Reflections on Vanity (1 of 2)

It seemed like a really strange birthday present, to be honest. I mean, who in the world gives someone a mirror for their birthday? But my uncle has never really been the most normal of people–there’s a reason my parents never really went over to his house. It’s just crammed with junk. He says he’s a collector, but he never could explain what, exactly, he was collecting. When that show hoarders came out, we realized what might be happening and tried to have an intervention, but he fought tooth and nail, refusing to give up anything. Old, chubby, a bit of a miser, and honestly? A bit of a creep too. But he was family, and so I took the mirror with a smile, surprised he’d been willing to part with any of his junk at all.

I was just going to leave it in a closet or something, but he came over the next day and insisted he help me hang it on the wall in my room, and I couldn’t very well say no. I figured I’d just take it down when he left, but reconsidered. It was my first year living alone, and he’d generously offered to help with the rent at the apartment where I was living alone while going to college, so I couldn’t really afford to be ungrateful to the guy, even if that meant he had a habit of dropping in randomly, using the spare key to let himself in.

But one he was gone, and I was in my room alone, the thing was…captivating. Something about how the surface caught the light. I took a selfie with it, mostly for a laugh…but then things got weird. I didn’t remember much of the next few hours, but I do now I sat in my room, looking at myself in the mirror, and masturbated…just…staring at myself. I swear I could hear someone whispering in my ear, but I told myself it was nothing.

But a few days later, scrolling through my albums on my phone, I found pages and pages of nudes I’d taken that day, all of them in that mirror. I couldn’t remember taking any of them, and I’d always been more of a modest guy, so I deleted them and resolved to take that mirror down when I got home from class…but things only got worse from there.

“You see, our company believes that a next generation workplace requires next generation HR strategies for dealing with harassment and discrimination–”

George threw the pamphlet in the trash–he didn’t give a flying fuck about this shit, but after someone had snitched on him for calling Joey a “pansy faggot,” he’d been told he’d have to attend a disciplinary session with this new HR guru or consultant or whatever they’d hired. Still, George had been through shit like this before–all he had to do was play nice at the meeting, apologize, listen to some bullshit about equality and fairness, mind his tongue for a few months, and everything would be alright.

The door opened, and a younger man stepped out of the room, “George? Welcome! Come on in, I’m glad you could join us today. I’m Dr. Vitters, and I’ll be mediating your counseling session today with Joey.”

George went in and sat down with the other two men, and everything was going how he’d expected. “How did that make you feel Joey?…George, is there anything you’d like to say to Joey today?” The usual shit, until about halfway through, when the doctor gave a long sigh, and picked a file up off his desk. “George, I appreciate you going through the motions, but I’m afraid I just don’t believe a word you’re saying today.”

That caught his attention. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, looking at your record here, I have my doubts that you’re actually earnest in your feelings about what happened. So I’d like to apply one of my specialty techniques in this case. George, please stand up, drop your pants and underwear, and bend over my desk here.”

“Excuse me? No fucking way, you fucking sicko!” George said, but his body was already obeying the doctor’s commands, and he was helpless to stop it–Joey just staring at what was happening, his jaw on the floor.

“Now Joey, please fuck George. Roughly, if you would. And George, even though you hate what’s happening, I want you to enjoy it–and when Joey cums inside you, you will cum as well.”

They fucked, the doctor observing and giving them notes, and when they’d both cum, they were allowed to sit back down. “Excellent. You’ll speak to no one about what happened in your session today, but I think we’ll need a few more of these to really break George of his habits. How about, three times a week, for the next six months? I’ll go ahead and schedule you–have a good day you two, and see you Wednesday!”

Source: openshirtlover

Cruising (2 of 2)

“It’s been three fucking days!” Lucas shouted at the man behind the desk, “How in the fuck can someone just disappear on a goddamn boat. And you fuckers aren’t even doing anything about it!”

“I can assure you that no one has left the ship, sir,” the man replied calmly with cheery smile. “Please try and enjoy yourself.”

“He was with one of your own fucking waiters! Can’t you at least question him?”

