Home for the Holidays – Christmas (Part 2)

Well, Mark thought, he was here–he might as well hear Buzz out and see what he had to suggest. After all, it wasn’t like Magnus was in any mood to help him, and if what Buzz said was right, about undoing curses being as dangerous as he said, maybe his method would be safer. “Alright, so…how to I channel it, or whatever, into them?”

Buzz got a glimmer in his eye, but rather than dispel some of his concerns, it only made Mark feel a little more…uneasy. This wasn’t the same as the first time he’d met Buzz, to get the ingredients for the curses. Magnus…had told Buzz to drop his name when he got there, that it was the only way Buzz would likely even open the door, and Magnus had been right. Buzz had been gruff, impatient, dismissive, and as uninterested as he could be. Mark had barely even gotten the ingredients out of the guy–the exchange for one of his brothers was the only thing that had interested Buzz at all. Now though…he was warmer, and more concerned. He also kept…looking at Mark, and would touch him on occasion. A hand on the shoulder, or brushing a hand across his ass…and it was making him feel uncomfortable, enough so that he was having a hard time focusing on what Buzz was even saying to him.

“So, do you understand?” Buzz asked, and Mark, uncomfortable and unsure of whether this was a good idea, told him that he hadn’t really been able to follow what he’d said.

“Look, a curse is like…a hole. You dig the hole in someone’s life, or self, and then you fill it up with the darkness they forced on you–but that connection lingers. If you don’t get all that darkness out–if you don’t fill them up with everything they gave you, then what’s left is going to wound you instead. The channel is still open, as long as you’re still changing, and so you can keep filling, got it? It doesn’t even have to be the same curse, exactly. If anything, the curse you chose for this one,” Buzz said, indicating Mark’s middle brother, “is, well, I’m not surprised you’re getting some blowback.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asked, “Magnus said–”

“Yeah yeah, Magnus…trust me, I know his skill set, we’ve been compatriots for a long time. But curses? I know curses. You…have got some beautiful darkness inside you man, and it will just keep eating at you if you don’t do something with it,” Buzz said, sliding closer on the couch where they were sitting, one hand on Mark’s thigh, his breath reeking close to his face…but then Buzz pulled away again. “Come on,” let’s get ready.

Together, Buzz and Mark selected another curse for his middle brother, Luke, something Buzz promised him would pack a significantly greater punch than the last. Then, he got his first look at his brother…and well, some of Mark’s resolve fled the room. He wasn’t the brother he remembered from a few weeks ago. Dressed in a set of filthy coveralls, reeking of piss and shit, he was sitting in his room, groping his cock through his diaper, watching some of the filthiest, nastiest porn Mark had ever seen–and he was so focused on it, he didn’t even turn to look as the two of them stepped into the room.

Mark circled around so he could get a better look, and through Luke’s short beard, he looked…disgusting, and from the flecks of brown in his beard, he could imagine some of the paces Buzz had been putting him through. “What…what the fuck did you do to him?” Mark asked.

“You gave him to me–what I do to him is my business.”

The regret and dismay he’d been feeling intensified, and again, Mark felt the second thoughts welling up inside him. Luke…didn’t deserve this. The men in his family had been shitty, sure, but this–he had gone too far, he could see that now. “Fuck this, I’m–I’m getting him out of here, he doesn’t deserve this,” Mark said, and went to heft his brother up–but before he could, it was like some…strange string in his mind pulled tight, and he couldn’t move an inch.

“Now, now, young man,” Buzz said, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to pull your strings, but I’m afraid I can’t let you…disrupt your brother here like that. After all, he’s very happy here, with me, his Master–and he’s going to be even happier after you do what we’d just planned on doing, I think.”

Mark struggled against it, but he realized, then, that he could feel them–all the little strings of control Buzz had been slipping into him during that first explanation, the one he hadn’t been able to understand, or even really remember.

“You know, if I’m being honest, I never understood what Magnus saw in you, when he told me. Even when you came here, I thought he had lost his touch–but you know what? I was wrong. Look at you now? How you’ve…matured,” Buzz came closer, running a dirty hand across Mark’s aging face. He tried to flinch, but instead, he opened his mouth, and allowed Buzz to slide his fingers inside. “There is…so much darkness inside you–we can make a warlock of you yet, I think. It was smart of him to drive you to me though–we’ll be great friends, soon enough, once you get a proper taste of it.”

Mark didn’t understand–were Buzz and Magnus working together? But that didn’t make any sense! He didn’t have time to sort much of it out though, before another string pulled, and Mark felt…something else slide into him, a sick, disgusting desire. Looking at his filthy brother in front of him, all he could feel, suddenly, was an intense, sadistic, arousal. It wasn’t his, it didn’t feel like his, really–it was coming from Buzz. It was what Buzz wanted him to feel, and as hard as he tried to resist it…he could feel more coming, the darkness inside him, which had been growing stronger, ever since he’d cursed his family, was bubbling up. He could hear himself chanting the curse he had agreed on with Buzz…but was there something he could do to stop it? He fought, but there was nothing he could do–he could feel the curse forming on his lips, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

What is the curse he uses on his brother?

An inanimate curse, he turns his brother into a half human, half inanimate, toilet.
An animus curse, he turns his brother into a pigman.
A demonic curse, he imbues his brother with a demon of sloth.
An aging curse, he ages his brother into an old, filthy man.

Here’s the public poll!

Here’s the patron only poll!

Voting ends in a couple of days.

Training Camp (Caption Sketch)

For those of you who like these sorts of caption stories, I’ve started writing and posting them with some regularity over on my discord server for Patrons! It’s open for everyone supporting me at the five dollar level and up, and includes the ability to request captions, get exclusive access to all the captions I post (because I won’t be posting them all here) and you can also help me out by play testing some of the odd transformation RP games I design in my rare spare time. You can find more details here! I hope y’all have a nice holiday!

Training camp, day 1

“Yeah man, fuck, I could really go for some dinner.” Vince said, and inside, all Hugh could do was stare at Vince’s gut, hanging out from his practice uniform. The guy didn’t need more food, as far as Hugh was concerned, but what did he know? The massive fucker had just, well, shown Hugh up in just about every way, and it was just the first day of camp, with two weeks to go. This was supposed to be his time to shine, but this massive, stupid lug was going to ruin everything for him. Worse still, he discovered after dinner, the two of them were going to be rooming together in the college dorms.

As soon as they were in the room, Vince started stripping out of his clothes, and his musk started to permeate the air. Hugh tried to not let it bother him, and tried to ignore the fact that it was giving him a headache, and a hard on, until the shoes came off–and he lost it. He got down, shoved his face into one of Vince’s cleats, and started huffing in the musk, horrified, and unable to control himself.

Above him, Vince just sighed. “Fuck, was hoping you wouldn’t need it. They always put me with guys who need it. Don’t worry–I can help you, little guy,” Vince said, patting Hugh on the head, “We can help each other.”

Training camp day 4

Hugh wasn’t feeling good. At least, that’s what he told the camp coaches. In reality…Vince was right. This training really was more important than getting out on the field. He took a few long huffs from the stench of Vince’s tennis shoe, and he felt it, the same feeling he’d had inside him, starting in the last few days, and he felt himself…grow, slightly. Inflate, almost. Vince said that if he was good, if he did everything he told him to do, then he could make Hugh big–not as big as he was, but plenty big enough. Big enough to be a star player. Big enough to…not need it anymore.

