Job Revenge (Sketch)

This shit shouldn’t be legal in the goddamn 21st century, Jordan thought to himself, unable to believe he could be so stupid. Sure, some of the country thought it was a good idea to make sure people couldn’t be fired for being gay, but not here in the fucking Carolinas. Nope, here it was perfectly legal, and after his boss, Rodney, had overheard him the other day telling one of his coworkers, who wasn’t a social troglodyte, that he had a date with a hot guy that evening, he’d had a fucking grin on his face he hadn’t wiped off for a few days. It was no secret that Rodney hated Jordan–in part because everyone knew Jordan could do Rodney’s job better than him, but mostly because he was a little femme, and had always suspected Jordan might be “one of those disgusting faggots,” as he called them. And so, at the end of the day, Rodney had confronted him, and told him that Jordan had two weeks to wrap up his projects and get out.

That was yesterday, and news that he was being fired, and why he was being fired, had spread through the office like wildfire. Still, Jordan wasn’t about to give up without a fight, because what Rodney didn’t know, was that Jordan was descended from a line of witches. He’d never really dabbled much in it, not after seeing some of the crazy shit that had happened to his mother when he was younger, but for this…well, he needed this damn job! The job market wasn’t exactly getting better, after all, and he’d been hoping he could at least crawl his way up to management here before looking for better work with a bit of experience. So, he pulled out his grandmother’s grimoire, and started studying.

It wasn’t easy–it took him a week just to find a spell he thought would do the trick, gather all the ingredients for the curse, and then to make it. The whole time, Rodney had been insufferable. Gloating at every chance, calling him names, turning his coworkers against him–so yeah, he was angry. When he finally wrangled the spell together into a potion Rodney would need to drink, he finally had something to channel his anger into…and the potion didn’t turn out quite right. It was supposed to be a clear blue, but his was kind of a muddy purple. Still, he didn’t have time to do it over, right? If it didn’t work, then it didn’t work, but he had to at least try.

The easiest part was getting Rodney to drink it. He always brought lunch and kept it in the fridge, along with a thermos of coffee which he always forgot around the office all day long. He’d waste hours hunting it down when he was supposed to be doing something more pressing. Jordan waited for it to be abandoned, added the potion, and then had someone return it to him–so he wouldn’t suspect Jordan had done anything to it…but he kind of had. How could he resist, really? He’d slipped into the bathroom, and jacked off into the thermos as well. All it took was a sip, after all–so even if he could taste it, he’d have a bit more revenge.

The spell was supposed to have a suggestive effect on someone, where they would find themselves unable to resist the orders of the witch for a time after drinking the spell. How long of a time was unclear–apparently in varied based on the caster’s skill (minimal) and the subject’s willpower (also minimal, since Rodney could barely grasp the concept of a spreadsheet.) All he’d need was a few hours to…change Rodney’s mind about Jordan’s worth, and everything would be just fine.

He waited half an hour, and then decided to go check on Rodney–when he got to his office, he even saw him take a swig from the thermos, grimace, and then set it back down–perfect. That, supposedly, was all it should take! So he went ahead and stepped inside and shut the door behind him–but Rodney just glared at him. “Faggot, get the fuck out of here, unless you want to be packing up your shit today.”

“No Rodney, I think the two of us need to have a little chat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To talk to me?”

He saw Rodney start to retort, but an odd purple wave washed through his eyes, he shook his head, and said, “Uh…I mean, what…would you like to talk about?”

Jordan had planned this–planned what he was going to say, but he felt…something odd inside him. He felt so…angry all of a sudden. Angry and…horny as hell. This…wasn’t right, was it? The spell wasn’t supposed to affect him. But this…rush! “I think you…should apologize to me. For all the shit you’ve called me.”

The same wave of purple, the same wave through him of anger and horniness. “I’m…sorry,” Rodney said, gritting his teeth, trying to fight it.

“Sorry for what?”

“For…calling you a fag, and…queer and shit.” Rodney said, but something seemed strange about him. He looked…happy, like he’d just had a burst of pleasure. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He said, a bit quiet, “I…why did that feel so good?”

“Maybe because you like submitting to me. I think you do, Rodney, I think the idea of doing whatever I say turns you on.” The words were just tumbling out now, unbidden. Sure, he’d always kind of…fantasized about this, but what in the world was he doing?

“Oh fuck, it…kind of does, doesn’t it?”

“Get over here, and lick my shoes clean.”

He didn’t expect him to do it, but Rodney got up, a throbbing erection obvious in the front of his pants, and he walked over, got down, and started licking, and Jordan felt an uncharacteristic sneer turn up the corner of his mouth. He could have some fun with this, actually, and Rodney would as well, at least if he told him so.

Dale’s Story (Part 5)

Looks like most of you liked power over mind, so we’ll be enjoying some mind control, it looks like!