“Do you remember who?”

“No! None of you fuckers have fucking nametags, and you all look like you were made in some fucking machine!”

The staff member’s eyes hardened a bit. “Sir, would you follow me please? Let’s talk to the captain, and see what we can find out about your husband.”

Happy he was finally getting some results, Lucas followed the man back behind the desk. Hopefully this captain would be able to answer some of his fucking questions.

“Alright number 3498, we have a task for you.”

The hulking sailor bounded up to the desk, package bouncing in his thong, always eager to serve. Two days earlier, Mark had been dragged down to the bowels of the ship, and a day later, Mark didn’t exist anymore. Now he was just number 3498, and he was always eager to serve. “What can I do for the ship?” he asked.

“An unsatisfied customer, who was incompatible with staff programming, has been corrected with program CO9. He needs a staff member to guide him through his adjustment phase into his new, satisfied, form. You’ll be applying program AF7.”

Alpha Fuck variation seven–with an emphasis on humiliation. “What room?”

“E class, room 135.”

Number 3498 paused a moment, trying…trying to remember…

“Is there a problem, 3498?”

A jolt from his hat, and there was no problem at all. The muscular hulk bounded off to the troublesome customer’s room, and let himself in, where Lucas was just beginning to stir. He no longer looked quite like himself–the correction process had aged him up about 20 years, and packed close to 200 pounds on him, his body coated with silvery white hair.

“Fuck, look at you, you disgusting piece of shit,” number 3498 said, running program AF7. He climbed up on the bed, where Lucas was lying face down, his brain trying to process what had happened to it, but no longer capable of keeping up–and after a day of number 3498’s fucking and abuse, Lucas was a brand new man–a old superchub desperate to be fucked by muscle men, especially if they ridiculed him at the same time. He was a cruise line regular now, and he’d be sailing with them three times a year for the rest of his life.

Source: bdjjk

Cruising (1 of 2)

“I gotta say, this cruise has been fucking amazing–thank’s again for the birthday present,” Lucas said, leaning over and giving his husband a kiss. They’d gotten married five years ago, and Mark had surprised his younger husband with a two week cruise through the Caribbean on the newest, hottest gay cruise that everyone was chatting about. Clothing was always optional, there were wild parties every night, and both Lucas and Mark had nailed so much tail–and each other–that halfway through, they were feeling a bit spent. Or Lucas was at least–Mark had always been the hornier one, despite being ten years older.

“Can I get either of you gentlemen something to drink?” one of the cruise staff had come sauntering over, carrying a tray. The staff was by far one of the nicest features to look at–every waiter, every bartender, every housekeeper–they were all handsome gym bunnies wearing nothing more than a thong barely containing their huge packages, and a sailor hat on their head.

“Heh, how about a nice drink of you?” Mark said, groping the man’s package.

“Of course sir, if that’s what you’d desire,” the man said with a wink.

“How about you, Lucas?”

“No, you go have your fun–I’m tuckered after that morning orgy–I’m gonna just tan for a bit, you two enjoy yourselves.

After an hour in their room with the waiter, Mark was finally sated, and the man got up, pulling his thong back on. “Anything else I can get for you, sir?”

“Fuck–I don’t know, you have any job openings?” Mark said with a chuckle, “I mean–what a life! Cruising around all day, fucking anyone you want–sounds like a dream job, though I’m probably a bit old for your staff.”

The waiter smiled, “I think you’d make an excellent addition to the crew,” the waiter said, took off his sailor’s cap and dropped it on Mark’s head, watching the older man’s eyes glaze over, his jaw slack. “Come with me sailor, and we’ll start your hiring process.”

Mark tried to fight, but suddenly he couldn’t control his own body. Stiffly, almost robotically, he got up and followed the waiter deep down into the ship to meet his new fate.

Stinkers – Eric’s Story (Part 4)

“Wait, all weekend?” Eric asked, “What day is it?”

“Fucking Sunday afternoon,” Tom said.