He’d resisted at first, but last night, something in him had broken, and he realized why Vince had so much control over him–it was because he had what Hugh needed. Size. Power. Strength. So he’d agreed–Vince would coach him for the rest of the camp, and for his first day, that meant sitting here, huffing on his shoe with a moist jock shoved in the end all day long…but this…wasn’t so bad, was it? There was another dull throb, and he heard a bone pop and reset. No–this was exactly what he needed.

Training camp day 11

Hugh was ready for it, ready for what he really needed. He’d been practicing with the toys Vince had given him, the huge dildo and benwa balls, working them in and out of his hole. He was…so much bigger now, so much bigger. Six feet three inches, so much muscle mass, but he wouldn’t get any larger without…well, without Vince’s seed. It was only natural, after all–he needed it, but Vince was so large…he hadn’t been able to take him yesterday. But tonight would be different. He knew tonight would be different.

The door clicked, and Vince stepped in, seeing the massive man on the bed, gas mask still on with Vince’s dirtiest underwear inside, ass ready. He hauled out his fifteen inch cock, and pressed it to Hugh’s hole–it took some work over the next half hour, but finally it slid inside, and Vince fucked him, hard and rough, until he came, and gave Hugh exactly what he needed.

He could feel the seed inside him, coursing into his blood, changing him. His mind dulled rapidly, so quickly that Hugh didn’t even notice that he lost most of himself in the process. There was just…Vince. Just his master. Vince took the mask off, and revealed the almost ape-like visage underneath as the hair filled in across Hugh’s body, just another brutish beastial slave for Vince’s perpetually growing harem. Still, it’s what Hugh had needed–just maybe not what he wanted.

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 3)

Chance tried to shove the badger away, but the dingo shifted his paws and grabbed Chance by the wrists, allowing Geoff the chance to throw the collar around Chance’ neck, slip it through the buckle and pull it tight. However, Chance pulled away from him while he was about to latch it, and the collar pulled too tight; the buckle cinching his neck uncomfortably for a moment, until it seemed to relax…though everything felt so…strange all of a sudden. Dingo let him go, assuming he would be under control now that the collar was on him, and Chance stumbled slightly, the room a bit…off kilter.

“Now look at what you went and made me do, pup–got the collar on too tight. Oh well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose. Now, are you going to be a good boy for me and officer Dingo here?”

At the words good boy, Chance moaned slightly, and felt his cock tent in the front of his slacks. “I…What the fuck is this thing?” He said, his hands going for the collar, but Geoff grabbed them before they could start testing the latch.

“Now now, good boys leave their collar right where it belongs, don’t they?”

Chance moaned again, and found himself nodding along. It…did feel good, to be a good boy, and if he wanted to be a good boy, the collar needed to stay on…didn’t it? He knew the logic didn’t make any sense, that he should be fighting this, but he nodded anyway. He was going to have to play along with this, if he wanted to get out of this mess–that, and he was going to have to try and get Angus to come to his senses, if he wasn’t already too far gone. He looked at the badger in front of him, and was a bit…confused. Before, he’d been taller than him by quite a few inches, but now, he was…taller? He looked around, over at Angus near them, and found he had to crane his neck up quite a bit to see him. “Did…did you get taller?”

“Nope, you got shorter,” Geoff said, “These collars of mine have quite a few tricks–but it only goes one way. Dingo there–he could get bigger, if I want, but you, since it tightened once, you can only get smaller now. Still, that’s not a bad thing, is it? I don’t think so–the two of you will be kind of cute together on the force, big Dingo and little…well, we don’t have a name for you yet, do we?”

The Badger stroked the side of Chance’ face with one of his claws, and he flinched away–though he felt and doing so, because he knew it would make the badger–Master, his head wanted to call him–mad, but Geoff just laughed. “Yeah, you have some fire in you–more than your sorry husband had–he rolled over for me right away, that one, was begging me for more not two days later. How about…Demon? I think that will be a good name for a fiery guy like you. I can already tell you’re going to be a bad boy. That’s ok–breaking bad pups is more fun anyway. Now, be a good boy, get down on your knees, and suck Dingo’s cock–why don’t you see what your husband has been hiding from you all week? He’s eager to show you now, trust me.”

The badger pressed down on Chance’ shoulders, forcing him to his knees, and Dingo–Angus, Chance had to keep telling himself, reminding himself that his husband was trapped somewhere in that fat dog’s body– bellied up to him, his paws already clawing open the fly of his uniform pants, while his tongue lolled out of his maw, drooling with excitement. Angus had been weird, ever since that traffic stop, and Chance realized that not once had he seen his husband completely naked–something which he would have noticed, if he hadn’t been busy. Now, the cock he was looking at was nothing like Angus’s cock had been, the angry red color, slick from the sheath it had emerged from. He shut his lips tight, fighting against the collar and the badger’s commands as hard as he could, determined not to give into this.

“Now pup, come on, open up,” the badger said, gripping Chance’ jaw in his hand, and squeezing the sides of his mouth until he had to open them. Dingo took advantage of the opening, and forced his cock into Chance’ mouth–it tasted…foul to him, but Dingo and Geoff weren’t about to let Chance off now that he’d opened up. Dingo wrapped both paws around the back of Chance’ head and started fucking him deeper, while the badger got down close, whispering into Chance ear how good it felt to be a good boy, how nice his partner’s cock tasted, how horny he was, being a good, cocksucking pup. As hard as Chance tried to resist it, the words were worming their way into his mind all the same, lulling him, and he fought a bit less, his hands finding their way around Dingo’s thick thighs, pulling the big mutt into him–just a little at first, but then more. He…he wanted his cock. He loved sucking cock, after all. He was…he was a good boy…yeah, a real good boy…

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Parts 1 & 2)

Chance had been trying not to panic. Angus had told him he was getting drinks with a friend and that he might be out late, which was usually code for Angus hooking up with someone. It didn’t bother Chance necessarily, though he always liked to know where he was going and who he was meeting. He’d asked for details, and Chance had sent him the name of a bar he didn’t know well…but none of that was really cause to worry. He made dinner, but Angus didn’t show, so he ate by himself and put the rest in the fridge for him when he got home. The evening wore on into night, and Chance found himself checking his phone every few minutes, resisting the urge to text him, and when he finally did…he got no response. Not even a read notification from him. Still, he’d have to check it at some point, right?

Chance had gotten ready for bed and laid down, but couldn’t stop checking his phone, and certainly couldn’t get to sleep not knowing what was going on. He ended up going downstairs for a snack and to watch some TV. It was after midnight when he finally dozed off, and his alarm went off for work at six the next morning…and Angus still wasn’t home, and he still hadn’t received any word back from him.

There had to be a rational explanation right? This…wasn’t normal behavior, but Angus had been behaving a bit…oddly for the last few days, ever since that embarrassing stop by that cop. Chance had…an inkling of what might have happened between his husband and the cop that night, while they’d spent a few minutes back behind the car, but he hadn’t really wanted to believe it had actually happened. Was there something else going on entirely, that Chance didn’t know about? Angus had, on rare occasion, slept over with someone he hooked up with. Most likely he had gotten too drunk to drive, and maybe too drunk to remember to text him, and he’d ended up sleeping over on accident. Still, even if the explanation was reasonable, it didn’t do much to settle the anxiety brewing in his gut.

