Tag: mind control

Rick and the Beast – Part 1

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!…”

Rick had never had a drink before in his life. He took the end of the funnel in his mouth, and the chant grew louder. But what could it hurt? He was at college! This is what college was for! The beer hit him fast, and he sputtered out the first bit, got the end of the funnel back in his mouth, and tried to keep up, the cheap, unlabelled beer from the keg tasting like slightly bitter water. He finally quit, when he couldn’t keep up anymore, let out a big belch, and people whooped and hollered. He grinned, feeling like he belonged.

An hour later, with five more cups of beer pushed onto him by guys from the frat hosting the party, he was smashed, stumbling down a hallway, trying to find a bathroom where he could either shit or puke or both. He ended up puking before he could find one, into a handy bucket the frat had hopefully left out for that very reason. He wiped his mouth, let out another belch and figured that the smart thing would be to excuse himself quietly. Turning around, he saw the hallway was blocked.

At least six and a half feet tall, weighing in at a rumored 300 pounds of nearly solid muscle, hair and cock, was Jim Newman–known around campus as “The Beast”. The prize athlete from the school, a senior already being scouted for the NFL draft, and he was staring right at Rick–short, big gutted, Rick Trubert, on a partial scholarship from Smalltown, Nowhere.

“Did…” Rick started to say. His heart was caught in his throat for some reason. “You saw that, I bet…”

The Beast didn’t say anything, but came forward, pushing right into Rick’s personal space, abs to moobs, and Rick’s heart caught again. He was panting, and…and hard? Why the fuck was he hard? He wasn’t gay, he’d had sex with girls and everything, but there was…a smell. The Beast’s musk enveloped him, this rank, filthy smell, and something about it was making him hard as a rock. “You looked good with a funnel in your mouth, piggy,” The Beast leered down, “Bet you’d look even hotter with my cock stuffed in there instead.”

“I’m…I’m not…”

“You think I give two shits?”

“Please–”

The Beast squatted a bit, reached under Rick’s gut and found the hard cock like he’d expected it to be there. Rick tried not to groan, but did anyway, loudly.

“Ya know, maybe not throat tonight. Looking at you now, I’m thinkin’ ass.” With his other hand, The Beast pulled up the bottom of his tank, revealing his hard abs, shiny with sweat, and Rick leaned in, snorting, licking up salt. When The Beast opened a bedroom door, Rick didn’t hesitate to follow. The Beast bent him over the bed, yanked down his pants, and fucked him raw, forcing Rick to bite down on a pillow so he didn’t scream, the ten inch cock buried deep into his guts, filling him with cum, and then Beast zipped up and left, but not before getting Rick to mumble out his cell number for him. Rick was happy to be drunk; it disguised the pain. He pulled up his pants, feeling cum and a bit of blood leak out into the back of his underwear, and fled back to his dorm room–thankfully, it was empty.

What should he do? Who should he call? No, he couldn’t tell anyone. Who would even believe him? The Beast was well known as a pussy hound; nobody would believe that he’d fuck a guy. He laid down on his bed, trying not to cry, trying not to think, when he felt his phone buzz. He checked it–a couple text messages from an unknown number.

left you a present pig

check your pocket

Rick noticed then that he had a strange bulge in his back pocket–he reached in and pulled out a jockstrap–The Beast’s jockstrap. The Beast’s stinking…well worn jockstrap. He pressed it to his nose, it had the same stink on it that he’d smelled in the hallway, and unable to stop himself, he had his cock in his hand, and he was jacking off. He noticed that his underwear was wet and tacky already…had he cum while The Beast was fucking him earlier? He could kind of remember in the bedroom, begging him to fuck his hole harder, grunting and snorting and panting like a fucking pig…yeah, he’d cum, he’d cum harder than he ever had before. He waded up the jock and shoved it in his mouth, sucking the sweat, piss and dried cum from the fabric, and while one hand kept stroking his pig cock, the other slipped around behind to his sore, wrecked hole, probing it, slipping two and then three fingers in, unable to stop.

After several minutes of abusing himself he shot again, and kept the jock in his mouth as he came down from his orgasm. Realizing what he’d done, he threw it across the room, and saw a few more messages had arrived on his phone.

think you should cum to my room and thank me pig

r u there?

fuckin answer pig I dont like waiting!!!

Rick’s thumbs tapped out a few replies, but he kept deleting them before sending them. His roommate came back from a different party, and Rick had to cover himself up quickly, and only then did he realize he’d never sent a message back. That was probably for the best…but he had to silence the phone–the stream of messages didn’t stop coming in until the early morning, and he deleted them all before he could give into the temptation to read them. He kept the jock, though–he hid it from his roommate, but before long the only way he could get a load of cum out was with it pressed to his nose or stuffed in his mouth, but he never replied to The Beast. He was too terrified. He didn’t have to worry though–The Beast would be more than happy to hunt him down.

(To be continued Friday)

Patreon Commission: Liam’s Grandfather

I met Liam’s grandfather by accident. The two of us had early release from high school on Wednesdays, and we’d usually go to this little cafe in town for coffee and to work on our homework. We’d been friends since kindergarten, and lived down the street from each other. Both of us were on the swim team–tall, lean, and generally hairless. He’d hung around with each other for so long, some people would mistake us for blonde haired, green eyed brothers, but Liam…Liam had been acting a bit strange lately. He told me that a few months ago his grandfather had moved in with his parents, because he couldn’t afford the mortgage payments on the house he’d been living in across the country, and while he hadn’t told me anything in particular, he was just being…well, it made more sense once I met his grandfather myself

So anyway, we get to the cafe. It’s early afternoon, after the lunch rush, but the place is still busy. We get in line to order, when Liam looks around and spots his grandfather sitting at a table in the middle of the room. He freaks out, and says we have to leave before he notices us. I don’t get what the big deal is, but then we hear a loud, gravelly voice calling Liam’s name, and it’s like someone flipped a switch, and Liam is calm as can be, even…happy.

He waves at his grandfather, and without ordering he heads over to where the old man is seated. I don’t hear what they say, but then his grandfather grabs Liam’s chin and pulls his mouth down, and starts making out with him right in the middle of the room, and no one says a thing. That was the strangest part. Telling you about it now, sure, it was fucked up. No one kisses their grandfather like that. But when I was there, staring right at them, it seemed like the most normal thing in the world. It didn’t bother me at all.

I knew what Liam liked to drink, so I ordered for the both of us and then took them over to the table where his grandfather was sitting. They didn’t pay me any mind, and as I watched the two of them make out, I started to get…kind of jealous. Now that I was closer, Liam’s grandfather…he suddenly looked really sexy. That bushy, untrimmed beard, the gut hanging out the bottom if his shirt. A real sleazy sexy. I mean, I know…I don’t feel that way right now, but when I was close to him, I just…the thoughts were just–there. Obvious. And I was jealous. How lucky was Liam that he got to live with a hot daddy like that?

I think I cleared my throat or something, but they broke off the kiss, his grandfather smiled up at me, a couple gold teeth in his mouth, and my heart started pounding as he looked me up and down. He said, “Oh Liam, now where have you been hiding this handsome young man from me?” and I swooned into him. He had smoker’s breath, I didn’t care. I told him my name, he tweaked one of my nipples through my shirt, and I nearly came in the front of my jeans.

Liam was furious, and pushed me away, placing himself between us, blurting out something like, “He’s no one Gramps, just a friend.” Then he said he wanted to show him something, and pulled off his shirt in the middle of the cafe revealing two freshly pierced nipples, and also dropped his pants. He was wearing a jockstrap, and he turned around, showing his grandfather his bare ass, which I saw had a tattoo on it which I had never seen before in the showers after swim practice. His grandfather whistled, and when Liam turned back around he nodded approvingly and pulled Liam into his lap. I wished that I had something I could show off, Liam’s grandfather looked so happy, twisting his grandson’s tits, pulling him close, reaching around to knead his ass. He let go long enough to unzip the fly of his pants, letting his cock flop out. It was huge–I’d never seen one so thick, but before I could do anything, Liam was on his knees, sucking on the head, moaning.

I was hurt, but he beckoned me closer and we made out. One of his hands was on the back of Liam’s head, the other reached down the back of my pants, fingering my asshole. Between kisses, he’d tell me how hot I’d look if I was a bit…edgier. Some piercings, maybe a tattoo. Then I’d be fuckable. He said I’d be fuckin’ irresistible. I came, two of his fingers deep in my hole, grinding my crotch against the side of his gut, his tongue running it’s way around the inside of my mouth. He gave a couple of grunts, and then he was filling up Liam’s mouth. Liam had, at some point, started jacking off, and at the taste of his grandfather’s cum, he shot his own load across the ceramic floor of the cafe.

Then we got up, like nothing strange had happened. We all sat at the table and had our drinks, flirting, vying for his attention for a couple of hours, and then he excused himself, and waddled out of the cafe. As he left, the horror descended on both of us. I couldn’t even look at Liam, I just stood up, grabbed my bag, and fled. I couldn’t tell anyone. Who would even believe me? Hell, everyone in the cafe had just watched it happen, and no one had done anything! No–I was bound to take the reality of what had happened to the grave.