“So wait, like mind control ‘r somethin’?” Dale asked, “Fuck, so I could make ‘em do anythin’ I want?”

“Oh trust me,” the stranger said, “You can do a lot more with it than that, but essentially, yes. Is that you’re choice then?”

The others did sound tempting to him, but he nodded, “Yeah, that sounds like a real load a fun, I think,” he leered, and shoved some more food in his face.”

“Alright–I’ll give you the gift of my power for 24 hours. At this time tomorrow, whatever changes you’ve made to Bishop-or anyone else–will be irreversible,” the stranger walked up to him, pressed a finger to Dale’s temple, and he felt a strange shock run through him–and he realized he could…hear things. Thoughts. He could hear his sons working on cars, staring at each other across the room, thinking about fucking in the restroom on their break. The men in the waiting room were bored, impatient and irritated, and he laughed, the stranger smiling. “Holy fuckin’ shit, I can…hear what they all thinkin’?”

“You sure can, Dale. The office had a window so that he could see in the waiting room, and there were a few people in there, waiting on cars, but two caught his eye in particular. A grungy looking biker–older, with a big beard–and a middle aged redneck. With a nudge, they caught each other’s eye, thinking…new thoughts. And then, the redneck was up, crossing the short distance, getting down and opening the biker’s fly and sucking his old cock. The rest of the people stared for a moment, but he suppressed their surprise and they resumed whatever they were doing,m paying no attention to the men having sex right in front of them. “Holy fuck, it really does work…” Dale muttered, his own cock rock hard in his pants.

“You can do more than control people, you know,” the stranger said, “You can change their minds, their memories, their deep emotions.”

Dale focused on the biker, delving deeper into his mind in particular, crossing wires. Eliminating any trace of heterosexuality he might have had, and replacing it with a deep, impossible to sate desire for men. He made him rougher, meaner, more dominant, and watched him shove the redneck back onto the floor with a snarl, yank down his jeans and fuck the man’s ass dry, the man screaming in pain, but no one paid them any mind. Turning to the redneck–he started warping his memories. He no longer remembers having a wife and two kids–no, he’s a drifter. A biker bitch. A boy owned by his daddy to be abused however he sees fit. His pain became tolerable–desired even, since he craved it now. Needed it. Going too long without abuse, he would start to shake and sweat, begging random men on the street to beat him and rape him.

“Goodness, you’re a natural!” the stranger said, “Better watch my back.”

Dale thought about turning the two men back…but he actually preferred them this way, and when they rode off on the biker’s Harley in an hours time, the boy’s ass still leaking cum into his jeans, on their way to get him properly outfitted for the road, he knew there’d be no going back for either of them now.

Bishop arrived right on time for his appointment, and Dale was at the desk to greet him. He probed around his old brother’s mind, enjoying for a moment how disgusting he found the obese, slobby mechanic he’d become overnight–and then started toying with him, turning that disgust into lust, a hopeless desire Bishop would do anything to sate. By the time he took the keys from him, Bishop was staring at his body with a hunger the young man had never experienced before, his cock hard and leaking, most of his mind unable to believe he was actually finding himself attracted to someone he knew, in his mind, he should find absolutely appalling.

“Alright Bishop, all set!” Dale said, handing the keys to one of his sons, “Now, is there anything else I can help ya out with?”

“I…I…” Bishop muttered, unable or unwilling to get the words out, so Dale gave him a light push. “I…want you…”

“Ya want me?” Dale said, a bit louder than he needed to be, enjoying the humiliation that rushed through Bishop’s system. “Which part a me, boy?”

“Ev…ry part…” Bishop moaned, and felt his cock explode in his pants, leaving him heaving for breath and clutching the counter, “Oh fuck, what the fuck’s wrong with me.”

“Well come on back tah mah office, boy, ‘n I’ll see what I can do tah help ya out.”

Bishop tried to fight, he tried to run, but like someone else was controlling him, he walked back after the massive man, into his office, helped him strip out of his filthy coveralls and spent the next several hours licking the man clean from face to foot. He hated what he was doing. He was still straight, but he wanted this. He…enjoyed the humiliation. Every time one of Dale’s son’s came in to check on a job and found Bishop there, his face buried in some fatty roll, he’d explode all over again in shame, his crotch wet with cum. The boys would just smile knowingly, give him a suggestion or some encouragement, and then shut the door and get back to work.

They didn’t actually get to Bishop’s car before they closed up for the night, and Dale finally allowed Bishop the right to suck his cock–and as he swallowed his cum, he provided him the knowledge that the cock he was sucking actually belonged to a brother he’d managed to forget all about–and as horrifed as Bishop was, he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing everything.

“Well bro, that sure was fun–but we got all night ‘n mosta tomorrow tah play around. Where do ya think we should go fer some fun?” Dale asked, thought a moment, and then said…

Alright, so here are your choices!

