Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 8)

They stood in their small living room, the pills settling in their stomach, wondering when they were supposed to start feeling something. “Is…somethin’ supposed tah be happenin?” Kevin asked, looking around.

“Uh…I think somethin’ is man, look at yer gut,” Alex replied.

The last few months on the road hadn’t been particularly kind to Kevin’s waistline. Spending so much time on the road didn’t exactly leave him a lot of time to try and keep the shape he’d had when he was living in the city, and the constant diet of truck stop fare only made matters worse. He’d remarked a few times to Alex that he was a bit disgusted by it, but as he watched, his gut was pushing out his shirt, making it ride up, and he let out a little groan of dismay. “Nah, fuckin’ hell, I don’ wanna get fatter!”

He tried to push back against it, but nothing he did made a difference, as the weight piled on him. He’d started out around 200 pounds, and after a few minutes, and a few hastily removed clothes later, he peaked at around 350–a substantial gut hanging down over his waist, two heavy moobs where his chest had been, rolls under his arms, thighs touching, and two prominent chins under his round, puffy face. 

Alex, on the other hand, was experiencing something rather different. He’d bulked up a bit since he’d started working at the garage, just from the physical labor he’d never had to do before, but this was something else entirely. Every part of him was swelling with muscle, his chest, his arms, his ass, his legs, everything. He flexed, and he could…feel the strength running through him, and looking over at Kevin, he was almost embarrassed by his good fortune–at least until he felt his cock twitch, and start to shrink. “What the hell?” he muttered, and saw that his rather average cock was indeed shrinking up into his body–until he was left with a two inch long nub, wider than it was long, with a sizable sack of balls hanging underneath it. A foreskin grew over it as well, making the whole thing seem even smaller, like it literally had slid inside his body. He looked over at Kevin, and saw that he’d hadn’t noticed his own new addition yet–the eleven inch cock swinging under his gut, with balls even larger than Kevin’s below it. 

Kevin looked over at him, then down at his cock, and realized what must have happened. He reached down, and while he couldn’t see his new member, he could feel it–one hand couldn’t even reach around it, and touching it was electric. “Fuck…that’s…I ain’t felt one that big before, gotta say…”

Alex was distracted from their dick measuring by a new sensation–a body wide itch. From the look on Kevin’s face, and from his discomfort, it was clear he was feeling something similar, but the results appearing on their bodies were entirely different. Alex saw the body hair on his body–something he’d never had much of–start to spread and grow in thicker and thicker. Across his chest, down his firm muscle gut, all over his legs, over his shoulders and down his back, down his arms and onto the backs of his hands, and even on his knuckles. His face wasn’t spared either, and a heavy beard sprouted all over, growing up high on his cheeks, long enough to reach his belly. His hair grew in as well, and grew long into a heavy mane of hair. Then came the first prick, in his ears. He reached up and found two gauges in his ears, and then more and more pricks came, as heavy metal rings, bars, and pins appeared all over his body. His tiny cock and balls weren’t spared either–his cock had a massive doorknocker as a PA, almost larger than his cock was, and his balls looked like a pincushion from all the metal in them.

Kevin, in the other hand, found himself losing the body hair that he did have–and in its place, tattoos were appearing on his skin. Not particularly flattering one’s either–everything was about being a redneck, being a trucker, being a glutton, being a smoker, or being a total sex pig. The He ran one hand over his scalp, and all of the hair on his head fell away, leaving him with a perfectly smooth cueball, and his scruff from not bothering to shave the last while disappeared as well–making him seem even fatter. Tattoos appeared on his scalp now, over his ears on across the back of his head, things he’d never be able to hide, no matter how hard he tried. 

But something else was happening to them–they were looking at each other, and they found themselves impossibly attracted to one another, and also incredibly horny. “Git over here, and put that giant cock in my ass, boy,” Alex said, and bent over the couch. Kevin didn’t need to be told twice, and after lubing up his tattooed cock with amble engine oil, just how Alex liked it, he rammed it into his muscular ass, and Alex nearly screamed from the size of it, but he couldn’t stop. 

