking pervert!”

Alex looked over his shoulder, sneering, and wiggled his ass. “Are you sure?”

Gregory yelled and screamed at him, but then Alex said…something, and he stopped. He floated for a bit, like he did…when Alex was controlling him, telling him something…new, and then he was back. “What…what did you do?”

“If you change your mind tomorrow morning, let me know, buddy,” Alex said, and pushed Gregory back out into the hall, where he retreated to his own apartment, stepped in, and he was safe. Safe, and secure, and…

It was like being back in his space triggered something–and he felt his bowels shift. He tried to stop it, but it was too late–he filled the back of his diaper with a load of shit, and Gregory just stood there, not sure what to do, or even how to move. He tried to leave, to go back to Alex and do…well, anything, but he couldn’t get out–apparently he was stuck here for the night, in a messy, soggy diaper, and…and the stench.

No, this was wrong, why was this happening to him? He felt the front of the diaper, and sure enough, his cock was hard, just…just from smelling his own shit. He groped it, suddenly desperate to jack off, but couldn’t get a good grip–but the failure only made him hornier. Eventually, he managed. Naked, aside from the diaper, he humped the corner of his sofa for twenty minutes, sweating and panting and heaving and stinking until he finally came in the front of the diaper as well, and he relaxed, sitting back on the floor, his shit smashing up and down his crack…and finally, Gregory cried. 

He sobbed there, in his filthy diaper, horrified at how he’d lost control, how even now…the smell of his own shit was making him horny all over again, even though he was too exhausted to do anything about it. He drank heavily that night–just wanting to numb himself, and he woke up in the middle of the night, filled his diaper with beer piss, and humped his bed until he came again–and collapsed back into fitful nightmares.

In the morning, he went back and knocked on Alex’s door again, head hung low, and his neighbor let him in without a word, went back and bent over the couch. Gregory got down on his knees behind him…and Alex’s rank ass….reminded him of his own stench, and he found himself…enjoying it. He ate out Alex’s hole, his cock hard in the soggy, sagging diaper, while Alex told him what a good asseater he was, that he was definitely going to have Gregory over morning and night to eat him out from now on, and Gregory just tried to ignore it. Alex flipped over and fucked Gregory’s face, fed him a load of cum, and then, finally, allowed Gregory to change his diaper–and even let him use his shower to clean up. Then, Alex forced him back into a new diaper–but this one was different, thicker.

“I noticed you were leaking, man,” Alex said, “We can’t have that–this should be a bit better.”

The last variety of diaper had been thin enough people hadn’t noticed it under Gregory’s clothes. This one though…it was so thick, it would make his suit pants bulge out around his ass. He knew better than to complain though–he thanked his neighbor, went back to his apartment, and got ready for work.

Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 2)

Todd had no idea what to expect, precisely. He knew that the research happening at Xigen Labs was cutting edge and wasn’t confined to one discipline, but not in his wildest dreams, could he image that he would witness something like this. The first day was devoted to onboarding with the study, signing a mountain of NDAs and liability waivers, and only then, towards the afternoon, did they get to sit down with one of the assistant researchers on the project, and learn what all of this study was about. It started with a basic rundown of genetics and evolution, some of the difficulties in studying evolving biology over generations, and then it descended into a who new set of science he had no background in. The assistant began talking about temporal vacuums, acceleration intervals–thankfully, Todd wasn’t the only one who was confused, and another intern finally raised their hand, timidly, asking the researcher to clarify what he was talking about.

It was hard to believe, but what the researchers were doing, somehow, was accelerating time–biologically–causing the beings in their study to age much more rapidly inside the field than they ever would outside of it. At last, it clicked for Todd–they were essentially brute-force hacking evolution. They would take embryos, bombard them with radiation designed to cause mutations, and then accelerate them. If the resulting sample was of interest to them for genetic research, it would be saved–and perhaps used for breeding. If it wasn’t…it would be accelerated towards its natural death in the temporal field. The interns were all silent, as they let that sink in–not only the nature of the science, but ethical quandary itself–but it wasn’t until they saw the subjects that they nearly all let out a gasp–the subjects of the study weren’t the usual mice or even monkeys–it was a human trial.

The researcher noted their surprise and shock with a rather disinterested look, and then kept talking, describing how the study had already found several promising advancements in medical gene therapies, that the subjects–due to the temporal field–rarely developed any real sense of self, and that the embryos they were using had all been slated to be destroyed anyway. Still, that wasn’t enough for some of them, and several interns asked to be dismissed and reassigned. The researcher reminded them all of the NDA, but allowed them to leave–until only Todd and two other interns remained, and the researcher smiled for the first time. “We only needed three anyway,” he said with a laugh, and continued the tour. They saw the temporal field in action, watched infants become children become adults in a matter of moments, the researchers investigating the resulting mature specimens for any interesting mutations, before sending them back into the field to age, and die.