“Let’s check out the truck stop–bet we can find some dirty bikers or truckers tah use those fresh holes a yers.”
“Let’s call those friends a yers and meet ‘em at George’s bar. We never did finish our drinks last night.”
“Ya know, I think the tattoo ‘n piercing shop’s open this late–how ‘bout we git ya some decorations?”
“I bet we could have a whole lotta fun visitin’ one of the pig farms ‘round here–how does that sound to you?”
“Let’s go check out that big porno shop two towns over–I hear they even sell some gear ‘n toys I know ya’ll love.”

These can all probably be mixed and matched a bit, so if two are fairly popular, I’ll probably combine them into one idea! As always, you get two votes that you can pool in one option, or split between two choices. So what would you like Bishop’s fate to be?

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 1)

“I’m not kidding guys. She’s, like, the perfect girlfriend,” Andy said, talking with his two friends, Sam and Owen in the breakroom. He’d just finished his shift, and was getting ready to go home for the day, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to keep bragging about Kendra, his girlfriend of six months. They’d moved in together last week, and so far, it had, apparently, been bliss. “She’s so fucking horny, you wouldn’t believe it, needs me, like, four times a damn day. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

Sam and Owen rolled their eyes–they were both tired of hearing about Kendra–it seemed like the only thing Andy was interested in talking about, and it had only gotten worse over the last few months. Andy had used to be a pretty fun guy, hanging out, playing video games, but ever since he’d started dating her, the guys had seen less and less of him, and he’d started changing in odd ways as well. He’d packed on at least 25 pounds, going from a wiry fairly normal 200 to a husky 230, with no sign of stopping–but he did love her cooking, he said, over and over again. All of this, and neither Sam nor Owen had ever even seen her, much less met her. They’d both suspected she was fictional, but even they’d never heard of someone going so far as to “move in” with a fictional girlfriend. Needless to say, neither of them replied to Andy’s news of sexual conquest–it didn’t matter if they said anything or not; he’d keep going regardless.

“Anyway, she said she’s making meatloaf tonight, so I’d better get home quick, right?” Andy laughed at himself, “See you two tomorrow!”

“Yeah, man.”

“Later.”

Andy loved these days when he could get off early, around three. He got in his car and drove home to his apartment, fifteen minutes or so from work, thinking about Kendra. How as soon as he opened the door, she’d be there, ready for him to ravish her, and then she’d cook him dinner. Fuck! This was the damn life, right?

He pulled into his parking spot outside the complex, got out of his car, and couldn’t help but notice his hands were clenched into fists he couldn’t quite get loose, his guts roiling, body shaking slightly. Damn, what was up with him all of a sudden? Probably just hungry, or maybe that sushi he ate for lunch, who knows? He walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment, fingers fumbling with his keys, and he couldn’t quite get it into the lock, like his hand kept missing it somehow. Still, he needed to get in and see Kendra, he was so damn excited! On the third try, the key slipped in and turned. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“There’s my handsome boyfriend,” Ken said, sitting in the recliner in front of the TV, the same place Ken always was when Andy got home, when he remembered. He grabbed the door handle, trying to twist it, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to get it open–he could always get in, but he’d never once been able to get out without Ken’s permission.

Ken. Andy had moved into the apartment across from him a year ago, and he’d just assumed his neighbor was an old weirdo, and a bit of a pervert, from the way he kept looking at him when they passed on the stairs. He was dirty, with long hair and a big beard, teeth rotting, clothes reeking with cum and smoke and who knew what else. He…didn’t know when he’d been ensnared, but he’d dated Kendra without knowing her real identity for a month, before Ken revealed himself one night, before raping Andy’s hole. He’s been trapped in this nightmare ever since–outside, he’s dating his beautiful, perfect girlfriend Kendra. Inside, he’s little more than Ken’s mindfucked slave.

“Come on over here son,” Ken said, “Daddy’s been edging for hours, waiting for you to get home.”

Oh fuck yeah, Andy thought, stripping off his work clothes as fast as he could, hurrying to his dad’s side. Fuck, he loved his dad so damn much, he’d do anything for him. He immediately climbed on top of his dad, grinding their bellies together, waiting for Ken to pull his cigar out before giving him a long, wet, sloppy kiss, sucking the smoke from his mouth as he exhaled, before kissing him again, slipping down lower, feeling his dad’s thick, hard cock slipping up and down his crack, catching slightly on his boyhole. God, he wanted daddy inside him, it was the only time he felt alive, serving the cock that made him. Another few tries, and the head slipped in, followed by the rest of his shaft, Daddy holding his son tight, the boy letting him slide in and out, slow, moaning and sighing and whimpering.

“I love you son, do you love me?”

“Oh god daddy, I love you so much!” Andy cried, “Oh fuck daddy, fuck me!”

