Tag: muscle growth

Slob Control – Gear Night at The Alley

Bill had gone out to the gay bars around town a time or two, but had generally always been dissatisfied with them. They certainly weren’t like the bars from decades past, seedy little joints where you could get up to a little trouble in the dark, and no one batted an eye. These days they were so bright and clean and…judgemental. Bill had long since given up on trying to go out, but now that he had his spellbook, he had a feeling he could make the bars around town a little more fun. He decided to start that week with The Alley–what might have been closest to the bear and leather bar around town, but it wasn’t really much of either. However, after having a little chat with the owner, and then the bartenders, and then the bouncers one night–along with a little bit of magic pushed into the place itself, he had a feeling it would have a much nicer reputation soon enough.

Kenneth and Evan got out of the uber as it idled in front of the bar, thanked their driver, and hustled over to the sidewalk outside The Alley. Kenneth and Evan were regulars here, usually coming out on Friday nights after work to have drinks with a few other couples, before heading home. Both of them were in their usual dress–khakis and button down shirts. They didn’t usually bother changing after work to go out. After all, they were in their mid forties, it’s not like they were going clubbing. They walked up to the door to the bar, opened it up, and found themselves facing an unfamiliar bouncer sitting on a stool, dressed in leather booty shorts, vest, cap and boots. It was a bit more…kinky than the usual atmosphere, but it didn’t faze them that much. They got out their IDs, and then the bouncer told them it would be a five dollar cover charge.

“What?” Evan said, “Why? There’s never a cover on Fridays.”

“It’s gear night. You’re not in gear. It’s either five dollars each, or you can grab somethin’ off the wall behind you.”

They turned around, and saw a bunch of pegs had been hung there on the wall, with a variety of gear hanging from them. Flannel, leather, hi viz, camo–it was a bearish assortment, but not anything that the two of them would usually wear. Evan sighed, “Fine,” and fished out his wallet.

“Hold on, let’s just put something on,” Kenneth said, grabbing a hi viz vest off the wall and pulling it on.

“Kenneth, you look ridiculous.”

“Come on, it saves us ten bucks.”

“We can afford ten bucks.”

“Here,” Kenneth said, holding out a leather bracelet with a snap, “Even you can pull this off.”

Evan glared at his husband, but took the leather band from him and put it on, then turned to the bouncer, who was just smirking. “That good enough?”

“Sure is,” he said, “Come on in, fellas.”

The bar was a bit more boisterous than it usually was on Fridays, and the crowd seemed a little older, a little gruffer. Kenneth spotted a few other regulars, some of them also sporting gear off the wall, as well as quite a few guys he hadn’t seen before, who looked like they’d brought plenty of gear from home. “Do you see Jamie or Kaleb?” he said.

“No, they might not be here yet.”

“Or they’re out back.”

They settled on a plan, since the line for the bar was fairly long. Evan would wait in line and get them a couple of drinks, while Kenneth scoped out the bar and looked for their friends, to see if they were there yet. Evan agreed, got in line, and Kenneth pushed his way through the crowded space towards the hall that led out onto the patio behind. He quickly got a bit turned around. The place seemed bigger than he remembered it being, the hallway a bit more twisty and windy than before–that, and quite a bit darker, with quite a few guys cruising from the corners. Kenneth eventually found his way through and out onto the back patio, feeling a bit relieved to be out of there. He scoped out the place, but it too was rather thick with guys. He was going to have to push around a bit to see if their friends were there or not. He found himself pushed around the edges of the main mass of guys, checking tables as he went, but there was no sign of the other couples. 

“Hey bud, lookin’ good tonight!”

Kenneth spun around, and saw he’d ended up near a table on the edge of the patio, next to the fence. A group of fellows who looked like they’d either just stepped off a construction site, or off a trailer park, were sitting around, smoking cigars, with about a pitcher of beer for each of them. “Huh?” he said, looked down at his own hi-viz vest, and looked a little sheepish, “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, love a guy in gear, and you don’t have a drink! Need a beer?”

“No, my husband’s buying some inside.”

The fellow hadn’t waited for Kenneth’s response, he’d just poured a glass, and shoved it into Kenneth’s hand. “Guess ya better drink up quick then, go on!”

Kenneth looked down at the beer. He wasn’t much of a beer guy–he preferred a nice, sweet cocktail, but he also didn’t want to be rude. He drank some of the beer, and the next thing he knew, it was all gone. Had he just chugged that? He let off a belch, making the rest of the guys all start laughing.

“There ya go fella, have another,” the man said, and pushed another beer into Kenneth’s hand.

“No, I really should go find my husband.”

“Take a seat, he’ll find you out here faster with those drinks. Come on. Name’s Brett, by the way.”

Brett scooched over over the bench, crowding another chubby fellow down the line, and left a bit of bench beside him. Kenneth looked around, desperate for someone to rescue him from this awkward encounter, but as much as he knew he should walk away, a little voice told him to sit, have a drink. Maybe even have a cigar. They seemed nice and fun. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out with them for a bit. Just until Evan found him–that’s all. He took a seat, thigh pushed up against Brett’s, and the big fellow dropped his hand right on Kenneth’s knee. He could feel the blush all over his face, and he downed the second beer as a distraction.

“Man after my own heart, gonna try tah drink me under the table, eh?”

Kenneth looked down at the glass–somehow it had been refilled, but he hadn’t seen anyone pour it. He felt bloated, and gassy. He let off another belch, and found himself laughing along with the rest of the guys. For a while, he kept looking out at the crowd, hoping to spot Evan, but there was no sign of him. It wasn’t a big deal, he supposed. They’d probably found each other inside. He’d go join them in a bit. Just one more beer–and maybe another after that too.

It took longer than he’d expected it to, but Evan finally got a hold of two drinks–one of the sweet cocktails that Kenneth liked, and a whiskey coke for himself–and then set about trying to figure out where his husband had gotten off to. He poked around the main bar, but he was nowhere to be found, and neither were his friends. He managed to find a ledge he could set the glasses down on, checked his phone, but there weren’t any messages from anyone either. Maybe they had ended up out on the patio. He picked up the drinks and began weaving his way in between the bears of the bar, trying to find a path without spilling anything.

The clientele tonight seemed a lot more burly and crude than usual. The Alley was a bear bar, but it was a bar for middle class bears. Professional bears, with jobs downtown and adopted kids, and carefully managed open relationships. The guys he was pushing past seemed quite a bit more lower class than what he was used to, and he wasn’t sure he quite liked it very much. He narrowly avoided some chubby fellow that came barrelling through the doorway, and as he lurched, he stumbled into a wall and ended up dumping both drinks down the front of his clothes. Pissed off that he’d not only wasted a good chunk of cash, but also ruined a good work shirt, he figured he’d find the bathroom and see if he could clean himself up a bit.

The only problem is that the bathroom wasn’t where it was supposed to be. The Alley, like a lot of gay bars, wasn’t particularly large. It wasn’t even a very good cruise bar–there was no circuit, no hallways, no particularly dark corners. There had been two hallways–one that went out to the patio, and another that bent around to the bathrooms. Only the hall to the bathrooms kept going, and got darker. The lights were red, and the men he passed were looking a little more hungry than he liked. He tried to backtrack to the main room and the bar to reorient himself, but found himself turned around entirely. In his panic and frustration, he came around a corner too fast, and ran right into another fellow. He was built wide and muscular–Evan bounced right off him, and would have fallen to the ground, if the man hadn’t reached out, grabbed hold of his wrist, and kept him balanced.

“Easy there bud, what’s got you all in a rush?” the man said.

Evan sized him up–and there was a lot to size. He was tall, broad, muscular, and his whole body was decked out in full leather. Pants, shirt, jacket, gloves, boots. The only bit of skin he could see was the bit above his beard. The fellow’s muir cap was pulled down so low, he couldn’t even catch his eyes. Evan realized he was still holding onto him by the wrist. The grip was just a little too tight to be comfortable. He tugged his wrist free, and in the process lost the leather wrist band he’d put on at the door. It clattered to the floor, but before he could bend to retrieve it, the man’s cap lifted up slightly, and he caught the man’s gaze for a moment, and froze. His eyes, even in the darkness, were like steel. Hard and unyielding. He could have sworn they were metallic. He almost wanted to get a closer look, see if he could find himself in the iris, reflected–

“Careful there cub, don’t want you walking around naked now, do we?”

Evan blinked. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed in that glimpse. It might have been seconds, or it could have been hours. The man bent down and picked up the bracelet from the floor, turning it over and over in his gloved hands. It wasn’t quite a bracelet, in the light. It was too long, and was growing thinner. The snap became a buckle–it was a collar, but Evan was certain it hadn’t been a collar before.

“Here, let me put it on ya,” the man said, stepping close. Evan could smell the leather, felt it on his arms. He found himself cursing the shirt he had on, he wanted to know what it felt like against his skin. The man buckled the collar around his neck, and Evan felt a wave of ease flow over him. That was so much better. No wonder he’d been such a nervous wreck earlier, he hadn’t had his collar on right at all.

“There, that’s better, right cub?”

“Yes…Sir,” Evan said. 

“You’re all wet,” he said, tugging at his shirt.

“I…spilled a drink on myself. I was trying to get to the bathroom to clean up, and…”

“Shush,” the man said, “None of that matters.”

Evan’s lips shut tight, and he nodded up at the man.

“The most important thing, cub, is that you thank me for putting your collar back on.”

That didn’t seem quite right, to Evan. In fact, all of this seemed a bit strange. What was he doing here, with this strange man, with a collar on of all things. “I…I need to find my husband, I–”

The brim of the man’s cap slipped up, and Evan could see just a bit of silver there, and his eyes couldn’t look away. “Silly little cub. Walking in here in your leather harness, showing off those muscles you’re working on, that hot, furry little gut. Wearing those hot little chap shorts, that grungy looking jock. You didn’t come here lookin’ for a husband. You came in here looking for a Daddy. Looking for a Sir.”

Evan tore his eyes away and stumbled back. Looking down at himself in the dark, everything seemed wrong. He could remember Kenneth, remember the drinks, but he was wearing a harness, and those hot fucking chap shorts, and his dirtiest jock, because he’s a dirty little cub, fuck yeah, and fuck, if this isn’t the hottest fucking leather daddy he’s ever laid eyes on, and he has his collar on. He put his collar on him, on his neck. Fuck, this leather god collared him, the least he could do is thank him, thank him like a good little cub.Get down on his knees, shove his face in his Sir’s leather crotch, then get down and lick his boots clean, lick them good and clean. Maybe Sir will walk on him, crush him, crush his cub cock under those boots, make him squeal before he fucks him, maybe–

Evan pushed the thoughts away, and he ran. He ignored the voice that called after him, ordered him to come back. His booted feet almost ground to a halt, but Evan knew the truth, and it wasn’t that. He had to find Kenneth, he had to get the two of them out of this fucked up bar, before it was too late.

Kenneth was drunk. Kenneth couldn’t remember the last time he was drunk like this–maybe college, but even that was doubtful. He wasn’t a heavy drinker by any measure. Sure, they liked to uber to the bar together so they could both have their fill, but neither of them was an alcoholic, not like some of the other guys at the bar they could point out, or even a couple of guys in the friend group they usually hung out with. Tonight, hanging with Brett and his buddies though, every time he looked, his glass was brimming with their cheap beer, and every time he took a drink, he somehow ended up chugging the whole thing back. 

Brett’s hand was sliding over further and further, and was now openly groping Kenneth’s crotch. When he tried to scooch away, Brett’s arm ended up around his shoulder, his stinking pit inches from his face. When he tried to push away, he found his own hand in Brett’s crotch, groping his cock–his sizable cock, from the feel of it. He was losing control of the situation. He wouldn’t be able to say no, if he wanted to say no, but of course he wanted to say no. These guys weren’t his type at all, as much fun as it was hanging out with them. Besides, he needed to piss real bad after all of that beer, and try as he might, he couldn’t seem to excuse himself. “Fuck guys, I gotta go to the bathroom,” he said, or thought he said. Tried to say, at least, he might have slurred out some of that. He stumbled up from the bench, but couldn’t quite get his foot over it. He would have fallen on his face if Brett hadn’t gotten up first and been there to catch him, pull him close into his warm gut. 

He wasn’t sure how exactly his mouth ended up on Brett’s. One second he was trying to apologize, the next his mouth was full of Brett’s tongue, tasting of beer and cigar smoke, and fuck, it felt so good to just let go, and relax, and just stop worrying so much about everything, and just have this one kiss for a moment.

“Holy fuck, Kenny’s fuckin’ pissin’ himself!”

Brett pulled away from the kiss, looked down, and started laughing, along with the rest of the guys at the bench. It took Kenneth a moment to realize that the name Kenny had been referring to him, and that the kiss had apparently broken his focus so much, he’d let his bladder loose down the front of his khakis. He could feel it, the warmth running down his legs. He tried to stop it, but couldn’t seem to manage. It was running down both legs, even down into his socks and shoes. He just stood there, horrified, not at all certain what to do, as the rest of the guys just laughed.

“I…I should go, I need to find my husband and–”

“Hold on, hold on,” Brett said, “You can’t go out there looking like that, here, we’ll take care of you, don’t you worry, right fellas?”

The guys were still chuckling, but they all nodded in agreement. 

“Here, first, let’s get you out of that soaked shit.”

Brett started pulling at his shirt, unbuttoning it. Another guy came around and started unlacing his shoes. Kenneth tried to get them to stop, but he was having a hard enough time just standing upright. He ended up sitting back on the bench, totally naked, Brett balling up his piss soaked clothes and chucking them behind the bench. “Now, between all a us, we got enough to make an outfit, don’t we guys?”

It didn’t make any sense to Kenneth, how it happened. None of the guys looked any less dressed than they had been before, but now, on the table in front of him, was a total outfit of grungy looking workwear. None of it was his size of course, since all of them were substantially fatter than he was, but it was there. “I…I can’t, just give me back my clothes.”

“You don’t want those, just put these on already,” Brett said, “Or you’ll be going home naked.”

“He pulled on the stiff, cum stained briefs with a sizable brown stripe up the back, and tried to suppress a gag. Then came the mud crusted hi viz shirt, and the tattered jeans held up by a camo suspenders that were well on their way to losing their elasticity. Two mismatched, but equally grimy boot socks, and a pair of work boots much too big for his feet. Lastly, the hi-viz vest he’d gotten from the bar, and to top it off, a camo baseball cap.

“There, don’t that feel better?” Brett said, and pulled him close, “Have another beer.”

“I shouldn’t, I’m so drunk,”

“Drink Kenny, we know how much ya can handle.”

He took the glass from Brett, and chugged the beer back, but something was off about this one. It was flat, it was warm. The color was a bit too pale, and the taste a bit too bitter. Kenneth drank it all down though, and when he was through, he licked his lips. It was weird, but he liked it. He liked it a whole lot. 

“Like that one Kenny?”

“Yeah Brett, that one was different, what was that?”

“Right from the tap, Kenny,” Brett said, took the glass from him, put it under his cock, which he’d pulled out of his jeans, and he pissed into it, filling it up to the brim.

Kenneth looked on in horror at the realization of what he’d just drank–and that he’d liked it. He’d really liked it. He liked it so much that, despite his disgust, he took the glass from Brett and guzzled that one right down too, only for Brett to kiss him right after. This time, Kenneth kissed him right back, the taste of beer, smoke and piss on their breath making him hornier than he could ever recall being in his life.

Evan found his way out of the darkness, and burst out into the main bar. He was relieved, looking down at himself, that his body hadn’t changed–but his clothing had. Just like Sir had said, his work clothes had disappeared, replaced entirely by a leather harness, chaps, a filthy looking jock, and some leather boots. He reached up, tried to undo the clasp of the collar, but his hands couldn’t seem to free it.