Liam and I grew distant. Everyone at school was talking about him, how he’d turned into a bit of a bad boy. He got more tattoos and piercings. He shaved his head down to the skin. He was smoking cigarettes and failing his classes. I knew why, of course, but the worst part was…that I want it to be me. Fuck, I want it to be me so badly. I know he’s disgusting, I know it’s wrong, I know I’m straight, and yet all I can think about is him.

So that’s why I need these tattoos and piercings. That’s why I can’t ask my parents. I…I heard you’d bend the rules for…for a blow job. I could…do that. You look a bit like him, if I squint.

***

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“Pull over. I gotta piss and yer gonna help me.”

“Please, I–just leave me alone, I don’t–”

“What the fuck did I tell you about talkin’ back, bitch?”

The large man in the back seat heaved himself forward between the front and passenger seat, breath stinking of tobacco. He reached forward and began kneading the driver’s cock through the ratty camo shorts he’d forced him to buy off the redneck they’d met at the truckstop fifty miles back. All it they had cost was one blow job, no teeth. They were grungy and a few sizes too big, but with a belt they stayed up.

“How about we remove a couple of inches, eh? Make you a tiny dicked little piggy? Maybe I’ll give them back when I’m done pissing.”

It was curious sensation, feeling his cock retract back into itself. Four inches? Three? Smaller. He signaled and pulled off the highway and into the rural rest area. It was early evening on a weekday, and aside from a few trucks in the other lot, largely empty.

The huge redneck he’d picked up a few hundred miles back as a hitchhiker hefted himself out of the backseat. He said it was more comfortable back there, where he could stretch his legs a bit. Plus, it let him keep an eye on his captive in the driver’s seat. “Well come on then, I need yer fuckin’ help.”

“What the fuck kind of help do you need to piss? Please, just let me go.”

“Bitch, do you want me to leave you here with a fuckin’ nub?”

He really didn’t want a nub. He got out of the car and followed the man into the bathroom at a lumber. Inside, it was all stainless steel and none too clean. His hitchhiker passed the urinals and went for the handicapped stall, and when the driver tried to wait, he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in with him, locking the door behind them both. The man dropped his shorts and stood in front of the steel toilet.

“Aim for me–I can’t fuckin’ see past my gut.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig around in the man’s gunt and fish out his thick, short cock, but aiming it proved to be a challenge. For one thing, the man started pissing even before he had a good grip, soaking down his hand. Piss flew everywhere for a few moments, soaking the floor and the seat, before he got it pointed into the water, and waited for the big man to finish.

“Shitty job–someone’s gonna have tah clean that up, ya know?”

The driver wiped his wet hand on the camo shorts, a bit disgusted, “Did you have to piss on me? That’s fucking disgusting.”

The hitchhiker stared him down, “Ya know, I’m gettin’ real sick a yer attitude boy, we really need to find something more productive for ya tah do wit’ yer mouth. Get down there ‘n lick up the piss ya spilled.”

“No! That’s fucking disgusting!”

The man spit a wad of tobacco juice into the toilet, and then grabbed the driver’s wrist. “Get down there and lick up my piss, or the next thing you know, you’re just gonna be a toothless beggar sucking dick at this rest stop for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”

It wasn’t. The driver got down and tentatively licked the cool rim of the toilet, and as he did, a shot of pleasure coursed through him. He licked it again, and soon he was licking happily. Not long after that, he had his cock out of his shorts and was jacking his three inch dick while the redneck stood over him, supervising and suggesting.

“Yeah, see? Doesn’t that taste good pig? Make sure you get everything you spilled on the floor too. Fuck, look at that nasty concrete, I can’t believe you’re actually gonna put your tongue on that thing.” He slid a boot between the driver’s legs as he lapped up the piss and started tapping the pig’s balls, making him groan. Before he’d finished all the piss, he’d already shot his load across the bottom of the toilet and the floor–he licked that up too, when ordered to do so.

They left the bathroom together, the driver shaking with terror and rage at what he’d just done, but when he went to tackle his passenger, he felt a curious warmth in the front of his shorts as he pissed himself. Fuck, it smelt great, maybe he could just whip out his cock for a quick wank out in the open, but he was able to control himself long enough to climb in the car. The next rest stop was fifty miles down the road, and his hitchhiker promised him they’d find a couple nasty truckers willing to give him a good soaking. He let out a quiet sob as he drove off, but the anticipation was building in him. When the sign came, he pulled over eagerly–what a thirst to quench.

Mr. Jackson wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his new tenant–in fact, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d even agreed to let him stay here in his house in the first place. To keep the bills paid, he liked to rent out his son’s old room now that he had moved out, but he generally tried to rent to someone more respectable than Randy. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he had a job, and he can’t remember ever doing an employment or a background check on him. Still, it probably wasn’t worth worrying about, right? He did need this month’s rent payment though–it was already two days late. He hadn’t really wanted to say anything about it, mostly because he wanted to interact with Randy as little possible. He heard the front door open and Randy tromped in, looking like trash, and smelling a bit like it too.

“Oh, hey Randy. Do you have this month’s rent? You’re two days late, but if you just forgot–”

“Oh, I didn’t forget, I was just waiting for you to come collect. I’ve been waiting every night, faggot. Did you forget about our deal?” Mr. Jackson looked up from his checkbook, a bit taken aback. Randy walked up to him at the kitchen table and tweaked one of his nipples. “I do like the view though, teasing me, walking around shirtless all day, showing off that old hairy gut. Pig. You’re the one who’s late though–so how about we head up to my bedroom and settle up?”

“I don’t…I think I might have missed something…” Mr. Jackson noticed that Randy was still speaking, but he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Still, how stupid was he? Of course they’d made a deal. Randy was unemployed at the moment, but Mr. Jackson agreed to accept his nasty cum in lieu of rent. And if Randy had been storing it up for two days now, fuck, he must have quite the payment to collect!

“I’m….sorry Randy. Let’s go settle up right…right away.” The world was lurching, and everything felt like it was moving too slowly.

“You’re already at the table though–why don’t I just feed you here?”

That…that made sense. Mr. Jackson licked his lips, watching Randy drop his muddy jeans to the kitchen floor. The briefs he had on underneath were crusty, but his uncut, seven inch cock slipped right out a whole in the front, and Mr. Jackson swallowed it down. He’d never sucked cock before, and he gagged. Randy took control, grabbing his hair and ramming the stinking shaft down Mr. Jackson’s throat. He looked up, and saw that Randy was still talking, but Mr. Jackson couldn’t understand any of it. It didn’t matter, he was just a stupid pig anyway. Yeah, just a stupid worthless piggy, and when Randy fed him his first month’s rent, Mr. Jackson begged him to pay him last months too. And since it came at the end, it only made sense to pump it deep in his piggy asshole, right?

There on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor, Randy drilling his dick into him, Mr. Jackson found himself able to hear again, hear himself snorting and grunting like a pig, rutting with his tenant. Fuck, the first time he’d seen Randy, he’d had to have him. He loved renting to nasty fucks like him. Real men who knew how to treat piggies like Mr. Jackson. His cock was leaking on the tile–Randy behind him calling him all sorts of filthy names. So many hot, filthy, piggy names.

He came, his old cock pumping out a load of pig cum onto the tile. When Randy was finished making payments, he pulled up his pants and headed up to his room, while Mr. Jackson crawled back and lapped up his own cum off the floor. Might as well pay himself too, right? He got up and sat down at the table again, sweaty and panting, but he couldn’t seem to get his head back to where it used to be. He couldn’t stop thinking about Randy, about his hot nasty tenant, and finally he got up, panting, rock hard, and went to Randy’s room, and knocked.

“Sir…I was wondering if we could maybe renegotiate the terms of your rent?”

Randy opened the door. He had on his sleeveless shirt still, but was missing his pants and underwear entirely. “And what might you have in mind pig?”

“I don’t…well, I think I’m going to have to raise the rent. Perhaps you could make a payment every…every week?”

Randy smiled. “Oh Mr. Jackson, you’re underselling yourself here. You’re too generous. I’d be happy to pay a pig like you much more than that.”

“You…You would?”

“Oh yes…” Randy said, “How about this. I’ll give you two payments every day, one at each end. And as a bonus, I’ll save all my piss for you in jugs, and you can do whatever you’d like with it. Bathe in it. Drink it. Just think of it as a tip for being such a good piggy landlord. But…well, if I’m going to be paying you so handsomely, I might need a few…well, perks myself.”

“That sounds amazing, sir…but…but what kind of perks?”

“Well, you see….I like my pigs to look a certain way, you see? And I have some ideas for you that might make you an even better piggy than you already are,” Randy stepped to the side, “But why don’t you come on in here and we can negotiate?”

