Features & Bugs (Part 5)

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

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

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

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

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

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 6)

Ray tried to pull away at that point. He really did, but the cruelty programmed into him, knowing his prey was without escape, couldn’t resist the opportunity presented. He forced the pig back onto hands and knees and ravaged it’s hole for the second time that evening, longer than the first, relishing it this time, enjoying himself. After all, this pig wouldn’t be going anywhere for the foreseeable future. It was his now. His, and no one else’s, to do with as he choose. He whispered things into the pig’s unhearing ear, describing what it could do to it, but Noah didn’t care. Noah was just a pig at this point, consumed by its senses, unable to muster any kind of consciousness beyond pleasure and filth. Ray came, at long last, long after the pig had cum, slumping down against the concrete in the throes of its long orgasm. Again, as soon as Ray’s cock slipped free, his old mind reverted, and he backed away as quickly as he could, furious at himself for losing control, but still shaking from the pleasure and excitement he’d felt, dominating the pig.

No, not the pig. It wasn’t a pig, it was Noah! He focused, pushing away the invasive thoughts as best he could, but they felt so natural to him, it is difficult to believe that they weren’t actually his. He was so focused on himself, he hadn’t noticed Noah returning to his own senses, and trying to stand, but the chain was only long enough to allow him to squat. He struggled with the collar, beginning to panic, yanking at the chain, but it was heavy steel, and well rooted in the floor. He fell back to his hands and knees, looking at his coach. “Please, Coach, you can’t do this to me, you can’t. I just want to go home.”

What could Ray say? He had reasons, but he knew Noah would never believe him. This…this was for the best, he tried to convince himself, but he fled back upstairs as quickly as he could, slamming the door behind him, but it wasn’t until he was in his own master bathroom that he could no longer hear Noah’s screams and sobs from below him. A shower. A shower would make him feel better. He turned on the water, and as it was heating he got down on the tile next to the tub, put his feet high on the wall, arced his cock and released a stream of piss that flew and soaked his chest and face. So refreshing he told himself, drinking in some of his shower–it wasn’t until he got back up and turned off the water that he realized what he’d done, and that Julian was there beside him, sneering, but he was gone again before Ray could try and throttle him.

What had he just done? What in the world was he doing? Did he have any control over any of this, anymore? Julian was toying with him, he knew that, but he had no idea what kind of game he was playing with them both here. Was he actually managing to oppose him, or had he simply done everything Julian had hoped he’d do. He was crying, and he didn’t quite know when he’d started, but he snorted back his dripping nose and got control of himself. He could figure this out. He’d gotten Julian fired, he was only trying this because he was desperate. If he could stay calm, maybe he could get out of this before they get any deeper.

“You should probably be the one to hang on to this, you know,” a voice said behind him. Ray spun back, and found Julian on his bed, naked, with a single key on a ring hanging from his finger. “I tend to lose things rather easily, and this is the only key to Noah’s collar. If you have a change of heart, and decide to release your sex pig sometime soon, you should have it.”

“He’s not my pig.”

“You seem to call him that quite often, so I don’t know that I believe you.”

“You fucker, you’re doing this, you’re forcing us to do this shit.”

“Oh coach, I’m not forcing you to make these choices–you’re just behaving in a perfectly rational, self-interested manner. Still, the key–I’ll just leave it here,” Julian said, setting it on the bedside table. “Now, coach, are you thirsty? Need a drink?”

Ray nodded, and without much thought, he walked over to where Julian was, wrapped his mouth around his fellow teacher’s cock, and waited. After a moment, he started pissing, and Ray gulped it all down. When the flow ebbed, he started sucking, and after a few minutes was rewarded with a load of cum as well. He stood back up, wiping his beard, amazed at how much better he felt. “Thanks, I guess I was thirsty.”

“Well, you had a busy evening. Now, why don’t you go play some Solitaire before bed? I know that always helps you relax. You won’t worry about Noah until the morning.”

Ray nodded, and then turned and left the bedroom, not noticing that Julian had disappeared from his bed. He could hear Noah in the basement still, his voice hoarse, but he didn’t need to worry about that until the morning–he’d figure out what to do about Julian’s tricks then. First, Solitaire. He went into his office and sat down at his computer. In his mind, he opened up his favorite game, which always helped him calm down when he was stressed, and played a few rounds. In reality, he started a slideshow of porn, sat back, and started jacking off over and over, making sure to catch as much cum as he could on his filthy shirt and in his soaked jockstrap, the screen flickering on occasion, and if you looked close, a second face was reflected behind the Coach in the screen, even though no one else was in the office with him. It was a few hours before Ray finally started to feel tired, and then he went to bed, certain, somehow, that come morning, he’d know just what to do to foil Julian’s plan and get his freedom back.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 5)

One moment, Julian was there, and then the next, he wasn’t–or maybe he still was feet away from him, but Ray just couldn’t see him. The calm ebbed away, and the sheer terror of what Julian had just told him sank into his bones. After everything he’d seen today, after everything he’d just been through, he knew this was no bluff. If Noah went home–hell, if Noah stepped out of the house–then Ray knew he was done for. He’d be the one taking the fall. He’d be the one going to prison, and he had no doubt that Julian’s control of him ran deep enough that his time there–as a registered sex offender and pervert–would be horrific. He heard the water turn off in the bathroom, and he thought about his basement. He almost never used it–it had been a workshop at one point, but he’d never had much time for his long list of projects, especially now after his divorce. What in the hell could be down there, that Julian thought might help him? He knew he didn’t have time to go investigate, not with Noah about to step out at any moment, but he also didn’t know how to get Noah down there without alerting him that something was awry.

The bathroom door open, and the stench of fresh piss immediately derailed Ray’s thoughts, sending his cock to half mast. Half of him wanted to lunge forward, but his rational mind won out, and he took a few steps back, staring at Noah in the doorway, just as filthy as before. “What..Did…did you even take a shower? I heard the water running–”

“Yeah coach, I took a shower,” Noah said, matter of factly, but it was clear he hadn’t given himself the kind of shower he’d intended to. Either he was simply oblivious–which was likely–or Julian had ruined his mind in more ways than Ray might have thought. Then again, those two possibilites weren’t mutually exclusive either.

“Noah…Noah, look at yourself.”