He got ready for work, expecting and hoping that Angus would burst in and everything would be fine. Chance would be…angry, sure, but mostly, he just wanted to know that he was safe. He never appeared, and Chance left him a note, and then went to work. He couldn’t focus though. He kept checking his phone, kept trying to call and message, but now…now his texts and calls didn’t even seem to be getting through, like Angus’s phone was in airplane mode, or dead. He ended up taking a break and calling the office here Angus worked–but no one there had seen or heard from him either–which was very unlike him. Chance told his manager he needed to leave to take care of an emergency–which he was very much hoping it wasn’t, went home, but Angus still wasn’t there…and so, he called the police.

The operator he spoke to was very empathetic, but told him that the police didn’t open a missing persons investigation until someone had been missing for 48 hours. In the meantime, she told Chance to call the last place he knew he’d been–and gently suggested calling local hospitals, and asking about any recent admissions without ID. Chance couldn’t even begin to think about what that might mean, and so he found the number for the bar Angus had texted him and called them, wondering if they had seen him. To his surprise, no one remembered him, or anyone like him, visiting. He had them check for a purchase with their shared cards, but there was no record of any transaction. Had Angus lied to him? If he had…then why?

He put off calling hospitals for a few more hours, but did eventually, mostly because the anxiety of not knowing was worse than the most dire possibility. He didn’t know whether he should be happy or not, when none of the hospitals in the city turned up any record of Angus being admitted, or of any John Doe’s matching his description. It was like he had just…vanished. Had he left? Why would he leave? Why would he want to leave and make Chance this miserable? None of it made any sense, but there was nothing else that he could do, aside from wait.

The knock on his door surprised him, but he rushed for it anyway. Any news was good news at this point, at least he would know. He flung open the door, but it wasn’t Angus, even though that wouldn’t have made any sense. Instead, he found himself looking at two police officers in uniform. In front was a short, stocky badger, smiling at him, and behind him was a nearly seven foot tall, massive, dog. He too as smiling, but he didn’t seem…nearly as nice as the shorter badger–if anything, it was…menacing. “Hello, we’re here about a possible missing person,” the badger said, “Do you mind if we come in?”

Chance stepped aside and the two officers entered, and he was relieved that someone was doing something at least…though it was odd all the same. “I…I thought the police couldn’t do anything until after 48 hours? That’s what the operator told me when I called.”

The badger nodded, “Well, there have been a few…incidents, similar to this one lately. I wanted to investigate it early, before…well, I can’t really provide details about ongoing investigations, but time is of the essence in these cases.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help.”

The hefty dog didn’t say anything, just sniffed around a bit, looking…slightly confused. Chance noticed he had on a collar, which was odd. Most dogs didn’t wear collars–it tended to send the wrong sort of message. In fact, there was something else odd about this. He had given the operator his name and phone number–but he couldn’t recall giving her his address. He must have though–how else would the officers have found him? Now that he thought about it again, he must have. That was the only thing that made sense after all, and he wasn’t exactly sure of whether he was coming or going at the moment, anyway, to be sure of, well, anything.

The badger sat him down in the living room, and started asking him what seemed like fairly normal questions. Where Angus worked, whether he’d had plans the night before, whether he had any hobbies, anything that he might be doing. Chance answered honestly…but the questions seemed a bit…general, somehow. Every time he tried to give him details about how Angus had been acting oddly, or about the bar he’d told him about, the badger didn’t seem interested in those parts of the story at all. At the same time, the badger sitting in front of him seemed…familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t quite place him. It was after the interview had been going for a little while, that Chance had an epiphany–the badger in front of him was the same badger who had stopped him and Angus a few nights ago, on their way home from the city.

Was it a coincidence? Maybe it was…but why would a cop be out patrolling the highway late at night one day, and investigating missing people the next? It didn’t make sense. The badger’s partner was a bit…off putting as well. He kept nosing around the room, sniffing things out, but he still hadn’t said a word since stepping in the door. As the questions became more personal, asking about Angus’s family, asking about Chance’ family–which didn’t have anything to do with Angus being missing–and he finally asked the badger for his name and badge number. The badger just smiled, gave a whistle, and before Chance could do anything, the dog had rushed over, planted his thick paws on Chance’s shoulders, and had him pinned to the chair he was sitting on.

“Good boy,” the badger said, “Thankfully, you were slow enough to catch on that I got more than enough information for my purposes. That means we can skip right to the fun.” He stood up, slid one paw into his pocket, and pulled out a leather collar, similar to the one the dog looming over him had on. “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure, Chance–your husband isn’t missing. He’s right behind you.”

Chance looked at the badger, and then up at the rough dog above him, confused. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Well, on Saturday, when I pulled the two of you over, Chance…really did not want to go to jail that night, so I offered him a trade of sorts–suck my cock, and I could look the other way…but you probably knew about that, didn’t you? You don’t seem surprised by it. Did you tell that husband of yours what you did Dingo?”

The big dog shook his head, “No sir, I…I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Aww, were you embarrassed Dingo? Didn’t what your husband finding out how much more you like sucking my cock than his?”

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t know what fucking kind of joke this is, or if he’s in on it, but fuck you. Where’s my fucking husband?” Chance said. He tried to force his way up, but the dog leaned over further, pressing him back down, and he felt a blob of drool land on the top of his head.

“I already told you–he’s right there,” the badger said, fished around in his pocket again, and this time came up with Angus’s phone–and his wallet. “Looks like you’ve been messaging him plenty, lots of missed calls. I would have set up a rendevouz elsewhere, but he forgot his passcode, didn’t you Dingo?”

“Sorry sir,” Dingo said.

“He’s not too bright, that man of yours–good thing he’s got so much else going for him.”

“This isn’t fucking possible,” Chance said, “Look–if this is some…prank, or if I fucked up, just…just have Angus come out already, this isn’t fucking funny, alright?”

“Well, I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised that you don’t recognize him, but that’s the magic of the collar I suppose. He’s so much better as a good boy, than he ever was as a man, right Dingo?”

“Yes sir!” the dog said, “I’d much rather be master’s good boy, sir.”

“What do you think, Dingo, think this one-time husband of yours might make a good pup too?”

Dingo nodded, flinging more drool around, and Chance realized the thing pushing into the back of his neck was the dingo’s erect cock. He tried again to get up, but Dingo gripped him harder, digging his claws in enough to poke Chance through the shirt he was wearing, while the badger approached, collar between his claws, the grin on his face even wider, as Chance tried to pull away from him.

“Now now, don’t fight–you’ll feel so much better soon enough. If you’re a real good boy, I might let you top that husband of yours later, would you like that? Or were you usually the one getting topped, I wonder? That’s probably more likely–that blow job of his was pretty lackluster before I slipped his collar on him back there behind the car. After that…well, he was plenty eager, just like you’ll be I bet.”