“Could never fucking help yourself, you know. I remember the first day you came into my room, begging me for my cock like a little whore. Telling me how you’d seen guys fucking on the damn internet, wanted your old dad here to show you what it felt like to have a cock in your ass…”

Andy didn’t remember that, really, but he’d probably just forgotten that. His dad would never make something like that up. It did sound like something he’d say anyway–Daddy was always talking about how much of a nasty, desperate slut his son was.

“Finally getting some meat on those bones, turning into a damn hot fuck.”

“Thanks daddy.”

“But you want to be bigger, I bet–think you’re hot now, just wait till you finally top 300, you fucking pig.”

Andy’s eyes glazed over, mouth going slack, and he gave a great, long snort, bucking his hips faster, grunting in time with Ken’s thrusts, mouth exploring his master’s body, lciking and sucking at his sweat and musk.

“Nasty, disgusting, filthy piggy. Gonna stuff yourself today. Stuff yourself, and you won’t be able to fucking stop, hell no.”

The hunger was back, oh fucking god, he was so hungry! He slurped and licked at his master’s neck before biting down on his shoulder, slobbering, gut kneading itself into knots, master closer to cuming now, closer to cuming deep in his pig’s filthy hole, and then maybe he can eat, maybe it can fucking eat! Drool ran from it’s mouth uncontrollably as Master thrust in time with the pig’s grunts, and then with a groan, he came, holding pig on for a moment longer, before letting him slide off. The pig tried to stand on two feet for a moment, but fell onto hands and knees, where it felt much more natural. Master’s cock was there, and it crawled over, cleaning off the filth from it’s own ass, and as disgusting as it tasted, it was too good for a pig like him, and it ebbed the hunger slightly, having something it it’s mouth to lick and slurp on.

I’m still taking votes for the fourth chunk of Dale’s Story here!

“Yeah big boy, how are you feeling? Hungry? Hell, of course you’re hungry–open that mouth wider, I wanna see that thing stuffed full. Go on, chew fucker, chew! I know muscle fucks like you don’t know how to eat, so I’m going to give you a crash course. You can stop trying to make yourself stop, you know–there’s nothing you can do now about that. You’re stuck here until I’m good and finished with you, and we have all fucking weekend. Now chew, fucker, chew! Yeah, that’s it–now here comes some more…”

…

“I never did ask if you remember me. Do I ring any bells? No, I didn’t think so–guys like you, you just ruin someone’s day, laugh about it for a moment, and then forget it, right? I remember you though–it was a couple months back, I was new in town, there at the leather bar, looking for some friends or maybe a fuck, just being nice, minding my own business, when you start squealing and pointing. Those friends of yours joined in–hell, half the bar joined in. Now, don’t go getting it twisted or anything, I have enough self-esteem that your little stunt didn’t faze me, but I just knew I was going to have to get some personal time with you, and now here you are. Now give me a squeal, like you did back in the bar. Come on piggy–I’m gonna twist these big nipples of yours, on these new fat tits you have, and I want to hear you squeal. No, I want the neighbors to hear you squeal, got it?”

…

“That bellyhole feel good? Fuck, listening to you moan about it, it fucking must! Hold on, let me oil that big belly up a bit more, open it up a bit more. What do you think piggy? You want me to fuck this belly hole with my big cock? I bet I can fuck it so hard that I get that little cock of yours to explode deep in that gunt of yours, how does that sound? No no, I got this–you focus on stuffing that chubby face of yours. Fuck, you’re disgusting, but not disgusting enough, yet. Just wait until I make this thing a fucking crater! Guys will be fisting this belly soon enough–how does that sound? Heh, doesn’t sound like you like that idea, but I think you’ll come around here soon enough. And when I’m done here, I’ll give that virgin, jiggly ass a good plowing too. Can’t wait to see you at the bar–because you’ll be hanging out there plenty, trust me, begging all those old muscle friends to fuck any one of your holes–even paying them to do it, if they refuse. And I’ll be watching, you know. Me and everyone else. And I promise, we’ll all be squealing piggy–and you’ll be squealing along with us.”

You still have a few hours to vote for the next chunk of the interactive I’m doing. Follow the link, give it a read, and tell me what you’d like to see next!

What does academic probation mean, exactly? Easy–that means that when jocks like you get out of line at school, when they thing they’re too good to follow the rules, that their athletic prowess makes them untouchable by any authority, the principal decides they need a few weeks to relearn their place in the world.

I own you for the next two weeks–smirk all you want, but you have to do everything I say. Yes me–old fat Mr. Gannigan–but trust me, you like daddies, don’t you? Nothing tuns you on like an old fat fucker with a big old cock. Don’t try to deny it–after all, you can’t. Yeah, confused? I see that terror in your eyes. Looking at me a bit differently now, aren’t you? Eyes can’t quite seem to tear themselves away from my crotch, it seems. I know you want it–and you’ll get it, trust me.