The young man did, staring down at his sweaty body, freshly soaked in his own piss, and it was clear he was trying to make sense of what was going on. “I…I turned on the water. I even remember getting…under it, it was warm, and…and delicious…oh fuck…did I?”

He took off towards the stairs, away from Ray. “Noah–Noah!” Ray shouted and took off after him, “Noah wait!”

“Fuck this!” he shouted, “This shit is fucked, I just want to go home!”

Ray didn’t know what to do. He had to keep him here, he had to, no matter what. That was the only way he could buy himself enough time to figure out how to expose Julian and get his own life back. A thought occurred to him, and he hated himself for even considering it–but what choice did he have? Noah…Noah would understand, once all of this was over, why he did it, wouldn’t he? He’d have done the same thing if he was in Ray’s position.

Noah got to the door, was trying to work the locks with his trembling hands, and Ray didn’t stop–slamming into him, shoving him up against the door, his entire body pressed to Noah’s. The smell of him, especially the fresh piss, nearly drove him out of his mind, humping his cock against Noah’s ass. For a few moments, Noah kept trying to work the lock, but his hand slipped away as he groaned, allowing his coach to spin him around, grab his face, and pull it into his chest, feeling Noah lick up his sweat and chew at his nipples.

Focus, he had to focus. The basement, get to the damn basement! He fought the urge to just give in there, and fuck the pig right on the floor, seed his ass all over again, maybe…maybe even give him a shower of his own, since the little bitch liked being stinking wet so much. He pulled away, shocked by his own thoughts, but now that Noah had gotten another taste of his coach’s filthy body, he was advancing, drool dripping down his bearded chin, eyes slack. “Coach…fuck…why?” he muttered, but he couldn’t stop–and Ray backed away, leading him towards the back of the house towards the laundry room, and down the stairway into the basement below.

He flipped on the light, but went down backwards, so he could keep an eye on Noah, and make sure he followed. Everything went smoothly at first, but Noah stumbled about halfway down, tumbling right into coach, knocking them both down the rest of the flight where they landed on the dusty ground, Noah on top, and he went back to licking him clean, grinding his own hard cock against his coach’s thigh, while Ray tried to recover from his daze. Looking around, him trying not to think about how fucking good Noah smelled right now, he could see that his basement was no longer a workshop–no, at some point it had been converted into a very well equipped sex dungeon. He just stared at the racks and tables, unable to imagine how all of this could have gotten here without him knowing it, but there was Julian, in the center of the room, holding a metal collar in his hands. A short chain was attached to it, leading to the cement floor where it was attached. Julian set it down, and vanished once more.

The cruelty was welling up in him again, he could feel it. He forced his way out from under Noah, who crawled after him towards the center of Ray’s new dungeon until they reached the collar–he allowed Noah to chew and suck at one of his armpits, while he picked the metal collar up and examined it with his other hand. It had an open padlock hooked in it, all he had to do was get it around Noah’s neck, close the hinge, and lock it. Could…he really do this to him? Did he have a choice? Trying not to think too hard about it, he slipped it around Noah’s neck, the young man barely aware of what he was doing but powerless to stop him anyway, and then he clicked the padlock into place.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 4)

The coach was behind him, and he hadn’t looked around–but he heard Ray stand up, and he whirled around, fear locked in his eyes, but when he saw his coach, he relaxed a bit. “C-Coach? Oh god, did he get you too? Is he here?”

“Is who here, Noah?” Ray asked, happy to avoid the subject of why they were both naked in his kitchen.

“Master Porter, is he here?”

“He was, but he left.”

Noah swore, and then broke down into tears, shivering and shaking, “Oh fuck, it’s not fucking over, why can’t it just be over!”

“Noah, it’s just us!” Ray said, “I saw him leave.”

“He doesn’t leave,” Noah shouted, “We just can’t fucking see him!” He stood up and put his back to the wall, looking all around the room, “We can’t see him, but he’s always there, of fucking Christ! Just leave me alone! I said I was sorry, please!” He screamed the last words at the empty room, to nowhere in particular, “Please, please…”

Ray was torn. He wanted to comfort him, but he also knew that if he got too close…he didn’t want to get trapped in a cycle like the one he’d just experienced. Instead, he got Noah to focus on him, and together they did a breathing exercise he’d taught the team to help them calm down and focus, in order to recover from a mistake. About five minutes later, both of them felt marginally better.

Noah looked out the window, and started to laugh, “My parents are going to be worried sick, I should have been home hours ago.”

Ray wasn’t sure what he meant. “Noah…you’ve been missing for about three months.” Noah just stared at him, and Ray wasn’t sure what to add. “It’s June, Noah. School ended a few days ago. No one has seen you since March.”

“But I just…I remember walking home, and then Master was there and I had to follow him. Then…then I was here,” Noah said.

“You don’t…remember anything?”

“Oh god, I have to get home!” Noah said, and headed for the front door, “My parents, they must be worried sick.” He grabbed his own clothes and threw them on as quickly as he could, and then headed for the front of the house.

Ray hurried after him, “Noah, wait! You…hold on, you can’t go, please, just listen to me,” Ray said, and managed to get between him in the door, but too close. Both of them caught a whiff of each other, and quickly backed away, the sudden flame of desire reignited. “You can’t…go home looking like that.”

“Noah looked down at himself then, and saw his body. What he was wearing, his gut. He grabbed the flab, unable to believe it was real. “I…when did…”

“We can figure this out Noah, please, just trust me.”

Noah looked up at him, “Please coach, just let me go home…don’t help him.”

“I’m not helping him.”

Noah didn’t say anything, but it was clear he didn’t believe him.

“Noah, you have to understand. He’s trying to frame me for this! If he can implicate me instead, then I’ll go to jail, and that fucker will get his job back, and who knows how many people he’ll do this to. Please, Noah, just trust me on this…help me.”

“I just want to go home,” Noah said, crying again.

“I know.”

“Can I at least call them?”

Ray shook his head. “I can’t trust you Noah. I can’t trust that you would tell the truth. I can’t even trust that I would tell the truth, if the police knocked on the door right now. We have to stay here. Look, let’s…let’s take some showers, and that’ll…help. Then we can figure out what to do, alright?”

Noah looked at the front door behind his coach, and then nodded. “I guess…I shouldn’t show up smelling like this.”