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 6 (Part 4)

He had known of me then, apparently. He had been hunting in the city (or rather, he had hunted, and been in the midst or releasing Ray, warping him into the muscular beast we had later found in that shipping container, when he caught wind of me–literally. It had puzzled him…because it wasn’t a smell he had ever experienced before, the same darkness inside him within another. According to Cumster, we had talked at some point–though the bruiser could, apparently, appear rather unassuming when he wanted to. I don’t know when this was, and Cumster didn’t know enough to help me pin down the timeline. In any case, he had figured out that the beast inside me was dormant–and what he needed was someone to help me get loose. He couldn’t risk doing it himself, and he had other projects that needed tending to. So instead, be decided to stage something…more public than he usually did, to draw me in, and then he would send me Cumster, as a gift–though Cumster didn’t know that.

Cumster, apparently, thought he was helping Master soften me up for an unleashing, as he called them. That I was just a particular target of interest, and Cumster was so eager to be of service to his Master, that he hadn’t bothered questioning why he would need help at all. But I knew why he was here–wmy my kin had chosen this one, in particular, to send to me–and I also understood what I had seen earlier, in the restaurant, and why he needed me–or why we would need each other.

Unleashing someone’s inner drives was a messy business. Some people weren’t capable of handling the process at all–the shell was too weak, without enough to sustain the transformation. If he had tried to give Marcus, or Bernard, what they desired, they wouldn’t live through that first proper beating. Perhaps abandoning them was merciful, or perhaps it was crueler than death would be, and that was why he did it. He, after all, wasn’t someone who took feelings into account, when it came to doing his work. Likely he just didn’t see the point in continuing something that would go unfulfilled. But for those who emerged on the other side–like Cumster, or Ray–the desires that grew might appear human, but they were never quite…properly mortal. See Cumster, and his diet, or Ray and his musk. Close enough to pass, but look closer, and the tangle could be seen, plain as day. And sometimes, the human was shed altogether, and you find yourself with a proper abomination, like the thing in the abandoned restaurant. Desire, without order, was always monstrous (though the law can be just as monstrous too, in i’s…proper application). The bruiser could only free; he could never bind or confine. No–that was my bailiwick now. I could have finished it earlier–I should have finished it earlier, but without my skin, I hadn’t…known what my real work was, and it had escaped. I would have to remedy that, before anything else–before I could properly appreciate my gift from my kin. Still, I could at least take the time to bind him properly–a single handcuff would no longer suffice.

I broke the chain, when Cumster finished speaking, when he had poured out everything he knew–even things I don’t think he was aware that he knew. He seemed exhausted from the effort, from trying to fight my orders, and when I uncuffed him, brushing my finger against the lock, the bracelets falling away at once, and for a short moment he thought he would be free. I disabused him of that notion quickly. I took great care, in how I secured him–on his knees, hands bound to his sides, mouth forced wide by my straps of skin, his head forced back and attached to the wall, ready to begin receiving the law, ready for me to begin shaping that unruly mass of ivy into something far more…orderly. My cock was the same dark, brusied shade as the rest of me, but much, much longer than it had been before, easily a foot and a half. As I felt my need boiling up, I realized I could control it, much like a snake, or a tail, the head sliding around Cumster’s chapped lips before worming down into him, sliding down his throat, feeling even his experienced body gag at the intrusion, until I was planted deep, and began to thrust, fucking his throat, feeling my cum begin to pump and flow right into his guts. He shivered. I imagine, it felt cold, and harsh, sitting in his belly like mercury, slowly leeching out into the rest of his body. I imagine it felt like death–not like the death of Steven, which had been a death full of vitality, and pain, and heat. More like a drowning. Feeling his mind swallowed up in the chill of my law, his senses deadening, his sense of self diminishing bit by bit. I filled him up, the pleasure…so strong, that all I wanted to do was keep pumping until he was bursting with me, but I held back, withdrew, and allowed him to stew with that. There would be time for more, later, and my cock retracted into the sheath that had formed along my belly. For now, there were beasts that needed my law more than he did.

I left then, leaving the three of them bound, knowing I would deal with them all in turn, once my task was through. Listening to Cumster’s tale had cost me several hours of time, and the city was large…but like before, in the restaurant, when I could feel that disorder all around me when the thing was near, I could still feel it on the air…but it was stronger than it had been. Obviously, after escaping the restaurant, it had found a different feeding ground, and likely other victims to its desires. It was strong enough to make the hunt easy, however, and so I set off to find it, eager to dance with it again–and this time, I knew I would conquer it, and bring it under the sway of my law.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 6 (Part 2)

It slid onto me, and I tried to see it as my uniform, tried to find the creases and patches, the buttons and seams, but the surface was alien to me, and as it conformed to my flesh, it began to shift and change further. My skin…like a bruise, all over, until it was no longer a pink, or the dark navy of the cured skin, but rather something purple and red, the hairs pushing their ways through, my hands still black, but the fingers too long, the nails nearly claws. I could feel it climbing up my neck towards my face, but it stopped before overtaking me entirely. Instead, I could see dark veins running up into my cheeks and neck, like an infection, but I felt stronger than I had earlier in the restaurant, I felt complete. That, and my eyes. They were black–entirely black, and yet I felt like I could see everything.

All my life, ever since I was a child, I had felt…two things, but I had never understood them as things until that moment. On one hand, a darkness. It had clung to me for as long as I could remember. At times, it manifested as someone else. An imaginary friend, or someone I saw in dreams. I was convinced it couldn’t exist, and so, it didn’t, but it had clung to me all the same. Tied to that darkness, was an anger, or a longing, or a hole I longed to fill, but not a hole in me, but holes in the world around me. People…doing wrong, doing ill. Or at least, it was tied to right and wrong in me, but now I see that was far too simplistic of a notion. It wasn’t morality that I wanted to fix, it was them! It was them that was wrong! There were rules, and laws…my rules and laws, they ought to have obeyed me, all of them, always, and if I had just listened earlier, if I had just listened.

I don’t look human, anymore. I think…I could, if I tried, if I…focused, but it feels too good, being together again, that I don’t want to, not yet. It feels better to be me at last, to remember everything that I am, and everything that I can do, to be able to hear myself fully at long last, to hear the law, feel it thrumming inside me. It was then, with my skin on, that I felt confident enough to confront whoever it was who had invaded my house. I checked the upper floors first, but nothing seemed to be missing or out of place. The same with the ground floor–though when Jules saw me, in the kitchen…he began to scream through the leather gag I had forced around his mouth. I ignored him–I’d brought him back to get information from him, to try and find the rapist, but I realized, with my skin on…that I could feel him, because we were the same. The same kind.

But he had claimed Jules, or rather, Jules had been claimed by one of his disciples, and so he wasn’t mine to have…though I could imagine plenty that I could do him. Still, any information he would have was rather unimportant–there were bigger questions I needed answers to now, and I imagined it was time to get them from the one person I knew who had them.

At the basement steps, I heard the moans coming from below, and realized what must have happened. My prisoner must have taken care of the intruder on his own. I stepped down into the basement, and saw what I began with–Marcus, on his knees in front of Cumster, licking at the biker’s cock where he was still handcuffed to the pipe on the wall, naked. Marcus’s balls were…engorged, much as mine had become, but then, that was what Cumster did, and he did it well. Such…a simple creature. I could see now, deeper inside him, how that singular drive had been nurtured and grown to eclipse all else inside him, like ivy choking out a tree until all you could see were vines. Overgrown, though. In need of a pruning, and a shaping. In need of law.