The last changes were finishing as they fucked, the hair all over Alex picking up a bit of grey as he grew a bit older, and Kevin’s skin softening as he lost a few years, back to his mid-twenties. Alex found himself taking charge of the scene, and Kevin was more than happy to do as he ordered, their positions in the relationship shifting slightly. Despite his small cock, Alex tended to call the shots from now on, and Kevin was more than happy to do as the older muscle mechanic told him to do.

After they both came, they pulled apart and took stock of what had happened to them, both of them horrified, and yet also turned on by their new bodies. It was Kevin who noticed the new envelope that had appeared, and handed it to Alex to tear open and read:

We hope you enjoy your new bodies you two, we think you’re a perfect match now. They do, however, come with some new resolutions to enjoy as well, of course

Alex, you resolve to get fucked or fisted at least three times a day from now on. Since your cock isn’t really good for topping anyone anymore, you’re going to become obsessed with getting as much dick, and hands, in your ass as you can.

Kevin, you resolve to become a gainer from now on. You won’t be able to get that big dick of yours hard unless your stomach is stuffed full, and the act of someone else feeding you is going to turn you on more than most anything else from now on.

Enjoy you two–you’ve made so much progress. You should be proud of yourselves!

Alex moaned, reached around, and felt his ass–he needed something else inside it, desperately. Preferably Kevin’s massive cock, man, that boy could fuck! “Come on Kev, get that cock hard again, Daddy’s ass needs another fuck.”

Kevin nodded, but then a loud grumble came from his gut, and he gripped it, surprised by the hunger that overwhelmed him in a moment. “Fuck daddy, think we could eat first? I’m starvin’.”

Alex growled a bit, annoyed that his boy’s insatiable hunger was getting in the way of his own cravings, but nodded, and ordered some pizzas for them both. First, he’d stuff his boy’s face, and then his boy would spend the rest of the night stuffing his hole. That was the way it ought to be, right? He felt like he was…forgetting something, but he had more important things to think about from now on.


Alright, that brings Alex and Kevin’s tale to a close. Let’s do one more, I think. Here’s a poll of the other three options I suggested last time. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as usual!

Patreon Exclusive: Hog Musk Poppers

This story is based off a suggestion from a patron earlier this month. A young man purchased a curious brand of poppers, and doesn’t notice that the more he uses it, the more he seems to be changing. The one person who definitely notices, however, is the man running the shop where he purchases them. Here’s a little taste of it–but if you want to read the whole thing, you have to support me on Patreon at the $5 level or more!


The bell over the door rang, and Wade looked up from the porn magazine he was flipping through behind the counter, over at the man who had come through the door. He smiled behind the magazine, while the young man made a show of walking around the store, looking at some things. He’d ask about what he was really looking for soon enough. Eventually, he made his way up to the counter, reached into his pocket, pulled out a little bottle and set it on the counter. The side of the bottle had a picture of a cartoon pig on it, with the words “Hog Musk” next to it.

“Hey man, I was…in here a few weeks ago, and I bought some of this stuff,” the young man said, “I…how long does it usually…last?”

“What do you mean?” Wade said, “that’s a bottle of leather cleaner.”

“No, I…” the young man rubbed his face with one hand, and scrunched his eyes up, like he was trying to focus. “How…long are they good for? Like, fresh?”

“Depends on how often you open the bottle,” Wade said, “How…often have you opened it up.”

The young man looked a bit shifty, “I…I guess I might need another one.”

Wade nodded, got a bottle off the shelf behind him. The young man paid for it and left. Wade just smiled and went back to his magazine. He’d be back soon enough.

***

The bell over Wade’s door rang. He was in the middle of restocking the condoms, looked up, and it took him a moment to realize it was the same young man from a few weeks earlier. He was bigger for one thing–more muscular. The first time he’d come into the shop, he’d been in good shape–lean and slender, obviously a little vain. It looked like he’d switched up his workout a bit, because he was bigger. Thicker all over, with a layer of scruff across his face. 