Ray smiled, and at a distance, showed Noah to the bathroom, heard the water start up. He turned to head for his bedroom, only to find the hallway blocked by none other than Julian Porter. Ray tried to shout, tried to run at him and attack him, but Julian spoke first, “Calm, Coach.”

Immediately a perfect euphoria swept over him, and he nearly fell to the floor as his muscles lost all their tension. He only managed to stay upright by leaning against the wall beside him.

“That’s better. We wouldn’t want to disturb Noah, now would we? The boy’s in such a fragile state, after that…brutal fucking you gave him down there. I had no idea you could be such a beast!”

“You…did this…to us…” Ray managed to say, but his tongue didn’t want to work that hard.

“Oh, let’s not focus on the past, Ray! You need to realize, that Noah here is never going to want to stay here. He’s going to want to get home, and as soon as he does, I promise you, he’ll tell his parents everything about how you’re the real abuser here. And like you just worried, if the police question you? You’ll spill the bean yourself, and then you’ll be going to jail for a very, very long time. And trust me, in jail? You’re going to spend a lot of time begging for cock, I guarantee it.”

“Ya…fuck…”

“Don’t worry Ray, if I wanted you to go to jail, I wouldn’t have gone to this much effort. No, what you need is right down in the basement. You’ll know what to do.”

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 2)

Noah charged at Ray, bent low for a tackle. The coach managed to slip to the side, and Noah glanced off him, unable to get a solid grip. He moved away as Noah slammed into the wall behind him, and he kept the kitchen island between them. “Noah,” he said, “Noah, where…where have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick about you.”

“Coach, I fucked up man, I fucked up. I’m a fuck up!” Noah said, slamming his head against the wall, “Fuck! He’s in my head and I know it but you smell so fucking good, I…I gotta…” he turned and started stalking toward him and Ray maneuvered around the island, keeping it between them. They made two circuits when he saw the third person watching him from the other side of the room–Julian Porter.

“You! What the fuck have you done to him?” Ray said, still slipping around the island as Noah pursued him.

Porter didn’t say anything, he just watched them for a moment, and then said, “Coach, remove sensory block Alpha.”

It hit him like a brick, the stink in the room. He didn’t know what it was, and he was momentarily distracted, searching for the foul odor. It reeked like a locker room, like a bar bathroom, a month old cumrag. Noah took advantage of the coach’s confusion, dove over the narrow section of the island, and pulled the coach close to him, shoving his face into Ray’s chest, snorting and licking at his shirt…his…filthy fucking shirt.

It was then that Ray realized where the stench was coming from–it was coming from him. Suppressing a gag, he wrenched himself away from Noah, looking down at himself. His usually white shirt was stained brown and yellow with who knew what, the black mesh shorts he was wearing didn’t have as much visible evidence, but they felt crispy, as did the jockstrap he was wearing, though he was too terrified to look at it. “What…how the fucking…what the fuck is this?” he screamed at Porter.

“Oh, you’ve been wearing those clothes for over a month straight now. Cumming into them. Pissing into them. Working out in them.” He smiled wide, “What, don’t you…remember?” The emphasis on that last word, the way Porter drew it out long, chilled Ray, but Noah had climbed off the counter and ran at him–this time Ray wasn’t so lucky to dodge him. Noah hit him square in the chest, driving him back against the counter, and they both toppled to the floor, Noah on top of him, snorting into his shirt, at his pits, licking at his face, all the while grinding against Ray’s body. The spandex shorts he had on did nothing to disguise how hard the young man’s cock was, and Ray tried to shove him off, but he was too heavy.

“What the fuck, get him off me!”

“Now coach, you’ve been looking so hard for Noah, aren’t you happy to see him?”

“You fucking piece of shit, what the fuck did you do?”

Porter didn’t answer right away. He walked over, his feet on both sides of Ray’s head. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his cock, and Noah immediately sucked it into his maw, the whole of his weight planted on Ray’s chest, still grinding against him. “You fucked up a good thing of mine, Ray, a real good thing I had going. All the fresh meat I could want, and none of them even knew about it! A victimless crime, since none of them even knew they were victims. And really, I have you to thank–you, were the one who told them to take my computer science courses! They were easy A’s, you’d say. I mean, I might have had a small hand in that recommendation of yours, sure, but my classes were easy for your sexiest athletes. I never flunked a student of mine if they were sucking my cock. This one got a bit wise to it, but he would have settled back down if you hadn’t stuck your dirty nose in my business, coach.”

Something was wrong with him. He kept trying to struggle out from under Noah, but this close to him, he could actually smell…smell him, how filthy he was, and it was making him hard. He wormed his way down, but only managed to get his head locked between Noah’s thick thighs, the spandex coated with sweat, and then he couldn’t get ary further. In terror, he realized his mouth was open and licking at the student’s spandex clad taint, one his hands down the front of his shorts, massaging his cock which had grown inexplicably hard.

“Oh, very good coach, I see you’re already adjusting to your programming rather well.”

Programming? His mind flashed back to his computer in his office, how even this afternoon he’d fallen asleep at the keyboard. It hadn’t been the first time. In fact he’d…been doing that a lot lately. He’d always just passed it off as stress and exhaustion, as worry over Noah. He’d been thinking about Noah so much, about how much he missed him, about how much he wanted him. He pushed himself back up, rubbing his own scruffy face against the athlete’s cock, sucking at the cum crusted spandex, thinking about all of the fantasies, all the desires he’d kept bottled up for so long. No! No, these weren’t his! They weren’t his, but they felt so…real. They felt just like his own thoughts, they felt so authentic, this desire. How did he know it wasn’t real?

“Amazing, isn’t it? Just a big computer, you know, stuck in all of our heads. So easy to…fry a few circuits if you know what you’re doing. Lucky for us, I know what I’m doing, right coach?” He fucked Noah’s mouth a bit deeper, his breathing a bit ragged, “Still, I know how…deeply you care for Noah here, I know you’ve always wanted him as yours, and so, as a sign of how much I respect your filthy, dirty nose, I’m going to give him to you. Sure am going to miss this mouth of his though. Still, you should be careful with him–I wouldn’t want to be caught with a runaway teen, you know, especially after your…connection to all of that child abuse happening at the high school. I mean, the only person who had as much contact with those students as I did was, well, you.”