It was a couple hours later, when Mr. Jackson emerged, smiling, Randy’s cum splattered across his face, knowing he had definitely gotten the best deal through some hard negotiation. He was up to three payments a day, all of Randy’s piss (which he’d had the pleasure of sampling to test it’s quality) as well as all of his filthy cum and piss stained underwear, and he would even get to give Randy a tongue bath once a week! All Mr. Jackson had to do was agree to wear leather gear at all times in the house, stop trimming his beard and hair, and go get some nasty looking tattoos.

Still, he had better get going, he had some leather gear to buy. Randy had told him about a friend of his looking to sell some spare gear, and even better, he liked getting paid in blowjobs too! It would probably require a long payment plan, but Mr. Jackson didn’t think he’d mind. He belched, tasting cum on his breath, and hurried out, already eager for tomorrow’s rent.

The FAT Retreat (Part 1)

by Wesley Bracken

Commissioned by / Gifted to Gaynerpig

– Forward –

So, a while back, Gaynerpig told me he wanted to expand two captions I’d done into longer pieces, the first, about the Fat Action Team, and the second about this young man’s gassing experience. I suggested that we try and put the two together into one story, and, as things sometimes to, it ran a bit longer than I’d been expecting. So, he did commission some of it, but mostly it’s just a gift from me to him, and hopefully a few of you. Enjoy.

– Day One –

“No, you don’t understand! You hired me so you could test out a new training program! I mean, please, do I look like I belong in a fucking fat camp?” Leon said, protesting as the two white suited orderlies came up behind him.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Mr. Grindel, but our programs are non-refundable, and the contract we sent you, which you signed here, is still binding. I’m going to have to ask you to stay for the entire camp–don’t worry, after a few days, you’ll understand how much you need the Fat Action Team,” the chubby, suited man behind the information table said, and waved the large man in line behind Leon forward to the registration table.

Leon backed up, but ran right into the belly of the first orderly and swung around. Leon was by no means small–a few inches over six feet and massive–he’d been building muscle for years, working out in his family’s shed from the first time he’d realized he could make his body look like the ones he’d seen in the muscle magazines he used to flip through on shopping trips with his mom. He’d just gotten his body fat down to seven percent, and he was looking better than he ever had in his life, but he’d really needed a second job, and so he’d jumped at the opportunity to be a counselor at a fat camp, or at least that’s what he’d thought he’d been signing up for. These creeps thought he was supposed to be attending the camp instead of leading it! Still, the man blocking his way was a bit taller than him and hugely fat–probably close to three hundred pounds–but his body was also packed with muscle. At 180 pounds, Leon figured he would have a hard time fighting him, because of the orderlies’ weight advantage.

“Sir, if you could come with us, we’ll show you to your room.”

“No, this is bullshit–I’m leaving,” Leon said, and tried to step around him, but the second orderly stepped up, blocking his path again, and Leon just tried to push his way between them, which ended up being a mistake, as one of the men grabbed him in a big bear hug while the second slipped a metal collar around his neck and sealed it in place in some manner that he couldn’t fathom, when the orderly released him and he tried to figure out how to undo the collar. “What the fuck is this?” he shouted, “I’m calling the police.”

The first orderly raised his wrist, where a small metal bracelet was clasped, and spoke into it, “Subject 436, follow us to your room.”

Leon didn’t really know how to describe what happened next, other than he found himself compelled to walk after the men down the hallways of the massive complex, which seemed to be more of a science facility than a fat camp. In fact, as the walked down numerous hallways, he passed by several open doors that led into white, sterile research labs of some sort, and he felt a pang of fear that he couldn’t quite describe. What in the world had he gotten himself into? Still, he protested loudly making sure everyone in earshot knew he was there against his will, and asked the people he passed to help him, but none of the doctors–all of them male, and all of them overweight, bothered to even look up from their clipboards as Leon passed them.

Finally after what had seemed like ages of seamless hallways–Leon didn’t even think he would be able to find his way back out if the collar would let him try and escape, which he figured it probably wouldn’t. The orderlies eventually stopped in front of a door and it slid open, the first speaking into his bracelet again, “Subject 436, enter your room and remain inside of it until you are collected for your first session tomorrow morning. Do not try to escape.”

Leon entered the room, and the door slid closed behind him, melding almost seamlessly with the white wall, but he couldn’t even look for some way to open it back up–the collar wouldn’t let the thought of getting out translate into any sort of action. Instead, he sat down on the bunk bed–the only furniture in the room besides a single toilet with no privacy screen–reminding him more of a prison cell that anything else, and tried desperately to get the collar off of his neck. Still, he couldn’t find a seam anywhere–if felt like one perfectly round circle of metal, and every time he tried to get a grip on it, it felt like the metal actually contracted around his neck, threatening to choke him if he kept at it. Unable to get the collar off, and unable to explore the room far before finding himself restrained by the order to not escape, he used the toilet and then laid down on the bed, trying to sleep, but the light permeated the room, and the terror and confusion he was feeling refused to leave him. When the door finally slid open, he honestly thought for a moment that it might be morning, but then a massively fat man smoking a cigar stepped into the room, looked over at Leon and smiled, “Hi! You must be my roommate, the name’s Max.”

Leon wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this development–he thought about the possibility that he’d get a roommate given the bunk bed, but he’d expected it to be someone like him, muscular and also there under duress, but Max didn’t even have a collar, and he looked relaxed and unworried about what was happening. “Ok, what’s the fucking deal with this? Did they give you a collar, or what?”

“A collar?” Max asked, not quite understanding what Leon was talking about until he saw the metal around Leon’s neck, and then he rolled his eyes, “Oh, I got put with a newbie–now I get it.”

“A newbie? You mean you’ve done this before?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been a FAT member for about a year now,” Max said, and gave his huge, fat belly a hard slap, “Looking good, right?”

“Wait, you’ve been a member for a year, and you look like this?”

“Trust me, it’s taken a lot of work.”

Leon wondered how big Max must have been to begin with, if this three or four hundred pound frame was an improvement. “Well…keep working at it, I guess…” he said, and then added, “So wait, none of this seems strange to you? You actually want to be here?”

“Trust me, I know how it is when you attend your first event–I’m surprised they have any newbies here actually–I thought this retreat was by invitation only.”

“Well, I thought I was going to be hired as a counselor in an experimental training program–” Leon stared to say, and then Max laughed, “What?”

“Oh, just the thought of someone looking like you being a counselor–dang, you’re a bit delusional.”

“You’re the fucking delusional one!” Leon said, “They put this collar on me, and they’re fucking controlling me somehow! What the fuck is going on–what do you know that I don’t?”

Max took a drag off his cigar and just shook his head, “Fucking newbies.” Just then, a voice came on over the loudspeaker, in the room, and announced that lights out would commence in half an hour. “Guess we might as well get ready for bed then, eh?” Max added, “How about you take the top bunk–I doubt I could even get up there.”

Leon was still utterly confused by what was going on, but he agreed, and climbed up onto the top bunk, wondering what the hell was going to happen to him. His worry was interrupted by a loud grunt from Max, and he realized the big man was on the toilet, shitting, and he tried not to think about it, and before too long there was a five minute warning for lights out, and a few minutes later, they were plunged into darkness.

Leon still couldn’t sleep at all–and the fact that Max snored loud enough to wake the dead didn’t help. He must have laid awake for hours, and the lights in the room were still out when the door to the room slid open silently–Leon wouldn’t have even noticed if not for the sudden rectangle of light that appeared on the floor, and he got down quickly out of bed–still in only his underwear, and peeked around the corner, before leaving the room and walking quickly down the unattended hallway in the direction he hoped the exit was.

However, he’d taken a few steps when he realized he wasn’t walking of his own volition–his feet were moving for him, just like they had with the orderlies, and he realized that he wasn’t escaping at all–he was going somewhere. Somehow his feet knew where to go, and they walked deeper into the complex before finally arriving at a staffed lab, and he walked in, finding a couple of doctors in labcoats looking at some computer monitors. “Sir, the subject is here,” one of them said, and a fatter doctor with a bushy white beard, looked over at Leon and smiled, “Ah, Subject 436, welcome. I’m glad you found us alright.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Well, that’s true, but still, in a day or two we won’t need that collar on you at all. Now, subject 436, if you’d be so kind as to follow me, we’ll get you situated.”

It sounded like a kind enough request, but the doctor spoke into a bracelet identical to the one the orderly had used, compelling Leon to follow him into the middle of the lab, where he found himself strapped to some sort of cross shaped like an “X” with a series of plastic straps. After he was situated, the doctor took some scissors and cut away his underwear, leaving him completely naked, and then the doctor secured some sort of mask over his nose and mouth, which fed had a tube connected to a series of massive metal tanks of some sort of gas against one wall of the lab.

“Alright,” the doctor said, “Are we recording? We know we don’t want this to be like the last trial–no recording means fewer subscriptions. We want the full narrative on this one.We’re good?”

“Yes sir, all cameras are recording.”