“Hey, can I help you?” Wade asked, and went to the counter, the young man skipping the pretext and heading right for him. He got close, and Wade caught a whiff of the musk rolling off the young man as well–he smelled like a locker room that hadn’t been cleaned in a few days at this point, but the young fellow didn’t even seem to notice.

(Archive) Giving Charge

This story was originally published on 09/28/2012, and was commissioned by rtrose.


It was the night of the Midsummer Gala, the biggest fundraising benefit for the museum where Travis worked. This year, he had been put in charge of the event, and while he’d expected to enjoy the responsibility, the reality of taking charge was a lot less pleasant. The sheer amount of organization required–the invitations, the exhibits, the caterers, the party rental, the squabbling employees–Travis could barely manage a few smiles as the photographers drifted around the room, snapping photos of the attendees.

Still, he had a role to play, and if the museum didn’t bring in a decent amount of revenue tonight, it was his head on the line. He secretly hated events like this, the schmoozing and small talk. It was exhausting, and as the event organizer, he was obligated to interact with all of the big donors who had come tonight, and do his best to get them to open their wallets as wide as possible. He’d just finished an overly long discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, a wealthy rancher outside of town who had been heavily implying that he would be happy to donate more money if the “Garrison Family Legacy” were more heavily represented in the local history exhibit, and Travis didn’t know how much more of this he would be able to take. He just needed a breath of fresh air for a moment, a chance to catch his breath. Glancing around, he spotted an emergency exit door which opened into the back alley, and when he saw his boss looking away, he ducked out with a sigh of relief.

Outside, it really wasn’t much nicer than inside. Even though the sun had long since set, the air was still sweltering and thick with humidity–Travis felt himself start to sweat almost immediately. Still, as uncomfortable as it was, it still was a relief to be out from the crowded cocktail party inside. More than anything, it was a relief to be alone–or at least, he thought he was alone, until he heard a voice call out down the alley, “Evening, man. You out here for a smoke?”

Travis, a bit surprised, looked down the alley and saw a grimy, bearded man in a set of coveralls, leaning up against the brick wall of the museum, a cigarette burning in his hand. Travis felt a wave of disgust looking at the man, but he still couldn’t face going back in there, so he decided to just stay silent.

“Hey, you listening, boy? Or you just deaf?” The man, said, coming down the alley towards Travis.

“No–No, I don’t smoke,” Travis said, mostly sensing that the man wouldn’t let up until he responded, “I just needed a break from the party in there.”

“Oh, so that’s what all the ruckus is about. My name’s Larry.” 

The man extended his oil stained hand and Travis accepted it gingerly, giving it a light shake. “I’m…uh, Travis. Nice to, uh, meet you.”

“So you work in there? That’s kind of a ridiculous suit–you a waiter or something?”

“No, I’m an employee of the museum. I’m in charge of outreach and funding…I put on the party going on in there.”

“That’s your party? Well why aren’t you in there enjoying yourself?”

Travis paused, not really wanting to say, but hell, what did it matter? It wasn’t like he would ever see this guy again in his life, once he went back inside. “Well, it’s just…exhausting, I guess. Putting the entire event together, hobnobbing with all the donors, making sure everyone’s having a good time–it’s exhausting. I guess, I just hate being in charge, you know? I can’t enjoy myself when I have all of this responsibility on my shoulders.”

“Oh, is that what’s going on with you? Well, I don’t know why they’d but a little twerp like you in charge–it’s pretty clear to me that you’re the kind of guy who should be taking orders, not giving them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis said, but he suddenly sensed that this conversation was heading in a direction he hadn’t anticipated, as Larry came in closer, his smoke and body odor invading his personal space. He tried to duck away but one of Larry’s arms shot out, blocking his way. When Travis swung back around, he came into direct contact with Larry’s cloudy grey eyes…and he felt something being pulled from him, and into Larry. He tried to break the eye contact, but there was nothing he could do. The gaze probably only lasted for a few seconds, but in his mind, it felt like hours. Finally, Larry blinked, and Travis felt control return to him, or, some control. Something felt different–wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Larry, on the other hand, seemed happy as could be, and let out a chuckle, then pushed his cigarette up against Travis’ lips, and said, “Inhale, boy.”