“Wait, I was in there for…for two whole fucking days?”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it,,” Greg said, trying to usher Eric back inside, “Let’s keep playing–I bet we can get a few more loads into that jock of yours.”

“No–No, I have to study, I have school tomorrow, I have to go.”

“No, you’re staying.”

“No, he has to go daddy,” Tom said, “I want him out of my house. Fucking get the fuck out!” Tom stepped up, grabbed Eric by the wrist and tried to pull him away, and Eric felt an odd anger grow in him. What was this boy thinking, he could tell him what to do? Tom gave another tug, and Eric didn’t budge–instead, he pulled him back, Tom landing against his chest, Eric’s big arms wrapping around him as he sniffed and licked the side of his neck. “What the–fucking let go of me!”

Eric didn’t quite know what he was doing, or why. All he knew was that this is exactly what he wanted to be doing, even if he hadn’t known that a second ago. Tom was still fighting and squirming–Eric let him go for a moment, he turned around, and then Eric grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him up against the hallway wall, pressing their bodies together. Tom seemed…smaller than he had been before, less intimidating. “Eric…fuck Eric why…do you smell like that, all of a sudden?” Tom asked a bit breathless.

“Like what?” Eric asked, not really caring about the answer, as he hauled up one of Tom’s arms and started eating out the filthy pit there.

“Like Greg, you smell like daddy. I mean, different, but…” Tom lost track of what he was saying, eyes rolling back in his head as Eric’s new musk assaulted him.

Eric didn’t answer–he didn’t even have an answer that might have been satisfying, but what he did have was a need to fuck his teammate’s dirty hole. Tom, too, was wearing his jockstrap from practice and no shorts–Eric spread his legs and reached under him, feeling his greasy hole which had obviously been used quite a bit this weekend. Tom moaned, trying to protest, looking over to Greg hoping he would intervene, but the old man had his own cock out and was jacking off, watching Eric molest him. One of Eric’s fingers slid into him, and then another, and it wasn’t long before Tom’s resistance had disappeared completely, as Eric hefted him up and pinned him to the wall, slipping the pouch of his own disgusting jock to one side, and then lowered him down and impaled Tom on his cock in the hallway, his legs floundering as he groaned and begged Eric to fuck him. He was only too happy to oblige, rutting with him suspended against the wall, hammering into his ass while he cried, cum spewing from Tom’s cock between them, while Eric’s precum dribbled out of Tom’s ass and onto the carpet in a disgusting puddle. Eric came once after a couple of minutes, but kept going, fucking Tom for close to twenty minutes against the wall, both of them panting and shaking from the exertion of the position, Eric finally stepped away, allowing Tom back down onto the floor, when he crumpled down, lying in the puddle which had formed beneath him, his face drawn to the filth, licking it up, unable to stop himself.

“Damn man! That was quite the fuckin’ show!” Greg said, clapping a hand on Eric’s shoulder, which again, felt…higher than it should be, but he smelled Greg’s pit again, and fuck it would be nice to just laze around some more, eating and drinking, sniffing and fucking and–

Eric shook his head, clearing his thoughts away, and stepped back. He’d just fucking raped Tom, hadn’t he? Granted, Tom had enjoyed it–was still enjoying there on the floor, but why had he just done that? “I don’t…know why I just did that.”

“Well, when we git a whiff of a boy, sometimes instinct just takes over. Best tah just roll with it.”

Boy. He looked at Tom, and the word spoke more than it should. More than just a name, more than a title, more than a sexy nickname–it was more like…Greg was talking about a different species. Tom wasn’t like the both of them. Tom was just a “boy”, like Lassie was just a “dog”. It didn’t sit well with him in his gut, whatever it meant. “If…Tom’s a boy, then what am I?”

“I told you man, we’re stinkers–top a the heap. Well, I’m a stinker–yer still comin’ intah yer own, but hang with me a while longer, and we’ll git ya feelin’ like yer real self soon enough.”