Whatever, it would come off later, at home. He looked around, but Kenneth was nowhere to be seen here, so that left the patio. He managed to find his way there this time, and the place was packed with men, many of them smoking cigars. The smell of smoke and musk was making his cub cock throb–no, what the fuck was wrong with him? He pushed through, ignoring the cat calls and the occasional smack on his bare ass, calling out for Kenneth, and finally he found him, sitting at a bench with a bunch of roughnecks, laughing and belching like a heathen.

Then, he doubted himself. It couldn’t be Kenneth. The beard was too long. He was too fat. He wasn’t wearing the right clothes either, or at least, not the clothes he’d arrived in. Then again, neither was he. He was certain it was him though, somehow. It was the eyes, the mouth, and that stupid hi-viz vest that he’d gotten when they’d come into the bar. Something about the stuff they’d been given, it’s like it was changing them! He hurried over, grabbed hold of Kenneth by the shoulder and shook him enough that his husband looked up at him, clearly more than a little drunk. He could smell the alcohol on his breath, and something else, something acrid, something that Evan didn’t want to know about. 

“Kenneth, we have to get out of here, come on, this place is fucked up.”

Kenneth just blinked a couple of times at him, his eyes narrowed, and looked a bit confused.

“Friend of yours, Kenny?” the man beside him asked.

“I…Evan?” Kenneth asked. “What are ya doin’ wearin’ all that leather shit?”

“Kenneth, you have to listen to me. Something about the bar, it’s changing us, ok? These roughneck fucks next to you are turning you into some beer swilling idiot. You have to trust me, and come with me, right now, alright?”

“Bud, why don’t you go ahead and fuck off,” the roughneck said, throwing one arm around Kenneth and leaning over him. His pit ended up right in Kenneth’s face, and he let off a moan, before leaning in and licking it. “Kenny here is perfectly happy right here with us, ain’t that right, Kenny?”

“Oh, fuck yeah Brett, fuck ya smell so fuckin’ good.”

“Kenneth!” Evan yelled, and pulled him back. “You have to believe me, we have to get out of here.”

Kenneth just blinked at him, “Do…do I know you?”

“You don’t know him Kenny. You want some more beer, man?”

“Fuck, only if it’s from yer special tap,” Kenneth said.

Evan just watched in disgust as Brett pissed in a glass, passed it to Kenneth, and his husband drank it all down. As he did, Evan swore he saw him grow a bit fatter, and hairier in the process. He licked his lips, belched, and groped his cock in front of all the roughnecks, laughing along with them.

“There you are,” a voice said behind him. 

Evan turned around, and found the leatherman from the dark standing right behind him. Before he could run off, the man hooked a leash to the collar around Evan’s neck, and as soon as the latch closed, Evan felt that same pleasurable calm sweep over him.

“Sorry guys, my cub here ran off on me. I hope he wasn’t giving you any trouble,” the leatherman said.

“Nah, nothin’ we couldn’t handle, right Kenny?”

“Yeah…sure Brett…” Kenneth said.

“Come on, cub, let’s go finish what we’d started earlier.”

Evan tried to push back on the dreamy haze enveloping him, but couldn’t seem to fight it. It just felt so good to let go, and let Sir walk him through the bar, show him where to go, back into the darkness. 

“That was a very naughty thing, running off like that cub,” the man said, pulling the leash tight when they returned to the spot where they’d met. “Still, I’ll take some of the responsibility–I should have leashed you sooner, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so willful. We’ll take care of that though, don’t worry.”

“Please…I…I have to get out of here,” Evan managed to say, but couldn’t even manage to pull away.

“Now why would you want to do that? Hot little muscle cub like you, walking in here looking like this. You knew what you wanted, didn’t you?”

Evan tried to resist, but he could feel the memories twisting and warping in the dark, just like the wristband had earlier. He thought he’d come with someone, but he’d come alone. Dressed in his leather gear, hot young cub, dirty jock and boots. Yeah, he was hot, but…but he wanted something. He was looking for something. “I found…I…”

“You found a Master, cub. You found a man to collar you. A man who’s going to own you.”

“No…” Evan mouthed, looked up, perhaps to plead, and found himself staring directly into the man’s silvery eyes. He’d been right. They were bright enough to reflect. He could see himself in them. Twenty eight years old, shorter than he’d like to be, but broad and muscular, with a bit of a belly. His harness pulled tight across his hairy chest, pits stinking. He can finally grow a full beard, and he never wants to have anything else, ever again. He looks tough, sure, but there’s something inside him, something he’s always known. He wants to be dominated. He wants to be owned, and controlled, and enslaved. Evan knew that there should be something else there, someone older and wiser, but that was all there was. That was the truth, whether he liked it or not. 

The leash tugged him down, he fell to his knees, where he belonged. He pressed his face against Master’s leather crotch, smelled it, felt the warmth, and shuddered. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you for choosing me, for making me your slave,” he said.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Master said. “Now clean my boots, cub.”

Evan knelt lower, pressed his tongue to the leather of Master’s boots, and felt his cock shudder, leaking into his filthy jockstrap. He could feel Master’s gaze resting on him, judging his work. Master let out a quiet little groan, almost like the act of Evan licking his boots was like licking his cock. Knowing that even this could pleasure his Master, Evan dug in, licking up the length, feeling the boot…shudder under his tongue.

“Fuck, that’s good cub, you know how to make a leatherman happy,” Master said.

Evan beamed with pride from the compliment. He’d wanted a Master like this all his life–he wasn’t about to disappoint him now.

“Come on Keggy, wakey, wakey…”

The warm stream hit Keggy’s face, and he let out a moan. His head was pounding, but that didn’t stop him from opening up his mouth, almost by instinct, so he could swallow the piss that was hitting him in the face. He managed to crack open his eyes once the stream stopped, and looked up at Brett looming over him. He was lying somewhere cramped and uncomfortable, with a crick in his neck, and his back. He rolled up, sliding a bit, and realized he’d fallen asleep in a stand up shower. “Fuck, did I sleep here last night?”

“You know the rules, Keggy. You stay over, you sleep in here. I don’t care how many ‘accidents’ you have at home, I don’t need my trailer smelling like a urinal.”

Keggy looked down at himself, at his clothes, which were drenched and stinking. The crotch of his pants were exceptionally wet, like they’d been soaked recently. It all stank of piss, and fuck if that didn’t get his cock hardening against the wet denim. “What…happened last night?”

“Same thing that happens every gear night. You got drunk off your ass, and drank loads of piss and cum from half the guys at the bar. You had a lot of fun.”

That sounded right, but there were no actual memories to go with it. “Think I blacked out.”

“Not surprising. We were both wasted when we got home. You were begging me to get you off, but that dick of yours wouldn’t get hard for shit–mine either. Workin’ just fine now, though. Wanna fuck?”

Keggy wasn’t quite sure if he did or not, but Brett rolled him up onto all fours, his head in the shower and his knees outside it, tugged down his soaking wet jeans, and pushed the head of his cock against his hole. It slipped right in, and Keggy moaned. Brett fucked him slow, reached around, under Keggy’s big gut, and gripped his cock too, fucking and jacking him at the same time. Keggy bent down and started licking the floor of the shower, tasting Brett’s morning piss on it, humping into Brett’s fist at the same time.

“Nasty fuckin’ piss pig, lickin’ it up from the floor of my fuckin’ shower, yer fuckin’ nasty.”

Keggy couldn’t hold it much longer, once Brett started berating him, and he came, blowing a huge load all over the floor of the bathroom. Brett backed him up, keeping him on his cock, so Keggy could lick up his mess, and then focused on fucking his hole, harder and rougher now that they were both warmed up, until Brett came inside him. He pulled out and stood up, catching his breath, while Keggy got up the last bits of his cum, and managed to push himself up after, right in front of Brett’s filthy mirror. He looked at himself, at the long graying beard, the piss soaked clothes, his thick hairy forearms and massive ball gut. It didn’t…seem familiar, but his memory was a blank. There was something he should remember, wasn’t there? Something, or someone, important?

“Alright, get outta here Keggy. I got shit to do today.”

“Wha?”

“Go on, get home.”

“I…” Keggy said, “I kinda…don’t remember…don’t I live here?”

“Man, you did get drunk last night. We live in the same goddamn trailer park, but hell if I’m gonna live with you man. I don’t mind playing with a urinal on occasion, but ain’t no one wanna live with one–I guess, except you.”

“Ya don’t gotta be an asshole,” Keggy said, and Brett chuckled. 

Brett stepped close, like he was gonna kiss him, and then spit in his face. “Ya wouldn’t have nearly as much fun if I fuckin’ respected you. Yer a filthy fuckin’ piss pig. Now get the fuck out before my place starts stinkin’ like yours.”

Fuck, he was hard again. He stumbled his way out of Brett’s trailer and out onto the gravel, looked around, and saw he was in a mobile home park. Now that he was out, he did…almost remember, a place. He shuffled off, and found a trailer he imagined he recognized a few lots down. The key fit, he opened the door, and the stink of the place assaulted him. He took a deep breath, cock even harder, and sighed. Fuck, nothing smelled quite like home.

Something told him this was wrong. He stepped inside, looked around at the filthy space, walls and carpet stained with all the times he’d pissed on them–sometimes even on purpose, and felt that this couldn’t be right. He remembered living somewhere else. Somewhere clean. A house. A suburb. There was another hole, person shaped. He ran his tongue around his mouth, trying to feel for a name, but all he came up with was the taste of piss and old beer.

Beer–yeah, he could go for a beer. That would help the hangover. Might even help him remember whatever it was that was missing. Beer always helped, and fuck was he thirsty. He went to his fridge, opened it up, and found it packed full of cheap beer. He didn’t remember buying it. It was just always there, somehow. He thought he should be hungry too, but that didn’t seem right. He couldn’t really remember eating anything. He was too thirsty all the time to eat, after all. Beer, piss, and cum. What more could a urinal like him need, really? He popped open a can, chugged it down, grabbed another, and chugged that one too, letting off a long belch. He thought again about what was missing, but the beer had just clouded it over again. No matter–that was easier anyway. He sat down in his recliner, feeling the seat squelch under him, the stink of old piss wafting up around him. He hauled his cock free, aimed up, and pissed all over himself there in the chair, thinking about what Brett had said, how he’d treated him.

“Stupid, worthless fuckin’ urinal, fuck…” he muttered to himself, as the stream stopped, his cock hardening again in his hand. “Fuck, I’m disgustin’…nasty…sittin’ in my own fuckin’ piss…”

He stroked himself off again, and felt better. Once he got a few more beers in his belly, he got a good idea. He had the rest of the day free, after all. Didn’t have to go back to work until Monday. Plenty of truckers at the truckstop down the road. He could camp out in the bathroom, plenty of ‘em loved a hot mouth to piss in, and Keggy loved gettin’ treated like a urinal, like a fuckin’ object. Maybe that night, he’d head back to The Alley with Brett, but he’d see. Mostly, he was thirsty, and beer only sated him so much. He grabbed his keys, climbed in his truck, which was just as piss soaked as everything else Keggy owned, and drove off down the road to the truck stop to slake his thirst properly.

Evan didn’t know where he was when he woke up, at first. He was on something rather hard, for one thing. He pushed himself up, and saw that he’d fallen asleep on a carpeted floor, with a sheet of leather thrown over him for warmth. His whole body ached, but whether that was from sleeping on the floor, or from the punishments his Master had put him through, both at the bar in the dark, and at his home, once they’d left. That’s where he was, he supposed. He looked next to him, and saw a sizable bed beside him, covered in leather sheets. He needed to take a piss, but when he went to try and find the bathroom, he was stuck–his collar was chained to a hook on the wall, keeping him right next to the bed whether he wanted to or not.

“Sorry for the extra security,” a voice said, “but I didn’t want you running off again.” 

Evan looked up, and saw the leatherman was looking down at him from where he was lying on his bed, still in full leather regalia–boots, hat and all. Had he slept in it? That seemed like a curious level of commitment. “I…I just need to pee, Sir.”

“Ah, right. Forget about that sometimes,” he said, reached down and unclipped the lead from the collar. “That doorway over there.”

Evan got to his feet, still in his own leather gear, much to his surprise. At some point though, his jock had disappeared. He went to the doorway, and found the bathroom. He took a piss in the toilet and then went back out into the bedroom, where Master was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. Evan was feeling a little nervous now, in the light of day, in a strange home. “I…I think…I’d like to go home now, Sir,” he said.

“The man smiled, and beckoned him over to where he was sitting. “And where would home be, little cub?”

Evan knew that there had to be an answer to that question, but there wasn’t one. He couldn’t remember where he lived. There was a hole there, shaped like a house, like a job, like a person. “I’m not sure…but–”

“Did you like how I made you feel last night?” he said, running a gloved hand down Evan’s chest and belly. 

Evan shuddered, and felt his cock rising, pushing against his jock. “I…I did, but…sorry, Sir, but…did you sleep in your gear last night? I…I could have undressed you, you know…”

The leatherman looked down at himself, and chuckled again. “I think you’re misunderstanding, cub. This isn’t gear–this is me,” he said, took Evan’s hand in his own gloved fingers and tugged it over, so it could rub across his jacket. “This is my skin now. I don’t really remember when it happened, or how. I love it though. Feeling you lick my boots last night, fuck, you have a real hot tongue, cub.”

“You…could feel that? I thought, but I didn’t…”

“I could. I can. I’d like to feel it again, even.”

“Wait, how is that even possible?”

Master shrugged.

“Is…do you have…a cock then? Is that why you, uh, said what you did about the bathroom?”

“Yeah–haven’t pissed in a few days. Kinda weird, but also convenient. I do have a cock though. I didn’t want to pull it out last night, I was worried it might…scare you off, but here,” he said, and with his gloved hands, he dropped the fly of his leather pants. Something pushed out, something pulsing and leathery. It was a cock, but it too, looked more like an extension of his clothing, than something that came from underneath. It was thick, and long, and drooling something off the end that wasn’t quite cum. “Go on cub, have a taste.”

Evan stared down at the strange cock, disturbed. “I…I don’t…” he looked up, and found himself caught in the man’s silvery eyes again, and he sighed.

“You love leather, don’t you cub? The feel of it on your skin,” he said, running his gloved hands down Evan’s body, watching the cub shudder at his touch. “You loved worshiping it last night, didn’t you?”

“I did, I…but…”

He got up, maintaining eye contact, and pushed Evan back, so he was lying on the bed, belly up, and then climbed on top of him, pressing his leathered body down on him, giving him as much contact as he could. It was so warm. He could feel it pulsing, it was his skin, it was alive, even if it didn’t make sense. Master’s cock was pressed against his own, his hardon throbbing. “I am leather, cub. If you want to worship leather, then worship me. Be mine. Give yourself to me. Doesn’t it feel good, just submitting? Giving in?” 

He ground his leather crotch against Evan’s own cock, feeling how excited the cub was. “I…Sir…I don’t think I can hold…”

“Don’t hold back. Cum. Release all that fear, all that reluctance. Cum, and accept that your only desire is to worship me–to worship leathermen.”

Evan’s cock exploded, pumping cum between his flesh and his Master’s leather cock. He fell back, mind reeling from the sensation, from the desires coursing through him. Master worked his way up, until he was straddling Evan’s neck with his thighs. “Clean up your mess, cub, and then service me.”