Marcus, I could understand him better as well, and Bernard too–what kind they were. The drive was there, but the material was lacking. A brick of clay that desired to become a sword. There was no helping men like this–they couldn’t sustain the form of what they most desired, and so there was nothing the bruiser could do for them. They lacked a solid will, and with no where for it to live, no law could shape them, and so there was little that I could do either. This, in some ways, was the closest they could get–well, there were things I could do to alleviate the misery, I realized, and perhaps it would be a kindness, in the end. After all, what kind of life could there be, knowing you had been rejected by us? Finding out that, after all of your searching and desperation, that your nature was such that you had failed before you had even begun to live? It was no wonder, they searched for him after he abandoned them (I don’t blame him for abandoning them, for no amount of explaining, no words can really articulate the loss, and the sorrow we feel as well) because how could you get so close, how could you think you had finally found your salvation, the hammer to shape you on the anvil of punishment, only to be tossed away for imperfections you couldn’t help? I do hope Bernard found some solace in a Master, somewhere. Marcus, in the end, had to be helped in other ways.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 7)

Damn it, he’d been sleeping hard too. As much as Logan enjoyed these treks with his brother and nephews, he had to admit that it was hard getting a decent sleep at the various tiny motels and campgrounds were they had been staying, especially as he was getting older. Howard–he’d only turned fifty-five last year, but Logan had just turned sixty-one, and he felt every damn year in his back right now. He didn’t know how Howard did it, keeping up with these two boys. Two weeks was plenty for him, and he wanted to strangle one, or both. The eternal bachelor, Logan had dated serially for a couple of decades, until he was about fourty, and then he’d resigned himself to the fact that he much preferred his own company to anyone else–particularly women. It wasn’t that he wasn’t straight by any means. No, Logan took several trips a year to Vegas where he had a few paid relationships with women of his choosing, but the thought of settling down just seemed exhausting. Sure, he felt a paternal desire every once in a while, but these road trips were generally enough to sate it, squash it, or a bit of both.

He resettled himself in the back of the van, wondering what exactly Tyler had been so upset about. The kid usually had a pretty level head on him–maybe not as level as his older brother, but they were both good, solid kids. But he’d seemed…genuinely scared of something, but who knew what, exactly. It wasn’t like he scared easily either, so maybe there really was something going on out there. He sat up in the van, in time to see some big, fat trailer trash looking fellow come out of the building with a case of beer under his arm. He walked over to the tow truck parked beside them and put the beer inside, and then did the strangest thing–he sniffed the air a few times, licked his lips, and headed back towards the station, this time going around the side, where Tyler said Dave had gone, and where he assumed Tyler had followed. Still, everything was probaby fine, he supposed–untl he saw that burly redneck along with another, younger version of him proping Tyler between them…and Tyler looked like he was stoned or something. He crawled forward in the van, expecting them to bring his nephew there, but instead they kept going to the tow truck, where they shoved Tyler into the cab.

Ok, so something was definitely wrong. He threw open the door and got out of the car, and said, “Hey! What the hell are you doing with my nephew?”

The two rednecks looked over at him, and the younger one said, “Don’’ fuckin’ worry ‘bout it man–ya should probably be worryin’ ‘bout yourself, anyway.”

“Tyler? Tyler!” He shouted, “Get the hell out of there!”

The big redneck slammed the tow truck’s door shut, and he could see Tyler looking at him from inside, his face still slack and confused, but why wasn’t he trying to get away or anything? Logan rushed the two as fast as his old body would let him, hoping to get past them to the door, but he lost his momentum as soon as he got a good whiff of them–they stank to high heaven, he didn’t think he’d ever smelled anyone as foul before, and he came up short, eyes streaming tears, nose on fire, and so the big redneck’s windup punch to his jaw caught him completely off guard, sending him stumbling back and down onto his ass, coughing and sputtering and trying to recover his footing and get that awful funk out of his nose.

“Damn, nice punch, Pa,”

“Thanks son–now let’s git the hell out a here ‘fore he git’s up.”

The son ran around the truck and got in the passenger side, his dad crammed himself behind the wheel–Tyler squished between them. The engine rumbled to life just as Logan got his footing back, stumbling slightly, and before he could think twice about it, he rushed the truck and threw himself onto the back, clinging to the winch equipment for dear life as the tires squealed, caught the rough asphalt, and the truck flew off down the road with Logan clutching on like a feeble barnacle.

He knew this was suicidal–what the hell had he been thinking? He sure as hell couldn’t do anything about it now, though, the truck rocketing through the night along the highway. It felt like they were going a hundred miles an hour, even though he knew that couldn’t be true, and after half an hour his fingers were beginning to tire, he was shivering in the wind, and was happy to see they were finally entering something like a town. He managed to hang onto the side until the truck took a sudden right turn, and he finally lost his grip, tumbling out into the middle of the deserted road. He picked himself up, terrified someone might hit him, and also that he might lose them. He got onto the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the one working taillight the tow truck still had, as it banked hard again a quarter mile down the road, making another right.

Logan hustled as best he could, but the pain was finally catching up to him–both the punch he’d taken earlier to his face, which felt like it was twice the size as usual, and from the fall off the truck. he scraped one arm up pretty well, but there wasn’t any serious damage, he hoped. He could move everything still, if nothing else. He finally reached the spot where he thought the truck had turned, and found himself at the entrance to a trailer park called “Louisiana Acres.” It was all he really had to go on, and so he limped in–if he couldn’t find the tow truck here…well, then he’d have to figure out something else, he supposed.

The Kingston County Line (Part 2)

Yesterday went to hell, so here’s a double length post to make up for it!

He knew the answer to his own question as he looked them up and down–these guys were doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. All three of them were probably in their midthirties, more in shape than out, and wide, square shoulders, and none shorter than six foot three. What in the hell was he doing even asking guys like this a question like that? The one the attendant had called Butch, the biggest, and meanest looking of the three, his body so thickly coated with tattoos even his face had thick blocks and swirls of black on his cheeks and forehead, pulled a dark leaf, near black cigar from the pocket of his worn leather vest, a lighter from the other, and took a moment to light it, puffing it to life with an odd gentleness. How long since he’d seen someone smoke indoors in a place like this? Decades? It was such a strange sight, that it was almost comical to him, and the joker in him blurted out, “I don’t think you can smoke in here,” and immediately regretted it.

“Definitely new around here,” Butch mumbled with a chuckle, and then stared Howard down, “I think you’ll figure out soon enough that, here in Kingsford, we can smoke wherever the fuck we want to, bitch.”

Howard tried to retort, but his throat was frozen shut, his eyes unable to look away from Butch’s. He heard Doug let out a despairing moan, “Aww come on! You know he should be mine! Let me have him, ya’ll don’t have to be so damn greedy! Besides, I know you came in here for my fat ass, Butch, don’t tell me you aren’t gonna give me a good reaming now just cause someone new came in the door!”

“Slim, smack Dougy for me,” Butch said without breaking eye contact, and one of the bikers–neither of which was at all slim, turned and slapped the attendant hard across the face, dark chewing tobacco spittle flying from his mouth. “Thanks, Slim.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“Dougy, you can watch if you fuckin’ want, I guess, but I sure as hell don’t want your ass now, none of us want your nasty, loose hole, you’re just fuckin’ easy, and you know it. No, not when we have someone new inside the county line,” Butch stepped closer, puffing on his cigar, until he was toe to toe with Howard, and then took the cigar from his mouth, leaned down until he less than an inch from his face, and exhaled a thick plume of dark grey smoke right at him.