Greg approached Eric again, grabbed his cock and started stroking it, licking Eric’s chest, sucking on one of his nipples, Eric trying to keep from falling back into the doldrums where he’d wasted his entire weekend. He had studying to do! Classes! Practices! Tests! Didn’t any of that matter anymore? He wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question, but what he did know, was that all of this was way too fucking strange. He needed to get out for a bit, get some fresh air, get away from Greg and Tom and this filthy house. “No, I…I gotta go.”

“No way man, ya ain’t going anywhere–things ‘r just gettin’ excitin’! Look at ya!”

“I can’t…do this.”

Get back in that room and relax–I know how the doubts go, but if you just–”

“No!” Eric screamed, and shoved Greg away, “No, fuck you! You don’t fucking know how I fucking feel right now!”

“Fuck man! Calm down!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down? I just fucking raped that fucking boy there!”

“Ya can’t rape a boy–they all want it, they just don’t always know it.”

Eric couldn’t listen to anymore of this. He went back into the room, dug out his clothes (or at least what he thought were his clothes, but they were a bit small on him) threw them on, and hurried down the stairs. Greg didn’t try to stop him, he just said from the bannister, “You go work your shit out then. And when you figure out you can’t go back–hell, that you don’t want to go back? I’ll fucking be here, waiting for you.”

House Arrest (Part 2)

He fought his feet, but he followed Sidney inside, hearing the pulse of music playing in the other room, his butt shaking in time to the beat as they got closer, and he found his hulking son still rolling his hips and moving to the beat. “Oh yes,” Zack said with a slight moan, pushing Sidney gently back down onto the couch, “I’m afraid you’re under arrest sir, and your punishment is going to be one sexy show from the hottest cop on the beat.”

What the fuck did he just say?

He grabbed the front of his uniform and tugged, feeling the snaps break apart as he started dancing with his son, unable to wrap his head around what had just happened to him. There was a mirror on the wall, and as he danced, he was able to catch glimpses of himself in it, but it wasn’t him. His…face was still mostly right–the shaved head, the horseshoe mustache starting to turn a bit grey–but his body…he’d never looked this ripped, not even when he was in the best shape of his life. Huge meaty pecs, a ripped abdomen, thick thighs which were nearly bursting the little blue shorts he had on. It struck him, at last, that this wasn’t his uniform. This was a costume. He didn’t know how, but Sidney had turned him into a stripper, and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop himself from humiliating himself.

The look of horror must have registered on his face, because Sidney laughed the next time he turned towards him. “Yes, Officer, I’m sure you’re a bit confused. But why don’t you just relax? Look at how much fun your son is having. Aren’t you having fun Evan?”

“Yes sir,” Evan said with a thick laugh, “I’s having lots of fun. I just a dumb meathead stripper whore! I like to dance and fuck and suck and cum and work my body for sexy old men like you.”

“You…what the…hell did you do to him?” Zack managed to say through gritted teeth.

“Nothing that won’t happen to you too, officer. Now, keep at it. The more you dance, the better you’ll feel–I promise.”

Zack pulled his shirt off and kept dancing. Evan kept trying to feel him up and dance with him, but as much as this body wanted to play, he kept finding the will to push him away, but that will was starting to fade, slowly but surely. His panic was dimming, and his excitement and pleasure were increasing. He shucked his shorts, only to find he was wearing an NYPD jockstrap–and from the bulge in the front, he was both hard, and huge. He groped himself for the old man, loving how sexy he felt, his partner rubbing his hands all over his body…turning his head to the side for a kiss…

That face. He…knew that face, didn’t he? It was getting hard to think, and he felt so hot and sexy. And the hunk he was dancing with was hot and sexy too. He didn’t need to think, he just needed to dance and then he wouldn’t have to think anymore. He could just be a dumb meathead stripper too then, and everything else in the world wouldn’t even matter. They kissed, their mouths hot, rubbing their sweaty bodies together, looking over to make sure their client was enjoying their show, because this wasn’t really about them–it was about pleasing him. Most people probably wouldn’t find a client like this very attractive–middle aged, glasses, portly in odd places, a scruffy beard–but guys like this really turned Zach on for some reason. The idea of a sexy, attractive guy like him worshiping and obeying some fat, nerdy loser like this? It got him so fucking hard every time.