“Yes Master,” Evan said, and licked his cum off his master’s leather skin, relishing how it made him shudder, and then took his cock in his mouth. The taste was leathery, but also musky, still recognizable as human. His reluctance was forgotten, his cock already hard again. Master rolled him over after a couple of minutes, and then fucked his hole with his big cock. He expected it to be a rough, uncomfortable fuck, but it wasn’t. It was heavenly, unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his life. Eventually, Master came, flooding his guts with his strange seed, but Evan no longer cared. This was the most phenomenal experience of his life, and he wouldn’t give this up for anything.

“Thank you Sir, that was amazing,” he said, when the leatherman rolled off him. 

He grabbed hold of Evan and pulled him close. “It sure fucking was. Can you feel it inside you boy?”

There was an odd heat that he could sense. Evan reached around with his hand, touched his hole with one hand, and gasped. It wasn’t skin, not really. It was leather. Supple, soft leather, warm to the touch, and so, so hungry. “What…what did you do to me?”

“You’re a cute cub, but I think you’ll look better as a leatherboy, don’t you think? Gonna take a few more loads to make that happen, and you’ll need some more gear, but what do you say? Wanna go all the way? Be a leather freak like me?”

Evan nodded. “Yes Master–fuck, yes…Yes…”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the leatherman said, “Now, let’s get you properly dressed, boy.”

That night at The Alley, the leatherman and his leatherboy were quite a sight, in their full leather regalia. There were a few differences of course. The boy had a thick leather collar around his neck, and a simple leather ball cap on his head. He hadn’t yet earned the right to wear a muir cap like his Master, after all. That, and his pants. There was no fly on the front–Master decided to keep his boy in a codpiece for now–he didn’t need his cock slipping out and causing problems. That, and a zipper down the ass of his leather pants, so Master could get at his hot boy’s leather hole whenever he wanted–and he wanted it, a lot, from then on.

Slob Control – Bill’s First Slave

Peter had never gotten along well with his neighbor, Bill, ever since he’d moved in next door around a year ago. They lived in an old neighborhood without an HOA or any real neighborhood association, and while Peter liked keeping his lawn tidy and his house looking good, he soon realized that Bill had no such intention. The yard went to weed, and Bill would just spend his weekends out on the porch, wearing nothing more than some boxers and a filthy looking undershirt while he drank cheap beer and smoked his cigars. Judging from the dirty pickup he drove and the grubby workwear he’d tromp around in occasionally, Peter figured his neighbor was in construction, but had never asked for details. Peter, in the end, did his best to just ignore him and focus on his own life instead. Peter was in his mid 50’s, still happily married to his high school sweetheart, and their only son was currently away for his junior year in college. It was nice having him out of the house, and striking out on his own, finally. It was a late Spring day when everything changed for Peter.

He’d been planning on a normal Saturday–sleep in a bit with Michelle, play a round of golf, mow the lawn in the afternoon. When it came time to mow, he saw that Bill was on his porch, as usual, but with something he’d never seen him with before–Bill was reading a book. Not a normal looking book either, it seemed to be, well, it was big, and leather bound, and stood out quite a bit. He seemed rather absorbed in it, and Peter didn’t exactly want details, but as he mowed, he kept a curious eye on him anyway, and saw that Bill kept looking over at him as well. Then, he noticed that Bill had set his cigar down, and was reading something aloud out of the book–and Peter felt a bit strange. Woozy, his vision beginning to tunnel, like he was going to faint. He tried to call out to Michelle for help, but couldn’t. There was something else he had to do, something important–but that was the last thing he recalled clearly.

When he was next properly aware of himself, he found himself in a room he didn’t recognize. He looked around, confused, and found that he was standing in front of Bill, who was sitting in a recliner in front of him, a big grin plastered across his face. “What…what happened?” Peter said.

“Relax, Pete, everything’s fine,” Bill said. Despite Peter knowing that everything was very much not normal, he found himself relaxing all the same, his heart rate slowing from the panic it had been racing at. “You’ll feel better if you take your clothes off. Go ahead and undress for me, Pete.”

There was, of course, no way that Peter would undress here, in front of Bill, and yet, without wanting to, he discovered his hands were already obeying Bill’s command. In a matter of moments, he was completely naked in front of his fat, slobby neighbor. “What–why is this happening?”

“I figured it was bogus, honestly,” Bill said, patting his hand on the large book beside him, “I found it at an estate sale last weekend. It came in a lot with some other stuff I wanted. Turns out, it’s a spell book, looking for a new owner, and that owner is me, now. It’s not just any book of spells either–it somehow knows exactly what kind of magic I want, and makes the spells for me, personally. The spell I cast on you, is an obedience spell. One that will make you my perfect little slave. That trance you were in is way more powerful than hypnosis–but don’t worry, I didn’t do anything too extreme today. But tell me, Pete, what do you think of my body?”

“Fuck, I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Pete said, horrified at the words falling out of his mouth. Worse, he realized that he was hard, that looking at Bill’s fat, hairy, dirty body there was, in fact, turning him on more than his wife’s body ever had.

“Oh my, are you gay, Pete? You never told me that.”

“I am gay. I’m gay, and I love servicing fat, old, hairy men like you, Bill.”

“Does your wife know that?”

“N-No…no, please, you can’t…how are you doing this? This isn’t right!”

“This isn’t right?” Bill said, hefted up his heavy apron of fat, revealing his thick, precum drooling cock below. “I’ll give you a choice, Pete. You can pick up your clothes and leave, and I’ll put your mind back the way it was. Or, you can come over here, get on your knees, worship my fat body and suck my cock off. If you do that, though, you’re agreeing to by my slave, my little whore neighbor from now on, and you’ll be my guinea pig for whatever spells I want to cast on you. What do you want to do, Pete? What do you really want?”

“Fuck, I want to worship you so fucking bad,” Peter said, and stumbled closer to the recliner, a bit of him trying to hold back.

“You want my dirty, fat body more than you love that wife of yours? Your son?” Bill said.

Pete fell to his knees, crawled over, and pressed his tongue against Bill’s hairy belly, moaning as he did. “Fuck, oh fuck…” he moaned, dragging his tongue across the surface, one hand drifting to his cock and stroking himself as he licked.

“Get your hand off that cock of yours, slave, you don’t touch yourself without permission,” Bill said, and Pete yanked his hand away, “give me a good belly rub, satisfying me is more important than satisfying you. You’ll get your pleasure if you serve me well, slave.”

Peter did as he was told, kneading Bill’s soft belly with his hands while he kept licking it, until Bill’s hand grabbed the top of his head and pushed him lower, underneath, to his cock. Peter had never so much as touched another man’s cock before, but as soon as he tasted Bill’s sweaty, musky cock, he knew without a doubt he would never want to be with a woman, ever again. He struggled all the same with the substantial length and girth of Bill’s cock, and his neighbor eventually just grabbed hold of his head and started fucking his face, barely giving Peter time to breathe, before he finally came down his throat.

“Good job slave, you’ve made the right choice, becoming my little whore, don’t you think?” Bill said, a little out of breath from the exertion. “Come on, let’s give you a little reward, eh? You want to cum, don’t you slave?”

“Please, yes, please Master,” Peter said, not even noticing what he called Bill, his face wet with tears, spit and cum.

“And how do slaves like you get to cum?”

“By…By fucking my little slave cock up against your big, beautiful belly, Master.”

Peter climbed up on top of Bill in his chair, who shoved his face into one rank armpit, and the stench alone made Pete shudder and moan in delight. He started humping against Bill’s belly, licking and snorting at the stinky pit, and in less than a minute, he was horrified to realize he was actually going to do it. He was going to cum, just from humping himself against Bill’s massive gut. It was too late to stop himself, much too late to try and wrestle any kind of control back, and he came, spraying a massive load of cum all over Bill’s belly, which his Master made him lick up afterwards.

“You made the right choice, slave,” Bill said, “Now, why don’t we take care of a few additional details, slave? There’s some spells in here I’ve been wanting to try out, and I think you’ll be the perfect test subject. First of all, Pete, we’re gonna have to do something about this body of yours. No slave of mine is going to look like, well, this–I can tell you that. Go stand back where you were, so I can get a good look at you.”

Peter did as he was told, and went back to stand a few feet in front of Bill’s recliner. He’d always taken decent care of his body, and even in his mid fifties, he was still relatively slender–though he’d picked up a small belly over the last decade or so. He’d never been particularly hairy, and Michelle didn’t like facial hair, so he kept his face smooth. He had a decent sized cock, not as large as Bill’s was, but perfectly average.

Bill picked up the spellbook, laid it open on his belly, and started flipping through the pages. Peter was confused–all of the pages looked blank to him, from where he was standing. Pete looked up, noticed where Peter was looking, and grinned, “The book, apparently, is bound to me until death, or I choose to relinquish it. No one else can use it until then, so don’t think about anything clever, like trying to steal it, slave.”

“Why are you doing this, Master? Just…please, let me go.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Bill said, “All these filthy things I’ve always wanted to do, and never had much chance, well, there’s no time like the present, is there? Now, where was that spell again…ah! Here it is.”

Bill arrived at the page he’d been seeking, and read out an incantation in a language that Peter didn’t understand at all. He felt something though, a strange tingle through his entire body, almost like there was a small electric shock running through him, from his feet up to the top of his head. “What…was that, Sir?”

“I’ll show you, come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Bill’s house was a small, ranch style house with no upstairs. A little hallway off the living room, past the front door, led down to a bathroom and a couple of bedrooms. Bill led the way into the larger, master bedroom, where the room was littered with dirty work gear, and stank of sheets that hadn’t been laundered in months, if ever. He flipped the lights on, and the sliding doors of the closet were mirrored. He had Peter stand in front of them, looking at himself, still confused.

“Let’s see–all I should have to do is concentrate, and…”

The electric tingle returned, but this time, it was centered on Peter’s chest and his belly. He gasped, as he watched those parts of his body inflate in the mirror, his chest growing more muscular, while his small gut rapidly expanded into a firm, taut, gut. It wasn’t nearly as big as Bill’s, but it was substantial enough that Peter found himself needing to shift his stance slightly to accommodate it. The tingle affected his arms and legs, beefing him out considerably, just like his chest, and then his skin started to itch as a thick pelt of hair grew in–enough hair that he started to sweat as he stood there, a thick, inch long beard appearing on his face as the hair on his head disappeared entirely, leaving him with a bald dome. Peter had been slow to gray, but he watched as his new hair faded from his previous dark brown to mostly salt. He looked older even, though the various aches and pains he’d felt over the last few years seemed to disappear at the same time.

He looked at himself, at his new self, his hairy, chubby, muscled bearded self, and was horrified. He felt the tingle affect one last area, his groin, hefted up his gut and saw his cock shrinking up until it was just an inch long, while his nuts doubled in size. He felt Bill come up behind him, wrap his arms around his chest, and push his belly against the small of his back, and just that touch made Peter shudder and moan. His huge sack throbbed, and he felt a wad of precum drool from the head of his tiny cock. “There we go,” Bill said, “Now this is the kind of dirty, old, muscle-bound, pigslave I can get behind.”

Bill pushed Peter over to the bed, and bent him over it, and with one hand, reached between his legs, got his fingers and hands slick with Peter’s copious precum, and slid two thick fingers into his hole. Peter had never been touched back there, and he expected his body to put up at least some resistance, but all he felt was pleasure as his hole opened to his Master’s touch. “Oh–Oh fuck, Sir!”

“Yeah, just a filthy, slutty old pig bottom, that’s what you are, slave,” Bill said, “I’m not a cruel master. I want you to want the things I do to you. I want you to beg me for it, to beg me for more. You want me to fuck you, pig? You want your Master’s cock in that hole, now that I got it all lubed up with your precum?”

“Please, please fuck me Master, fuck me…” Peter moaned, horrified at how deep his voice was, at how pleading he sounded, at how true it was.

Bill hefted up his big belly and let it flop down on the small of Peter’s back, making him shudder. Bill’s cock was already hard again, and he slipped into Peter’s hole with no resistance, running his hands over Peter’s furry back, kneading his muscles there while he fucked him. Peter could smell him as himself as he sweat more and more, the pungent musk rising up from his pits. It was rank, and yet, he couldn’t get enough of it. He could feel sweat dripping off Bill’s face as he fucked him roughly, panting and huffing from the exertion, could smell him in the sheets underneath him, in the room. His cock was spewing precum, massive amounts of it, but an orgasm felt impossible. Bill’s thrusting quickened, and he came with a roar, driving deep and emptying his own load into Peter’s hungry hole, before collapsing on top of him, driving the air out of Peter’s lungs, the sensation of being crushed under his Master’s weight making Peter even hornier.

Finally, Bill pulled himself free, climbed up on the bed, and collapsed in a sweaty, stinking heap. “Go on, slave, I know you’re horny after that. Worship my belly, hump a few loads out, use me like a fuckin’ cumrag, I wanna stink of you when you’re done.”

Peter didn’t need any further direction. He crawled across the mattress, grabbed hold of Bill’s soft gut, and after just two thrusts against the soft mass, he came with a roar of his own, thick cum drooling down the side of Bill’s gut from Peter’s massive load. His Master was right though, he was still so horny. He straddled him, bellies pressed together, and kept humping, licking and sucking at Bill’s sweaty belly, already feeling another orgasm building, Bill just watching his lust crazed neighbor lose himself in his own lust and belly worship, right where they both belonged.

Half an hour later, they laid on the bed together, their hairy bellies sticky with sweat and several loads of Peter’s cum that he’d shot between them before finally collapsing beside his Master. “That was good, slave,” Bill said, rolling over and running his hand through Peter’s new beard, “You’ve made me very, very pleased, this afternoon.”

“I…Thank…Sir…” Peter said, not quite certain how to respond. He’d enjoyed it, but only because he’d been compelled to do so. The pleasure, though, was undeniable. He’d never felt this kind of lust, this kind of sheer, hedonistic delight before in his life. “I…we can’t…please, I can’t stay like this, you have to change me back, Sir.”

Bill just smirked at him. “Why? You didn’t enjoy yourself immensely?”

“I…I did. But Michelle, and…I can’t just show up to work looking like this, and…and this, we can’t, just, live like this, it’s not…it’s not…right.”

Bill just laughed. “Who says it’s not right, or good? Last time I checked, I get to make those rules now, pig.”

“This is crazy, you can’t just…make me…like this.”

“I can, and I did, and I have no intention of changing you back, either. You’re my pig slave now, and that hole of yours is way too good to let go of now.”

“But my life, I can’t–”

“Here, first things first,” Bill said, as he hefted himself out of his bed, muttered a little incantation, and the spellbook appeared in his hands from nowhere. “Damn that’s handy. Let’s see, first, let’s finalize that body shifting spell…”

Bill flipped the pages, muttered a spell under his breath, and Peter felt that odd tingle again all over his body–but this time, it was almost in…reverse. There was something else happening, like all of this potential he’d been imbued with was evaporating, his body growing solid, and real in ways he couldn’t quite explain. “Tell me slave, what did you look like when you came into my house today. Do you remember?”

“I…I was…” Peter said, but while he knew that Bill had changed him, as far as his memory could tell, he’d always looked like this. It wasn’t true, and yet, his memories, all of it. “I…I don’t remember. But I was different, I know I was!”

“Go check your wallet then.”

They went back out into the living room, he dug his wallet out of his pant’s pocket, and sure enough, it was his new face, his new weight–all of it. It was real. This was real now, like it had always been him.

“I own you slave. I own your fucking reality,” Bill said, “You think I’m going to let something like society, or laws, or rules stop me? You should feel honored that I chose you to be my first. I’m tired of being an outcast, a freak. From now on, everyone is going to bow to me. This is my world now, and you’re going to love it, trust me.”