Travis was already breathing in before his head could think about refusing, and the acrid smoke in his lungs made him start coughing uncontrollably. Why had he just done that? He hated smokers and smoking–he’d lost track of how many times he’d promised to himself that he’d never be a smoker–and now he’d taken a massive breath of a cancer stick because some roughneck had told him to? “What–What did you just do to me?” Travis gasped, trying to speak through his smoky throat.

“Why, I’m taking charge, boy–and you’re giving it. Now if I’m not mistaken, we have a party to get back to, isn’t that right?”

“We? But…I mean, you–you–” Travis was trying to refuse, trying to deny him entrance, but the words wouldn’t form. Of course Larry didn’t belong there, but as soon as he’d said it, Travis found it impossible to disagree, or disobey. “I mean–if you go in there looking like that, they’ll–they’ll throw you–us, they’ll throw us out.”

“Hmm…” Larry said, “You may be a twerp, but you have a point. I suppose I can’t go in there in these dirty coveralls, can I?” he smirked, “Now, if I were wearing a fancy suit like yours–then I could get in there no problem. So strip.”

“What?”

“Strip, boy! I hate giving orders twice. Get out of those clothes and give them to me.”

There were so many things wrong with this and so many reasons he shouldn’t be cooperating, Travis had plenty of time to try and get them out of his mouth as he undressed himself in the alley, before handing Larry his clothes, who stripped off his coveralls, “Now boy, dress me up–I haven’t worn a suit in a long time–I forgot how to put one on.”

Trying to swallow his disgust, Travis, naked, began sliding his own clothes onto Larry’s chubby, hairy body. None of the clothes fit very well–Larry was a good three inches taller and probably fifty pounds heavier–but the suit had been a bit big on Travis, which allowed him to find some way to cram Larry into it. “Damn boy, you’re more of a little twerp than I’d thought–we’re gonna have to do something about that later tonight.”

“Look, please stop this,” Travis begged, “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re doing this, but I’m sorry. Please, just give me back my clothes, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Larry laughed, “Forget about this? Hell no, I love breaking in boys like you–now, you sit tight while I duck in there and scope out the situation. Don’t even think about going anywhere.”

“But I’m naked! What if someone sees me?”

“You got some clothes there–put them on–and smoke another cigarette too–I like a boy with tobacco on his breath,” Larry said, pointing to his discarded coveralls and boots, and again, Travis couldn’t resist pulling on the filthy, oily clothes and lighting up another cigarette while Larry ducked back into the gala. He was gone for fifteen, long, minutes–leaving Travis there, shaking and terrified (though he had to admit, the cigarette did help calm his nerves). He was just starting to think that Larry had abandoned him when he stormed back through the door to the museum with food splattered up and down the front of his suit.

“Dang boy, they have quite the spread in there! I haven’t eaten like that in a long time. Here, I brought you something from the bar so we can have a party of our own back here.”

Larry handed Travis the bottle of whisky he’d taken from the catering company, but he pushed it away, “Please–please hasn’t this gone far enough? Just give me back my clothes–please. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what? That you hate being in charge? Of course you meant it–twerps like you hate being in positions of authority–the only thing you’re good for is doing what you’re told–you’re here to be dominated and controlled and ordered around. It’s what you live for, boy–and you’re gonna love me because following my orders feels so damn good…Now drink up.” He shoved the bottle mouth against Travis’ lips and he drank, the alcohol burning his throat and resting uneasily on his empty stomach, and something else. He did…sort of like it. He did like having this big man telling him what to do. It was so much easier, really, and when he felt Larry’s rough hand slip down the front of the coveralls and start stroking his cock, he felt even more of his resistance drop away. “See that’s a good boy. Drink some more while you and I have a nice chat about how things are going to work from now on.”