Yeah, it’s a bit smelly–I don’t shower all that much, but go on, taste it–I guarantee you’ll hate the taste, but you won’t be able to stop eating all that cheese out from under my foreskin. I was gonna have my weekly shower tonight, but I wasn’t expecting to have a new jock to play with! No showers for me then–just a few, nice long tongue baths.

But you want to know the best part? When your two weeks are up, you’ll be back to normal, mostly–but not completely. Maybe you’ll still find yourself craving the smell of my sweaty ass crack. Maybe you’ll enjoy your own musk a bit more, since you’re going to skip all the showers for the next two weeks as well. Hell, Aaron? That quarterback of yours? Mr. Lewis fucked him so much that boy keeps a plug in his hole 24/7 now.

Now–here’s your orders. Go get dressed in the nastiest, smelliest football gear you can find in the locker room, and then come meet me in the parking lot. Detention’s at my apartment tonight, and we’re going to break you in right away–trust me, you’ll love it.

Source: justaguync74

Fuck, you hate these shitty apartments, you have got to move somewhere a bit nicer, or your neighbors are going to drive you insane. You pull up, home from work, and get out of your car, seeing your newest neighbor, some roughneck kind of fuck, sitting sideways on the one staircase up to the second floor, where both of your apartments are, foot up on the railing, blocking all access.

You go over, dreading any sort of interaction with the guy, smoking his cigar, exhaling thick plumes all over the place. “Hey, could you move?” you ask, “I gotta get to the second floor.”

“I’ll move when I’m done smokin’, boy,” he says.

You just stare at him for a moment. “Seriously? You’re gonna make me climb over you?”

“No, you’re gonna wait, boy. Nobody gets on top a me.”

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do while you’re smoking?”

“You can lick my boot, boy, and stroke that little boy cock of yours until you nut.”

You roll your eyes, but get down and start licking the sole of the boot which is planting on the railing, hauling your cock out of your pants and stroking it hard. The rubber’s cleaner than usual at least–last week, there was a big chunk of dog shit you had to scrape off with your teeth and choke down. A couple of people walk by, and stare at you like you’re crazy, but it’s not your fault! This fuck’s just in the damn way, is all–it’s his fault.

You’re getting close to cumming–and he can tell. “Put that cock away, and cum in those pants of yours.” You do as he says, tucking your cock back in and rubbing it until you shoot. “Good boy–now piss yourself while you’re at it.”

That one’s a bit harder–he’s started making you do that more often now, but after a few seconds, you turn on your cock, and feel the piss drench the front of your work pants, running down to your knees, where it spreads out on the pavement below you. He taps off a long cinder of ash and keep smoking, but he’s about finished–he switches boots and you clean the other one, and when you’re done, he stamps out the butt and gets up, finally letting you passed, climbing up the stairs ahead of you. You walk a bit faster hoping to get to your door before–

“In here boy, daddy needs some help for a while.”

You look over, and he’s at his own door, groping himself. You grit your teeth, but follow in after him. A new apartment, this week, you promise yourself. Like you’ve been promising yourself for two months now, since Daddy moved in, but something tells you this week won’t be the week either. Oh well, maybe the next one, you hope, but probably not that one either.

Source: teasingbrat

Satyr Hills (Flash Commission)

Commissioned by @musclelover4826

Dan leaned lightly against a tree, his ears straining for the song. The wind had picked up as he’d climbed higher through the hills where he’d been walking, making it harder to hear, but there! Yes, that was it, a light trill, but enough. He had only been planning a short walk through the lands surrounding the greek villa he was staying in for his week of vacation, but he’d heard someone playing some strange, lilting tune, distantly on the wind. It had glued itself in his mind immediately, and he found himself desperate to find the person playing it. He trudged away from the path, and was now miles from where he’d began.

He knew he should be worried, but every time the song caught him he was again drawn to it. He also hadn’t been prepared for this long of a walk–while by no means out of shape, he was not much of an athlete–skinny, more accustomed to days in studying at the library than fields and pitches–or even long hikes like this had become. He took his glasses off to wipe sweat from his brow, thankful for the breeze to cool him down somewhat, and kept going. Half an hour later, the woods thinned slightly–he came around a trunk, and there, sitting on a wide stump was a satyr, panpipes at his lips, playing his song, Dan’s song. His jaw dropped, and he tried to stop and stare, but whatever tune the strange beast was playing pulled him closer still, the breeze now even colder against his bare skin.

Bare skin? He looked down, and then around behind him. He’d…lost all of his clothes, and they were nowhere to be seen! He’d been so hot, walking, had he taken them off to cool down? It had seemed so reasonable in the moment, but…but the song pressed against his mind, and drove out his worries again, bringing him to the satyr’s side. He looked a bit older than Dan, in his mid thirties, with a shaggy brown made of hair coating his head, and also his legs–but two huge ram horns sprouting from his temples implied that the beast was likely much older than Dan could guess.