“You…you can’t just…” Peter said, but realized it wasn’t true. He could. Bill could, and clearly, he wasn’t going to stop here.

Bill flipped through the book again, landed on a page, and said a different incantation. As he did, Peter felt his head begin to ache, but not like before, when he’d been put into that trance. This felt like someone was digging into his head, into his memories, into his very reality. The divorce. How he’d come to the realization, a decade ago, that he was gay. That he’d always been gay, and miserable with Michelle. She hadn’t taken it well. He hadn’t seen her in ages, and she’d gotten near total custody of Sean, their son in the process. He’d lived here, alone, all that time, now, single and gay and…and something else. There was more coming, too.

How he’d started making up for lost time. How he’d quickly realized he preferred quantity over quality. That with his tiny cock, he could only real be a bottom, so he better be a good one. He didn’t play golf anymore–no, he spent his free time sucking cock, preferably anonymous ones, usually at the adult video store a couple miles down the road, in the gloryholes, where he could just be a mouth, or an ass. That, and the gym. He went to the gym everyday, keeping his muscular build up, even as he got older, and fatter by the year. That, and work–he still worked at the same place, still had the same job.

The ache in his mind started to subside, leaving him exhausted. He fell to his knees, trying to cling to the reality, the history that was already vanishing from his mind, from his thoughts. Just a shadow was left, a hole, enough to know that something he’d treasured was gone forever. “You…what did you…do to me?”

“I ruined you, slave,” Bill said, getting down beside him on the floor, and pulling him close. “The only thing you have, now, is me. That’s the way it should be, right? A good slave can’t have other distractions from your service. Besides, that blowjob you gave me before was terrible, I needed to make sure you got your skills up, and got rid of that gag reflex. I can’t shift too much at once–even that was pushing it a bit, but I didn’t want you having anything to regret. I just want my old muscle slave to be happy–and nothing makes you happier than going to the gym, sucking tons of cock, and servicing your master every day, of course. That’s all you have left now. It could, I suppose, be worse, couldn’t it? Why don’t you thank me for giving you the life you deserve, slave.”

“Th-Thank you Master.”

“You’re welcome, slave. Now get home. Your service is done for today.”

Peter got dressed in his clothes–his filthier, much larger clothes than what he’d had on before, kissed his Master’s gut goodbye, and left. Evening was falling. He stepped down the porch, still feeling a bit unsteady in his new body. He saw his house next door, now it just as much disrepair as his Master’s was. Inside, the floor was littered with pizza boxes and old take out. He didn’t want to be here though. He could feel everything that Master had taken from him still, little ghosts of old feelings that he couldn’t recall, but that still lingered at the back of his mind. Besides, he was starving–and not for food. He got in his dirty jeep and drove to the sex shop, where the guy behind the counter knew him by first name. He went right to the gloryholes, got on his knees, and soon was sucking cock. It felt good, being wanted, being needed, even if it was just his mouth, and the cum tasted so good, and filled him up in ways that he’d grown to crave over the years. When he was satisfied, the front of his jeans was soaked with precum, like usual, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to cum until he was back with his Master. Back where he belonged. The only place where a dirty old pig could possibly be needed. It was all he had now–he could see that. As much as he wanted to hate Bill for it, he couldn’t. He loved him. He loved him in ways he could barely fathom. He’d do anything for him, now. He was Bill’s slave now, in body, mind, and soul.

The Pigtown Chronicles: Chapter 3.15 – Big Horny Bastards

Hugh woke up in his bed, shaking a bit, already feeling the familiar sensation of withdrawal settling over him. It wasn’t particularly late in the morning, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be long before Parker returned with his promised load. The night before, he’d gotten what Parker had asked for, the location of the lab where BHB was being produced. Aaron had been hesitant to part with the information, and Hugh had eventually been forced to wire him a substantial amount of cash in order to get him to cough it up. It had been worth it though; he’d never felt this good in his entire life, and that fuck he’d gotten from Parker had been mind blowing. He’d grabbed a dildo he used on occasion, when the desire arose, and rode it for a bit, but it just couldn’t compare at all. He’d fallen asleep early that night, since Thursday was a slow evening for dealing anyway, and it wasn’t like anyone would recognize him if he went out. Now that it was morning though, hunger was creeping in. 

He tried to eat some breakfast, but couldn’t choke down more than a few mouthfuls of toast. It just made him feel sick, and it was all he could do to keep from vomiting it up into the toilet after a few minutes. He watched the clock on his phone, wondering if he should go and try and find Parker, but settled for texting him instead. He got a reply pretty quickly, telling him that he’d have his business finished up soon, and to wait for him there. Hugh wanted to scream in need, but did his best to be patient. He texted back an hour later, and nothing–not even a read notification. The worst possibilities crept into his head. What if his alpha was going through withdrawals right now, and only Hugh would be able to help him? He was starting to sweat and shake, his muscles tensing and cramping. The lab wasn’t too far off from his apartment, in an old derelict office park that a number of Pigtown residents used as a fuckspot and hangout. One of the places where even seasoned residents of Pigtown didn’t go unless they had good reason, and were well prepared. During the day though, it would probably be alright. He could go there, get the BHB, and be back before Parker returned, vial in hand–that would make him a good beta, certainly.

His desires well justified, he threw on some clothes that mostly fit him, and set off down the sidewalk, trying to project that everything about him was normal, though from the looks men gave him when he passed them by, his attempt was unsuccessful. He hurried along, the nausea intensifying, world lurching about until he had to pause and vomit up something halfway down an alley. The result looked like a gelatinous pile of cum. The weakness was intensifying, and the clothes that had been tight on him were more manageable. He was shrinking back down in size, but he didn’t know if the end result would be his own body, or something stranger. Given Pigtown, he didn’t want to find out if he could help it. 

The office park was a collection of one story buildings with plenty of parking lots that had, once, been filled with bustling small businesses. But as Pigtown had grown, respectability had been pushed out, and the only businesses that could survive here were those of catering to the risque, or outright obscene. As the businesses had fled, more and more men had taken up full residency here, and without any clear place to live, a number of them had taken over spaces like this, converting old offices to communal living spaces, all of them havens of drugs, easy sex, and hedonistic desire. Really, they were just places to wake up from your Pigtown Hangovers, before spilling back out into the new night and repeating the debauchery all over, but always more intense, always spiraling deeper and deeper–into pleasure, but also deeper into Pigtown itself. In the day, though, most everyone living here was still asleep. Hugh kept himself as quiet as he could, not wanting to rouse any attention, and found his way through the park to the back, where a row of warehouses had been constructed–for storage or manufacturing he supposed, but they too had all likely been converted to residences. One though didn’t have the pile of refuse outside indicating habitation. It was clear, the door unmarked, but still on its hinges and locked. He went up to it and pounded on it, to no answer. He kept pounding, and pounding, until he heard someone roused within. 

A number of locks were undone, and the door opened, by a bleary eyed young man, massively built, with a set of square glasses perched on his nose. “Who the fuck are…” he sniffed the air, and gave a little smirk. Hugh gave a little swallow, and realized what he was smelling. It wasn’t as raw as Parker’s musk had been, but it was just as pungent, just as powerful and domineering. The smell of another Alpha. Perhaps more alpha than Parker had been.
Force constrained rather than overflowing at the body’s seams, the power and precision of a laser cutter, instead of a chainsaw. The man stood up straight, straightened his glasses, and wrapped one arm around Hugh’s shoulders. “Come on in, man, let’s get you fixed up, you’re gonna be a real mess in an hour or two otherwise.”

“Thanks, I…It’s been a real weird fuckin’ couple of weeks. I was dealing some of that BHB, and one of my regulars, he reacted…real weird to it, and…” before Hugh could continue, the man pushed him to his knees, pressed the head of his massive cock to his lips, and pushed in. Hugh forgot all about what he was going to say, the scent and flavor of the cock demanded all of his focus and devotion. He worshiped it for a few minutes, before the man pushed him over, maneuvering him into position without exactly manhandling him, and fucked him right there on the concrete floor. “Oh fuck, oh god, I need it so fuckin’ bad…” Hugh moaned.

“I know you do. Don’t worry about what happened, just let all of that go, just enjoy this,” he said. The fuck was powerful without being rough, and Hugh rode a series of anal orgasms until the man finally finished inside him. When he pulled out, Hugh was surprised to find he was even larger than before. Parker had grown his muscles, but unevenly–now though, he looked like he could go into professional bodybuilding. The man helped him up, and Hugh thanked him. “No need, it would be a waste otherwise.”

“My friend, you have to help him, whatever happened to him, he’s gone crazy, and…and there were these things he made, these little…blob like creatures, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

That was the first time the man looked disquieted. “What?”

“Yeah–he…he fucking used his cock to suck the muscle out of a couple of guys. I…didn’t see it myself, but he threatened to do the same to me.”

“That…huh, alright. You were just hallucinating, you wouldn’t be the first. Come on, let’s get you hooked up.”

Hugh didn’t know what he meant, but followed him instinctively to a doorway inside. “I…what’s your name?”

“You can just call me Doc.”

“What…what is that stuff? I mean, I’m not complaining, but I don’t use, I just deal. Is there an antidote? Something to manage the withdrawal?”

He passed through the doorway, and just stared. Down the length of the warehouse, massively muscled men were strapped to tables, headsets over their heads, and massive hoses attached to their cocks milking out their cum, running to the far end of the building, where massive storage tanks were waiting, most likely to be converted to BHB. “What…the fuck is this?”

“These are my Big Horny Bastards. Where do you think the name came from?”

“I…no, I…”

“Come on, let’s get you on a table.”

“No, I don’t want–” Hugh said, but his feet were already shuffling after the man, obeying his commands just as he had Parker’s earlier, without any capacity to resist. They reached an empty table, and Hugh climbed on it, lying still while Doc strapped him down, and applied a collection of electrodes all over his body. “We have to keep the muscles stimulated, but managing a full gym for all of these fuckers was a nightmare, they’d get into fights, fuck each other, waste product, this is so much easier, and so much more pleasurable for you too.”

Doc slid a needle into Hugh’s arm, and hung up an IV full of what looked like cum. “That…it’s you?”

“Yeah. It all comes back to me, but I figured out how to produce it and purify it. I thought I’d managed to suppress the alpha formation, but apparently something in your friend triggered it anyway. It’s not a problem, he’ll run out of steam soon enough, now that his dealer is out of the picture.”

Doc slid a helmet over his head, and he felt the cum hit his bloodstream, filling him with a sudden surge of energy, just as the electric jots turned on, causing his muscles to spasm uncontrollably. It hurt, at first, but after a while, it reminded him more of a good workout, and the porn on the headset was hot, and he was just so horny. Whoever was sucking his cock was doing a real good job, and Hugh came with a shudder, Doc watching the first load from him newest BHB fill up a canister under the milker. He detached it and slid in another one–he wouldn’t add this one to the main feed until he’d tested it sufficiently. In any case, having another bastard in the lab was a definite benefit–demand was spiking quick, and he was going to need all the raw material he could get.

The Pigtown Chronicles: Chapter 3.13 – Portrait of a Lover

Few things in art can survive the light of day. Samuel always worked best at night, often by candlelight, sketching and drafting and musing. He would be satisfied, until he woke up and saw what he’d done in daylight, and almost always trash his work from the night before. The nights held potential and mystery, but there was no space for that under the sun. On Friday morning, the light came in through the studio window, worked its way across the floor as the hours passed, and landed on Samuel’s face around eleven in the morning. He sat up, head throbbing from a hangover unlike anything he’d experienced in his life, looked around the studio, and wondered if any of that had been real.

It couldn’t have been real, there was simply no way. He tried to think back, and pinpoint the moment when things had last seemed reasonable. Bringing that boy back from the bar, probably. He must have fallen asleep while he was sketching on him, and imagined the rest of the night in his mind. There was no other explanation, other than all of that actually happening, and there was no way that could be true. His stomach growled. There was nothing in the way of food here in the studio, but plenty of places around would be serving lunch. He got himself put together, mostly, but struggled with his reflection in the mirror. It was the light, of course, shining there on him now, showing every little wrinkle and mar. He’d never liked himself, never felt comfortable in his body. Too much of himself to manage, none of it settling on his bones ideally. His art helped push out that frustration and desire, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t fix himself, after all.

He ran his hands under his shirt, feeling his belly there, his paunch, his tire, then worked around to his ass, which was far smaller. He thought about how it had felt, moving that man’s flesh in his dream, and tried it–but nothing happened of course. It felt foolish in the daylight, even trying. He got himself put together, then headed downstairs and out onto the sidewalk, looking for something to eat.

He found himself retracing his steps from the night before, after he’d left the boy in his dream, and was struck by something by the end of the block. Everything from his dream, it was a perfect memory. Usually dreams didn’t have that sort of detail, but he could recall all the shopfronts, the street names. He felt something squirm in his gut, shaded by the building looming over him. There was a deli he liked if he turned left, or if he kept going straight, there was a cafe a few blocks further, past the alley where his dream had happened. He continued straight, picking up his pace somewhat, that squirm in his gut growing stronger.

He came upon it, across the street, and just stared at the wall, at what was growing from the wall, what was inside and a part of the wall. The sunlight was falling on it, and he could see the bricks expand and contract slightly, like it was breathing, like it was alive. A hole in the wall, an ass suspended among the brick, it was there. It was there, and he’d made it, it hadn’t been a dream, and in the light of day, he found himself feeling sick, the squirm growing stronger now. He stumbled to a trashcan and tried to vomit, but nothing would come forth. 

He might have gone closer to investigate it further, but before traffic cleared and he could jaywalk, another man passed the alley, sniffed the air, and was pulled in. Samuel watched as he dropped his pants without hesitation, slid his cock in, and gave the hole a good pounding. In a couple of minutes he finished, pulled his pants back up, and continued on his way, shaking his head, as if trying to push off a dream. The hole shuddered, leaking something viscous onto the asphalt below, and then stopped, waiting for another man to use it. Samuel watched the spectacle in horror, but when it was finished, discovered he was hard as a rock, knowing what he’d done, and he fled down the street towards his apartment. 

He had to leave. He didn’t know where he would go, but it wouldn’t be long before someone discovered what he’d done, and if they found something to link him to the scene, he didn’t know what would happen. Was it murder, if the wall was alive? Was it manslaughter? Something else, some crime no one had named as of yet? He didn’t think of Parker, in his hurry home. He’d forgotten all about their fight the day before, how he’d planned on breaking up with him, none of that mattered anymore. Parker didn’t matter. Samuel couldn’t tell him, couldn’t show him what he’d done. It was only when he’d stepped into the apartment, and caught the scent of Parker’s unmistakable gym aroma–though it was much stronger than it usually was–that he recalled all of it. He had no way of making a clean escape while he was here, he’d just have to pack a bag, tell him he was moving out, and do his best to not give him the sense that Samuel had done something horrific.

He steadied himself, rounded the corner to the bedroom, and found himself faced with something else, something so preposterous that it made his own acts from the night before outright plausible. Parker was sitting on the edge of the bed, or at least, it was someone who vaguely reminded Samuel of Parker. The massive bodybuilder was easily twice the size that Parker had been when he’d left the apartment the day before. He’d added a foot in height, and every muscle was thick and corded, skin riddled with stretchmarks. There at his feet, were two blobus things that Samuel could only surmise had been men at some point. Their limbs were atrophied and withered, they seemed to move simply by undulating their amorphous flesh. But there was something else, something behind him, a shimmer in the air, where the light coming in wavered and writhed about. 

“There you are, I was beginning to wonder when you’d show your face, coward,” Parker said.

“Parker? What…what the fuck happened to you?”