The man beckoned him over after the two of them had been making out for a few minutes; Zack sauntered over, climbed up on the couch facing the man so he was straddling him with his muscular thighs, moaning and swaying to the beat of the music. “Are you still in there, officer?” he asked, “Well, of course you are. Don’t worry, you’ll remember all of this once we’re done for the weekend, but for now, why don’t you kiss me, you handsome dumbass?”

He didn’t really know what the guy was talking about, but he did want to kiss him, and being called a dumbass made him really horny for some reason, so he leaned in and started making out with the client, one hand wrapping around the older man’s cock, stroking it slowly and gently, making sure to edge him. The client beckoned to his partner, who got down behind Zack and started sucking the man’s cock–Zack was jealous as hell, but the client’s pleasure was more important than what he wanted.

The man pushed him away for a moment, and let Zack focus on feeling up his flabby body while he toyed with a tablet he’d kept beside him. “I needed you two to keep your faces for a bit, just to make sure you recognized each other, but I’m sick of looking at your face, officer. Let’s make it a bit more appealing, eh?”

Zack felt an odd shift in his head, but when he looked over at himself in the mirror, he didn’t see anything different. His strong jawline coated with a bit of stubble, those thick lips of his, small nose and piercing green eyes, his brown hair short, and attractively mussed up. “Fuck, I looks sexy…” he said to himself.

“You sure do, stud,” Sidney said, and turned his face back so Zack was looking at him, “And what do you think of me?”

“Fuck, sir, I think’s you’re, like, really really hot. I mean, I’m a stud, but you’re like, my dream guy,” Zack said, gushing a bit, “Do you wanna fuck me, sir? I like being fucked a whole lot.”

“Sure slut, I’ll fuck you. I’ll be fucking you both a whole lot this weekend, I think.”

Zack liked the sound of that for sure. His partner stopped sucking, and he slid his client’s cock into his ass with a loud groan. He might not be smart, but he and his partner were the best whores in the city, and he was going to show this hot fucker the best weekend of his life.

House Arrest (Part 1)

Zack had spent years on the case. Building it from the ground up, finding every witness, digging up every scrap of evidence, chasing his own tail at times, but it had come together at last. Sidney Hubert might seem like your average tech savant by day, but at night he had his hands in so many shady enterprises–online black markets, insider trading, human trafficking–it was only a matter of time before he slipped up, and he knew that all he needed to do was be there to catch him, cuff him, and lock him up for good. The chance had come, when he showed up in person for a deal–he’d given the prosecutor the conviction wrapped in a bow, only to watch him throw it.

He couldn’t prove it. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that a man with as much wealth and influence as Sidney would have some pull in the criminal justice system, but Zack had underestimated exactly how much, obviously. In the end, the jury let him off on most of the charges, but stuck him with some of the lesser tax evasion charges. Even then, because he was such an alleged upstanding citizen, he was only sentenced to two years of house arrest. Two years, and the fucker was essentially relaxing all day in his massive mansion. And what did Zack have?

This case had…been rough on his life. His wife had lost it, when he’d gotten too obsessed, and left. His son was distant with him, and he only saw him every other weekend. He’d burned a good number of bridges with the department, and with the DA’s office. Five years ago, people were mentioning him as someone who might run the department one day, but now he was going to be stuck as a detective for the rest of his life. He was in his forties, and he was starting to feel it. He didn’t know if he had it in him anymore to chase this guy down all over again, once he got out, but he had to try. He didn’t have anything left to lose, after all.

Zack watched him like a hawk for six months, but there was nothing the least bit suspicious at the residence. If anything, Sidney seemed so clean that this alone was enough to raise a few alarm bells. Sidney would taunt him, occasionally–having pizza delivered to him while he sat in his car, or one time, sending him a text inviting him inside for a glass of wine and to look around–enough to let him know that he knew Zack was watching him. It was only making things feel more hopeless. He needed to accept that he’d been duped, but he couldn’t. He had to believe he could still nail this guy in the ass.