Rick and the Beast – Part 6

Prick hadn’t realized he’d been in the security offices for as long as he had–it was now easily eleven o’clock at night, which was a bit of a relief, because there were fewer people around to witness his walk of shame. But a new voice piped up in his head–

Why are you ashamed? You’re a pig! Everyone should know you’re a pig. Besides, doesn’t it feel kind of nice, your fat hanging out like that?

That voice made more sense than he would have liked, but he had to focus. Whatever Master had done to him, he could fight it, he could beat him if he just–

Fuck I’m hungry. I should eat something.

Prick looked around, sniffing the air. He could smell food nearby, and he followed the scent. It led him off the path to his dorm around back behind the cafeteria to the dumpsters. Without really thinking about it, he started digging in the dumpsters and trash for anything he could find, grunting and snorting as he stuffed himself. He didn’t hear the back door open, but when the older, chubby cook screamed, Prick looked up from the dumpster and saw him silhouetted in the light from inside. He could smell him too, he could smell his sweat, he could smell…cum…

The cook’s eyes dilated–he could smell Prick too. “Awww fuck, it’s just…just a piggy,” the man said. “Fat fucking pig, fuck you’re disgusting.”

Prick got down on his knees and asked the cook politely if he would feed him his cum, the cook–who had never once before considered letting a man touch his cock, leered at Prick, unzipped his fly, strutted up and skullfucked him. Prick just sucked as hard as he could, eager for cum. He could taste the precum on his tongue, but that only made him hungrier for the main course. After a minute, the cook came and Prick sucked it all down. The cook dropped the bag of trash in front of the pig and went back inside; Prick rummaged around in it for everything he could eat, and then hefted himself back up. At least he was full now–but what had he been doing? His mind was a jumble.

Why did I do that?

Fuck, that guy’s cum was delicious! I wonder if he’d give me seconds?

Fuck, I’m disgusting, I’m so fucking gross, and I can’t even stop myself, I can’t do anything right, I don’t know what to do–

Fuck, my hole could use a fuck.

Do I smell piss? Piss would be good too.

I need to get home, I need to get home, and think.

I need some more cock.

Back to his room, that made the most sense, didn’t it? Prick walked back around the cafeteria. He passed a few men on the way, and all of them looked down at him as soon as they caught a whiff of him, but none of them needed service, and Prick just wanted to get home, he just wanted to be alone, he just wanted to think for a second, and sort out all of his thoughts, and try and figure out what Master did. He fumbled with the lock, finally throwing open the door, and found his roommate, Josh, sitting on his bed reading a comic book.

Fuck.

Josh looked at him for a moment, confused, until Prick’s musk washed over him, and his eyes glazed over, one hand reaching down, groping his cock through the pajamas he was wearing.

Don’t do it, don’t do it

Prick licked his lips, shut the door behind him, and waddled over to his roommates bed. He could tell he wanted it slow, and so he started edging him, but after a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. Prick and Josh ignored it the first couple of times, but eventually Josh ordered him to see who it was, and it was several men from their floor, who had been lured to their room by the smell of Prick wafting down the hallway. Prick was so fucking excited, seeing all the men he could service right there, wanting him–

No! No, you don’t want this, you don’t! Run, fucking Run!

But why would he run? He really needed to shut that voice up, it was telling him to do so many bad things. He went back to sucking Josh off, presenting his ass for the steady stream of men who came in to use their floor pig’s services. After an hour of edging, Josh finally rewarded him with a massive load, and any men on the floor who’d needed his services had come by, pumping at least a dozen loads in his now loose, sloppy hole. Prick considered getting in bed, but pigs don’t get to sleep in beds. He asked Josh if he could use some of his dirty clothes to make a bed, and Josh allowed it, after Prick cleaned his feet for him, and the pig curled up, his nose shoved into some of Josh’s dirty underwear, snoring and snorting in his sleep, at least until Josh woke him up by shoving his morning wood into his mouth, fucking a load of cum down his throat, and chasing it with a blast of sour morning piss, before he got dressed and headed for class.

Prick woke with a clearer head. In the mirror, he was happy to see that some of the changes which had happened the night before had worn off. He had hair again, for instance, but it had grown back in lighter in color and thinner than before. He also had lost some weight, but not nearly enough to make much of a difference, and he still couldn’t feel anything from his tiny, worthless cock. And yet, part of him was also sad–sad to see that beautiful body gone, sad to feel shame and doubt and fear once more. His phone buzzed, it was his master, summoning him to the frat house. Prick found the biggest clothes of his he could, pulled them on, and headed out, turning plenty of men’s heads as he passed with his weakened musk, but none of them could bring themselves to use the pig in the light of day.

At least, not yet.

(To be continued eventually)

Baby Bear – Part 2

How could I have forgotten? I’d sucked his cock nearly every night, and most nights he’d fucked my ass as well. I’d licked his body clean from neck to toes. He’d fed me pipe smoke right into my eager mouth. And I had somehow forgotten all of it, gone off to school each day like nothing strange was going on at all. I realized I had done none of my studying that I’d needed to do, and I was failing all of my classes. The semester was nearly over, and I had no idea how I was going to turn any of it around. Perhaps it was silly to worry about school when you discover some old man has been manipulating you and forcing you into diapers, but it was something I could think about. I didn’t want to think about his old cock in my mouth–I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted his cock in my mouth, really. Because I did. And I wanted him to fuck me. And so I ran.

He probably expected me to try and run; he didn’t even try and stop me. I didn’t even care that all I was wearing was a diaper soiled with my own cum, I just wanted out of that house. I flung open the front door and ran out across the lawn, but as soon as I was outside, this monstrous fear rose up inside me. I was outside. More than outside, I was lost. I didn’t know where I was. The world was gigantic, and I had no idea where Daddy was, and I might never get home, and who was going to take care of me? I made it to the curb, tears rolling down my face, no longer able to focus on getting away, not even really understanding what I was feeling, and then he was beside me, pulling me close–Daddy. I was so happy to see him. I gave him a huge hug, and he led me back up the driveway and into the house, where the fear immediately disappeared, and my mind tried to get a grip.