“Good. Then lets begin the administration of gas batch #36.”

Leon watched as the clear tube filled with some sort of grey-black smoke, drawn down into his mask, but he held his breath for as long as he could, before finally inhaling as shallowly as he could. The smell of it was almost sickly sweet but with a strange burnt tinge, like caramel that had gone a bit too long on the stove. Still, it didn’t smell harmful, and he didn’t really have much choice after the doctor ordered him to simply breathe normally. He did for a few minutes, and as he did, he began to feel a strange tingling sensation all over his body. At first he thought it was just the discomfort from being strapped in such a strange position, but the tingling changed into something else strange, almost like a bubbling underneath his skin. He could still move his neck, and he looked down at his belly and nearly threw up–it looked almost like there were worms crawling beneath his skin, slowly squirming over his muscle, but as soon as they settled, they seemed to sag and dissolve away, and yet, after an hour of fascinated watching, he realized that the worms were something else–it was fat. Already, his six pack had become barely a two pack, the rest of it obscured by the beginnings of a paunch, and the rest of him was putting on weight as well. He tried fighting and struggling, but orders from the doctor to remain calm and not struggle had more power than his growing panic. What sort of experiment had he volunteered for exactly?

“Alright subject 436, we have a baseline, and it looks like you’re accepting batch #36 as we’d expected. Now, it’s time for your first round of conditioning,” the doctor said. He brought over a set of goggles which he fastened over Leon’s eyes, blocking out all of the light, and the a set of heavy headphones which shut out all of the sound from the room around him. He struggled for a second, trying to dislodge one or the other, but a few seconds later, the screen inside the goggles leapt to life with a massive swirl of bright color, too dazzling for him to keep his eyes open, and yet he couldn’t blink. In fact, he couldn’t do anything–his body had gone completely relaxed, and in his mind, he fought back as hard as he could, trying to regain control, but even that was becoming difficult. It was so much easier just to let himself be sucked in, just let himself be washed away. He could hear something as well, someone saying something, but he didn’t know what. It didn’t matter, he just needed to listen and watch and obey, always obey.

Time disappeared for him. It could have been a minute, or hours, or days even, in front of that screen. Eventually, the lights faded away, leaving him with a bright afterimage in the darkness of the goggles, the silence of the headphones lifted as the scientist removed them, and then the goggles, and when Leon saw him standing in front of him, his heart immediately leapt up into his throat. This massively fat man in a lab coat, the man who had so disgusted him when the goggles had gone on, was now…so amazingly sexy. Leon had a hard on before he could even try to control himself, and looking down, he quickly realized that he could barely see his cock. The two pack he’d sported when the goggles went on had grown substantially, and now could only be called a gut, and it looked damn good on him, didn’t it?

Leon shook his head, trying to fight off these feelings. He didn’t want to be fat–he was terrified of being fat! But then why in the hell did it feel so damn good? He was starting to hyperventilate, breathing in even more of the sweet gas from the mask, and the doctor came around into view again, now completely naked, and said, “Subject 436, why don’t you go ahead and calm down. Now, I’m going to go ahead and see how the conditioning worked for you. Just enjoy yourself.”

The doctor came close, his huge apron rubbing up against Leon’s much smaller gut, and he groaned, unable to help himself. The older man kneaded his softening pecs and twisted his nipples, and all Leon could do was mumble through the mask, begging him to stop, but his cock was so hard, and this man was so fucking sexy, why would he want him to stop, really? The doctor leaned in and licked and nibbled at the fat willing in under Leon’s chin and around his neck, pulling harder on his nipples, before one hand reached down and started stroking his rock hard cock, getting it slick with precum. He hefted up his apron with one hand and guided Leon’s cock underneath. The doctor’s fat pat was massive, and it swallowed Leon’s cock nearly to the hilt, and he rammed his huge body up against Leon, over and over, their cock head’s ramming into each other deep in the doctor’s fat, and after a few slams, Leon felt his cock shoot filling up the doctor’s fat pad, and the doctor came a few moments after, panting from the exertion, and he stepped back, cum dripping onto the floor between his feet. “Assistant, clean me up please,” the doctor said, and his cub hurried over, getting down on his knees and burying his face under the doctor’s apron, lapping up all of the cum there, before cleaning the tile floor as well.

“Well, that was a great response from just one conditioning set–most guys need three or four before they respond that well–subject 436, I must say that you’re quite the natural at this. I have a feeling you’re going to have a very successful retreat if you keep this up. Now, how about a few more rounds of conditioning? We’re going to have you loving fat and nothing else by the time you’re finished here, just you wait.”

Leon tried to fight off the doctor as he put the goggles and headphones on Leon again, but the lights returned like an old, comforting friend in a time of need, and Leon was more than happy to fall into them again. It was better than watching himself grow fatter, wasn’t it? Still, he would be so beautiful by the end of it, he couldn’t wait to see.

The Lizardman Plot (Part 2)

by Wesley Bracken

Commissioned by: Guderian

WARNING: This one is strange too. Scalies, F to M TF, raunch, incest, other stuff….

***

The machine kept each person separate from the people on either side of them on the conveyor belt, but that did nothing to soften the screams that surrounded Krista on all sides as she was swallowed deeper into the machine. Already mechanical arms had ripped away all of her clothing, sprayed her down with any number of chemicals and solutions–including one which had stripped all of the hair from her head and her body, flushing it away down a drain–leaving her naked and smooth in her small, moving room, besieged at each point by a massive number of probes and metal claws that examined every inch of her body, from the measurements of her face, to the size of her breasts, digging into her vagina and ass as she screamed along with the rest, humiliated and terrified, but she soon discovered that this was just the beginning.

When it seemed like there was nothing else that the the machine could do to her, the small room came to a stop, and what had been grey walls to both sides were suddenly made of what looked like, in the dim light of the machine, to be some sort of strange goo, and then the goo started closing in from both sides. There was nowhere for her to go, and in seconds the two membranes of goo had collided with her between them, sealed inside the rubber like film. She tired to breathe, and she felt the goo actually plunge into her open mouth, down into her lungs and her throat, as it also pressed its way up into her pussy and even into her ass, probing deep and violating her again. She was pinned in place, sealed inside a vacuum, and even though there was no way she could breathe, somehow, when she kept moving down the conveyor, she didn’t black out. The membrane, it seemed, was providing everything she needed to stay alive–but she certainly couldn’t scream. No wonder the back end of the machine had been so silent, she realized.

No longer needing the room or the belt to move her, the machine opened up into a large cavity, the gunk imprisoning her suspended from a set of hooks above her, and all around her were gators working in and amongst all of the other people trapped in the same way as her, screaming silently, their eyes moving in the transparent goo, but nothing else able to move an inch. One gator, however, wasn’t working–he was watching–and when he saw her he hit a large red button, bringing her line to a halt. He came over, uncoupled her from the hooks and carried her off, attaching her to an unmoving line next to a control panel, and he started working on some sort of program, and around his wrist, Krista could see the bracelet which Matt had seen in the first room–this was the same lizard he had been obsessed with. Her stomach sank–she’d been hoping that Matt had remained free, hoping that he could expose the whole thing, but not only had he most likely been captured, he must have betrayed her as well. What in the world would these beasts do to spies, when she had no idea what they were even doing to people?

The gator finished working on the program, and then he resumed waiting, watching the line Krista was on, and after half an hour or so, another person slid down the line and came to a halt next to Krista–Matt, also encased in goo and stripped of all of his hair. The gator walked up to Matt, grinning, and started running his claws along Matt’s full belly and his cock, their eyes locked together. The gator hissed in a way reminiscent of a laugh, and then released Krista’s rack to continue deeper into the machine.

It came to a stop in a dimly lit room, where a metal claw took a tube and shoved it deep into her pussy, where it adhered to the goo inside, and began pumping something warm inside her. She shivered at the sensation, feeling a near spontaneous orgasm rip through her, but it felt like the liquid was being drawn deep into her body, and changing her in some way she couldn’t even describe. Two more tubes were attached to her breasts, pumping at her chest as the tube in her pussy stopped filling her up, and began sucking as well. Both of tubes on her breast and inside of her were now painful, and she tried to shout and scream into the goo, feeling her body being reworked and contorted against her will. The tube slowly withdrew from her pussy, when it did, she saw that something was being drawn out with it–inside the tube…was a scrotum, and when it emerged, she saw that her vagina was gone, replaced by two full, low hanging balls beneath her clit, and then the tubes detatched from her chest, and she saw that her breasts had been replaced by muscle. She now had two pecs than any man would be proud to own, and she tried to look down at her now masculine body, but couldn’t–she could only feel the strange sensation of her new balls hanging from her groin yet suspended in the goo, the flatness of her chest, and then the rack started moving again down a short track, before arriving at another room.