He didn’t want to breathe in, but the sudden surprise made him jolt and inhale anyway, pulling the rank smoke into his lungs…but more than that. He felt the soot stick to his face, to his eyes, cloud up his mind. He swayed on his feet, as Butch took a second deep drag off his cigar, and again leaned in, but this time he was ready–Howard…opened his mouth, allowing Butch to lock their mouths together, feeding him the smoke directly into his lungs, the two of them sharing smoke even as Butch ran his knife down his bare arms, making Howard shiver, before using it to cut the buttons from his shirt, one by one until it opened up, revealing his hairy belly beneath. At this point, Howard wasn’t thinking anything at all, his eyes blank and staring into the middle distance, jaw slack, but more than happy to take another load of smoke when Butch fed it to him, while he undid the fly of Howard’s jeans and pushed them down, helping him shrug off his now buttonless shirt, the father now naked aside from the tennis shoes. His cock was rigid, but Butch had no interest in that–he spun him around, bent him over at the waist, and got down on his knees, taking another drag off his cigar, this time spreading apart Howard’s ass, and pushing the hot, acrid smoke right into his ass.

The effect was immediate–his hole loosening, but more than that–a strange, desperation pushed it’s way into his hazy mind. Though Howard had never once in his life entertained being with another man, suddenly, the only thing he needed, more than anything else, was a cock buried deep in his ass. Howard kept feeding him smoke, four or five more loads, and each time he didn’t believe the desperation could grow, but it did all the same. By the third lungful of smoke, he heard himself begging, almost outside of his body, pleading with the bikers to fuck him, to rape him, all of them, that he needed their cum, he needed their smoke, he needed them all inside him, all at once, if possible. When he needed a fuck so bad he was nearly sobbing, Butch finally decided he was ready, lined up his thick, nine inch cock, and slipped it inside Howard’s now welcoming ass, teasing him, holding his hips tight in his gloved hands to keep the older man from impaling himself on it, making him quiver and beg for every inch, until Butch was nestled in deep.

“First of many, bitch, first of so fucking many, don’t you worry,” Butch said to the quivering man, “Now, tell me, how much do you want my brothers’ cocks shoved down that hungry throat of yours? How bad do you need them to rape your throat rough and hard?”

“So…so badly, more than I’ve needed anything, other than how much I need you inside me right…right now.”

“That’s good–because their cocks deserved to be worshiped, don’t they? Look at them, think about me. We’re the only kind of men you desire. Rough, violent, willing and happy to treat a desperate pigwhore like you how you deserve to be treated. The only people who can give you, what you know, in your heart, you need, and deserve. Men like us, we deserve to be worshiped, deserve your service, isn’t that right?”

“Yes…yes sir, fuck, they’re so…you’re all the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen, please, please let me serve you, please give me your cocks, I need them, I want…I want to give you pleasure, do whatever you want to me, use me however you want, just…just please…please.”

Slim and Leon, the third biker, were more than happy to give the pig what he was asking for. Both of them released their own cocks from their greasy jeans–Leon’s was a more modest five, but heavily pierced, with a thick gauge PA and a jacobs ladder, while Slim’s was ten inches and again, hardly slim, with a meaty foreskin. Howard didn’t know where to start–he hopped from each cock, back and forth with Butch started fucking him, drawing his cock all the way out before slamming back inside him with enough force to impale his face on whatever cock had his attention at the moment. And inside his head, Howard scrambled for any kind of foothold he could find. What was he doing? These…these men were raping him, and he was just going to let it happen? No, he wasn;t just letting it happen, he wanted it to happen. He wanted them to be even rougher, he wanted it, he needed it. How could he have not known this about himself? How was he just discovering this part of him? It felt…it felt like that smoke–it had been more than smoke. It had planted something inside of him, something that was growing…or festering. Butch came inside him, and he felt that…thing, it latched onto him, wrapping itself deeper into him, watered with the cum filling his bowels. Butch pulled out, motioned to Slim, and the massive man took his place, burying his even larger cock in to the hilt.

Butch had been gentle, compared to Slim. Even as loose and pliable as he’d become, he still groaned and moaned in pain, even as he tried to focus on worshiping the cocks in front of him, cleaning his own filth from Butch’s tool, tasting his own humiliation. It was then that he realized that his own cock had been wrapped around his own cock this whole time, and he’d already cum once–he hadn’t noticed because the force and pleasure of his own orgasm hadn’t compared at all to the pleasure of his service at the cocks of these rough, abusive bikers, these gods, as he was coming to see them now. His gods.

“D-Dad? Dad!”

Some small fragment of whatever spell was holding him snapped, and Howard flung his head away from the cocks, and found himself staring at Jeremy, his son, who must have come in to look for him, when he hadn’t returned to fill up the car.

Did I fucking tell you that you could stop?” Butch asked, grabbed Howard by the iar and yanked his face back around, cheeks burning as he continued nursing the head of Butch’s cock, tasting the last bit of cum dribbling from his balls. “Looks like it’s your fucking lucky day Doug, we have a two for one.”

Jeremy pulled his eyes away from the disgusting scene of his father’s willing rape, and looked to where Butch had turned, finding himself staring at the gas station attendant behind the counter. He had hefted his huge gut up onto the glass surface, like a shelf, and squatted down so he could access his puny cock buried there in the folds–it was one of the only ways he could reach it at his size. The young man, however, found his eyes locked to something else–the massive man’s undulating belly, as he jacked his cock. It was…it was huge. Jeremy had never even seen anything like it in his life, and…and suddenly, what he wanted more than anything else, was to just stare at it. Or…or even touch it. It was only after he’d registered that as a thought, that he realized he was walking forward, past the bikers fucking his father at both ends and around behind the counter, where he found himself grabbing onto Doug’s flab, shaking it, watching and feeling it jiggle against him. Doug pulled off his uniform, revealing his monstrous upper body, smooth aside from a moderately thick trail running the impossibly long distance from belly to chest, and he got down, yanked down Jeremy’s shorts before he could do anything about it, and began slathering it from root to tip with his dark spit.

It was like a jolt of caffeine shot directly into his bloodstream. Suddenly, Jeremy was so aware of everything occurring around his cock, that he was completely unaware of anything else. He began thrusting his cock into Doug’s fat mouth–awkwardly, but the fat man knew how to handle strangers fairly well–he’d certainly seen his fair share of them, since this was usually their first stop in Kingsford County, and he took the opportunity to lick his black slobber all over Jeremy’s balls as well, which only intensified his need. When he pulled away, Jeremy didn’t even really notice–he simply kept fucking the air, completely unaware of what was going on around him as Doug dropped his pants to the floor, bent over in front of him, and helped guide the young man’s cock into his hole, where Doug needed it most. All it took was that first deep thrust, and Doug let out a loud, long moan, his balls pumping a huge load of cum across the seat of the chair where he’d been sitting.

“Fuck yeah! That’s what I’m fuckin’ lookin’ for. You love pounding a fucking hole, don’t you boy? Best fuckin’ feeling in the whole goddman world, ain’t it? Go on, show me how much you love it, give it to me like Slim’s giving it to that pig!”