Travis listened, and drank. He listened to Larry tell him about how he was going to be obeying his every command from now on. How he was going to serve him, clean his dirty body, drink his cum, beg for his master’s cock up his ass every night and every morning. All of his money, his property would belong to Larry, and Travis was happy about that. He was happy about all of it. Larry would occasionally take a moment to duck back into the party, bringing out plates of food for Travis to eat, and more liquor for him to drink. It was starting to feel natural–and this scared Travis more than anything else. It was starting to feel right. 

When Larry told him to get back into his suit, he was confused. He’d grown to like wearing his master’s clothes–the stench which had bothered him so much before was now comforting. His shirt didn’t fit well around his full belly and he was very unsteady on his feet, but he weaved his way back into the gala, still not sure what he was doing. He was…doing what his Master wanted him to do. He walked up to his boss, who was in a deep discussion with Emmanuel Garrison, still discussing the Local History exhibit, and he got down between the two of them, making both men stop in mid sentence.

“Please Sir,” he shouted over the din of the party, looking up at his boss, “Fuck me with your big cock, sir. I’m just a little twerp with an ass aching for a big cock–please fuck me sir, please.” Even he had to admit that he sounded ridiculous, and he heard the rest of the party come to a complete silence around him, his face burning, and without any sort of control, his bladder released, piss streaming into his suit pants. Mr. Garrison smelled it first, and the look of horror on his face as he retreated away from Travis was surpassed only by the look of pure fury on the face of Travis’ boss. 

“Travis–what in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Please sir, fuck me sir–I deserve it sir, I’m just a pretty boy twerp who needs his ass fucked so bad–please,” he said, then got down on his hands and knees and pushed down his pants, presenting his ass to his boss and listening to the gasps and shrieks from all the donors in the room.

“Get out!–Get out, and don’t ever come in this building again!” his boss screamed, and that was enough to send Travis fleeing, hauling up his sopping wet pants and he ran out the back door to where Larry was waiting, smoking another cigarette.

“So, did he do it, boy?”

“No sir, he wouldn’t fuck my ass,” Travis said.

“Seem he doesn’t know how to treat a little twerp like you at all. Still, he’s not your real boss, is he? Now me on the other hand,” he said, shoving Travis up against the wall and yanking down his pants, “I know exactly how to deal with a bitch like you.”

The satisfaction of his master’s cock being shoved up his ass did more to seal the deal for Travis than anything else Larry had told him or done to him that evening, and Travis was unable to stop himself from cumming all over the brick wall in front of him, and happily got down on his knees to lick it up after his Master had shot his own load deep up his ass. When he finished, Larry threw another set of coveralls at him. “Put those on twerp–they’re my spares. I don’t think you’ll need that nasty suit anymore.”

Travis did as he was told, throwing his old clothes in a dumpster and pulling on the dingy coveralls. “What…what happens now, Sir?” he asked.

“Now?” Larry laughed, “Now we need to do something about you being such a twerp–let’s head home and see what we can do about that.” He walked off towards a truck parked on the side of the street, Travis following, feeling his stomach begin to churn uncomfortably–though whether it was from fear, eager anticipation, or the load of cum swimming in his guts–he didn’t know, but he climbed into the truck anyway, and into an uncertain future.

*****

As they drove, Travis was starting to feel really sick. Maybe that wasn’t surprising, considering how much he’d drank and eaten over the past few hours, but this didn’t feel like a hangover or indigestion. He looked over at Larry in the driver’s seat–the man hadn’t spoken once to him during the last half hour they’d been driving out of the city, and out in the dark he couldn’t see much, but they were out past the suburbs and into rural country when Larry pulled off the road into a trailer park, stopped the truck and told Travis, “Get out, and get inside, boy.”