“I wouldn’t try to run away again, baby bear. You all try it once, but if you keep trying, then I’m going to have to punish you,” he said. Daddy said. I struggled with his name, trying to find it in my mind, but his name was just that–”Daddy”. I remembered that was the same thing all those strange men who visited called him, and before I could ask, he explained what he had done to me, and to the rest of them over the last several decades.

It was true–he was lonely. He had been a very skilled hypnotist when he was younger, and he decided to make himself what he called “Baby Bears”–young men he’d keep in diapers, and raise to be better men than what they might have otherwise been. Better from his perspective, of course–I was horrified at the thought, but he assured me that there would be no escaping my new fate. He told me that I had already accepted the first round of conditioning, and now it was time for us to decide what kind of bear I was going to grow up to be, and how much work it was going to take for me to grow up.

You see, he would only be able to make me into a “proper bear” after he’d destroyed and erased most of who I was now. This could be, he told me, a rather violent process, and leave a person’s mind quite damaged, unless they went along with him, and willingly allowed him to destroy their old selves so they could be reborn again. I, of course, was freaking out. He assured me that the more I fought, the worse it would be for me. I was convinced that if I tried hard enough, if I proved indestructible, he would have to let me go. He smiled. It was almost like he liked the idea of me fighting back. And then he said something, some phrase I can’t remember, and things grew slippery. I could feel him ripping out chunks of my personality, and I was fighting him, trying to hold onto them, but he would just tear harder, and it would hurt, like a massive migraine, but I couldn’t let him win, I couldn’t.

I don’t know how much time passed before I came back to myself again, shaking on the floor in a fetal position, Daddy sitting in an armchair beside me. I was still me. I still had lost some, but I still remembered who I’d been. He told me to quit fighting him, that if I kept fighting him, he was going to have to make things worse for me. I laughed, and told him to give it his best shot. He looked disappointed, repeated that mysterious phrase, and this time, I had no real understanding of what was happening. When I resurfaced, however, something had changed in my mind. I was moving slower. I tried to ask him what had happened, but all that came out was baby talk. I also realized, to my horror, that I had pissed my diaper again–and that I had also taken a massive shit as well. I tried to get up, I tried to stand, but my body wasn’t working quite right. All I could do was crawl. Daddy got down at eye level with me, and told me that I was being a very dumb baby bear. That I was going to grow up and become a very dumb baby bear, and if I didn’t let him win, I was going to be the stupidest bear he’d ever raised, that I’d never even be able to go potty like a big boy again. I didn’t want to be that stupid, I really didn’t. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life wearing diapers. One day, I wanted to be a big boy, I wanted to grow up again. I was crying, and he asked me if I was done fighting him. I wanted to say no, but I was exhausted, and I knew he would win. When I went under that final time, I let him remove every bit of me that he could find. This is the last of me, this is the last little bit, the last chunk, and I’m holding on, but he’s coming, he’s coming and–

The Fall of Troy – Part 5

Troy woke up slowly, stinking, sweaty and wet. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he might have pissed himself on the couch in the night–he knew that should disgust him, but all it did was make him feel surprisingly horny. He sat up, groping at his hard cock, and found Leo sitting in a chair off to the side of the couch, his eyes glowing white. Not the flashes from before–a steady, constant white, and Troy felt his old self pushing up through the filth. He wanted to fight, he wanted to go take a thousand showers, but something held him there on the couch, pinning him there while Leo smiled and said, “Good morning, son–how are you doing today?”

“Fuck you, Leo. Fuck…” but he didn’t know what else to say.

“I just thought it might be nice for the two of us to talk today, father and son–you know, about your place in this household going forward. You see, Troy, I can only push you down so far, and you have a strong mind. Letting you out for air on occasion helps me keep you under control, but it just wouldn’t be a sustainable solution in the long run. So you see, that really leaves us with two choices here, a choice you’re going to have to make.”

“How in the hell can I believe anything you say?”

“Well, you probably can’t. But if you really want to keep this mind of yours, if you want to start the long, arduous climb back out of this pit of filth I’ve thrown you down into, you can do that. But not here–not under my roof. If that’s what you want, then you’re on your own–we’ll drive into the city, and I’ll leave you on the streets with no memory of where you lived, of who I am, or who your step-mother is, and you can try to make it on your own. I mean, as well as a fat slob like you with no money or resources can make it. I don’t think you’ll get very far on your own, to be honest, but that’s a choice you can make.”

“That’s not a fucking choice! What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Well, the other option is that you stay–and you fall completely. You lose the will to fight, you accept this, and you keep falling. You see, I made a few changes to the basement last night. The main room? That’s a massive sex dungeon, wired up with all sorts of cameras so you can broadcast your filth to the internet. Because if you stay here, you’re going to have to pay rent, you know. You’re going to have to sell that fat, disgusting body if you want to stay here, but I have all the confidence that you can do it, and I might have a few contacts to help you out, if you ask nicely. But you’ll love your life, because you–this old Troy–won’t ever come back. You’ll just be a dumb stinking slob, falling deeper and deeper into your own perversions for the rest of your life. That’s the other choice you have–compared to that, well, maybe a life on the city streets doesn’t sound so bad, eh?”

Troy just stared at him, anger and fury boiling in him, “Fuck you, I can make it. Dump me in the city if you want, I don’t fucking care, anything to be away from you.”

Leo shrugged, “Alright then–get dressed, and let’s get in the car.”

They drove to the city in silence, but as they did, Troy felt doubt start to creep in. He wouldn’t have any money, just the clothes on his back and his wits. But worse, he’d still be saddled with this body. He was halfway there before he realized he still had the dildo in his ass, and that he didn’t want to take it out. That he still was hornier than ever, that he could smell the piss in his clothes, and all he wanted to do was taste it, suck it out, and piss in them some more. He had his mind, and yet this body still wanted everything Leo had forced on him. He smoked a cigar as they drove–it helped calm him down, but he couldn’t even stop that. What in the hell was he going to do?

Leo drove around and eventually pulled up in a well worn industrial district. The sidewalk was empty, and he put the car in park, the engine still running. “Alright son,” he said, “Here’s your stop. I’ll miss you, but not really that much.”

Troy stared at the sidewalk out the window for a few moments, before he muttered, “I…I can’t do this.”

“What was that?”

“I can’t do this. I can’t…not like this. What the fuck am I supposed to do? How the fuck could I get a job? Where the fuck would I even go?”