This time, at least, there weren’t any tubes. However, it was pitch black when she entered, and when the rack came to a stop, lights clicked on all over the room, brilliant yellow, heating her up in moments, and she felt the goo encasing her come alive. It squirmed against her skin under the heat of the light, burrowing down into her pores, the goo in her throat, lungs and ass driving in deeper as well. She couldn’t even begin to describe what it felt like inside of her, the goo rearranging organs, bone and muscle, but her skin felt like it was growing dryer and cracking apart. The surface of her body was splitting apart into dark green scales, and she went rigid as the goo within her latched onto her spinal cord, and it started growing, pushing out her tailbone, the small of her back bulging out as a tail pushed its way out of her, growing several feet long in a matter of seconds, the goo stretching to accommodate and support it as muscle filled in to support the new weight.

Her hands and face felt like the goo was massaging itself into every nook and cranny, growing her teeth out into sharp fangs, reshaping the bones of her skull, flattening her nose and extending her mouth into a short, rounded snout. It even managed to worm it’s way around her eyes, her sight shifting as her pupils and iris changed, the light now even harsher to her more sensitive vision, her ears disappearing entirely, crushed to the side of her head and covered in scales. After what felt like ages, the lights finally shut off, Krista trying to grapple with the new sensations of her body in the darkness, the rack above her grinding to life and rolling down the track to the next room where she came to a halt.

She could see far better in the low light now, the claw taking the tube and shoving it down her throat, Krista no longer sure how to work her jaw, and again, the tube started pumping something into her, heat spreading from her stomach out to the rest of her body, her muscles convulsing painfully beyond her control, each contraction destroying and rebuilding muscle tissue faster than could have ever been possible. Her bones ached as well, and she felt her new skeletal structure start to bulge and expand, the goo lengthening as she grew two feet taller, topping out at over eight feet tall, her muscle bulging out past bodybuilder and growing even larger, almost comical in size, her new pecs bulging out from her chest in two shelves, her biceps and arms so thick she couldn’t drop them to her sides, thighs and calves thicker than any man she’d ever seen.

The claw wasn’t finished however, and attached one last tube to her clit, and she felt it start sucking and pumping, pleasure wracking it’s way through her in orgasmic waves as it grew larger and thicker in the tube, and before long, she had a huge, thick cock over a foot long, semi erect over her churning balls, and she realized that she wasn’t even a woman anymore. She wasn’t even human anymore. She was some abomination, some terrible beast. This was even worse than the first part–before, at least she had suffered her humiliation as herself. Now, her very identity had been ripped away from her. She couldn’t even recognize this body as hers. Is this what had happened to everyone the lizards had captured? Is this what they were doing? Slowly replacing the human race with their own kind?

The tubes retracted at last, and her rack proceeded along the track, and she hoped this would be the end of it, but in her heart, she knew that there would be one more stop. After all, her mind hadn’t changed at all. She finally arrived at what she assumed would be the final stop, and there was a bright golden screen, similar to the glowing eyes the gator with Travis’ bracelet had possessed–or, she realized, the gator who most likely had been Travis a few weeks before. Unable to look away, she felt the rhythmic patterns drill down into her mind and her soul, breaking her down. She fought back, but what, in the end, was the point? She had already lost everything of herself–why shouldn’t she lose her mind to? It would be a relief, really. She didn’t want to be a lizard, she didn’t want to be a man, but being trapped between would be even worse. Letting go of her fear, she let herself fall into the golden shine, and felt herself dissolve away into the gold.

***

Matt struggled against the cocoon binding him, trying to break away as the gator ran its talons up and down his naked body. He could feel everything through the thin layer of goo, and as he fought, he mostly resisted the pull of his brother’s golden eyes, but he couldn’t avoid them for very long. They sucked him back in, and his body froze in place again, but rather than the compulsion from before, the voice was more clear in his mind, the anger and the rage that his brother felt towards him.

Matt tried to push back, he tried to apologize. He’d been afraid when he’d found Travis, his little brother, in bed with one of his best friends–one of his best…male friends. How could Matt have known that his parents would throw Travis out of the house? It wasn’t his fault–none of it. He’d tried to stop them, he tried to help him, but then he’d disappeared and he’d been looking for him ever since. What could he have done?

The gator threw those arguments aside. It was over–the past. Nothing could be done about it, about the deep, writhing pit of anger he’d felt, that he still felt after this whole year, even after he’d been kidnapped from the street and twisted into a lizardman, he still held onto it. It was a betrayal deeper than Matt could have even begun to imagine, because Travis had loved him–capital “L” love–and that rejection had crushed him in ways he hadn’t even been equipped to deal with. Still, he had Matt now, and he ran a claw up the length of Matt’s cock, making his brother shiver, knowing that soon enough everything would be perfect. Still, he wanted to see him do it, he forced the pleasure into Matt, amplified it as he stroked his imprisoned cock, and after a moment, Matt shook in the cocoon and the gator watched him pump a load of cum into the vacuum, and then he finally looked away. He started the program and watched Matt’s rack roll deeper into the machine, and then, almost as an afterthought, unhooked the bracelet he’d worn everyday to remind him of the betrayal which had led him here and let it fall to the grimy metal floor of the machine. He wouldn’t need it after this was finished, and he hurried off down a corridor towards the end of the machine.

As he went, he passed hundreds of other people in the midst of standard transformations, however, as a Golden, Travis had a certain amount of freedom to experiment. He was still, technically, subordinate to the raptors, but concerning the fact that none of them could resist his eyes if he felt like it, none of them were really willing to contest him either. As a gator, he actually knew the workings of the machine better than the raptors, so even if he wasn’t in charge, the entire system would crumble without him and the other golden gators like him. The machine was massive, but he was still able to reach the exit before both Matt and Krista. Here, the cocoons were deposited, at this point the goo brittle and hard, the newly born lizards ripping their way out into their new lives, being directed to their training sessions in the hot tunnels beneath the surface of the earth. He only had to wait for a few minutes, before Krista–or rather, the massive raptor who Krista had become–slid out of the machine and hit the floor, the huge beast inside already starting to rip it’s way out with it’s long claws.

Travis stood back a few paces and admired his handiwork. The behemoth of a cock was especially stunning–it was a shame she hadn’t become a Golden like him, she would have made a spectacular general. Still, when it came to time to wipe clean the surface world she would destroy and slaughter a great many apes, he was certain. Beneath the goo, Krista flexed her muscles in both of her arms, and the goo shattered apart, scattering in every direction, and she started ripping the rest away and stood up, not quite steady, her thick tail forcing her to lean forward as she looked at her clawed hands, and then felt her rigid, scaled cock, somehow certain that something else should be there instead…but what? Her brain felt like mush–it just couldn’t seem to process much of anything, and when the gator walked up and started stroking her cock, she let out a hiss and shot a huge load of cum from her balls almost instantly.

They shared a gaze for a few moments, the gator telling her what to do, and what to expect, and a few minutes later, a second cocoon of goo slid out of the machine, and Travis hurried over to his brother. He wanted to be the first to see him, to see what he had done to him. Matt wasn’t much taller than he had been–and was quite short by gator standards, but he was much fatter, nearly a blob, and eager to see, Travis started ripping away the goo, freeing him, but as soon as Matt’s face was free, he could smell something he needed, something he wanted, and he slid out his long tongue and ran it along Travis’ thick inner thigh and up to his ass crack, shivering, the taste of the musky crack nearly making his small, two inch cock explode with cum. However, before Travis could indulge, he was thrown to one side as Krista stormed over, and rammed her huge cock into Matt’s long snout, snorting and bucking roughly, pumping cum down Matt’s throat, the gator swallowing it all down, and Krista just kept fucking. It was her purpose–or at least that’s what Travis had told her. To fuck, and fuck roughly, to use and abuse Matt to her heart’s content.

Travis freed the rest of Matt’s body, and Krista rolled the huge gator over onto his huge belly and started fucking his ass, the massive cock sliding in easily, and Travis simply stared into his brother’s eyes for a few minutes, making sure he fully understood his new role. He was a cumdump, the lowest of the low, meant to serve and please every other lizard in any way they demanded. He was too stupid to work on the machine, he was too weak to fight or even mine beneath the earth, and so he would be a slave, a urinal, a tongue to clean their sweaty bodies and reeking assholes, and he would love it, he would relish it. It’s all he’d ever wanted to do–it’s all he’d ever wanted to be.

It took Krista over ten loads to feel sated, and even then, her cock was still rock hard. She probably would have kept fucking if another raptor hadn’t gotten her attention, and directed her to follow him to a combat lesson. Travis enjoyed his brother for a few more minutes, and then compelled him to get up and follow Travis deeper into the mines. There were many gators down there, mining metal and coal and oil for the machine who would love a cumdump to abuse in the depths, and then, Travis would always know just where to find his brother, when he wanted to use him.