He tried to focus on reconnecting with his son, Evan, when he did see him, but it was difficult. He was seventeen, a bit of a loner, and Zack was a bit worried he might be getting involved with the wrong sorts of kids at school. They barely talked, their worlds didn’t even seem to overlap at any point. He’d drift into Zack’s apartment on Friday afternoon after school, they’d try to connect–go out to eat, see a movie–but nothing much seemed to help. Then, one Friday, Evan didn’t show up. He usually just caught the bus, but Zack thought he might have stayed after school–he called his ex-wife, but she didn’t even pick up the phone. He called the school, but they treated him like he was crazy–they couldn’t find any record of his son even attending school there. Then, he got the text message on his phone, from Sidney’s number.

“Feel like you’re missing something?”

His gut fell to his feet. That fucker, he was never going to get away with something like this. He called the squad to get backup, but as soon as he tried to tell his sergeant what had happened, he started treating him like he was crazy. He told Zack that Zack didn’t have any kids. Zack had never even been married to anything beside his job. He wanted to know if Zack had been drinking. He wanted to know if he’d been pursuing the case on his own. Zack hung up on him, incredibly frustrated, and also scared. He knew he wasn’t crazy. He had a son, he knew he had a son, but why did the entire world seem to suddenly think he didn’t even exist? He got in the car, determined to take this shit into his own hands. The rumors he’d heard about Sidney, about trafficking in men and strange technology…he tried not to think about it, as he sped across town.

He parked a ways off down the street, and approached on foot, staying out of sight of Sidney’s numerous security cameras as he slipped around the house, casing the place. Through a front side window, he saw them–Sidney sitting on the couch, naked, and…some muscular guy dancing for him in the middle of the room. That wasn’t his son–Evan was thin as a rail, hunched, always fidgety. But when the hunk spun around to wiggle his bubble butt at Sidney, and Zack saw his face…it was Evan’s face. It was Evan’s blissed out, moaning face, on some stranger’s body. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had to get in there. He went around to the front door and hammered on it, ready to burst in if need be, but after a few moments, the door opened, and a naked Sidney was there in the doorway, leering at him.

“Good evening officer, what can I do for you?”

Zack sensed that…something was wrong. He’d had his gun in his hand, but he…didn’t, suddenly. He hadn’t been wearing his uniform, but now he was in his blues–and the fabric, it was…scratchy and ill-fitting. “Sir,” he said, licking his lips, “I’ve heard reports of lewd behavior at this residence–I’m afraid I’m going to have to search the premises.”

“Oh! Well do come in officer, do come in and investigate all you want.”

Just a Kiss (2 of 2)

Jules didn’t show up to the convention the next day. Eli thought he might just be sick…hopefully. It was just a kiss, right? He checked Jules’ room before lunch, but no one answered. He tried calling him, and the phone rang, but no one picked up. Eli felt guilty, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Call the cops? Go back to the bar? Maybe…maybe he could just give it one more day. He’d show up, surely.

He went out to dinner with some clients, hoping to nail a few more sales, but he was off his game, because as much as he liked to think of himself as aloof and immune to consequence, he was scared to death that Eli was dead in some alley, or being raped in some basement, and–if you looked at what had happened in a certain light, you might be led to conclude that the whole mess had been Eli’s fault.

He’d had quite a bit to drink at the restaurant, but before collapsing into bed, he decided to head back to Jules’ room one last time, to see if he’d made it back, or was just pulling his leg. He got to the room, and was relieved when he saw it was propped open–he hurried down the hallway and turned the corner, ready to tell Jules he was sorry, and that he was glad he was ok, but there in the hotel room were two of the bruisers from the night before, jacking up all of his things for him as quick as they could. Eli just stared at them, unable to believe what he was seeing, when one of them saw him in the doorway, alerted the other, and Eli split down the hall, the two men hot on his tail. They caught him when he stumbled, one man climbing on him, holding his head still, while he kissed Eli, forcing a lungful of smoke into his mouth…and after that, it was hard to remember what happened exactly.