“That’s not my problem, that’s yours. You made your choice, Troy, now get out.”

Troy looked at him, “Please, don’t do this to me, please don’t make me do this,” he said, but that smirk on Leo’s face–he’d known. He’d known Troy was never going to get out of the car, not willingly. “Please, just…I’ll do whatever you want–be whoever you want. Just let me come home.”

“Fine,” Leo said, “But I did give you a choice, remember,” he pulled his cock out of his jeans, “Now suck me off, you got me all horny with that misery of yours.”

What choice did he have? Troy sucked his father off the whole way home, trying not to enjoy it as much as he was, and trying not to think about what would happen when they got home. Leo led him down into the basement, and gave him a tour of his new rooms. The sling and the rimseat. The cameras everywhere, including his filthy bathroom. His closet full of leather and rubber, almost all of it in yellow and brown. The bed covered in rubber sheets. He wanted Troy to know what he was going to become, before it happened, and then Leo’s eyes went dark, and then black, but not black like before. Not a forceful black–the black of an abyss. A pit you can’t help but stare into. A pit deep enough to lose yourself and not even notice. He gave a snort, and fell in, deeper and deeper into Leo, into himself, and he knew he would never make his way out of it again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a good piggy from now on, aren’t you–not that you have a choice. Can’t look away, can you?”

Bruce again tried to twist his head down and away, but Ivan’s gaze kept him locked. He sank lower towards the bathroom floor, dropping onto his knees, face level with Ivan’s bulging crotch, and he felt the piss he’d been storing up all day at his desk release into the front of his pants, the fabric wet and sopping almost immediately, a puddle growing out from his knees. He whimpered, but couldn’t speak.

“What, you don’t like pissing yourself? Well too fucking bad. From now on, you piss when I want you to–and if I want you to piss yourself tomorrow in front of the entire board, during that big presentation of yours, well…I don’t think that promotion you’re angling for is going to end up working out. They’ll probably have to pick me instead. Now open your mouth, I got something for you to taste.”

That was when Fred walked in–their boss. Ex-military, Fred kept his head shaved, a full beard, and his body muscular, the suits he wore tailored a bit too tight. A notorious homophobe–if Ivan hadn’t been out, the promotion would have definitely been his, but Fred liked straight, married Bruce better. Ivan had his old family trick to tip things his direction, but he hadn’t quite anticipated Fred joining them so soon.

“W–What the fuck is going on here!” Fred shouted, staring right at Ivan, as those cold blue eyes, it was that faggots doing, he knew he was no god, he should have…should have tried harder to get…get him fired. Should have…

Fred stumbled into the wall, suddenly exhausted. Blinking fast, his eyes never left Ivan’s. “What…you doin’ to me…” he muttered, and then he collapsed to the tile floor, face first in the puddle of Bruce’s piss, and Ivan chuckled, reconnecting with Bruce’s eyes.

“Guess we’ll have to speed up the plan a bit. Good thing most everyone is gone for the day. Come on, help me carry him down stairs–you can suck me off later.”

***

Fred woke up slowly–another fuckin’ faggot dream. He wasn’t a fucking faggot, he was a man, a real man. Real men didn’t have faggot dreams, what the fuck was wrong with him? Ivan again, too–but this was was strange. Bruce had been there too, in the bathroom…everything else was fuzzy. Whatever. He wasn’t a faggot, no fucking way.

He pried open his eyes–this wasn’t his apartment. His mind told his body to get up quick and figure out where he was, but all he could manage was to writhe a bit beneath the sheets. The scummy sheets. He couldn’t feel them–for some reason he was still dressed in the blue suit pinstripe suit he’d had on in that dream–but he could hear them. They sounded crispy, and he nearly retched. He might have even vomited, if he hadn’t felt so tired.

He was tired. He was never tired. With great effort, he rolled over and saw a small window high on one side of the room–a basement, he was in a basement. The sun was up–what time was it? Shouldn’t he be at work? That big presentation was today, he had to be there for Bruce, right? Work suddenly seemed like too much work. He lolled about instead, settling in deeper. Between the sheets, the musky quilt and his suit, he was sweating heavily, but didn’t mind the heat. His cock was too hot though, he let it out of his fly and started jacking off, and then rolled over and began grinding his erection against the mattress. He came after a few minutes, but kept thrusting, the cum coating the front of his suit, and then he collapsed again.

What in the world was he even doing? He had to get out of here. Instead, he laid in bed for the rest of the day. The duration between his overwhelming periods of horniness decreased–by the time the basement door opened and Ivan and Bruce tromped down the stairs, Fred was unable to stop, just endlessly thrusting against the mattress, the front of his suit saturated with cum.

“Well, it looks like someone has made himself at home already, eh Bruce? See, I told you.” Ivan said.

Fred managed to regain control long enough to roll over, but his hand immediately wrapped itself around his tender, chaffed cock and kept stroking, “This is just…just another dream. Just another faggoty dream…”

“Oh Fred, I assure you that this is entirely real. Everyone at the meeting was very surprised by your letter of resignation by the way, and with Bruce fired for pissing himself and then jacking off in front of the board, I suppose you two will have to live here, with me, for the time being.”

“You…you fucker…”

“Don’t worry about rent or anything like that, I know the two of you are going to be pretty well occupied. Why, Fred, I doubt you’ll ever be getting up from that bed ever again–so it’s a good thing Bruce here is going to be taking good care of you, right Bruce?”

Bruce hadn’t spoken–he was just staring at Ivan, drool leaking from his open mouth. He nodded, and then spoke, slowly with a bit of a slur, “Yes…sir. I’m gonna f…fatten up Fred, n….and piss all o’er him, ‘n fuck his holes, like you said.”

“That’s right,” Ivan said, now it looks like Fred is pretty uncomfortable in that suit–why don’t you get him dressed in those clothes me bought off that bum on the way home?”