“Don’t worry about me, you fucker–get the fuck over here, it’s time I showed you your fucking place.”

Samuel wasn’t about to take a step closer, and yet, his feet betrayed him, shuffling him forward. He could smell it now, the musk. It was intoxicating, rolling off of Parker’s body in waves. He could almost feel it pulsing in the air, in time with the wavering of the light, with the heaving of the blobs sucking on Parker’s feet. It was all tied together, it was all tied to something, something behind him, but it was too bright, he couldn’t see it, he couldn’t bear it. The closer he got, the foggier his head became, his own breath heaving now in the same rhythm. He’d stepped inside the painting suddenly, become a part of it, the light wavering not just behind Parker but all around him. With one hand, he pushed, felt the boundary there, pulled it apart, and he saw it again, for a moment. That beast, that brute looming behind Parker that he’d seen in the restroom, but it was so much closer now, so much thicker and vibrant and alive, swelling up and taking up his entire vision for a moment, before he was able to push it away, before it could see him too clearly. 

But looking at Parker, he could still see it, see it inside him, throbbing there, pulsing and brewing and swirling. He was close enough to touch him now, and Parker allowed him to do so, Samuel running his hands over his hot skin, the muscle thick and taut and solid, his cock snaking around Samuel’s thick waist, nearly three feet long now, and tightened around him, pulling him closer still. The musk was heady and humid, oppressive on his lungs, one of Parker’s massive hands closing around Samuel’s throat, tight enough to make him gasp a bit, vision tunnelling as he fought for air. The other hand tore off Samuel’s clothes, leaving him in tatters, the massive cock now hunting for Samuel’s own cock, ready to latch on and drain him of whatever he could find, leaving him as just another suckling thrall–only for Samuel to reach down, take the cock in his hands, and Parker felt something run through the flesh of his cock, a shudder, and it cramped, the muscles running along the shaft seizing up and convulsing, making Parker shout in pain. 

Samuel pulled himself free of Parker’s grasp, took the cock from around his wrist, and ran his hands over Parker’s thigh, the same pulse radiating out from his palms. “So much flesh…” Samuel muttered to himself, eyes bright with something between greed and lust. He looked up at Parker, but beyond him–Parker took a swing at him, furious at the resistance this pudgy loser was showing him, that no one else had been able to muster, only for Samuel to grab it in his hand, and his arm went limp. Beyond limp, the bones in his body had simply melted away, leaving a floppy arm hanging at his side. The sensation was somewhat painful, but more nausea inducing, and Parker grabbed at the limb with his other hand, horror churning in his gut. 

“I saw you,” Samuel said, “I saw you, but I thought you were something else–but you were mine all along, weren’t you? You were…trying to show me…”

What happened next, Samuel couldn’t quite recall. His hands had simply followed some arcane knowledge, some deep, hidden desire buried in his mind. Parker was no longer a man to him, no longer anything beyond raw material, flesh to use in bringing forth his vision. Parker found his body contorted and twisted, stretched and molded, and when Samuel was satisfied, frozen in place–mostly. When Samuel stepped back to assess the work, Parker tried to howl back at him, scream or shout or anything. His mouth was frozen in an open roar, teeth now sharp, jaw dislodged, and hanging too wide, brow thick and heavy, eyes dark. His muscles were further inflamed, but tensed–unable to release from their contraction, permanently cramped, trapping Parker in pain from every part of his body. The only bit of him that still moved was his cock, wrapped around one of his thighs, balls churning and pumping out a load every few minutes. It drooled down to the thralls below, who were now attached to Parker’s body, a part of him, growing out of his feet and calves, fighting for the pleasure and sustenance of their master above, oblivious to their new fate. 

It wasn’t perfect. It was never going to be perfect, but it was there. A portrait, he realized. A portrait of the Parker’s he’d always seen, the simmering rage, the greed, the lust, the envy, the size, all of it. There in the light, he’d created it openly, under the sun. He opened the blinds, no longer afraid of the light, or of Parker. Parker was his now, would always be his. Anyone could be his, from now on. He called Rod again, and this time, the proprietor answered. 

“Yes? What is it Samuel?”

“I…I did it. At least, I think I did. Twice. I–”

“Say no more, not over the phone. Where are you?”

“My apartment, with…I…”

“I’ll be over soon, stay there, understand?”

“Yes…yes, of course.”

“Do not talk to anyone else, understand. No one…will understand, not yet.”

“I don’t understand it myself.”

“Of course you do. You always have.”

Rod hung up on the other side of the line, and Samuel took his time admiring Parker, making a few small edits here and there as best he could. He could grasp his power now, but his control wasn’t particularly fine-tuned. He remembered, as a child, how he had fumbled with paints, trying to make the blobs of watercolor do what he commanded, unwilling to be patient and wait for it to dry. He pulled away again, worried he was making it worse, ruining the raw force of it as it was, and retreated to the bathroom, where he again looked at himself, pulled away the remaining rags, and again laid his hands on his body.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was unprepared for the disappointment, and utterly flummoxed by the rage that welled up within him immediately. He went out to the bedroom, stared at Parker again, at the portrait of Parker, really, and thought about melting him down into a puddle of goo on the floor, but pulled back. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t mold himself.

Rod arrived, Samuel answered the door, tears still fresh in his eyes. Rod just pushed past him towards the bedroom, took in the sculpture there, and gaped in awe. “It’s…beautiful, you did see it, you saw it too…”

“What is it? What is it I even saw?” Samuel asked, “And why can’t I change myself? What the fuck did you do to me?”

“What indeed, Rod?” 

The two of them looked over at the third voice, and there, in the darkest corner of the room, bending enough light around him to create a veil of twilight in the room, was Shadow.

“I knew I had smelled something of that before, last night. I didn’t think there could be another one of you, not without going deeper.”

“Neither did I,” Rod said, “I’d heard you were loose again, Shadow. It’s nice to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visitation?”

“Has he shown you the other one yet?”

“Other one?” Rod said, and looked over at Samuel. 

“I tried to call you earlier. I…last night, I made…something else. Down the street from Depot, in an alley.”

“The authorities are already investigating it.”

Rod cursed.

“No need to be so concerned,” Shadow said, “I find this one rather fascinating, and I have a feeling he will be enough to take some of the attention of the precinct off of me for a moment or two–or longer, if we can strike a deal. I want a house, Rod. I want protection, for me, and my shades.”

“Fucking hell Shadow, that’s asking a fucking lot,” Rod said.

“You can do it.”

“Of course I can do it, but…fuck, what are you offering?”

“Storage. In the darkness. I assume you wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise of the little artist’s debut gallery showing sometime down the road? Give me my house, my legality, and I’ll care for this one’s creations in the meantime.”

“Houses have rules, Shadow. You can’t just go around freeing any shade you feel like, you won’t be…you, if you have a house.”

“Change is a way of life, here in Pigtown,” Shadow said with a shrug, “I can change too.”

Rod rubbed his temples for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, then heaved a sigh. “Fine, I accept. Say you accept, Samuel.”

“I don’t, I mean–”

“Just fucking say it!” Rod said.

“I accept! I…I guess…fuck,” Samuel said.

“Where is it, the other one? Exactly?”

“I know where–I watched him craft it.”

Rod turned to Samuel, took his hands in his own, and Samuel felt the same chill of his own flesh in Rod’s–he knew, somehow, he wouldn’t be able to change him, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn’t flesh–he was something else. Samuel found himself wondering if he, too, was made of something else. “Don’t make anything else, not until I get this sorted. No more than a day. Alright? Just…stay here. I can’t tell you how important you are, you aren’t ready to understand, but I’ll explain as much as I can soon.”

Samuel nodded, and watched as Shadow stepped up to Parker’s portrait, Rod joining him in his veil of twilight. The darkness condensed, then disappeared, and both of them were gone, along with his art–and Samuel felt a visceral tug of anguish, seeing it gone. He panicked, but regained control of himself before he could leave. He sat as still as he could until he realized how hungry he was still, and devoured everything he could find in the kitchen, starved for something he couldn’t explain, a hunger he’d felt ever since he’d first lusted after a man, a carnal, fleshy hunger lodged in his gut. It was unfurling, into what he didn’t know, but as scared as he was, the beauty of its movements deep inside him held him rapt through the day and the night, until Rod’s return.

The Pigtown Chronicles” Chapter 3.10 – All Alphas Need a Beta

Parker, with his two thralls following behind him down the dark street, didn’t look entirely out of place in Pigtown, though usually that sort of sight was more common deeper in, closer to the heart. He still got more than a few gawks from the men he passed by, and even then, none of them were really seeing him for what he truly was. It was around midnight when he got to Hugh’s apartment and pounded on the door–but no one answered. Figured, he supposed. Not many folks would be at home at this time of night in Pigtown, unless they were bringing someone back with them for the evening, and Hugh would more likely be out on the street selling his wares in the various bars and clubs. There was a chance, though, that his stash of BHB was still inside the place–after all, it wouldn’t make sense to carry a bunch of vials of the stuff around, since Hugh usually stuck to party drugs. He tried the door, but it was locked. He placed his massive shoulder against it, hand on the knob, and gave a bit of a push. The door caved it around the lock, and he and his globby thralls were inside.

Something was off, though. The lights were on, he could smell the remnants of food in the air. He poked around through the apartment, and sure enough, there was Hugh in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin, shuddering, looking like he’d caught cold. Parker sniffed the air, and he recognized the scent now. Hugh was…his. Somehow, he knew that. Not quite the same as the meek little sucking things he’d made at the gym, though he supposed that Parker could probably suck him dry just as easily as the others. No, he was something else, and Hugh popped his head up from where he was lying, nostrils wide, and licked his lips. “P-Parker? I…something’s wrong, I–fuck, I…”

“Don’t worry about it Hugh, I know what you need, alright?” Parker said, lumbering around the side of the bed to where Hugh was lying. “But you need to do something for me first, alright?”

Hugh nodded, one hand reaching for Parker’s cock, already sensing why he was feeling so ill. “What the fuck happened to you Parker? What did that stuff do to you? I…I felt great, for a couple of hours, and then…I can barely move now.”

“Do you have more of the BHB?”

“I…a couple more vials, yeah, but that’s it.”

“Where were you getting it from? What’s your source?”

“Just…a friend. Another dealer, usually works the gyms, steroids, that sort of thing. We exchange samples on occasion.”

“What’s his name?”

“Aaron–don’t know much more than that.”

“And where does he get it? Who makes it?”

“I don’t fucking know Parker, please, I…I need a load from you, I’m so fucking hungry.”

“You have to fucking know something!” he said, “I’m barely going to make it through the fucking weekend with a couple of vials. Where do you meet up with him?”

“At The Emerald Spa. I deal there on Saturdays to the party boys, and he hooks up some jocks there with steroids at the same time. We chat between deals. I don’t fucking know where he’s getting it. He said it was from somewhere in Pigtown, but I don’t know more that that, you have to fucking believe me,” Hugh struggled and pushed himself upright with one arm shaking a bit, and that was when he finally noticed the two other figures who had entered the room now. “What…what the fuck…”

“Don’t mind them,” Parker said, “They’re with me.”

“What the fuck are they?”

“I don’t fucking know, Hugh. I’d like to get some fucking answers, so I know what the fuck is going on with me, but you don’t fucking know shit!”

Hugh flinched at the harsh tone, and Parker felt a jolt of delight. He was afraid of him. He should be afraid of him. Everyone should be afraid of him, everyone should know that he’s in charge, that he’s the fucking alpha. He toyed with the idea of throwing back the sheet and sucking Hugh dry right there and then, but didn’t. As much as the weak little drug dealer disgusted and infuriated him in the moment, he did still need him. He had no idea who Aaron was, and after that moment of withdrawal back in the gym, he had absolutely no interest in repeating that experience again. The only way he was going to avoid it, though, would be to get a regular supply. “Alright, I suppose you still have some use left in you,” Parker said, and shoved Hugh over onto his back in his bed. “That, and I’m fucking horny as hell. Let’s get you feeling better with a good dose from my alpha cock.”

Hugh looked like he was going to be a bit sick, when he saw the size of Parker’s new cock, and felt it sliding up and down his ass crack, lubed up with a generous layer of precum. He could feel it though, the tingle from the massive muscle man’s cum as it seeped into his skin, and he let out a little moan, cheeks flushing pink, feeling his own sex drive kick into gear. Parker pushed the head into his hole, and then with a few grunts, drove the rest of his cock in deep, Hugh biting down on a pillow to keep from screaming, knowing how much he needed this, worried that if he didn’t get it, he was going to die. Already, he could feel the withdrawl symptoms beginning to recede, but it wasn’t like before, where he felt just a simple burst of energy. He felt hot all of sudden, flushed with heat, and then came the first muscle spasm in his arm. 

“What the hell, it fuckin’ hurts,” Hugh said, gripping his arm, his bicep flexing beyond his control.

“Of course it fuckin’ hurts moron, it’s a big fuckin’ dick.”

“No, not that, something’s wrong, it’s different this time, pull out.”

Bitch, I don’t pull out for anyone, I’m just getting started,” Parker said, and rammed in deeper, feeling his cock pump out some extra pre into Hugh’s guts. His thralls, attracted to the scent coming from Parker’s sex, climbed up onto the bed. One squeezed down, planted it’s greasy lips on Parker’s hole and started rimming him, driving a thick tongue into his Alpha’s hole, while the other oozed its way up onto the small of Hugh’s back, sucking on Parker’s muscular chest, drinking down the milk still seeping from his swollen muscle tits. Parker shuddered in pleasure, fucking faster now, no longer thinking of Hugh as anything more than just a hole.

Under him, the muscle spasms were spreading through Hugh’s entire body, from his arms, to his back, to his neck, to his chest, to his abs, down his legs and even in his feet. Each time, the muscle would clench, squeezing hard, and then start pumping, and with each pump, he could feel it swell, adding mass before relaxing again, exhausted but also somehow invigorated at the same time. Parker fucked faster and faster, and finally came, pumping a massive load of cum into Hugh’s guts, and when he did, he felt the same spasms begin again, his already pumped muscles inflating even larger–and only then, did Parker look down, past the fat thrall sucking on his tits, and realize that Hugh was growing larger and more muscular.

Not nearly as muscular as he was himself, of course, but Hugh had never been in much shape. Rail thin, with a small paunch, and rather short, Parker had always thought of him as a bit of a troll, and assumed he’d gotten into drug dealing as a way to extort sex out of guys, since he likely wouldn’t be able to get any from his looks alone. But while the cum hadn’t done anything to help his face, his body had gone from rail thin to thick with muscle after a single fuck. Parker pulled out, and Hugh pushed himself up and off the bed, looking down at himself, astounded. “Holy fuck, you fucking me into some fucking muscle beast, what the fuck is in that shit?”

“I don’t fucking know, but you’re gonna get me both of those vials, right fucking now,” Parker said.

Hugh didn’t even question the order–he went right to his stash, pulled out both vials, and handed them to Parker, who took one, found a needle, and injected it right into his ass. He could feel the first couple twinges of withdrawal. Filling Hugh up like that had taken a good amount of vitality out of him–he’d have to be careful with that from now on. But smelling Hugh on the air, he could tell something else, somehow. “Hugh, stand on one leg,” he said.

Again, without a moment of hesitation, Hugh shifted over and stood on one foot–and stayed there. From the look on his face, he was a bit confused himself, as to why he had done that, and why he was still doing it. “I…can’t put my foot down.”

“Holy fuck, you have to do what I say, don’t you?”

“I–wait, no fucking way!” Hugh said, struggled a bit more, but couldn’t get his foot down on the ground, no matter how much he struggled.