Todd just watched it–fascinated. He’d had no idea something like this was even possible. This was science without limits; who knew what we were capable of doing down here? After that, they moved into what the researcher called “the menagerie”. The cells lining the walls were full of the most promising subjects whose mutations were most likely to yield further developments. Some of them had spawned entire new research projects themselves. Ethical quandaries aside–the possibilities were impressive. At the end of the afternoon, the three interns, Todd included, were assigned to different aspects of the project, and got to work. Things proceeded well for a few days–until something went wrong. It started with subject 86-X9.

86-X9 was a marvel of the program, a genetic jackpot. Human in appearance, his mind was capable of processing massive amounts of data in a relatively short time. The temporal field didn’t accelerate cognition–so most of the subjects never developed a mind beyond that of an infant, but 86-X9 was different. Within hours, he had begun to understand English, and could speak it by the next day. Within a week, he had learned ten languages. He was most likely smarter than the entire staff put together, and posed real danger, and so was kept isolated and confined in the deepest part of the lab. But 86-X9 was only beginning to understand his own powers, and it was on this day, that he decided to give them a test drive.

Todd heard the voice in his head, and at first, assumed it was his own. The work he had been assigned was relatively boring–sorting out data from the temporal field for research into physics–but the louder it got in his mind…the more he was certain that something was trying to talk to him. Something…wanted him to go somewhere, but where? Deeper into the lab, he realized, into the menagerie…but deeper. He knew he shouldn’t–he didn’t have authorization–but the voice…was insistent. He stole a key card at the end of the day, slipped inside, and then deeper, into the vault–where he found 86-X9. He looked like a normal person, sitting in a small cell, but Todd knew he was different. Important. The most important. This close, the voice in his mind was so loud, that it was all he could hear–his own mind was shutting down, and 86-X9’s will was all that mattered. Still, this would for, for 86-X9’s escape plan, he hoped–he was going to be taking Todd’s place, and Todd, in turn, was going to be entering the menagerie as a subject.

86-X9 and Todd went to the radiation chamber. 86-X9 would have an easy enough job warping the minds around him to believe he had been Todd all along, and with access to the intern’d mind, he knew all of his deepest secrets. The problem was that there had to be a subject take his place–and for that, Todd was going to have to change. He stepped into the radiation chamber, and 86-X9 bombarded him with a sufficient amount to trigger mutations, and then led Todd to the temporal field–give his body an additional 20 years, and the mutations would develop just fine. What sort of mutations does Todd get?

Alright, the public poll is below, as usual, and your patreon poll is through here! Remember, you get three choices!



Caption: A Demon’s Help (Part 1)

This is the first part of a caption story I did for patrons at the $5 tier and higher! If you want to see the second part, as well as all the other captions I post for them over on the discord, you can sign up on my page here!


Marvin had been going too fast. He was drunk, and he’d been going to fast, and now he’d gotten pulled over by some highway patrol fucker, and now…now he was going to get fucking arrested.

Maybe he wasn’t that drunk. Oh who the fuck was he kidding, he was way too fucking drunk to think he was going to get away with this. Maybe…maybe he could talk him down to a warning. He wasn’t like those other guys drinking and driving, he…fuck, Marvin thought, please God, I don’t ask for much, but please, don’t send me to jail tonight.

Oh Marvin, God can’t hear you. God can’t hear anyone anymore.

That…wasn’t his voice. The usual voice he heard in his head. It didn’t even seem to come from his head–but from a mouth, right beside his ear, like someone was in the car with him, behind him, leaning between the seats to whisper to him. He could almost feel the hot breath, but he couldn’t turn to look–his body was frozen.

God can’t hear you, but I can. I’m better than God even, I can grant little wishes like that, little selfish needs. Don’t worry, everything is going to be fine.

Marvin finally managed to spin around, but no one was in the car with him. Now he was drunk, and hallucinating–fuck!

There was a rapping on the window–the trooper was there now, and Marvin rolled down the window, and as he did, a voice came out of him–the same voice, and the things it said–he said, the most…horrifying, naughty, filthy things…it was only a matter of time before he had the trooper horny as hell, and then the handcuffs were on him, but he wasn’t going to jail–not this time.

The trooper took him home, took him down into the basement, and down there, the thing played with them. Twisted them, toyed with them, pitted them against each other and their own base natures. Marvin watched as the trooper became…someone else. The basement twisted into something new, full of smoke, and leather, and chains, and in the midst of it, Marvin was suspended in delight and terror, the demon (he was sure it must be a demon) and the trooper taunting him, fucking him, beating him…so many vicious, delightful things.

The next morning, the trooper dropped him back at his car, and Marvin sobbed. He hadn’t wanted that–he hadn’t wanted any of that to happen, and now…now what.

Don’t cry, Marvin. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here. Ask, and I’ll do anything for you, anything at all, I promise.

Interactive: Hypno Time! (Part 3)

The results from that last poll were both…conclusive, and also inconclusive. the top picks were fairly obvious, but some of the more…flavorful options were more hotly contested. The next poll will be have some more precise options after this one, that might seem a bit familiar, and that’s why!