Jeremy shot his first load after about a minute, but Doug coaxed him to keep going, that no young stud like him was satisfied with just one load in a fat hole like his. So Jeremy just kept going, his mind still on a livewire as he fucked, no longer even caring that his father was still getting reamed by the bikers feet away from him. Slim had finally finished, leaving Leon to pick up sloppy third, grumbling about the fact that he had to go last, now that Slim had stretched the hole to “fuckin’ oblivion,” as he said. Butch told him that if he didn’t want it, he could just skip his turn entirely, but Leon still wanted to cum. Jeremy shot again, but still couldn’t bring himself to stop, and was close to his third load when another face came around the corner–a filthy looking chubby hick, smoking a short, thick cigar, who surveyed the scene with mild interest before turning to Doug.

“Ah see yer a bit busy. I’ll git what Ah need ‘n leave cash on the counter?”

“Fuck-Fuckin’ fine, Pa, whatever.”

The man browsed the beer for a bit, settled on a cheap twenty-four pack, left a few bills on the counter and left with the beer under his arm like nothing strange was happening at all. It wasn’t too much longer after that, when Leon finally finished up, and pulled out of Howard’s hole.

“Good job, pig,” Butch said, patting him on the head. Now get down there and clean up that cum of yours you shot everywhere like a good pig, got it? Come on boys, let’s see what we have outside, and then we can round up the rest of the gang for a roadside pickup, eh?”

“Sounds good to me, Butch.”

“Fuck, everyone’s gonna be so fuckin’ happy to have another pig around here.”

Police Dogs: Episode 1 (Part 2)

Was he really suggesting what Angus thought he was suggesting? It wasn’t a…terrible suggestion, he supposed, and Chance would probably understand, right? It was better than paying thousands of dollars in fees, and maybe even jail time–and losing his job in the process. “I…I can help you out with whatever you need, officer.”

“That’s just Sir, to you, mutt.”

“Yes sir.”

“Turn around, and get on your knees.”

Angus was thankful that Chance couldn’t see this, at least, given they were behind the car in the dark. In all honesty, Angus was usually the one who was the top in the bedroom, but something about this situation was actually turning him on a bit as well. He carefully got down on his knees, looking up at the badger now, and had to admit he was quite handsome. Muscular and thick, despite his somewhat short stature, and with a thick gut, broad chest, and muscular, furry arms. The cop gripped the flashlight in his snout, undid his fly, and let his cock–just as short and thick as the rest of him, poke out. “Well come on then, get to it–and if you can’t do the job, maybe we’ll see if that husband of yours can do better.”

Angus did the best he knew how to do, though he wasn’t exactly enjoying it–and he hoped that Chance wouldn’t get brave, suddenly, and decide to see what was going on back here–if he couldn’t hear anyway, through the still open from window. Occasionally, a car would fly past them, and he would tense, the badger giving him a smack or poking his claws into the back of his neck, to encourage him to focus. “Come on now, be a good boy–the faster you work, the less likely anyone is going to see you.”

So Angus focused, and found a rhythm, while the badger slid one of his hands into a pocket of his pants. He slipped one of his favorite toys into work with him, because he’d had a feeling, as he usually did, that he might get a chance to have some fun tonight–and this was turning out to be quite a bit of fun. The man was already eager, and plenty willing to obey–but he’d be a proper good boy in no time–and so would that cute husband of his, too.

Before Angus noticed anything at all, the badger bent over, wrapped a strap of leather around his neck, and secured it in the back. Angus tried to yank away, but…didn’t. Instead, he felt an odd sense of pleasure numbing his mind–not unlike being a bit too drunk, but also quite a bit different. “Yeah, you’re going to be a very good boy from now on, won’t you?”

The words “good boy” lit something up in Angus’s brain this time, that it hadn’t done before. A direct, hot ,erotic pleasure and ride at doing what his Master told him to do, and doing it well…but he shouldn’t be feeling that, should he? He focused on sucking the badger’s cock instead, hoping that when he was finished, he would take it off of him…but did he want it to come off, really? It felt kind of comfortable, actually…like it belonged around his neck, and it made him feel good to wear it, didn’t it? Showing it off, letting everyone know that…that he was owned? He felt his cock straining the front of his jeans, but with his wrists secured behind him, all he could do was thrust forward–that, and leak profusely into his underwear.

“Guess somebody likes being a good boy,” the badger said, “That make you feel good, mutt? Sucking your master’s cock?”

“Yes sir,” Angus said, still stoking.

The badger didn’t last long after that, and he filled Angus’s mouth with a load of cum, and told him one more time that he was a very good boy, and that pushed Angus over the edge. He felt his cum spill out into his underwear, soaking the front of his pants as he panted, licking his lips of the badger’s cum, feeling proud at having done a good job like a good boy should. He looked up at the badger looming over him. He…wanted more. Wanted to keep being a good boy for him.

“I figured you’d just need a little motivation,” the badger said, reached down, and unhooked the collar from around Angus’s neck. As soon as it came lose, that feeling of eager devotion melted away into a deep, horrific shame. Had he really just done that? Sucked off a police officer on the side of the road, and enjoyed it? The badger hauled him up to his feet, turned him around, and unlocked the cuffs from his wrists. “Now that you’ve sobered up a bit, you should be good to go, right?”

Angus nodded..

“I couldn’t hear you, boy,”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good–you have a nice mouth. Not sure what your arrangement is with that hubby of yours, but if you want to be my good boy some more, here–” he fished a card out of his pocket, and handed it down to Angus, who took it, and wishing he didn’t want it as much as he did.

Angus got back up, went around the car, and got back in. “Are…are we free to go?” Chance asked.

“Yeah–I took care of it.”

Chance didn’t want to ask, and Angus didn’t really feel like talking about it. He drove very carefully the rest of the way home, still feeling how wet the front of his slacks were slick with his own cum, and still tasting the badger’s on his breath. Could Chance tell? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to offer any details. They got home. Chance stumbled in first, and Angus followed behind him, heading right for the bedroom so he could strip out of his soiled clothes, while Chance went into the bathroom. Angus hadn’t cum that hard in…well, a very long time. He dropped his pants and then his underwear–and when he looked down, he had to muffle a cry of surprise.

House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 12)

They made their way to the basement, Raury going down first, carefully down the stairs, since he couldn’t quite see them anymore, and he wasn’t even at the bottom of the steps before Eric was there, throwing his arms around him, kissing him, pulling him closer, telling him how glad he was that he was safe, that he was never going to let Raury out of his sight ever again, that he was going to keep him safe here, with him, right where he belonged.

Raury knew that Eric should…terrify him. He’d changed even more since he’d been gone. The rough skin was breaking apart and peeling away, revealing something…else beneath it. A rough red skin that, when it touched his soft flesh, was rough and…hot. In fact, all of Eric was hot. Just standing near him was making Raury sweat. His face was misshapen more and more, his nose pressing flatter against his face, even as his mouth was beginning to push out into a short snout. He…should have been terrified, but instead, looking at him, he was…so sexy. So much sexier than Hunter was, even, and he’d loved his few hours with Hunter earlier.

“I’m so…sorry Master, I’m sorry I ran, I’m just a stupid pig, I didn’t know better, but I’m back, I’ll never leave again, I promise.”