Fred tried to fight Bruce off, but he was so tired, and all he really wanted to do was jack off, as he dressed him in the filthy pants and shirt, dyed filthy by months on the street, and as disgusted as he was with himself for thinking so, they were much, much more comfortable, and much, much hotter. Yeah, they stank, they reeked, and when Bruce pissed on him in the bed with he jacked off and came again, he smelled even better, and when Ivan ordered a stack of pizzas, and watched Bruce force them all down his throat, that was hotter still. And two years later, the now five hundred pound Fred, still confined to his bed, thought he had never been hotter in his whole life.

~~~

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Commission: Too Big

Cowgirl style, yeah, I’m gonna make her ride it, tell her she only has to take as much as she wants, but she’s gonna want it all, all twelve inches, they always do. And then I get to watch her face, watch the pain as I split her pussy wide open, and then the pleasure once my entire fat cock is in her, she’s gonna–

“Sam, is there something out the window more interesting than chemical solutions?”

Sam snapped out of his fantasy, but didn’t take his hand away from the hard cock in the front of his jeans, and rolled his eyes at his science teacher, Mr. Mulford. Who fucking cares? He was getting laid tonight–that’s all he wanted to think about. “Sorry dude,” he said, “Guess I just don’t give a fuck.”

The rest of the class laughed and he smirked. His pudgy, short teacher’s face got a bit red, but he kept composure. “Well, maybe we can find something to interest you up here. How would you like to test these solutions I’ve made for the class?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Well, I can understand that you might be a bit nervous, but I can assure you everything I’ve been mixing is perfectly harmless.”

“Are you calling me a coward?” Sam said. Mr. Mulford shrugged, the class looked at Sam, wondering what he might do. Socially cornered, he got up from his desk his foot long cock still rock hard in his jeans, but he didn’t care. His huge cock was myth at the school, and he liked it that way–it kept the girls coming in droves. He made sure to stretch at the front of the room, showing it off for the whole class, before joining his teacher by his table, where he had a number of colorful solutions sitting in various beakers. Mr. Mulford had him touch a few (slick and slimy, one colored his finger blue), smell another (fake banana, but Sam said it smelled like ass), and then taste one last one. It coated his tongue, and tasted overwhelmingly of mint, and then Mr. Mulford excused him back to his seat.

Sam tried to get the taste out of his mouth, but it was cloying, and he was starting to feel a bit strange. Still, science was his last class of the day–he was probably just tired. He tried to get back into his fantasy, but instead just felt dazed and confused. He heard the bell and saw the rest of the class get up and leave–he tried to follow them, but his body was just so heavy all of a sudden. He was flailing weakly when Mr. Mulford came over and sat down next to him.

“You know Sam, I’d like to thank you for staying after class to meet with me. There’s something that we need to discuss, something I’ve…noticed about you.”

Sam had no idea what his teacher was talking about. He hadn’t planned on staying after class, had he? And yet, now that Mr. Mulford had said it, he could almost remember, he could remember, yeah, he’d…he’d agreed to stay after class. He was still trying to figure out what was happening to him, when his middle aged teacher reached into his lap, unbuttoned his jeans, and unzipped his fly. “What…you doing?” he asked, but the words seemed too quiet to really be heard.

Mr/ Mulford simply reached into the front of Sam’s pants and grabbed the top of his student’s underwear, and pulled it down underneath his massive cock and huge sack of balls. It had gone soft, but with a bit of attention from the teacher’s fingers, it quickly grew to full size, jutting up between Sam’s abs and the desk, Sam giving off a soft groan.

“Goodness, it really is disgusting,” Mr. Mulford said.

“Disgusting?” Sam slurred, “What’s disgusting…?”

“Why, this huge, nasty sewer pipe of a cock. I mean, I’d heard rumors around school, but I see why you’ve been trying to hide it for so long, if people knew you were a freak, why, you’d be an outcast. People would hate you–laugh at you in the halls.”

“But…but big is good…”

His teacher laughed, “Big is good, but this is too big. No wonder you’re a virgin, you couldn’t even fit this in someone.”

He wasn’t a virgin, was he? But he could almost remember…or not remember…what was wrong with his head? Mr. Mulford pressed his advantage, berating Sam’s huge cock and heavy sack, laughing at him, shaming him, humiliating him over and over until Sam was in literal tears. He was a freak. He’d always been a freak, terrified of his own massive cock. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have just been normal? Even a tiny button cock would have been better than this massive dick. Or a cock like Mr. Mulford’s. Mr Mulford showed him his own cock, seven inches, big and thick but not too big like his. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. He couldn’t let anyone know he was a freak! The lengths he’d gone to to make sure no one knew–changing late during sports, or skipping the showers entirely. Wearing baggy pants all the time. Refusing to date any girl, even when they were interested. He couldn’t have sex with anyone, but now Mr. Mulford knew his secret.

“You…you won’t tell anyone will you? You can’t–I’d be…everyone would hate me…” he begged on his hands and knees.

Mr. Mulford massaged his cock, smiling down at his student. “Why, of course I won’t tell anyone–so long as you do everything I say. I mean, keeping a secret this big–you’re going to have to do me some favors. In fact, I think you’re going to come over to my house after school every day after school for a special study session, isn’t that right?”

“But–But I have practice–”

“You fucking idiot–Don’t you realize what a risk sports been for you? What if someone sees your freakish cock in the locker room? I think you’re going to have to quit. It’s for the best.”

Quit? But he was the star receiver. Still, the thought of his friends seeing him naked–what would they say? They’d laugh, they’d tell the whole school! Mr. Mulford was right, he had to quit, he had to.

“Now, how about you do me a favor today Sam–how about you suck my perfect cock off?”

“But I’m not gay…”

“Do you want me to tell everyone or not, freak?”

Sam gulped, but he had no choice. He took his teacher’s cock into his mouth and let him fuck his throat for a few minutes, until he shot a load and forced Sam to swallow his seed, and finally sent him on his way with an address in hand. His first study session was tomorrow, and Sam had a feeling that sucking dick wasn’t the only thing his faggot teacher would require to keep his secret safe.