Again, like always, it seemed like no time passed from the time Johnny fired the gun and put him into trance, and when he woke up. It was disconcerting, that in one moment he was standing by the door, the windows dark, all of the lights in the apartment on–and in the next moment, he was sitting on the couch, morning sunlight streaming in, and while his mind caught up to the sudden dilation, it was clear, from the soreness of his muscles, that he’d been put through a bit of a wringer over the course of the weekend. But unlike the first time, apparently Johnny wanted him to know what he’d been doing to him, because he was struck by…something else. As his mind caught up, it was like all the memories from the weekend struck him, like a videotape fast forwarding through a movie, and he saw exactly what–and who–he had been doing all weekend long.

Johnny hadn’t told him who he’d be servicing on Friday night, when he put him under, but now, he could remember who was at the door when he answered it, right after being put into his trance. Two older men, hairy as hell, and both of them quite chubby, entered the apartment, looking at him with a bit of suspicion, but a few orders from Johnny put them both at ease, as Max helped them all get comfortable, took off their clothes, massaged their feet…

Max had never been attracted to bigger guys in his entire life. Johnny knew this, of course, knew that Max took tremendous pride in his physique, and went to the gym five days a week. So remembering now how he threw himself at these fat men, how he worshipped him, how they all humiliated him, and degraded him, how they sat on him and made him squirm for breath–it was so much to remember, so much to think about, and he felt a bit…nauseous. The weekend went faster, from the men getting comfortable with him over Friday night, and they stayed with them all weekend, Max waiting on all three of them all weekend long–cooking for them, feeding them, doing everything they asked not because he…wanted to, but because…because they deserved it, didn’t they? Didn’t such handsome men require such care and devotion? Everything was feeling so confused now. They’d left on Sunday night, hadn’t they? But then who was the fat fuck he’d spent last night with, unless…

He shook his head and shuddered, looked over, and there…there was Johnny. Not the Johnny who had shot the ray at him on Friday night–like before, over the course of the weekend, he had…changed. Before this, Johnny had been about as slim and muscular as Max himself, but now…well, now he was quite pudgy, easily 250 pounds if not a bit more. There was something else off about him, standing there smoking his cigarette as he did now–as they both did. He looked…off, his hairline a bit different, some wrinkles around his eyes…was he older?

Not as old as the two men who had stayed with them this weekend–they were easily in their fifties, but Johnny had been a few months younger than Max, and now he looked older, by months, if not a couple of years. “Well come on then, muscle boy–isn’t there something you’d like to do?” Johnny asked, sneering at him.

There…there was. Max got up from the couch, went over, and started kneading Johnny’s small gut, feeling his own cock stiffen, realizing how sexy he was to him, looking like this, how much better he looked now than he had before.

“Yeah, made a proper chaser out of you now–No more complaining about my weight from now on. I think you’d like to see me get a bit bigger, won’t you? More like Dick and Charley from this weekend?”

Max moaned, dropped to his knees, and started sucking on Johnny’s cock, feeling his gut press against his forehead when he went deep. Max shot quick, and then pulled out.

“Alright, enough of that for now, I have to get to work.”

“W-Work?” Max asked, a bit confused–weren’t they both in college?

“Yeah, fucking work–you get so dumb when you come out of trance, it’s kind of hot,” Johnny said. “Not all of us can be a college muscle boy like you. Now, you’ll have a nice big dinner ready for me tonight, won’t you boy?” Johnny said to him, “You do love watching daddy eat, after all.”

Max didn’t really know what to say, as Johnny laughed, grabbed his bag, and left for his job, leaving Max alone in the apartment. Horrified, trying to avoid processing what had happened over the weekend, he went to the gym to burn off some steam, but that, in its own way, made things worse. All of the men he usually enjoyed looking repulsed him now. To his new desires, even Johnny was a bit small for him…and a bit too young. He looked at himself in the mirror, and the usual delight in his physique wasn’t there either. He just felt…ugly now, even though he knew he shouldn’t feel that way at all! Johnny…was it him, or was the gun fucking with both of them?

From that weekend on, Max was in a trance from Friday until Monday, and Johnny would entertain men at their place for the weekend. Sometimes it was the same men, but usually it was different ones, all of them fat, and old–and each weekend that passed, Johnny also got older, and fatter, until he was cresting 325, and his driver’s license said that he was 46. Only Max seemed to have any memory of the way they had been before this, and he didn’t dare say anything, or risk upsetting his daddy. It was clear, however, that Johnny was becoming a bit restless, and the men who came over were becoming…odder, until a long holiday weekend came along, and Johnny told Max he had something special planned for them.

Alright, hopefully the embedded poll below is visible, unlike last week! I tested it, but if you have problems, let me know on twitter or tumblr or discord etc. Here’s the link to the bonus patron poll as well! You get two choices in each poll, so pick your top two!