A lot of the guys in the frat have been acting really strange lately, and I had no real clue what was going on with all of them. It all started when Johnny brought home that funky meteorite from the field that he found, and he’s been obsessing over it lately. Like, in a really unhealthy sort of way–carrying it around with him, not letting anyone else touch it. But more than that…well, the guys who hang out with him have all started acting really…strange. Faggy strange. Louis is wearing these really tight, hot pink clothes, and I saw him carrying around this massive dildo the other day. Noel started wearing all of this leather gear and I swear he and Louis have been fucking around in their rooms. Carter can’t seem to stop eating and masturbating–and he’s watching gay porn too. I don’t get it.

I head to my room today though, and now it all makes sense. See, Johnny was waiting there, and he explained everything to me. See, he’d always been a total pervert–and a gay one at that, and now, the alien living in his head, the one slowly eating his brain, it’s letting him push all of his twisted fantasies onto his frat mates in exchange for devouring it. Of course, that means the alien will be planting it’s larva in our minds too, but those won’t grow to maturity for close to twenty of our years. Sure, I fought hard, but as soon as I felt his tongue burrow into my ear, the slimy worm pushing its way down my ear canal and burrowing into my brain, I knew exactly what to do.

I’m a pig now, you see? It makes so much sense! I wear these filthy clothes all the time now, and I stink of sex and piss, and it makes me so hot, I can’t even tell you. Nothing is too extreme for me. I clean out Louis’ sloppy hole after Noel finishes fisting him. I beg Noel to take me into his dungeon and make me scream in pain. I suck the piss out of Carter’s filthy boxers, since he’s too fat and lazy to even get up off the couch anymore–I love it. Too bad Johnny can’t do anything about it–he just sits and drools in his room now, brain gone, but hey, he’s living the dream! I can’t wait to be like that in twenty years too–it’s gonna be so sweet.

Ned’s heart froze as he watched the sun slowly set down the side of the house next door. It was stronger now, it used to just be the full moon, but now he can feel it welling up, and the moon doesn’t peek for another four days. He has to fight it though, he can’t give in, he can’t let it control him, he–

Taking a deep drag off his massive cigar, Ned exhaled a thick plume with a deep cough. No, not tonight, he won’t let it happen. He smashes out the cigar in one of the many ashtrays he’d been forced to acquire since the episodes had started happening, and he ignored the itch across his face as his stubble grew in, forming a thick white beard. He stared at himself in the mirror, willing it back down, and watches it pause and shrink back. He focuses further, thinking about himself, about Ned, about his life, about how he’s straight, about how he isn’t going to go out tonight and find some sweet little cub to bring back to the house. He isn’t going to change anyone tonight, he isn’t. He won’t, he won’t, he–

At the door, looking at himself in the mirror, grinning around his re-lit cigar, he examines his leather uniform, grabs his big cock in the front and gives it a squeeze. Ned watched, helpless, as his hand reached out and unlocked the door, his body stepping out into the hallway, and a voice, he could hear a voice: Feels good to be out again. What do you think we should make tonight? I don’t know about you, but I think we need a housecub–yeah, doesn’t that sound nice? Someone’s going to fall in love with you tonight Ned–with us. Hope you don’t mind someone else living in your apartment, because from today on, you’re going to have your own personal slave. Well, my personal slave–won’t that be fun?

Ned screamed inside his own head as his mouth smirked, and he walked down to the driveway, climbed on the harley he’d bought the week before, and rode off to the leather bar downtown, to look for his prey.

The Audition

Commissioned by Seamus

“Patrick and Aaron? You’re up!” The voice called from inside the room, and the two friends got up, giving each other a nervous glance, and headed into the audition. The two college friends had a week earlier picked up a flyer on campus advertising open auditions for porn films, and later that evening, when the two of them were quite drunk, they had called the studio as a joke more than anything, but to their surprise they had been called in for an audition by someone named Mr. Thompson, and the next day, even though they were nervous as hell, they hopped in Aaron’s car and drove to the seedy LA address where they were now.

After a few minutes in a waiting room, manned only by a bored, and rather normal looking receptionist, with nothing to do but feel nervous, they were now auditioning, and neither of them knew what to expect–or why they were being called in together–but in they went, finding themselves on a small, undressed sound stage, except for a ratty looking couch and coffee table in the middle. Back by the cameras, there was a folding table set up and two older men seated there, flipping through forms. One of them looked up and said, “Go ahead and have a seat there,” he said, pointing to a couple of folding chairs off stage, and Patrick and Aaron took their places. “So, the two of you are interested in the porn business?” the man asked. Neither Patrick nor Aaron really knew what to say to that, and after a second, the man looked down at the paper in front of him and mumbled, “Both shy…gonna have to do something about that…”

“How about we start with some introductions?” the second man said, “This is Mr. Thompson–he says he spoke briefly to you both over the phone. He’s the director here at RockCock studios, I’m Mr. Lewis–I’m the producer. Now, which of you is Aaron and who is Patrick?”

“I’m Patrick,” the first guy said.

“Alright, hmm…brown hair, green eyes, decent build. Could you take off your shirt for me?”

“What? I don’t…”

“Take off your shirt please,” Mr. Thompson said, and before Patrick could question it, he stripped it off.

“Well, not quite the build I had in mind, a bit too…lanky. Guess we might need to fix that. And you, you’re Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I love the blonde hair, and very beautiful green eyes, but we have so many blondes already…hmm…Your shirt too please.”

Aaron, less intimidated now that Patrick had shed his own, pulled his off, giving the men a chance to look him over as well. “Nice, do you go to the gym?”

“Off and on, I guess.”

“How many times a week would you guess?”

“Maybe two? Sometimes none?”

“Hmmm, alright.”

While Mr. Lewis asked his questions, Mr. Thompson was looking over his shoulder towards a second entry way onto the set. “Do you know where Hank is? I explicitly told him to be here at one o’clock to help with an audition.”

“Maybe shooting is just taking a little longer than expected.”

Mr. Thompson turned back around and looked at the shirtless men, “Alright, let me explain how this will work. We’re going to have you both work with Hank Bruin–he’s going to star in “Dirty Dudes Volume Three”. We want to see how your on screen chemistry works with him, if he would get here already…”

“Wait, Hank?” Patrick asked, looking at Aaron, “Hold on guys, we’re both straight–we aren’t interested in guys.”

Neither Mr. Thompson nor Mr. Lewis said anything in reply, and both Patrick and Aaron tried to get up to leave, but for some reason, neither of them could get up from the chairs Mr. Thompson had directed them into. A moment later, a man they presumed to be Hank ran onto the set, and the sight of him didn’t make Patrick nor Aaron feel much better. He was quite tall, and muscular, though not overly so, and was wearing nothing beyond a jockstrap and wifebeater, giving both of them a view of his hairy body and his sizable package. “Oh God, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, I got over here as fast as I could, but Mr. Willis wanted the shot from two angles, and so I had to hold it, and–”

“Hank, please–I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ll speak to Mr. Willis and see if there is call for any disciplinary action. For now, we have Patrick and Aaron here–they’re auditioning for roles in “Dirty Dudes Volume Three” with you. Now be a good boy and take a seat on the couch while I give them their direction, alright?” Hank passed by the two shirtless students and shot them a look, something between regret and pity which made them both feel rather uneasy, and sat down on the couch. “Alright Mr. Lewis, have you decided on the roles for our two newcomers here?”

“Yes, I think I have. I’d like Patrick to take Dirty Dude Two, and Aaron to be Dirty Dude Three.”

“Alright, then that means Patrick, we’ll start with you. Stand up and try not to look so nervous. Now, here’s your motivation. Hank here has invited you over to his house, and you’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. He’s just such a handsome top, and the pig in you, it just wants to worship his sweaty, hairy body so badly. Now, go ahead and take a seat on the couch, and lets see where you take it.”

Aaron expected his friend to just bolt out of the studio–hell, he would have, but to his utter shock, he walked up onto the stage and plopped down on the couch next to Hank–right next to Hank, so close their thighs were touching. There was an unmistakable look of terror in his eyes, like a man who’d lost all control of himself, and he turned to Hank and said, “Hey man, I just wanted to thank you for inviting me over.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Hank said back and looked over at Patrick, and fuck if their eyes weren’t smouldering for each other, and then, Patrick leaned in and started kissing Hank, his hands all over the porn actor’s sweaty body, and Aaron wanted to vomit.

“Yes Patrick, I love the energy, great job–keep going!” Mr. Thompson said.

“What the fuck–what the fuck are you doing to him? How are you doing this? Let us go!” Aaron said, again struggling in his seat.

Mr. Thompson looked over at him, angry, and snapped, “Quiet on the set Aaron, you’ll get to join in soon enough. Now go on Patrick, go on and start licking Hank clean, worship that body you’ve been lusting after for so long, it’s finally yours–go ahead and take it!”

Patrick moved down, licking and nibbling the sweat from Hank’s stubbly neck, before shoving his face into Hank’s armpit, licking with the entire surface of his tongue, making sure to turn enough for the cameras to catch his lust, even if his eyes were still confused and angry and…horny. Hank had one hand on his groin now and was massaging it, a cocky grin on his face as he watched him worship his pit. “Damn Pat, I had no idea you were such a fuckin’ slut–how long have you been after my sweaty body?”