At last, he set down the pipes, but the tune was still caught in his mind, playing over and over again, a seamless loop binding him to the satyr’s side, no matter how hard he struggled against the compulsion. “Good to know, after such a long sleep, the world still has beauties such as you,” he said to Dan, as one sharp nail ran it’s way down Dan’s front to his cock, the satyr licking his bearded lips before leaning over and running his tongue along Dan’s cock from root to head. His cock began to tingle, a new sensation filling his mind–lust, pure and simple. He’d never had much desire for sex, but soon, he was heaving for breath, eyes rolled back, no thought of resisting as the satyr stood, bent Dan over the side of the stump, and turned his attentions to the young man’s hole, licking and probing with his tongue, feeling the tight cherry begin to unknot and loosen.

Dan kept trying to fight back, but now the lust was overwhelming even the song still running through his mind. He reached down with one hand, and helplessly stroked his cock. It was still slick with the satyr’s saliva, but it felt…different. Thicker and longer than it had, and so much more sensitive than before. It began to leak, precum dribbling onto the surface of the stump, the scent of fresh cum driving him even more wild, the satyr pulling his mouth from his now very loose hole, lining up it’s own cock, and slipping it in deep with a long, loud moaning bleet of pleasure. Dan felt himself explode, a massive torrent of cum pouring forth from his cock, and yet, he could sense, somehow, that it was more than just cum leaving him, but also…himself. His memories, his elevated desires, his sense of self, his sense of humanity. He felt crippled by the overwhelming joy, and had no time to recover before a second, equally massive orgasm ripped through him, shimmering cum spraying across the surface of the stump where it was absorbed by the wood, with no trace remaining. This continued for what felt like hours, but could have been minutes, the Satyr’s hands exploring his body, until, at long last, the beast’s pace quickened, and with a cry that echoed through the hills, he came deep in Dan’s hole as well.

It was like a fire burning inside him. The Satyr pulled out and stepped back, and Dan rolled over onto his back on the stump, his insides aching, but his hands couldn’t leave his cock. The shaft grew longer, but his balls, which had shriveled slightly in the wake of his orgams, swelled again, fuller and thicker than before. The skin thickened into a hide, and a dusting of deep blonde hair grew in, coating the sack before spreading it’s way down his thighs, muscles thickening even as his legs shortened, ankles and feet contorting until he no longer had feet, but cloven hooves at the base of his new legs. The rest of him was changing as well–his lithe body bulging with newfound muscle, a ridged six pack, hard pectorals, strong arms stroking his thick cock, feeling the heat begin to claw through his mind, emptying it out of everything beyond the most basic of desires. Food. Wine. Pleasure. Sex. Service. He could see so clearly–not only without glasses, which had long since been smashed under the satyr’s hoof–but the path forward as well. There was only pleasure, in the end; why had he ever let things become so complicated? As Dan came one last time, two small horns pushed their way out from the side of his head, each an inch long–nothing like the ones adorning his new master, but perhaps in time…

The satyr took his new thrall again, both of them enjoying Dan’s new body through the evening and deep into the night, and then resting together, the old satyr playing one of his favorite lullabies to lull them both to sleep–though not as deep as the one he had just woken from. No, he had seen a glimpse of this modern world’s men–he thirsted for more, and this one would help him. Together, they would make many more brothers for themselves, living happily in the hills and forests, just as they had in centuries past.

Features & Bugs (Part 5)

I tried the door, but my body wouldn’t even open it. I tried climbing out a window, but even if I could have fit through, my body refused to pass an invisible threshold. Anger gave way to doubt, into terror. He really had done something to me, and I had no idea what it was. We’d been dating for months; was all of it a lie? Or was it just this? Who even was I? I didn’t dare go near the computer–I was certain that had something to do with all of this. Instead, I ate. I ate like a nervous wreck. I couldn’t stop myself. Around three in the afternoon, I realized I still hadn’t had a shower all weekend, and I reeked of cum and piss, but my body wouldn’t even touch the water when I tried to get in. I ransacked his room, his office, looking for anything, a clue, something. All the while, the horniness just kept building. Plugs helped, but they kept falling out until I found one the size of a toddler’s arm.

I wanted to watch the videos again. What would those pigs have done, in my position? I knew this was a terrible question to ask, a terrible idea to even be having, but it comforted me. It comforts me, I mean. I…really do want to be one of them, you know. That’s impossible to deny. Maybe not always, but now? This thing I am now? I do, I really do. But I resisted. I resist. I don’t know why. Austin came home that night at around seven, and I’d emptied to house of food. Sure enough, the man was with him–who I’d seen both at work and at the club–smoking, even older than he’d been, now at least in his fifties. As soon as I see the terror in his eyes, I know he’s in the same position as I am. Aware, but unable to articulate anything, unable to disobey. We both followed Austin down into the basement of his house, and he locked us into two sturdy wooden chairs he has rooted in the concrete floor, and he told us the story, from the beginning.