He helped the men pack of Jules’ things, and then they went to his room and packed up his stuff, and Eli checked them both out of the hotel. He…didn’t really want to do any of these things, but everytime he started to fight, one of them men would give him another breath of smoke, and he’d…be hanging on their every word again. They made Eli get in their truck with them, and they drove to a…substantially poorer neighborhood, got out and went into a large house. The two guys took Jules’ and Eli’s things to the fireplace and started burning them, while the Boss escorted Eli down into the basement, where he found Jules. He…looked every different, with his huge beard and cigar, his tattooed arm shoved deep in some bear’s moaning hole, but it was him–he knew it.

“Hey, you fucker–I was gonna get you in a couple of days, but it’s good to see you again!” Jules said, hauling out his greasy arm and walking over, “Now how about that kiss, you piece of shit? Then we’ll get you a cigar, get you in that sling, and we can get the real fun started.”

Source: horsto

Self-confidence was hard to come by, for Asher, so sometimes you have to fake it. Or, at the very least, use some magic solution you get from a gypsy woman which promises to make you irresistible to anyone you desire. As a chubby young man, quiet and smart, and overwhelmed by being gay and interested in older bears who all seemed so…sure of themselves, he figured he could use a boost.

The first time he used it, it was more of a test. He had a cute guy in a class at school he liked, so he invited him to a study session, applied a bit of the potion, and it was less than ten minutes before his cubby classmate was tearing off Asher’s clothes off in the library (an admittedly poor choice) and sucking his cock–much to his embarrassment. Thankfully he shot quickly and no one caught him, but he wasn’t satisfied with one load–it was only after a few hours back in his room that the guy would finally leave him alone.

Now, it was time for a real test–he put on the solution, and then headed out to a bear bar that weekend. The men flocked to him, fought over him, and before too long he had an orgy going on in the back of the bar, with him at the center, men begging him for the pleasure of doing whatever he wanted them to do–and Asher wanted them to do all sorts of things. But morning came, and they wouldn’t let him up–the crowd of men had grown to about forty, and they all wanted a piece of Asher–it took all day before they were all more or less satisfied, and he fled the bar, reeking of sex and exhausted, with a few guys still running after him–thinking this potion might be a bit more than he’d bargained for.

Source: bigatlbear

“But…sir. I don’t…what’s all this got tah do with fixin’ a TV?”

“Shut yer dang mouth boy! Ya know better ‘n tah challenge master. If he says this’ll fix the TV, then we’re gonna do it!”

“But sir…”

*SMACK*

“Don’t want no more lip from ya. Now git in that gear–I wanna see my boy’s ass in those chaps in ten seconds ‘r less.”

“But–”

*SMACK*

“Don’t make me bend ya over mah knee ‘n give ya twenty a those–Oh…Master! Were ya…listenin’ tah us? Sorry, mah boy’s bein’ a bit thick tahday, but we’ll git started on that TV a yers in just a sec…now…where did ya want us?”

“The bedroom? But ain’t the TV in the living room?”

“No sir, sorry sir. I won’t question master, I’m sorry. Ya ready boy? Come on!”

“Damn, quite the setup ya got here–what’s the camera for?”

“Yeah, guess it ain’t that important, I’m just a dumb faggot pig anyway, yer right Master. Alright boy, git on the bed with me, like master said–ya want us tah…do, like, the same stuff…we did last time? Cause…mah boy didn’t really, ‘n I…I mean, I’m a faggot, sure, but I guess, I never really wanted tah put mah cock in a dude’s…ya know.”

“Oh? Somethin’ different?”

“Ya wanna see…mah boy…fuck mah hole? No fuckin’ way, nuh-uh, ain’t gonna happen.”

“Nah sir, I think gettin’ mah cock deep in yer ass sounds real nice–maybe if yer busy moaning ya’ll shut the fuck up for a bit! Now git on there, and take yer boy’s cock like a man! Let’s git this damn TV fixed already.”

Source: musclemechanic