“Oh fuck, so god damn long Hank,” Patrick moaned, “I…I even stole your underwear a couple of times, just to smell you, fuck, you’re a fuckin’ god Hank. Can…Can I smell your jock Hank? Please, can I?”

“Oh, great improv, keep going!”

“Sure thing bud, I can see how bad you need it,” Hank said, and like a hungry beast, Pat dove into Hank’s crotch, burying his nose in the crack between his cock and his thigh, lapping up all the sweat he could find, moaning and groaning, grinding his rock hard cock into the sofa cushions.

Off to the side, Aaron was trying to scream, to get away to do anything, but he was frozen, and his voice–his voice wouldn’t work. Even worse, he could tell he was next, that he would be as helpless as his friend in a matter of minutes.

Patrick was now sucking on the jock, taking as much of it in his mouth as he could, tasting the stale cum and sweat which had soaked into it, and even though the taste was rank he couldn’t help but act like he was enjoying it. However, this character, he could feel it beginning to overcome him–it was becoming more and more natural, he was starting to really think that Hank was a god worth worshipping, that he liked the taste of his sweaty body, that this was really what he wanted, and in a panic, he fought against the direction, but couldn’t escape the compulsion.

“Alright, that’s good Pat, but not really what we had in mind, see, you have a foot fetish. You fucking love feet, the sweatier and smellier the better. In fact, you’d rather suck toes than cock any day of the fuckin week, isn’t that right?”

“Oh fuck, can I Hank? Can I clean your filthy feet, man? Fuck, that’d make me so fuckin’ hot for you, please…”

“Get down there you fuckin’ pig, but I gotta warn you, they’re pretty rank, and they’d better be fucking spotless by the time you’re done with them.” Hank put his bare feet up on the coffee table, and it was all Patrick could do to keep from diving on them and taking as much of them as he could in his mouth, but he held off. He wanted to fucking savor them, he wanted to enjoy this, he wanted…he wanted to put on a show, yeah, he wanted the cameras to see how much of a pig he was for a guy’s filthy feet, it felt so hot having the cameras on him, so fucking exciting…he started by sucking on all of the toes, one by one, and then started licking the soles clean in long strokes of his tongue, Hank massaging his cock while Patrick worked.

“How damn, how about that? I think we have a natural,” Mr Thompson said.

“Hmm, yeah, he does have plenty of spirit, but I’m just not sold on his look quite yet,” Mr. Lewis said. “Do you mind if I work on him for a bit?”

“Certainly, Mr. Lewis. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind, as always.”

“Alright let’s see. I definitely like Pat better than Patrick, but still not a perfect name…oh of course, Pat the Pig, I love the alliteration. Yeah, that’s a great name for you–direct, the audience knows just what to expect from you. Still, you don’t quite look like a pig, do you? Let’s go ahead and fix that, I think. Let’s see, you’re going to have to put on some weight for the role, so how about…325 pounds? Yeah, enough to give you a nice, piggy gut, let’s see it.”

On his hands and knees, still savoring Hank’s sweaty feet, Pat felt his body changing, growing, his belly sagging down with fat as he fought against the director’s orders. He didn’t want to be a fucking pig! He just wanted to keep cleaning Hank’s sweaty fucking feet, fuck they were so hot. With one hand, he was able to feel his changing body, his gut sagging down, two fat piggy tits where his pecs had been, and he gave a little snort of pleasure as he grazed one of his nipples.

“Yeah, that’s good. And hair–you’re gonna be a hairy bear of a man I think, all over, front and back, a fuckin’ pelt. A pig like you doesn’t need that big of a cock either–after all, we aren’t going to have you topping anyone in this film, but maybe some big fucking balls, yeah, your loads are gonna be massive.” Mr. Lewis got down, and watched Pat’s cock shrink as his balls grew, “Ha, fuck, look at this tiny cock, you can barely see it through the fuckin’ pubes–now that’s a pig.”

Patrick couldn’t look around to see himself, but he could feel his skin crawling with hairs now, including across his face, as a scruffy beard filled in around his now chubby face. Now as he felt himself with his hand, it felt almost like he was touching an animal, yeah, just an animal, just a pig, a pig desperate for dirty feet and sweaty bodies. Pat was snorting even more now, and his little cock was so hard, but he knew better than to touch it without Mr. Thompson’s explicit permission.

“Yeah, that’s damn fine. Still, how about a little edge? I’m thinking…mohawk. And red, I love a good firetop, and with a name like Pat, why the hell not? Still, since we can’t see any tattoos through all that fur, how about some piercings?” The hair on Pat’s body turned a brilliant red, the sides of his heads shaved, leaving him with a short, spiky mohawk. The pain in his ears as the gauges grew in, and the horseshoe in his septum caused his eyes to water. Mr. Lewis ran has hand along Pat’s furred back, feeling Pat shiver at his touch. He knew he had to try and fight back against these feelings, that this was wrong, but it was so hard to think outside the direction Mr. Thompson had given him. “What do you think, Mr. Thompson? Isn’t that a much hotter pig?”

“Fuck, now that’s a pig! He’s going to be very popular I think. We’re going to have to include him in our next bear flick too, I think.”

“Oh yeah, he’s going to be very versatile I think, well, except for the fact that he’s a total bottom,” Mr. Lewis said with a chuckle, as he took his seat.

“Alright, that sounds like a nice plan. Alright, Aaron, why don’t you go ahead and join in? Here’s your direction–”

“Please!” Aaron sputtered, forcing his way past the director’s insistence on silence, “Please, no, don’t make me clean anyone’s feet, that’s so fucking disgusting! Don’t make me a pig like that!”

There was silence for a moment, and then the two men laughed, “Oh please Aaron, do you really think we’d do the same thing twice?” Mr Lewis said.

“Trust us, one foot fetishist is plenty for a single film, no, we’d rather have you go in a different direction. Now, you’re Hank’s roommate, and at the moment, you are drunk off your ass. Now, you’re going to walk in on these two and discover Pat worshipping Hank’s feet like a dirty whore, and while you’re going to be grossed out a first, when Pat begs you to give him your feet to clean too, you’ll give into curiosity, and find it very…relaxing.”

Aaron knew he wasn’t really drunk, but the performance he found himself giving, as he stumbled up onto the stage, slurring his words, would have been good enough to convince anyone watching, he imagined. “What the hell are you two doing?” he said, “Is that faggot seriously licking your feet Hank? That’s fucking sick!”

“Hey, the pig fucking loves it, don’t you Pat?”

“Oh fuck yeah, nothing gets me harder than sucking on a sweaty, smelly foot.”

“Dudes, that’s fucking nasty.”

“Actually, it feels pretty good,” Hank said, “Why don’t you have a seat and let Pat the Pig work yours over?”

“Oh yeah, come on man, let me get a whiff of those feet of yours–I bet they’re so fuckin’ ripe!” Pat said, and Aaron just wanted to shout at him, tell him to cut the act, that the two of them had to get out of here, but he couldn’t break character either.

“Alright, I guess I could give it a shot,” Aaron said and sat down on the couch, allowing Pat to rip off his shoes and socks before slurping away at his feet, and like the director said, Aaron let out a groan, and felt himself sink into the couch, suddenly very relaxed, but Mr. Lewis wasn’t happy.

“Aaron’s feet are too small for this role, I just don’t think our pig here is going to enjoy it enough. What do you think, Pat? Do you think Aaron’s feet are too small?”

Pat nodded eagerly, but then again, he thought everyone’s feet were too small, and not nearly rank enough.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking, size seventeen, and a fine coat of hair on top, just for accent.”

On the couch, Aaron watched and felt his feet start to contort and twist as Pat lciked them clean, until they had nearly doubled in size, and his stomach turned. Apparently Pat wasn’t the only one with a few changes in store.

“Yeah, that’s good, I agree. Now Aaron, you’re drunk, and feeling Pat licking your feet is just making you feel so relaxed, and then you start pissing your fucking pants, right there on the couch. Hank, you’re going to notice after a few seconds, and tell him to stop, but Aaron, you’re just going to moan like you’re enjoying the hell out of pissing your jeans, and keep going, because you do love pissing yourself. You love the stench, the feel of sopping denim against your crotch, and you love the taste of it too, but Hank doesn’t know that until you confess it to him, and ask him to piss down your throat.”

Aaron fought–he fought hard. No way was he actually just going to sit there, and let his best friend worship his feet (even if it did feel really good) and start pissing himself right on the couch. “Damn Hank, it does feel good, and it’s kind of relaxing.”

“Ha, I know right? Better than you thought it was going to be, right?”

“Hell yeah, fuck I’m gonna, oh yeah, oh there–there it goes–shit…”

Too late. He felt the warmth envelop his crotch, and inside he was screaming, but outside it felt so good just to relax, and god he did love pissing his pants, hell, getting drunk was sometimes just an excuse for some piss play in front of his friends. He started rubbing the dark crotch of his jeans with one hand, feeling his cock start hardening against his inner will, when Hank looked over, “Holy fuck dude, did you just fucking piss your pants?”