***

No one knew what had happened to Sam. One day, he was his normal, outgoing, cocky self, his huge cock displayed prominently in tight jeans, and the next–it was like a whole new person had taken his place. His clothes were loose, he was suspicious of his friends. He no longer returned girl’s calls, and broke up with his girlfriend. He quit the football team in the middle of the season. His parents were concerned–he would be gone most every afternoon and never wanted to tell them where he’d been, saying only that he’d been studying at a friends house. Of course, after a few weeks of strange behavior, he had no friends–none that he could trust, anyway. He could only trust Master Mulford. Master was the only person who understood him, who could love and appreciate him even though he was a freak of nature. And even though he didn’t always like what Master did to him, even though he knew it was wrong, his freakish cock…it wouldn’t stop getting hard, thinking about his afternoon sessions, thinking about the things Master might do to him each afternoon, as he sat in science, daydreaming.

Sure, Master was old and ugly, short and pudgy, but he had the perfect cock. Sam couldn’t help himself now that he knew what his teacher had in his pants–truly it was a cock worthy of worship, unlike his own nasty, massive member. He wasn’t gay, but even now, thinking about it, his mouth was watering. He’d been a good freak though, he’d gone over the weekend and done exactly what his Master had asked him to do. His nipples were still tender, the head of his cock ached, but he had to obey. He had to, or everyone would know his secret. In fact, he suspected that they already did. Everyone whispered as he walked past them. They were all trying to figure out what was wrong with him. How could he tell them? How could he admit that he had a monstrous cock? It was better that people hated him and ignored him. At least he had master. Master wouldn’t tell anyone as long as Sam did everything he said. His secret was safe with him.

Another terrible day at school was over, and Sam walked the now familiar path to his teacher’s house, knowing that Master would arrive first in his car. It took half an hour to walk there, and he wondered what he might have planned. It was difficult to guess–it seemed like every day was some entirely new form of suffering, but the pain always gave way to pleasure, just like Master promised, and Sam would always beg for more, plead with him. He was such a freak. How could he have not noticed before? How could he have ever thought he was normal?

He knocked on the door, and master let him inside, telling him to go down into the basement, strip, and have his drink. Sam nodded. Master’s basement was a fully equipped sex dungeon, and at the foot of the stairs Sam removed his clothes, careful not to hurt his nipples and cock which he had gotten pierced Saturday on Master’s orders. The rings were huge–if he wore a tight shirt, anyone would be able to see them. The same with the PA he’d put in the head of his cock–it served to make his dick even more obscene. He hated it, but Master told him he’d learn to accept the freakishness of it eventually. Master had told him he planned on making Sam’s cock into the freak of nature it is, pierced all over, tattooed. The PA was just the first step–the rest would come later. Naked, he walked to the table and drank down the minty solution he’d first tried in the lab. The haze descended on him faster now–by the time Master joined him downstairs, clad in skimpy leather gear that showed off his chubby, bearish body, it was already difficult to think clearly.

Master’s eyes lit up at the sight of the piercings. “Perfect, just what I wanted,” he said, and tugged gingerly on both nipple rings. “I bet you groaned and got hard when you got them. And that nasty pipe–the piercing artist laughed at you, didn’t he? He was so disgusted at the sight of your cock.”

In fact, the piercings had simply been painful, and the man had been shocked at the size of his dick, but not disgusted. However, at master’s prompting, he happily forgot what had happened and remembered a new version, how he’d moaned at the sensation of the needle in his flesh, how the man had almost refused to pierce his dick; Sam had begged him–after all, if he hadn’t gotten the piercing, Master would have posted those pictures of him naked to the web for everyone to see.

“Now, I have something new for you today. Get on your knees. I want to introduce you to the humbler.”

Sam did as ordered, and Master brought out a curved metal device that looked sort of like shackles. Indeed, the two ends locked around both ankles, but the center had a hole through the shaft–where Master Mulford pulled his balls through and closed the ring tight, so that if he were to stand up, he would rip his sack apart. Just kneeling was uncomfortable, and he tried to adjust his stance to tug on his balls the least. Master cuffed Sam’s hands behind his back, and then without warning, shoved Sam forward. Unable to catch himself, his landed on the hard floor face first, trying to keep his knees bent as much as possible, his balls exposed beneath the humbler, and his master began slapping them with his hands.

“Yeah, look at this nasty sack of filthy cum–it’s fucking obscene. You know what I think we’re gonna do Sam? I think we’re gonna start stretching this sack of yours down, weigh it down all the time, until these fat balls swing between your knees, you fucking disgusting freak.” He got a paddle and started smaking Sam’s sack harder, until the student started crying out, his eyes tearing up from the gut churning pain. “Oh quit whining, you fucking love this, you pain freak. For whatever fucked up reason, this feels good, doesn’t it? You’re fucking enjoying this–I can see that filthy cock of yours getting hard. You’re fucking disgusting.”

It did feel good. It always hurt at first, but Master was right, he did like it. He liked it a lot. He started flexing his legs, pulling his sack tauter, wondering what it would be like to have his sack swinging between his knees. Freak. He would be such a freak. He is a freak, a total pain freak. His balls were swollen from the abuse, and Master Mulford finally hung up the paddle, massaging his perfectly sized cock with one gloved hand. “Gonna fuck that hole now boy, you like getting fucked, don’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“That sewer pipe of yours is gonna leak that filthy cum like a faucet as soon as my dick rips open your hole.”

“Yes sir.”

“You want me to use lube?”

“No sir.”

“Why not boy.”

“Because I like pain sir. I’m a pain freak sir. I want you to make it hurt, the more it hurts…the more I love it.”

The old man started shoving his cock into Sam’s hole, listening to him gasp with pain and pleasure. Mulford loved Mondays, he loved how Sam’s ass started to recover and tighten up again, he went in as deep and as quick as he could, making it hurt. “You know, this hole loves being fucked.”

“Yes sir, it does.”

“I bet this hole would love getting fisted. What do you think, slave? Would you like to feel my fat fist burrowing into your hole?”

“Would…would it hurt?”

“Oh yeah slave, it would hurt a lot. It would hurt way more than me fucking you.”

Sam was silent for a moment, and then croaked a quiet, “Yes…Yes, if it would hurt, fucking hurt me sir.”

Master fucked him, but didn’t shoot yet. He pulled out and went back to paddling, smacking not only Sam’s sack, but his ass as well, making him count out the blows. Only after fifty smacks, did he let Sam beg him to finish fucking him. Mulford was only too happy to oblige, and only after seeding his pain slave’s hole did he help him back up onto his knees, and undo his cuffs and his humbler.

“That’s enough for today slave. I’ll see you tomorrow for another session.”

“Yes sir,” Sam said, and wished his heart wasn’t secretly looking forward to whatever pain his Master would choose to inflict on him the next day, and the next, and the next.