Travis expected his body to leap to and obey like it had before, but the command only made him sluggishly respond. In fact, he sensed that, if he wanted to, he might even be able to get away–had he not felt so sick. Something in his guts was churning–he thought back to the load Larry had seeded in him, and wondered about disease, but nothing could incubate this fast, could it? Distracted by his own thoughts, he followed Larry into the trailer, where the roughneck stripped the coveralls off the young man’s body and pushed him up against the wall, where Travis made a sorry attempt to cover himself up.

“Well, well–looks like the little twerp is making some progress already,” Larry said.

“What? What are you talking about?”


“You got yourself a little beard there,” Larry stroked the light coat of hair on his face, “and your gut’s bloating up a bit–gonna be good and big before too long. Still, I don’t think you’re over the threshold yet–how about we kick this into high gear?” He grabbed Travis by the arm and flipped him around, pushing him up against the wall, pushing his cock up against his still loose hole and working it back in. “Yeah, one more load oughta do it, and then we’ll see if you’re still a twerp or not.”

“No–No I’m not gonna let you do this,” Travis said, struggling against the loosening hold of Larry’s control.

“Oh, is that gaze wearing off already? Fine with me, I like twerps who fight back a bit. Still, this is gonna be a quick one–I don’t really feel like waiting.”

True to his word, Larry did last very long, tensing up and trusting in deep, unloading once more into Travis’ guts, and the sick feeling suddenly grew much, much worse. Larry pulled out, and Travis found that his legs had grown too weak to support him all on their own. Collapsing to the ground, the impact hurt in ways he did not expect–down in his bones, as though every pressure on his skin were a needle sinking to his marrow. “What–what’s happening to me…” he groaned, doubled over on the filthy carpet. His bones–were they growing? They didn’t seem to be getting any longer, but it felt as though they were getting thicker, and even hotter? The ache inside his bones was joined by an intense heat–looking down, he saw that his limbs were slowly growing wider, the heat pumping up his muscles, making them twitch and flex uncontrollably. It was exhausting–looking down at his arms, he saw the muscles inside them start bulging and exploding, his skin barely able to stretch fast enough to keep up without ripping apart. He rolled over, sitting with his back against the wall, where he could see that his chest was developing slab-like pecs, and his thighs and calves bulging with muscle–but also something else, something bubbling up underneath his skin. The sensation was unnerving–hot fat boiling up within him, spreading over the top of his new muscles before cooling and firming up, much of it consolidating around his midsection, forming a large, firm gut.

His eyes blurred as the ache and heat enveloped his face–with two unfamiliar hands, he felt his jaw and cheeks and brow distend and bulge as bone grew thick and fat filled in, and then it dissipated, leaving behind an exhaustion he’d never felt anything like, it was all he could do to keep himself from passing out, rolling over again onto all fours, and telling himself he had to stand up–he had to get out of here before anything else could happen to him–and while he could still control his own actions.

However, simply standing up proved to be a more difficult task than he’d imagined. He hefted himself up, but as he was no longer the waif he’d been, his thicker body forced his body to find a new center of gravity, making him feel like he was in perpetual danger of falling backward as he balanced against his gut. The muscle growth had left his muscles exhausted, his legs quivering as he took two feeble steps forward towards the door, before falling down again. Nothing felt right–his mind screaming that this couldn’t have happened, and yet every message from his body told him that these big hands, this gut, these massive trunk like legs–they were his. He pushed himself back up, stumbling back, fearing he might fall–until he felt Larry’s thick arms wrap their way around him from behind. 

“I gotcha big boy,” he said, but Travis broke away and spun around, nearly toppling over before he clung to the wall for support.

“What did you do to me? Change me back!” Travis shouted, his voice deep and resonant in his chest.