“Oh fuck yeah I did, feels so fucking good too…”

“Wait, you fucking like it?”

Aaron paused, unable to believe he was about to tell his roommate about his secret fetish, but no, that wasn’t even true! What was that fucking director doing to him? “Fuck, I guess there’s no hiding it now,” Aaron said, “I fuckin’ love piss dude, I love pissin’ my pants, I love the fucking stench of it, fuck this…this one time, in the bathroom, you forgot to flush, and I blew a wad just from the stench of your piss dude, it was so fucking hot.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Mr. Thompson said, “Nice detail Aaron, you’re such a dirty dude. Now bring it home, beg for it, beg for your roommate’s piss like the wannabe urinal you are.”

“Hank, I’m so fuckin’ thirsty man, be a pal and give me your piss, please? I’ll do anything for it, I just gotta taste it, fresh, just fuckin’ once.”

Hank shoved his jock into Aaron’s face and released his piss, and he felt it dribble down his face and onto his chest even though he drank down as much of it as he could. When Hank finished, Aaron pulled the jock to one side with his teeth, releasing Hank’s cock, swallowing it to the hilt, sucking down the last bit of piss from the head as he did, unable to believe he was actually sucking cock and loving it. “Yeah Aaron, that’s a good cocksucker, make Hank feel real good. Now hold on Hank, we don’t want you shooting just yet, so hold on, alright?”

“Hmm, while they’re going at it, I want to make a few more changes I think,” Mr. Lewis said, “As much as I love blondes, I just don’t think we need another one, do you, Mr. Thompson?”

“No, we don’t really–what did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking…Angelo,” Mr. Lewis said, and as the two men watched, Aaron’s skin began to darken, taking on a deep olive complexion, his blonde hair darkening to a deep black, and where a white college kid had sat moments before, there was now a hunky, latin wolf, moaning as he sucked Hank’s hard cock.

“Oh, wonderful choice Mr. Lewis, we were just talking last week about how we could use a bit more exoticism in our casting.”

“I know, I figured this was the perfect opportunity. Still, I don’t want two chubby pigs at once, so how about we make our pissslut a muscleman, eh?” As Angelo sat there, he felt body heat up and expand, the muscles spasming as they exploded in size, giving him the look of an out of season bodybuilder. “Yeah, that’s much better, but you need some fur too, though not as much as the pig down there.” Angelo couldn’t see from where he was sucking Hank off, but he ran his hands over his hard, ridged body, and he felt…sexy. Yeah, he was soaked in piss, sucking cock, where else would a latin piss slut like him ever want to be?

As for your look, I’m thinking…thug. Shaved head, but with a few days growth. A chinstrap beard, and then tattoos–lots of tattoos. Nothing too violent or sexual, but I think it’ll play well with our demographics.”

“Mr. Thompson, I–” Hank said, but the director shot him a withering glance, and he shut up.

“Don’t interrupt Hank, you know better.”

“But–” Hank groaned.

“Silence, don’t speak again until I say you can. Sorry, Mr. Lewis, I love watching you work your magic,” Mr. Thompson said, “They’re fucking perfect.”

“Ha, well, I don’t know about perfect,” Mr. Lewis said as he returned to his seat, examining Angelo at a distance, watching his hair pull into his head, beard fill in, and a riot of colorful tattoos make their way all over his body, until he was about half covered. “They might still need a few tweaks later on before we shoot for real, but for now, it’s good enough.”

Hank was sweating and groaning, bucking his hips, pounding his cock down Angelo’s throat. He couldn’t stop, but he was so close to cumming, and Angelo was surprisingly skilled at giving head. He wanted to cum so bad, and he stopped fighting it, grabbing the back of the latin wolf’s head and giving him a proper skull fucking, which drew Mr. Thompson’s attention.

“Hank? Hank! You still with me man? Don’t you fucking shoot that load dude, don’t–” but Mr. Thompson knew it was too late. Hank gave a stuttering gasp and blew his wad down Angelo’s throat and he sucked that down too, rubbing the piss into his dark chest as he did, utterly disgusted with his display, and yet knowing that he was putting on a fantastic show for the cameras, and loving it.

“God fucking damn it, Hank!” Mr. Thompson shouted, storming onto the set and dragging Hank off, “I thought we sorted that fucking issue out?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, I was just so horny, and–”

“Oh fucking save it, you sorry bitch. Mr. Lewis, I think we just found out next star for Chastity Pain Slave Nine.”

“Oh god, not that, please not that.”

“Oh yes, I think that’s a marvelous idea–Gareth has been needing a new bitch, and he’s gonna love shaving Hank down on camera, I bet.”

“I think so too,” Mr. Thompson said, then shoved Hank away, “Now get out of my fucking sight, and think about how you’re going to perform better next time, when we’re shooting for real.”

Mr. Thompson walked back to his seat, calming himself back down as Hank left the set, crying, and turned his attention back to Pat and Angelo, the first still cleaning his friend’s feet while the other was reveling over his piss soaked body. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to finish the scene off with you two. Pat, I want to see how that hole of yours works. Angelo, leave your foot there, I want to see Pat fuck himself on it.”

Pat got up, and finally could see his friend past his new, massive feet–or at least the man who had been his friend, and also looked down at himself, his thick, red furred body, and he knew it was too late for them to escape now. Now, all he could do was enjoy this, oh yeah, he was going to put on such a great show for Mr. Thompson and Mr. Lewis. He squatted down over Angelo’s spit lubed foot and started working it into his asshole, and it felt amazing, his puny cock rock hard, though only the head could be seen easily beyond his thick pubic bush.

“Oh yeah Pat, that’s real good, take that whole fucking foot up there–you love getting fucked by big feet, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah Mr. Thompson,” Pat said, “It feels so damn good having Angelo’s foot crammed up my hole.”

“Yeah, that’s good, now take that puny cock of yours, and I want you to arc your piss and soak Angelo down. How does that sound, you thug whore? You want that fat pig to drench you in his piss?”

“Oh fuck yeah dude,” Angelo said, “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

Pat did as he was told, pushing the piss out as hard as he could, and amazingly he made it over the intervening space and all the way up to Angelo’s face and hair, soaking him down, and when his bladder emptied, he focused on fucking himself on his costar’s massive foot, moaning and grunting like a complete whore, listening to Mr. Thompson and Mr. Lewis encourage them both nearer to orgasm. They came simultaneously, shooting the gap, Angelo’s cum splattering across Pat’s hairy gut, and Pat’s mixing into the piss coating Angelo’s ridged abs.

“Hot damn, you are two dirty dudes!” Mr. Lewis said, “We’re going to have to duplicate those cumshots when we shoot, don’t you think, Mr. Thompson?”

“I think we can manage that, and I certainly enjoyed the rest of their show as well. Plus, directing them’s a dream, especially compared to Hank. How about it you two? I think you’re going to enjoy being a couple of filthy, dirty fuckers on set, right? In fact, why don’t we go ahead and make you two the stars of the film? I think Hank lost that privilege today.”

“Oh hell yeah Mr. Thompson, especially if I get to clean a bunch of nasty feet before fucking myself on them,” Pat said, lifting himself off Angelo’s big foot.

“Fuck yeah, and as long as I’m soaked in a bunch of stinking piss I’ll be happy,” Angelo said.

“Well, then I have a couple of lifetime contracts for the two of you to sign over here, but first, you two got both of us all hot and bothered,” Mr. Thompson said, hauling out his cock, “Angelo, get over here and suck me off, and I know Mr. Lewis would love to fuck that wide open hole of yours Pat.”

The two friends, no longer even able to consider refusing their director’s demands, did as they were told, moaning like the couple of dirty porn stars they were, eager to start filming their debut, as well as all the rest they would be acting and fucking in for the rest of their lives.

25 years? Hell no, there was no way Bruiser was going back in there, not for that long. It hadn’t even been his fault, it was Skull who’d killed the guy, but because he’d flipped and got immunity, Bruiser was getting pinned for everything. Well, when his cellmate had offered to put him in contact with a guy who could help him bust out, he’d decided to take the chance. It had happened so fast, he still wasn’t sure how they’d managed it. He’d been intercepted mid transit to the maximum security prison, busted out, and now here he was in some motel room with a guy wearing nothing more than a jockstrap who still hadn’t given him a name other than Mr. H.

Of course, what Bruiser didn’t know was that Mr. H ran a very specialized escort and bodyguard company, who specialized in protecting male celebrities with a gay side they wanted to keep under wraps from the press. He trained his bodyguards to not only protect his clients with their lives, but serve their new masters in any manner they wanted, keeping their secrets to the grave. It took a few days for Bruiser’s initial training to set in, but soon the tattooed lug had Mr. H’s cock crammed down his throat, and it turned out he would be serving in a very different prison for much longer than the next 25 years.