“You can put your foot down, but only after punching yourself in the nuts,” Parker said.

“No, what?” Hugh said, but his fist connected with his sack, and he bent over, moaning from the self-inflicted punch. “Why the fuck did you make me do that?” he said.

Parker just laughed, “becuase it was fucking funny, that’s why,” he said, “Alright, I have something I need to take care of, but I’ll be back tomorrow to give you another dose–probably before you start feeling shitty again. In the meantime, I want you to connect with Aaron–just with text. Don’t fucking tell him anything about me or what’s happening with you, just say that you’re interested in selling more BHB, and you want to get in contact with his supplier. I don’t care what you have to say, I want you to find out who’s making it and where, got it? If you don’t have the fucking info by the time I get back, I’m going to take you from this little muscle pig you’ve become, and you’re going to become one of these flabby little monsters instead–got it?” He said, grabbing one of his thralls by the scruff of its neck and hauling it’s fat body up into the air, waving it a bit in front of Hugh’s face.

Hugh nodded, “Understood…Sir.”

“Good instincts,” Parker said. “Now, I have some business to take care of. Be a good beta and get that info, or else.”

Hugh nodded, and Parker left the apartment, both thralls in tow. He found his phone, sent off a text to Aaron asking him what it would take to get that info, and then sat around waiting for the reply. In the meantime, he groped his own cock, amazed at how large it was, how it instantly rose up, demanding attention. He stroked himself off, always listening for the sound of a text coming in, but if he was going to be an Alpha’s beta, then he might as well get to enjoy the benefits in the meantime.

The Pigtown Chronicles: Chapter 3.5 – Side Effects

Parker swore that it had been a normal workout–usually a couple of hours from when he started stretching to his cool down cardio. When he looked outside though, he was confused to see that it was night already, and he had been lifting weights for close to five hours straight, cycling through arms, back, legs, chest, core and back again, over and over, desperate to try use up the energy that was suddenly thrumming through him. He was a bit addled at first, soaked in sweat, trying to piece together the hours that he had apparently spent here without even realizing it. Not long after that, he realized that more than a few of the men around were staring at him, some lustfully, but more than a couple just looked confused or concerned. He wasn’t quite sure why, until he turned again, saw himself in one of the mirrored walls of the gym, and did his best not to let his own jaw hit the floor at the sight.

The workout clothes that he had on, which he liked a little tight, so they could better show off his bulge and physique, were about to tear themselves off his body, if he flexed a bit too hard. In fact, one of the straps on his tank top had done just that at some point, revealing one massive, hairy pec with a nipple on the end of it larger than some men’s cocks–and was it leaking? He reached over with one hand, and sure enough, it was. That was enough to send him into the locker room for a moment, so he could get a better handle on what he was looking at. 

He went around the corner to the sinks, and there, he realized that he hadn’t just grown more muscular over the course of a single afternoon, he’d also grown taller. The sinks that usually hit right at his waist, now met the middle of his thigh, and he needed to stoop down slightly just to get a look at his face in the mirror. “God damn, what the fuck,” he said, looking at his thickly bearded face, heavier jaw and bro…the receding hairline. He ran a hand through his usually thick hair, only to watch a good chunk of it fall away, leaving him with a substantial bald patch. He splashed some water on his face, tried to stop himself from hyperventilating, got out his phone, and called Hugh–but the dealer didn’t answer.

“God fucking damn it,” he said, face feeling flushed, looked down, and saw another reason the guys had been staring at him. He’d been so focused on his face and upper body, he hadn’t bothered to notice that his cock was simply massive–long enough that the head and a couple inches of the shaft were hanging out of the leg of his shorts, only half hard, and drooling the same viscous, milky substance his pecs had suddenly started producing. He dropped his shorts, and his balls were swollen to easily the size of a bowling ball–he held them in his hands, and he could feel them aching. Not just aching. They were churning. Fuck, how long had it been since he’d last cum? The skin of his scrotum was pulled taut–he couldn’t even feel his testicles inside them. It was like they were swimming in the goo now flowing out of him.

“God, some guys are such fucking freaks, they’ll shoot themselves up with anything. What do you think that fucker’s on, anyway?”

“Who the fuck knows, some of the shit on the street these days can be real fucking shady. Steroids, sure–who hasn’t done them? But I sure as hell don’t want to look like that.”

“Did you catch a whiff of him? Dude fucking reeks too.”

“I bet–looks like he’d be better suited in a fucking barnyard.”

Parker’s face flushed red. They were fucking talking about him, they had to be. The shame he felt surprised him. He loved seeing guys stare at him, but this…what the fuck was happening to him? He needed to get to the hospital or something, needed to figure out what the hell this stuff even was. He went to take leave, only for the shorts he was wearing to finally give up the fight, tear open from crotch to waist, and his massive genitals spilled out, the sudden drop causing a massive burst of milky cum to ooze their way out of the head, making a sizable puddle on the floor. Parker hefted his monstrous package, but just pressing on the swollen sack made even more of the gunk spew all over his hands, and the smell of it, fuck, it smelled a bit rank, but it was making him kind of horny too.

Maybe it was just a minute or two, but when Parker came back to himself, he had both hands wrapped around his cock, milking it with long strokes, grunting and moaning like some fucking animal, just flooding the floor with his precum. He regained a bit of control, just in time for the two men who had been talking about him to round the corner, heading for the showers, and stopped dead in their tracks. “Fucking, hell, what the fuck is that stench?” one of them said, throwing his elbow across the face.

“Christ, you fucking pervert!” the other said, but Parker could see something happening to them both, their eyes going a little glassy. The other one gave a little snort, got down, crawled towards the puddle of precum he’d just made and started lapping it up. The first put up a little resistance, tried to run–but Parker had had enough. He grabbed him, dragged him back, and flung him face first into the puddle with his friend, watched him try to resist for a moment, but he soon gave in and started licking as much of it up from the filthy gym floor as he could. Parker didn’t quite know why he was doing this, but he was so…so full. He needed someone to empty him, didn’t he? He got down on his knees with them, grabbed the back of their heads, and pulled them to his teats, both of them sucking down Parker’s milk right from the source, and as they did, he could see them both changing. 

Their guts grew first, filling up with Parker’s milk, but it soon became obvious that it wasn’t just a full belly–they were actually getting fatter. Their hair was next, both on their heads and their bodies, falling away into the puddle below them. Parker felt something happen to his cock–it moved in a way he didn’t quite understand, in a way he couldn’t even really control, slithering between him and one of the men latched onto his pec, like it was seeking something out. It found it, the head of his cock swallowing up the man’s cock, and it started sucking on it, and both he and Parker let off a moan in unison. He could feel it, feel himself draining the man’s vitality, his muscles, even his youth, his now hairless face growing a bit wrinkled, his muscles atrophying as they were sucked out and added to Parker’s own massive frame. The other man tried to pull away in horror, but his mouth wouldn’t let him detach from the other nipple. When his cock was finished, and had sucked away the man’s cock and balls until the only thing that remained was a piss hole buried in his new fat, the now larger cock snaked over to the second man, and repeated the process, draining him completely dry as well. When he was finished, he stood back up, the two men’s mouths coming away from his tits with a loud sucking sound, and he looked down at them, barely even recognizable as men now, just two short blobs, their mouths sucking up everything they could of their new master from the floor under them. 

He, on the other hand, was even larger. His head was mere inches from the ceiling, the rest of his clothes fell away from him as he stood up and flexed, and he tore the rags away from him. There was no reason to hide this body now–he was superior to every other man, how could he have ever doubted himself before? One of the thralls below turned around and raised its hole, now loose and more than capable of taking its master’s cock, but before he could accept the invitation and fuck the thing, there was a cramp in his arm, and then in his guts that made him double over in pain. 

He didn’t know what could be causing it, but his whole body was screaming out for…for something. Something it needed. He stumbled over to his locker, fumbled it open, and carefully extracted the extra vial of BHB he’d taken from Hugh. Manipulating the syringe with his massive body was difficult, especially with the muscle spasms, but he managed to get himself injected, and after a couple of scary minutes, he felt the pain recede, and the horniness flood through him all over again–but that could wait. Hugh’s place wasn’t too far from here, and if that was how his body was going to react to withdrawal, he couldn’t afford to go without a dose again.

When the staff came to investigate the smell in the men’s locker room, after the emergency exit had been tripped, they found the strange pool of goo, the tattered remains of three sets of men’s workout clothes, and nothing else. Parker was busy strutting his way through the darkness of pigtown, his two thralls lumbering and wobbling their way after him, stopping one after another to slurp up their master’s precum that was still seeping its way onto the sidewalk. It was time, now, to have another little chat with Hugh, and after that, it was time to settle things with Samuel once and for all, and show him who was really the boss in this relationship.

The Pigtown Chronicles: Chapter 3.1- Feeding the Fire

The Tuesday after he’d met Rod in the VIP room above Depot, Samuel had given him a call and said he wanted to talk about his offer. He’d intended the meeting to be short–long enough to turn his deal down, and maybe throw a drink in his face. Samuel had never wanted to be bought. You couldn’t get anywhere in the art world without selling your work of course, but there was selling the work you made, your unadulterated vision distilled, and then there was commission, creating for someone else, with your own voice. Advertisements, really. Marketing. He found it distasteful, and after that strange vision in the bathroom of Depot, he also found it terrifying.

Yet, once Rod had stepped into the studio, and begun probing at the art in the revolving process of ideation and disintegration around him, Samuel found his plan already falling off the rails. What unnerved him the most, was that Rod understood. Understood what he saw, what his art was, why he did it. Samuel was obsessed with flesh. Many reviewers misunderstood when he said this to them, and translated his precise word of ‘flesh’ to the more palatable ‘bodies’. Bodies were composed of flesh, of course, but it was not the body itself that drew Samuel’s attention. It was what comprised it. Muscle, fat, sinew, tendon, bone, blood, organ. Rod had used the precise word, without prompting. “I love your depiction of flesh in this one,” he said, holding up a canvas, looking back at Samuel with those steel grey eyes. 

“It’s not right, that one is no good,” Samuel had said, attempting to deflect.

“Oh, none of them are good. None of them are anything like what you’re really capable of, Samuel,” Rod had said, and he’d struck his second weakness, that fine line between backhanded compliment and earnest encouragement. They’d chatted a bit more, then Rod had left, and Samuel stared down at the check in his hand, astonished that he’d taken it. Astonished that he’d wanted to take it. For a moment, after cashing it, he was flush with inspiration, but as soon as he’d sat down to work some of it out, it vanished. 

Since then, he’d spent over a week trying to recapture that moment of inspiration, but it hadn’t returned. Not a single idea that, as soon as it was down, didn’t feel like the most insipid, self-satisfying bullshit he’d ever considered. Normally, when faced with a block like this, he’d found that his best solution was a good fucking at the hands of whatever muscle bound man he was with at the moment. Something about being pounded by a mountain of flesh could provide insight, but Parker, currently filling that role, only terrified him now.

Terrified was the wrong word. Disgusted was the wrong word. He’d yet to find the correct one, in any language that he knew. He could barely stand to exist in the same space as him, and he’d hoped that a few days of distance from that scene in the bathroom would help settle his mind and let him get back to fucking, but the vision refused to fade away. It was always there on the edge of his sight, that beast, those sucking thralls at his monstrous feet, beckoning him. He’d considered telling Parker what he’d seen, asking him about the new steroid that Hugh was apparently selling him now, but neither of those things could cross his lips. He told himself that Parker was far too simple to grasp what he’d witnessed, but he was also afraid that perhaps he would understand perfectly. Perhaps Parker’s ignorance of the beast behind him was the only thing keeping it from bursting free at any moment.

Parker, on the other hand, spent the early part of the week following his night at Depot feeling great. Every workout was phenomenal. He broke through his plateau in a matter of days, packing on a solid five pounds of mass, even as he could tell he was cutting fat, giving his body the sort of definition he’d only been able to manage after a few days with minimal water. His energy was up, his libido was definitely up, and after trying a couple of times to get Samuel interested in a good fuck, he gave up, and started fucking anything that moved–and there were a lot of things in Pigtown that wanted him, day or night.

But as was usually the case with steroids, the effect wore off a few days before it was time to shoot up again, but that first week, the relief was enough for Parker to push through to Friday, get another dose from Hugh, with the usual discount of a good fuck, and then enjoy the rush again. That second week, however, the high dwindled away quicker, his impotence was back by Tuesday, and he was left feeling frustrated that the drug wasn’t delivering what Hugh had promised him. 

Thursday afternoon, he’d returned home from the gym to discover Samuel there. He hadn’t been spending much time at their apartment for the last few weeks, for some reason. He seemed…afraid of Parker, but wouldn’t tell him why, and the two of them hadn’t fucked since before that night at Depot. They ended up fighting about money, of course. Without the fucking to distract them, there was nothing to hide the fact that the two of them were completely at odds with one another. Much to Samuel’s surprise, however, Parker ended up getting rough with him, something he hadn’t done before, pinning him up against the wall, grinding his cock against him–it was only the fact that he couldn’t even get it up that made Parker retreat, leaving Samuel with just a few slaps and a lighter wallet before storming out of the apartment, and heading for Hugh’s, to get his next fix.

He had to pound the door for most of a minute before Hugh finally answered. It was early afternoon, but judging from the fact all he had on was some boxers and heavy bags under his eyes, it had been a late night for him–but then, dealers didn’t get to work normal hours. “Fuck Parker, what is it?”

“I need another dose.”

“You shouldn’t dose again until tomorrow, once a week. Like I said–this shit is real experimental.”

“Real fucking worthless you mean, the stuff doesn’t even last a whole week!” Parker said, pushing into the apartment, “Now I got your money, give me another vial.”

“It has to fully cycle out before you can take another–”

“Trust me Hugh, it’s fucking cycled out, now give me the shit already.”

“Ok ok, calm down man,” Hugh said, shut the door and went into his room, dug around in his stash, and pulled out another vial of BHB. “Are you doing alright? You seem a little agitated.”

“I’m not here asking you to be my therapist,” Parker said, grabbing the vial out of Hugh’s hand, threw the wad of cash he’d taken from Samuel’s wallet down on the dresser, looked around until he found a syringe that seemed clean, and drew out his dose. 

Hugh just watched, just wanting to get Parker out of here. He was obviously agitated, but whether that was a side effect of the drug, or whether he was just frustrated that the drug wasn’t perfect, he couldn’t tell. He had a few other guys testing it out, but he hadn’t seen any of them react quite like this before. Hugh injected himself, junked the syringe, and heaved a sigh of relief, and set the vial down on the counter of the bathroom. “Now, how about that other part of the payment?” he said, and dropped the gym shorts he was wearing.

“Fuck Parker, not right now, I have a hangover the size of Texas. I don’t even know how I got home last night.”

“Well nothing helps a hangover like a good dose of protein, you know?”

Parker stepped closer to him, and Hugh noticed something strange–he smelled different. He was used to Parker smelling–he didn’t exactly shower much after the gym, and Hugh didn’t mind a little musk. This was different, it was sharp, and drew him in with a moan. Parker lifted up his arms and let Hugh clean them both out for a few minutes, before he could feel the same rush of horniness as before, and pushed him over to the bed.

“Seriously Parker, take it easy,” Hugh said, but Parker was aching to fuck now, climbed up, and literally tore to boxers off his body, shoved the slick head of his cock against Hugh’s hole, and pushed it inside. Hugh moaned, that same sharp scent, that need now somehow inside him, suffusing him. He moaned in pleasure as Parker drove in deeper, reaching around his neck with one muscled arm and pulling him back, choking him lightly and also keeping him from moving too much. 