He’d only been intending it to be mind control, he told us. It had worked like a charm, the first version of the program, when he’d made me gay. Made me attracted to him, and we’d started dating. But something strange had happened when he’d tried to make me a bottom–he’d included in the programming a video clip of an older chub getting fucked…and when he’d used the conditioning on me, I’d become older, and fatter–just like the man in the video. This last week–this had all been version 2.0. He talked a lot about brain waves, about sensitivity. He’d gotten access to company medical records, and discovered that the two of us were the only ones the program would have that effect on, and sure enough…here we were.

He hadn’t expected me to catch on of course. He also hadn’t expected either of our minds to hold together as well as they had. Of course, neither of us could remember anything about our old selves, but we could remember that we’d been different. I don’t know if it was cruel or kind to show us old pictures he’d lifted from social media–I’d been thin and young. Muscular even. I’d had a girlfriend. We’d been engaged, and talking about having kids together. Now, I couldn’t even remember her name. I realized he could have shown the pictures of literally anyone else, and I’d have the same relationship with that person as this one. What made that old me realer than this? How could I mourn something I could barely believe? I think I took it a bit better–the daddy, Daddy Mark, he was screaming and crying by the end, screaming and shouting and cursing…I just listened. Maybe it was the pig in me, that made it easier to resign myself to what was coming next. After all, pigs were meant to be used. At least…I’m being useful still.

Now, we’re both at the forefront of Austin’s testing, blazing a path towards a version 3.0. It’s features will include remote brainwave recalibration, and mental pathway revision to go with memory repression. He’s going to kill what remains of us both, he’s already getting closer. Mark is losing it already, I can hear him over there, becoming who he’s meant to be now. Rough older daddy, smoking like a chimney, desperate to dominate anyone in his path. I’ll be next, when Austin figures out how to break me open, finally. I’m…looking forward to it. To being a real pig, finally. I’m tired of being caught in the middle here, and it isn’t like I can go back. Austin’s promised me that he’ll make me a good master. A hard, rough, muscled skinhead master to brutalize me right. I’ll be in films of my own, I hope, one day, crawling around on the concrete, head finally empty. I want to forget. I’ll forget anything if it means I can forget this. This tape will remember me, but thankfully…thankfully, I won’t.

Life Coach (Part 3)

What in the world was he doing? He wasn’t some…some fucking faggot! He tried as hard as he could to haul himself off his neighbor’s cock, but the man just grabbed him by his ears and drove deep, feeling Shane choke and gag on his cock.

“Now now, both of us know how much you like this Shane. The more you fight, the harder it will be for you, I promise.”

He tried to snarl a “fuck you,” but it just came out as unintelligible garble. Evan got the gist of it, however, and so he pushed his fingers to Shane’s temples, and the crippling pain wracked it’s way through him again. This time, either he was at least expecting it or it simply wasn’t as severe, because when Evan pulled his fingers away he was still conscious–and no longer gagging. In fact, he found himself so excited to have a cock in his mouth, that his tiny cock immediately let loose a meek pulse of cum into his pants, and he redoubled his efforts to please Evan, just happy to have a cock to serve.

In his mind, part of him was rebelling–he didn’t want to be a cocksucker! But…he couldn’t quite deny that he was a cocksucker, because he’d certainly sucked lots of them, and been fucked plenty of times as well. He’d often offer his clients, for a little extra money under the table, to help take some of the stress off their divorce, by giving them some assistance, and quite a few of them took him up on the offer. He may have also sucked off a few judges and attorneys, in order to get better verdicts for his clients, but that was all part of the job, right? On weekends, while Sandra was taking her numerous lovers, Shane was usually off somewhere, sucking cock through gloryholes or hooking up with random guys online, though that was harder. When someone saw his old, wrinkled, hairy face, not many people wanted to have sex with him–he had much more luck when he stayed anonymous, and with Evan. He loved slipping over here and sucking off his neighbor–he was the best fuck he had right now.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Evan said, and Shane immediately pulled away from his cock, stuck his cigar back in his mouth, and got ready for a fuck. Evan got down behind him, lined up his cock and slipped it in his hole, listening to his slutty neighbor heave a great sigh, “I told you not to fight me on this.”

Shane gasped at the tremendous surge of pleasure, his back arching, “Oh…Oh fuck, why does…does that feel so good?”

“Because you’re a fucking slut now,” Evan said.

“Why…How are you doing this to me? This isn’t fucking possible.”

“Well, you never did let me explain, and I don’t feel like going into it now. Still, I’d be careful disbelieving–after all, if I can’t change you, then that means you must have always been like this, right? Have you always been a desperate, small cocked slut, Shane?”