“Hush now, everything is going to be fine now,” Eric said, “You’re back where you belong–go sit on the couch and wait for me–we still need to finish what we started earlier, right?”

Raury nodded, and waddled over to the couch in the middle of the room. Hunter had come down the steps while Eric and Raury had embraced, and now Eric turned to him. “My Hunter, my clever, strong, beautiful Hunter…thank you for bringing him back to me.”

“Of course Master, I’ll never fail you again, I swear it.”

“You never will, I know that–but you deserve a reward for your service. You…you should be more than just…another. You’re my first, you will be…more…” he took a long, thoughtful draw from his pipe, stepped close, and fed his thrall the smoke, and like before, Hunter felt…power and energy flow into him. He grew taller still, until he was seven feet tall–a few inches shorter than Eric was now. Muscle packed on his frame, stark silver hair all over his body, his skull entirely bare, a thick grey beard around his mouth…but he also felt the smoke in his mind, unlocking it, quickening it.

The truth was, ever since Master had first fed him the smoke, he had felt…dull, like his mind was running a few gears lower than it usually did. Now, however, he found it running faster than it had before, insight and thought speeding through at light speed. “A cunning Hunter is the most dangerous of all,” Eric said, when he pulled away, “and I need you at your most cunning for what comes next.”

“Thank you Master, you know I will serve you, do whatever I can for you.”

“I know–go, I hunger, and this one is hungry too, I am certain. Prepare us all a feast while I tend to this one, and teach him his proper place here with me.”

Hunter slipped away, the wooden stairs groaning under his new weight, and he nearly hit his head on the doorway at the top, but caught himself in time. Eric turned and went to the couch where Raury was sitting and joined him, running his sharp nails over his tight clothes, cutting them away while Eric panted, his cock aching for his Master. “You…you wanted to play a game, before?” he muttered.

“Games,” Eric laughed, “No–I’m done with games.”

“Then–”

Before he could say anything else, Eric took a deep breath from his pipe, leaned in, and pushed the smoke into Raury’s throat. He was well practiced now, and he inhaled it deep…but it was different than it had been with Hunter earlier. The smoke was hot and fresh, drilling deeper into him, suffusing him, changing him. He felt it, he felt his body…relax. He didn’t grow like before–it was more like the fat on his body lost it’s structure. His somewhat firm gut sagged lower, as did the fat around his arms and legs, his triple chin under his long beard, his jowls. His face aged, growing wrinkled, with thick crows feet around his eyes. His slightly receding hairline pushed back further still, leaving only a thin horseshoe fringe, and his beard lengthened and turned a stark white–as did the rest of the hair on his body. But as old as he felt, he didn’t ache or hurt–he just felt so, impossibly heavy. So heavy he didn’t want to stand, or walk, or even move. Instead he sagged into his Master, allowing him to support him as the color drained from his eyes until they were an empty white void. His mind was empty too–there were only…needs. Hunger. A thirst for Master’s smoke. An aching horniness and desire to be fucked. That eternal inertia of his own mass.

“Such a handsome daddy you make,” Eric said, “But what should I call you?”

“Anything,” he said, his voice raspy and dry, almost too quiet to hear across the room, “Anything Master. I’ll be anything for you.”

I’m going to call you Tubb.”

Tubb nodded. It meant little to him, but he no longer had any other name, and receiving anything from his Master was enough to make his small, shriveled cock throb underneath his fat.

“Tubb, yes–so much of you here. You were very bad Tubb, for running away. I’m going to have to punish you, you know…but you like that, don’t you?” Eric said, running his claws across Tubb’s soft fat, hard enough to scratch, a bit of blood welling up behind them. He flinched, his entire body jiggled, but he did…enjoy it. Master licked the wounds, tasting his blood, and the skin sealed up again, good as new as soon as the smoke from his breath touched them. Then, Eric played harder, biting and clawing–sometimes shallow, sometimes deep, always healing him quickly, and Tubbs just laid there, enthralled to the sensation of his Master’s punishment, unable to believe that any real torture could drive him to such delirious heights of arousal–at least, until Hunter came back down with the feast.

It was massive–Hunter had cooked nearly everything he’d kept squirrelled away in the fridge and cabinets, because he could sense that this was something special. Eric ate first–he was still ravenous from his growing frame–and all Tubbs could do was watch his Master gorge himself, stuffing the rare, and nearly raw meat down his fanged gullet, and he wanted it. He wanted…to get bigger. So big, he couldn’t move. It felt like everything else had disappeared from his mind, except for that one singular desire–and when Eric finally slid over and started feeding him, Tubbs ate with all the gusto he could manage, hoping to impress his master with his suddenly bottomless hunger. Hunter just watched, until Eric told him to walk around behind Tubbs and fuck him while he ate–which he did happily, glad that he wasn’t being punished for his earlier…indiscretions with Tubbs back on campus. When he finished, Eric made him trade places, feeding Tubbs while Eric had his pleasure in his newest daddy’s hole, and the sensation of his Master’s cock filling his fat ass, making the rolls of fat on his now old body shake to and fro…it was all Tubb’s ever wanted from life. All he could possibly want, in his dull, empty mind, concerned only with pleasing his Master.

The feast lasted for hours, and after, while Hunter inhaled the scraps left behind by his Master and Tubbs, Eric relaxed against his blubbery daddy, pleased with how warm he was, inhaling more smoke from his pipe…surprised by how exhausted he was, suddenly. Changing Tubbs like that…it hadn’t been like Mr. Fields. It had cost him…something. Some energy he hadn’t even known he had, and he could already sense he wouldn’t be able to do it to someone else for quite a while…still, he craved more. He’d thought that one more would have been…if not enough, at least a number where he could rest. Instead, it had only lit is greed further on fire. He wanted more daddies, he needed more daddies. So many that he lost count, so many he’d never have to worry about losing a single one…all of them in the entire world, even. He took a deep breath from his pipe, sucking his smoke deep inside him, and felt…something spark there, in his chest, like he’d sucked down a cinder or a spark. While it should have concerned him…it didn’t feel bad. It felt…rather nice, actually, like it belonged there, and he beckoned Hunter over to his side with one clawed finger.

Eric…knew of other daddies. Daddies he coveted. Men from the school, professors and administrators mostly he’d encountered and harboured…fantasies over for longer than he cared to admit. He no longer needed to covet though–no, now was a time to take. They were his, he’d claimed them with his lust, and he would own them as sure as he owned Hunter and Tubbs. They would be happy here, serving their proper Master as good daddies should, and Hunter would fetch them for him. He would need to be careful, and he would have to be cunning. They couldn’t disappear all at once, for that would raise suspicion, and there needed to be no evidence leading anyone here–not until Eric was strong enough to defend his horde properly. Once he was…finished, once he was everything he needed to be, then they could show the world what he was, but for now…Hunter would have to be careful. Hunter was happy for the challenge. While being outside had been…terrifying in some ways, knowing that if he was away from master for too long he would perish, it had also been…exhilarating. The hunt, the capture…he wanted to taste that joy again, more than anything. And so, the next evening he emerged again, lungs full of smoke and a list of names in the pocket of his sweats. He headed for campus, ready to bring his Master the daddies he craved–knowing that with each one he brought, Master would reward him handsomely as well.