“I don’t do easy, slut,” Parker said, and slammed his cock the rest of the way in, and Hugh gave a howl of pleasure. He lost track of how many times Parker came over the next hour, as he fucked him non-stop. Each time he did, he would feel that same sharpness leech into his body, making him feel weaker, making him want it more and more, until Parker, sated for the moment at least, hauled his cock free, and watched the cum drool from Hugh’s well worked hole, onto the sheets below him, the dealer still moaning. “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?” Parker said, got up, and fished around in Hugh’s good for another vial of BHB. “A tip–you don’t mind, do you?”

“Wait, Parker…I think something’s wrong…with you…” Hugh muttered, but Parker either didn’t hear him, or didn’t want to hear him. He was out the door and back on the street, heading home to finish what he’d started with Samuel–but when he got there, he was nowhere to be found. The coward had probably run off to his studio. Parker considered tracking him down, but that long fuck with Hugh had mostly fixed the frustration he’d been feeling. What he wanted now was a good long workout, and then maybe he’d hit a few clubs to find a few more holes to plow. Before he left though, he took out the partial vial from Hugh’s place, drew the rest of it out, and injected himself again–a booster, he told himself. By the time he got to the gym, he was riding high, pumping more than he ever had in his life. Even if there was a risk, he was willing to take it–he could take anything he wanted, as long as he felt like this forever.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 5)

This is the finale of the story! If I have time over the next couple weeks, I might write an alternate ending for one of the other two options I offered in the survey for Patrons, but we’ll see. Enjoy!

For the next couple of weeks, Ken has a blast with the app, now that he’s the one in control. He still enjoys taking guys home with him from the shop to beat and fuck in the dungeon, but he is always prowling on the app, looking for more boys to turn into his little redneck pig sons, addicted to his cock, his floggers, and his stink. His form and identity seemed to be settling down and solidifying–he wouldn’t change as much when he hooked up with someone on the app, and he was becoming more and more adept at bending them to his own desires, without letting their own affect him nearly as much. Then, he got a new notification from the app one evening, telling him that he and another member on the app had been successfully matched for a gold tier date. 

Ken clicked on the link, looking for more details, but he was disheartened to see that the information he’d become accustomed to having at his fingertips since becoming a silver tier member was gone. He had no idea who this stranger was, though the one bit of info he could see was that he, too, was silver. He hadn’t dated another silver member before, and he wasn’t quite sure how it would even work. There was a date and a time attached to the date, and while Ken considered not showing up, he knew better than to try and outsmart the app like that. It would make them connect one way or another, and he had a feeling that if he skipped out on it, he would be the one who wound up at a disadvantage. So he got on his favorite biker leathers, climbed on his hog, and drove to the meeting address, only to find himself in a familiar location–it was the same bear bar where he had had his first date with Jack, of all places.

He stepped inside, right on time, and looked around. There, by the bar, was a fellow that seemed to stick out in a rather Arctos fashion–massive, very hairy, smoking a cigar that most guys would struggle to even hold in their mouths like it was nothing. His eyes sparkled when he saw Ken, came over and gave him a hug. “Well damn, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t you! Last time I saw you, you were just barely on your way.”

Ken knew that voice! It was Jack, of all people. The big bear pulled away, beaming around his massive cigar. He had changed quite a bit since Ken had seen him last, but then, he’d changed quite a bit himself in the last month or so. Jack had been large before, but he was now even larger, maybe even an inch or so taller than Ken at this point, and Ken hadn’t met someone larger than him in a very long while. He was still muscular, but had filled out a sizable gut as well, though it was the pelt that was most impressive. The hair on his body was so thick you couldn’t see the skin beneath it very easily, and it ran all the way up onto his neck, joining with both his beard and the back of his short cropped hair–though his beard was now a fiery red, even as the rest of his his hair was a light brown. “I’m kind of happy its you, actually,” Ken admitted, “I haven’t been on a gold date before, I don’t know what to expect. Seems fitting you would be the one to show me the ropes.”

“Actually,” Jack said, “I haven’t been on one either. I’ve heard of them, a bit, but only from some guys who are coupled. They wouldn’t give me details though, or maybe they couldn’t–I don’t really know how any of this works.”

“Oh…well, do you want to grab a drink or something?”

“Really? Like we don’t know each other at all?” Jack said, and groped the front of Ken’s pants, his eyes going a bit wide. “Fuck, how big is that thing now?”

“I’d be more than happy to show you, big boy,” Ken said, “My place isn’t far, if you really want to skip the getting drunk portion of the date, and go right to the fun part.”

“Only if you smoke a big fucking cigar while we get down to business,” Jack said, and Ken felt an odd little tingle run down his body. He’d felt that sort of sensation before, but not quite so apparently. It usually signaled a change of some sort. He hadn’t been smoking before, but the craving for a cigar was growing overwhelming. He pulled a stick from his vest pocket where he usually kept them, only to pull out a cigar even larger than the one Jack had in his mouth, easily a 90 ring cigar, and close to a foot long. “Fucking hell, didn’t think you’d come packing two massive sticks.”

“I didn’t bring this thing, you said it, and it happened,” Ken said, lighting the massive cigar up.

“So, if I said I want you to grow a pelt as thick as mine….what would happen?” Jack said.

No tingle this time. Ken shrugged. “Well, I wonder what would happen if I told you that you’re a small dicked loose holed bottom bear, and from the second you groped my massive cock, you wanted to feel it inside you, rearranging those guts of yours until I blow a huge load all over your insides,” he said with a growl.

He saw Jack shudder, and with a grin around his massive cigar, he knew it had worked. “Guess that means we get to take turns,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up and take me home, I need that cock in me so fucking bad…” Jack said, grabbed hold of Ken’s hand and dragged him out of the bar, “My little dicklet is leaking all over my fucking underwear.”

“I’d fucking love to,” Ken said, giving Jack’s ass a swat as they left, feeling like he had the upper hand–for the moment at least. The hog was too small for both of them to ride, and Ken didn’t feel like getting into Jack’s truck, so they swapped a smoky kiss for a moment, and he said, “What was it you said earlier? About a thick pelt?”

“Fuck you, you’re not getting off that easy,” Jack said, “I know how much you love how I smell, you dirty fucker, getting off on my musk all the time, makes that huge cock of yours so fucking hard, especially my rank crack–ain’t that right fucker?” Ken said, and threw his arms up above his head.

Ken shoved his face into his pits, snorting up Jack’s scent, licking and sucking the sweat off the thick hair, grinding his rock hard cock up against Jack’s muscular thigh. “Fuck, you fuckin’… Git on that bike of yours, so I can get you out of that grungy leather and denim at home. I’m gonna plow you into next week for that.”

“You fuckin’ promise?”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

Jack’s truck was gone, replaced by a bike as large as Ken’s and the two of them rode back to Ken’s home, and as soon as they were down in the basement, they started peeling off each other’s clothes. Ken threw Jack onto the king size bed, hearing the springs creak under his massive size, climbed up, spread the cheeks apart and ate out his hole for a few minutes while Jack smoked, reveling in the smell of the hairy bears hole, his cock harder than he could even recall it being. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he climbed up and pushed the head of his cock against his hole, feeling the hairy bear’s ass open up and almost start nursing at the head. “Quit fuckin’ teasing it,” Jack said, setting his cigar off to the side on the nightstand, “Get in there–I’m gonna milk at least five huge loads out of those massive nuts of yours, I want this fucking bed soaked in your cum and sweat before you stop. You wanna fuck me so bad, then you’re gonna be fuckin’ me all night long.”

“Oh fuck!” Ken said, feeling his nuts start to swell even larger as he drove the head and the first few inches of his cock into Jack’s hole, gouting enough precum to help lubricate the rest as he started fucking, a little deeper with each thrust, grunting and snorting with need, his balls literally pulshing and churning with cum, smacking against Jack’s hairy thighs. “You’re fuckin’ askin’ fer it now,” Jack said, his drawl coming on full strength, hornier than he could even recall being in his life. “Ya always were the stupid one, bro, ya know, always thinkin’ with yer hole, never with that head a yers, just my dirty, stinkin’ redneck pig of a little brother, been huntin’ fer cock all day long since he was eighteen, but ya always come back tah mine, don’t ya. No one else can fill ya up like I can, no one can really give this loose, empty hole ya call an ass a proper fuck. No fist is big enough, even, only yer big brother knows how tah treat this hole right, can treat ya as rough as ya really want,” he slammed his whole length into Jack’s ass, pinning him to the mattress, one arm wrapping around Jack’s neck and pulling tight enough to make him gasp, “Ain’t that right, ya stupid pig, yer just mah little fuckhole, ain’t ya, and ya fuckin’ love it.”

He watched as some of the light dimmed out of Jack’s eyes, his beard warping into a set of muttonchops, leaving his chin one of the few places on his body without hair, and the hair on the back of his head grew out into a mullet. It was the smell of him, though, that entranced him. He smelled…like him. They smelled like each other. They smelled like their dad–it was the first time he’d really known he was related to someone he was fucking, not just playing around, and he was so turned on, he pushed off, and started jackhammering into his brother’s hole, listening to the horny pig grunt and snort below him, mind addled, both of their heads filling up with new memories of their lives together. 

They had the same father, but different mothers–they’d met after Jack had turned eighteen, and from the moment they laid eyes on each other, they’d been in a sick, twisted, hungry love with one another. They’d moved in, and while Ken found plenty of other holes to fuck around with, and Jack certainly found other cock, the two of them were truly a perfect match. No one else could take Ken’s rough marathon fucking, and no one else could fill Jack’s aching needy hole just right. Jack gave a holler and Ken felt the hole contract around his cock, Jack’s little three inch cock spurting out a load of cum all over the sheet below him, the first of many anal orgasms he’d enjoy for the rest of the night. Ken thought about taking his time, but he was too horny–he drove in, harder and harder until he exploded, pumping shot after shot of cum into Jack’s ass until it was flowing out each time he pulled out a little, but his cock didn’t go the least bit soft.

“Round two, bro?”

“Fuck bro, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.”

Ken leaned in, took a hit off Jack’s rank, unwashed pits, and gave a body wide shake of delight, cock back to full stiffness, and he drove back in, easier this time, making sure he hit all the right spots in his brother’s hole, giving him orgasm after orgasm, milking his prostate dry, cumming himself the promised four more times that night before he finally collapsed, too exhausted to continue, and the two of them shared one of their trademark massive cigars in bed, Ken taking regular breaks to enjoy his brother’s pits in the process. 

They got the notification at the same time, alerting them that they had both been promoted to the gold tier of the Arctos Dating app–as a gold level couple, they would be able to go on occasional double dates, though generally, couples wouldn’t inflict further changes on each other. They were also allowed to peruse the silver profiles, and if there was sufficient compatibility, add additional members to their gold unit.

Ken liked the sound of that, and he scrolled through until he found Ryan’s profile, and invited him on a date with them both the next evening.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

“I love havin’ a brother, don’t get me wrong, but what I always wanted was a son, ya know that,” Ken said.

“Aww fuck, that mean I get tah be a Daddy too?”

“No, yer gonna be a uncle, dumbass.”

“Oh, right–can he call be Daddy anyway?”

“I’m gonna be Daddy. He’ll call ya Unc.”

Jack pouted a bit. “Will he have a big cock, at least?”

“Would that make ya feel better, ya horny fuck?” Ken said, grinning at his brother. “Fine, he can have a big cock, but it ain’t gonna be as big as mine.”

With that, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, snoring loudly, already dreaming of the pervy family they would be making soon enough, happy as could be.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 4)

Ken remained at the sex shop into the early hours of the morning, until he’d essentially run out of dick to suck. Mostly satisfied, he let off a little belch and left out the back door–though it took him a second to realize why. He no longer lived at the apartment he could vaguely recall living at, but instead rented out the basement in a rundown house back behind the sex shop, where the owner of the shop also lived. It was convenient to say the least, and given how popular Ken’s mouth and cock were, the owner gave him a steep discount on the rent provided he put in at least a few hours in the hall every night. He was a bit worried about having to show his face at the office the next day, but that, he realized, was fading quickly as well. Phil, after all, thought a filthy daddy like him ought to be working in a dirty job himself, so he’d never gone to college. He worked menial construction jobs, the dirtier the better, and then after gorging himself on fast food, would spend his free time at the shop, or at home, if he decided to get to know someone better.

He descended the stairs and unlocked the door to his new place, and was momentarily disgusted by the state of things, before the acceptance settled in over it. He went in and remembered that he had finally managed to level up on the arctos dating app. He pulled it up, expecting to be as disappointed as he had been when he’d gotten the bronze designation–but found that, at last, the app had given him a much larger range of permissions than before. For one thing, he could see some profiles, finally. Scrolling through a few of them, he realized that they all seemed to be bronze or trial members. He still didn’t have access to everyone on the app, then, including the guys he’d already dated before this. It was better than nothing, though, and when he clicked into a profile or two, he saw that he could request a date with them, if he so desired.

He explored a bit more of the app though, and saw something else–a tab that said, “Edit Profile”. He hadn’t even seen his own profile at all, so he clicked it, and sure enough, there it was–everything about him. His cigar smoking, his porn addiction, his gaining and incest fetishes, his craving for humiliation, his gloryhole hobby. It was…kind of hot, reading all of it, but he didn’t really want everyone to know that, did he? He clicked something to edit, but instead of opening up a text box, he got a little pop-up. Apparently, he could modify some of the changes that had been inflicted upon him, but for each one he reduced–another one would have to increase. As a silver member, he could modify his profile three times before it would lockdown again.

He knew what he’d change first, for sure. He opted to minimize the ugliness that Phil had given him, along with the humiliation fetish, and opted instead for some additional body growth, bulk, and body hair that had been gifted to him by Jack. He accepted the change, and watched in the mirror as his ugly face straightened out into a more rugged look, and his body grew even larger–with his sizable build, he eventually hit six feet eight inches tall, and weighed in at 450 pounds, a good amount of that packed onto his massive gut hanging off him.

Satisfied with that, he looked through the rest of his options. He decided that, as much as he enjoyed sucking cock, he didn’t really want to be known all over town as a gloryhole pig. He reduced that option, and decided that he could afford to lean into the redneck, blue collar persona that Phil had given him a bit more. It didn’t seem that bad, after all. His reality shifted around, and while he still was a regular at the sex shop, usually it was to get his massive, ten inch, uncut cock serviced by a couple of cockwhores in the hall while he watched some porn in a booth. Then, he smelled it–apparently, when he’d opted for increasing his redneck persona a bit, he hadn’t accounted for the loss in hygiene that came with it. He showered–on occasion. Maybe once a week, sometimes with soap even! He had a constant farmer’s tan from years working outside in just a tanktop, and his hair grew out into a ponytail down his back, even as his beard grew thicker and longer.

He had one final change to use, and decided he might as well address the masturbation and porn addictions as well. Looking over the remaining options, he decided he could stand being a bit older–he found that he actually didn’t miss his younger looks from before, and had quite enjoyed the thought of being the “daddy” to another cub or two…or more. His history shifted again, no longer spending much time at all in the shop at all, other than to go down the hall and get himself serviced, if there was a cute young fellow who liked being called “son”. Hell, he didn’t even mind playing with a guy closer to his own age, so long as they played along as his younger brother. Too late, he realized he had also intensified his incest fetish, so that it was one of the only ways to get him hard–and he could remember fondly how, in his youth, he’d played around with his own redneck brothers, uncles, and even his father and grandfather on one occasion. He wished he could have had a boy of his own…though he supposed, with this little app, maybe he could, one day.