No–No, he hadn’t…but he…he couldn’t quite remember who he’d been before either, and it was too fucking hard to concentrate with that huge cock in his ass. So much easier just…just focusing on that, on bucking back, feeling his cock dribbling cum on the carpet. He’d…he’d have to lick it up later of course, he didn’t want to make a mess–and he loved cum. Couldn’t let it go to waste, no way, that would be terrible. No! He had to focus, focus on what really mattered! Evan had…had done something to him. He could remember that. He’d made him like this, given him this worthless cock, this…fuck, that felt so good, what he was doing back there! Unable to hold back, through thick clouds of dingy smoke he felt a huge orgasm rip through his entire body, feeling his flabby gut shiver and shake as a miniscule amount of cum flew out of him, and it wasn’t too much longer after that, when Evan filled his hole with a much larger amount of cum, and slipped out of him.

He fought it. He fought, but it was only polite after all. It’s…what a slut like him should do. Still on his hands and knees he backed up and started licking up his own, cum, feeling his ass leaking down the inside of his thigh. “Please…I’m sorry,” he said, tongue still pressed to the carpet, “”I get it! Just…just change me back, please.”

“Oh goodness, I don’t change people back, Shane. Goodness, I don’t change people at all! I’m just a con artist, remember? Why, I don’t understand where you’re getting this delusion of yours–you yourself said you had much too strong of a will to ever be hypnotized, right? So that means, that any power I have over you must be because you want to be weak. Because you like letting people dominate you. But if it makes you feel better, even if I could change you back? I wouldn’t. Because I love having a fat slut like you next door–if you were anyone else, then you wouldn’t get my cum, would you? Now clean the rest of that up and get the fuck out of my house, pig.”

Evan walked off, leaving Shane to finish his work, and then he got back up, and left, lighting a fresh cigar out on the doorstep, trying not to cry. What in the world had happened to his life, suddenly? He walked back over to his house, in time to see Sandra, in the doorway, waving goodbye to Devin as he left, looking fresh faced and happy. He could see the bulge of the young man’s huge cock, and…and fuck, he wanted it. As they passed, he turned to him and said, “I’ll pay…two hundred dollars. Let me suck it, please.”

The man laughed, and kept walking.

“Five hundred, please.”

“Faggot, ask me to suck my cock again, and I’ll pummel your face to the floor.”

“A thousand.”

That, apparently, was enough. However, he had to pay Devin upfront, before he could get a taste of the young man’s cock, and he hated himself for it, but he needed it. he needed it, and he had a feeling he’d be doing anything he could to get it.

*Knock* *Knock*

Yes Daddy, it’s me.

Oh, I know you weren’t expecting me today, but isn’t that what makes it fun? No, you don’t really want to leave me out here on the doorstep where just anyone might see us, do you? That’s what I thought. Strip once the door’s closed–we should make this one quick, before your son gets home, don’t you think? He does get home in another half an hour, right? If you’re a good daddy, I should be gone by then.

Damn Daddy, I swear you’re getting sexier by the day. Those hours at the gym sure are paying off, and that PA sure has healed well. How does it feel daddy? Felling your boy run his finger along there? You’re so hard, and dribbling already, but what’s Daddy rule number one?

That’s right, “No cumming without my son’s permission,” very good.

You know, I think we’ll do your daddy tits next. Doesn’t feel good, me tugging on them? Get this things pierced and start pumping them–everyone will be able to see them through those tight shirts you’ve started wearing. Has your son noticed yet? No? Too bad–he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Still, we’d better hurry daddy–bend over. You don’t want him to catch us together, do you? Wouldn’t want him to learn about the brother you’ve been keeping on the side.

Well, half brother–fuck, you’re so damn tight Daddy!–we don’t look much like each other, do we? Here I am, lithe and muscular, just the kind of son you want plowing your daddy hole, right? Here daddy, move over here, like this–yeah, that’s good, I love looking at you when I’m fucking you.

What was I saying? Oh, but him. He’s so fat, and short, and just kind of ugly. Ugly like you were, before you learned about me, right? Before I started helping you be a better daddy? Think about him, walking through that door, seeing you like this. Has he noticed anything yet? I’m sure he’s noticed his dad turning into one hot hunk of fuckmeat, but beyond that?

Still no idea about me though? Fuck, I bet he’d be jealous of us–I mean, I’m such a better son than he is, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you like to make him jealous?

Protest all you want, but I see how hard you are, saw that daddy dick throb at the thought. How about I make him want to watch us? Imagine that fatass over there, stroking his tiny piece of meat, wishing he was as good a son as I was, wishing he could treat you like a daddy should be treated. Heh, he wouldn’t be your favorite son for long though, soon he’ll be more like a slave for me to enjoy–I might even let you fuck him, if you beg me for permission, after being an extra good daddy.

You can see right through me–yeah, that’s what I had planned all along, you got me! I think that’s the garage door daddy–I’ll sit here, you sit on my dick, and when he comes through that door, I want you to explode–and then I’ll get to work on my step-brother, and the three of us can start having some real family fun together.