He stroked a load out, thinking about setting up a date with an unsuspecting cub, and then warping them into a total pig for daddies, longing for a proper father to set them right, dominate them, train them, abuse them–anything for family really. After he came, he was surprised by how domineering he’d become after those three revisions, but again, it wasn’t unwelcome. He looked around at the cameras in the corner of the room–since the owner of the shop wasn’t making money off his mouth anymore, instead he had rights to the videos he recorded down in the basement, when Ken brought home his young boys to play with. He was quite popular on the internet, and anything he brought in over rent went right into Ken’s pocket. It was late though, and he had work on the construction site in the morning. He collapsed onto his bed for a few hours of rest, got up with his alarm, rolled through the fast food joint for a few bags of breakfast to feed his gut, and got to the site mostly on time. All day long, he kept checking the app, browsing the various bronze and trial members, narrowing down his selection until he decided on one young man in particular that he quite liked the looks of.

He was twenty three, looked like a bit of a hipster with a nice beard for just a young guy, and quite a few tattoos and piercings. He was wearing a nice shirt and khakis in his profile picture, and it looked like he had a job at some tech startup in the city as a programmer. He’d been on one date already, with a rather grungy leather daddy, who had given him a bit of a stink fetish and a definite kink for leather and BDSM. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try out some of Ken’s now more domineering nature. He sent the dating request, and told the boy that he wanted to meet him for a drink a rather run down pub near the worksite–some place that would make him feel plenty out of place. Before it sent the request, however, he got a pop up from the app, alerting him that placing a date with this profile would also result in some changes to his own profile, in order to enhance compatibility. He hesitated for a moment, but then figured, why not? It’s not like he hadn’t changed plenty already. He accepted the note, sent the request, and then headed for his truck–except he didn’t own a truck. There, instead, was his motorcycle–an absolutely massive hog custom built for his massive frame. It had cost a pretty penny, but he fucking loved riding it. Looking down, he saw that his clothes had changed as well–adding a pair of leather chaps, motorcycle boots, and a heavy leather jacket. Nothing to object to so far. He climbed on, and rode off to the bar, and parked out front a few minutes early.

He got a beer, and a table where he could see the entrance, and sure enough, there the young man was–named Ryan. Ken gave a wave, and he could see Ryan’s face turn into one of trepidation. The app wouldn’t let him walk away though, and so Ken threw his arms behind his head, leaned back in the chair as Ryan came over and sat down beside him. “Evening boy, how ya doin’ this evenin’?” Ken said in his now heavily accented voice.

“Oh, uh…I think…there’s been a mistake. I tried to delete the app off my phone, and then I still got this notification, but I…I think I should go.”

“But if you go, ya ain’t gonna be able tah git a whiff a these, boy,” Ken said, wrapped one arm around Ryan’s neck, and pulled him into his chest and pit. Ryan moaned in surprise and pleasure, Ken reaching down to grope the boy’s now rock hard cock, and knew that he had him right where he wanted him. He played with him while he finished his beer, softening him up a bit, making sure Ryan knew to call him Daddy, and that every time Ken called him boy, or better, son, he would get more and more turned on each time. When Ken was finished, he suggested they head back to his place. He threw Ryan in front of him on his motorcycle, pulling him close into his sweaty chest, Ken’s massive cock pressed against the small of Ryan’s back, and they drove off to his house, and Ken led his new son down into the basement.

His apartment down there had changed a bit. Half was still a bedroom and kitchenette, but most of the living area was now a well equipped dungeon, with quite a few cameras all around to record the action. Ken undressed Ryan, and while the boy worshipped his grungy body and dirty leathers, he started warping him, twisting him–and especially his hipster tattoos until he was covered with redneck sayings and references–especially trucks, musk and bikers. Then, he got him bent over the fuck bench, and after warming up his son’s ass with a couple of paddles, he hauled out his massive, stinking cock and worked it into his son’s hole, giving him a good rough fuck until they were both sweaty and smelly. Ryan’s own scent was intoxicating, and only served to make Ken even harder and hornier. He came once, unloading a massive wad of cum into his ass, but his cock didn’t soften–he just kept fucking his hole until it was gaping, and dumped in a second load. Ryan could barely stand afterwards, but Ken just led his boy over to the bed, telling him how proud he was of him, that Daddy loved him so much, laid him down and licked his boy clean for aftercare, sucking a huge load from his own uncut cock at the end of it.

Ryan took his leave after that, no longer a programmer, but now a truck driver with a fetish for big dicked bikers–though none of them could compete with Ken. In the basement, Ken felt incredibly satisfied and more than a little drunk with power. He pulled up the app and began poking around in the other profiles, wondering who his next target would be. What Ken didn’t know though, was that there were levels to the app above silver–and someone else had already set their eye on him.

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Interactive Story – Arctos Dating (Part 1)

Guess who finally cleared their commission queue! This fella, it was me. Sorry the content over here has been a little sporadic for the last while, but while I get back to work on The Pigtown Chronicles, I thought it would be a good time to do another interactive story! I considered picking up where I’d left off with Frat Daddy, but decided to start a new one instead. This time around, we have a rather mysterious Arctos branded dating app. One slight change this time around is that I won’t be running a private and a public poll for these anymore–voting on what happens next will be patron only. However, all patrons, at every reward level, will be able to access it this time around. If you want to support me, and get a say in what happens next, check out my patreon page!

It had been the longest year and a half of his life, he supposed. Ken had gotten out of a relationship in the summer of 2019, found himself his own place and settled in on his own in the fall, as the first news of the new virus was spreading through China. He hadn’t thought much of it–he’d been more focused on enjoying his new found solitude after that rather crushing relationship. He didn’t want to be alone forever, of course, but after taking a few months to himself, just as he was about to start putting himself back out there, well, the whole world had shut down in a matter of weeks, leaving him trapped in his apartment, utterly alone.

His work had gone fully remote, he could order in enough food, but as the months wore on, his one bedroom apartment went from feeling cramped, to claustrophobic, to outright punishing. He reorganized the furniture over and over again, obsessed over whatever stupid hobby people were discussing on social media. He baked bread, he curated his zoom background for work and presentations, he streamed more movies and television than he’d ever wanted to watch in his whole life, but now, at last, the world was beginning to blossom again.

Early on, he’d retreated onto the various hookup apps like a lot of guys had, only to find the whole experience dissatisfying. He didn’t want more people to chat with, or another screen to stare at, he wanted someone he could touch, and smell, and, well, fuck of course. So he’d uninstalled them all after a while, resolving he wouldn’t download any of them again until he was confident he’d be able to see people in person, and that time seemed to be now. The first few gay bars were opening up around town again, and while distance and masking was more or less adhered to, now that cases were down and Pride season was swinging, it felt as close to the old world as he’d managed to get, since he’d gotten his vaccination in late Spring.

And so, he started downloading. He picked up the usuals of course–grindr, scruff, and growlr–he had a soft spot for bears. When they were downloading, he saw another app recommended for him. Something called Arctos Dating. He opened it up, and saw it was another bearish sort of dating app, and downloaded it on a whim. It probably didn’t have much of a user base, but why not give it a shot and see what happened.

He opened it up, and quickly realized what the gimmick was. It was a bear dating app, sure, but it was also blind. No profiles, no pictures. The app just asked you these fairly boring multiple choice questions–favorite colors, hobbies, that sort of stuff that you’d put in a profile anyway, and then it whisked it away. He poked around the app a bit more, but found that he had limited functionality, because he was only a trial member. Wondering how much the thing cost per month, he couldn’t even find a place to purchase a membership. The only information he could find was a rather cryptic section of a deep FAQ that said membership levels were determined by participation on the app. But how was he supposed to participate, if the app didn’t let him do anything? Frustrated, he closed it out and mostly forgot about it, sticking to his profiles on the other sites, reconnecting with guys on there–but that evening, he got a little push notification from the Arctos app.

“Hey! A silver level member wants to meet with you tonight! Tap here to connect!”

Curious again, Ken clicked the notification, expecting a profile to pop up and maybe a chat window, only for there to be nothing of the sort. There was just a time and a location, telling him the date was set for seven that evening at The Roadhouse, one of the more bearish bars in town. It really was going to be a blind date–he knew absolutely nothing about this person. Still, he’d struck out on tinder, hinge, grinder, scruff and every other app that evening, so what was the risk, really? If the guy was ugly, he could just leave after all. Or who knows, maybe he could pick his brain a little about how this app actually works, and how he managed to become a silver level member, and what that even meant.

So he got dressed in some casual clothes, and checked himself in the mirror. He’d fuck himself, he supposed. He was twenty-five, still pretty much in the twink category–or chaser, as he’d been called a few times before, given his interest in older bears. He had thick hair that fell almost to his shoulder, and when he was more committed to working out, could still manage to get that six pack to pop out on occasion, though he’d been pretty sedentary through the pandemic, and wasn’t quite as muscular as he had been before. Still, he felt good about it, and headed for the bar, wondering how, exactly, he was supposed to know who he was even meeting.

It was a weeknight, and so the bar wasn’t particularly crowded. Ken went to the bar, got himself a drink, and scanned the room, only to spot a fellow waving him down from a table in the corner of the room. He wandered over, and the man stuck out his hand. “You must be Ken, right? From Arctos?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

The fellow showed him his phone, and sure enough, there was a photo of Ken on it, though he was certain that the app hadn’t asked him for one. “Sure looks like you.”

“That is me, but how do you have a photo? The app doesn’t show me anything like that.”

“Oh fuck, are you just a trial member? I remember those days. I didn’t check, I just don’t see many chasers on the app, thought it would be a little treat,” he said, and said, “The name’s Jack, nice to meet you.”

“What’s up with the membership thing? I couldn’t find a screen to explain the subscription to me.”

“Oh, you don’t subscribe, it’s based on activity. The more you use the app, the more access it gives you to other features.”

“How am I supposed to use it if it doesn’t let me do anything?” Ken asked.

Jack just laughed, and pulled a cigar from the pocket of the flannel shirt he had on. “Let’s head for the patio, you don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

Ken did, actually. He’d quit smoking about three months before the pandemic had hit, and managing to keep from going back to it was one of the few victories he’d managed to chalk over the wasted year and a half. But before he could say that, he found himself following Jack out onto the patio, where the bear lit up his cigar, and exhaled a thick plume into the evening air. They continued to chat, though Jack seemed to be the one steering the conversation. It started off fairly innocuous–work, hobbies, things like that, though the two of them had almost nothing in common. Something about Jack was rather infectious though, and despite the fact that Ken wanted to despise him for any number of petty reasons, he was instead hanging on every word, and growing more and more turned on with each plume of smoke pushed in his direction.

“Want to taste it?” Jack asked, turning the cigar to him, “You haven’t taken your eyes off it.”

“I quit smoking about two years ago, I’m not looking to start again.”

“Come on, just one little puff is all,” Jack said, pushed the cigar into his mouth, and Ken took a little into his mouth, resisting the urge to inhale it, only for Jack to lock lips with him and pull the smoke out of him, then feed it back. Ken had never done anything like that before in his life, and when Jack took a deeper draw on the cigar, leaned in and kissed him again, he rolled with it, the two of them sharing a smoky kisses for the next few minutes, until Ken couldn’t bear it anymore, and got up, excusing himself to the bathroom for a moment.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, honestly. None of this was the sort of thing he was even into, usually. In the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face, looked at himself, and was taken aback. His usual five o’clock stubble was closer to a full beard, and he seemed thicker than he should be–but maybe that was just the light, and the slightly warped bar mirror. In any case, this date was too weird, and as turned on as he was, he resolved to ditch–only for the door to the bathroom to open and Jack to step inside. “Thought you could hide from me in here, eh?”

“Look, I…I think I’m gonna head home, alright? It’s been nice meeting you, but this isn’t really what I’m into.”

Jack moved in, one hand going right to Ken’s crotch and groping his mostly hard cock. “Feels like you’re pretty into it, if you ask me.” He pushed Ken back against the wall, one arm on either side of his head, and Ken could smell him, his woodsy, smoky musk coming through the shirt, and he let out a little moan again. Jack went for his neck, kissing and licking where his sudden beard stopped while he undid the buttons of Ken’s shirt, rubbing his hands over his chest and belly. Ken shuddered, and when he looked down, he saw that, like his beard, he was much more hairy than he should be. And a little more muscular, just thicker all over, really. “Please, something…I need to get home.”

“I have a better idea,” Jack said, “Why don’t we go home to my place, and we can plow each other’s holes all fucking night long? That big cock of yours would feel so damn good in my hole, I can already tell.” Jack gave Ken a hard grope, and he could almost feel his cock swell larger as he did, and even though he tried to protest, a few more kisses, a grope of his ass, and he found himself holding onto Jack’s hand and letting the bear drag him the two blocks away to his apartment.

He spent the rest of the night in the bedroom, a cigar shoved in his mouth, giving Jack a good long fuck–though Ken was usually much more of a bottom. He’d never felt this horny in his life, and while he didn’t measure it, he was sure, somehow, that his cock had grown at least a couple of inches. The rest of him too, it seemed that the more contact he had with Jack, the more he was becoming some big, hairy cigar smoking muscle bear. The night finished with him on all fours on the bed, Jack eating out his sweaty asshole and blowing cigar smoke up his hole before returning the favor, shooting a load deep in his ass and milking a second load out of Ken all over the sheets below him, before the two of them collapsed on the ashy sheets.

“Fucking hell, what the fuck was that?” Ken muttered, mostly to himself, but Jack chuckled and pulled him into his damp, hairy chest.

“I asked myself that too, the first time. It’s a great app, trust me.”

Whatever hold Jack had over him seemed to be ebbing, and when Ken excused himself to leave, Jack didn’t stop him. He walked his way back to his car, horrified and elated in turn, and got home in one piece at around five in the morning. He was almost afraid to look at himself in the mirror, but the strange changes he’d noticed over the course of the night seemed to have disappeared–mostly. He still had a slightly heavier stubble than normal, and the nicotine craving was much, much stronger than he wanted to admit, but after a few glasses of water and a shower, he was more exhausted than anything else. He climbed into bed, and figured he’d sort the rest of it out in the morning.

It was hard to parse what he was feeling the next day. Hungover, humiliated, ecstatic, mortified, horny, desperate, used, satisfied. He popped some tylenol for the physical misery he was suffering, after a long night of physical exertion, and checked his phone, only to find another notification from the Arctos Dating app waiting for him.

“Congratulations, you got your cherry popped! You’ve gone from trial member to bronze member.”

He clicked the notification, expecting the app to have opened up for him now, but found that the functionality was frustratingly limited still. No profiles, no pictures. The one thing he could find that was definitely new was a button that said, “Update Profile”. Maybe that would open the app up for him, then. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted another experience like that though, so he closed the app down and focused on getting through the rest of his weekend chores…but by that evening, his curiosity, and his horniness, had the app back open again.

He’d never had an encounter like that in his life. Sure, it had been…a bit scary, but nothing bad had happened to him, right? So he clicked the button, only to find himself assaulted with a slew of new meaningless questions–or at least, the first couple were. Then, it asked…very specific questions about his little encounter with Jack that night, and he got a little concerned. How did they know any of this stuff? He tried to exit out, but the app wouldn’t let him leave until he finished the survey, so he completed it, and shut it down, thought about deleting it, but didn’t. Jack probably put the info in or something. Nothing nefarious. He opened it up again, but still no profiles–apparently, he’d just have to wait again for someone to want to meet him for another blind date, and in the meantime, he’d just have to let things be.

As I said above, patrons get early access to these chapters, and get to vote on what happens next in the story! Patrons at all levels, even just $1, get access to the surveys. If you’d like to know more, check out my patreon page here.