“You really want to go back? Back into that twerp body? Don’t lie–I can see you’re enjoying this…” Larry came forward, one hand wrapping around Travis’ thicker cock, the other snaking around the back of his head, pulling him into a rough, sloppy kiss. Spit leaking out around their lips and down onto his chin, making Travis’ skin itch and burn where it touched. He pulled away, running one hand over his mouth, feeling the stubbly goatee Larry’s spit had grown, watching his captor grin and lick his lips. His face grew weathered as well, his skin sagging a bit into wrinkles and dry crows feet. He now looked a good fifteen years older, with a bit of grey in his hair, which he could sense pulling itself back into his head little by little.

“No–don’t…don’t change me more, please…” Travis said, trying not to moan from the sensation of Larry stroking his cock. That seemed to have grown quite a bit as well–and was far more sensitive than he remembered.

“Too late for that,” Larry said, “but I know something you’ll probably enjoy.” He grabbed one of Travis’ arms and lifted it up, shoving his face into the pit and licking away, the crack sprouting hair and a powerful musk which made Travis groan. It was just as strong as Larry’s, but different–his own scent. When Larry went to work on the other side and then worked down, licking a pelt onto Travis’ chest and stomach, he was left smelling himself, caught up in the strange eroticism of this masculine, alien body. The smell did more than arouse him, it swept the exhaustion away–it made him feel a bit more comfortable in this new skin.

Travis instigated the next kiss, catching both Larry and himself off guard with its force. He’d never felt so strong before–the sense of power running through his body was like a drug. He’d been small and weak all his life–now, for the first time, he was the one with the strength, and he wanted to use it. He put one of his big hands on top of Larry’s head and shoved him down to his knees in front of his cock, and Larry growled back, “Watch it boy.”

“Suck it–just fucking suck it!” Travis said, “I’m so fucking horny.”

“You don’t give the orders here, boy–I do, and–” Larry started to say, but Travis didn’t care. He grabbed the back of Larry’s head and crudely shoved his cock into his mouth, making him sputter a bit, but to his surprise Larry didn’t resist. It felt amazing, having a hot mouth around his cock but Travis felt like something was wrong after a couple of thrusts. Each time, his cock went in a little less, and felt a little softer. He realized too late that Larry must be doing something to him, and when he tried to pull his cock out, Larry refused to let go, coming off on his own a few moments later, leaving Travis with a cock barely an inch and a half long, a massive pubic bush, and balls which looked far too big hanging below.

“No…No!” Travis said, feeling his new nub, and Larry laughed.

“You asked for it boy–now, as long as I’m down here, turn around,” Larry said, grabbing him by the hips and forcing him around so Travis’ ass was inches from his face, “I have a few changes to make down here.” Travis shivered as Larry’s tongue ran up and down his crack before burrowing into his ass, and a new fire kindled to life in him. When Larry removed himself, Travis felt a great emptiness back there, and started pushing back, wishing for something to fill him up.

“Please…please–fuck me. God, oh God I can’t believe I just said that…”

“Happy to oblige,” Larry said, sliding his cock in once again, Travis nearly shouting in pleasure with the penetration, Larry licking up and down Travis’ back, leaving him a pelt as thick there as he had on the front, but pulled out without cumming–nor giving Travis release.

“Why did you stop? Come on, fuck me!” Travis said.

“Another order?” Larry grabbed his arm and started dragging him down the hall, “You’re getting too big for your britches boy–I think you need to remember who’s really in charge here. I may have given you a big boy body, but you’re still my twerp–now get in the truck.”

“Let me go!” Travis said, trying to yank his arm out of Larry’s grip, but when he looked up, he found himself facing Larry’s glittering eyes.

“That’s not a request–it’s an order,” Larry said, “Now go.”

Travis couldn’t resist–he didn’t even put on the clothes Larry had stripped off of him, opting instead to just climb into the cab naked., Larry close behind. Travis fought the compulsion as best he could, but Larry kept speaking to him in the truck, and while Travis couldn’t remember anything he told him, he knew it was nothing good. After a few minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of a rundown biker bar, and to his surprise, Larry simply kicked him out the door onto the gravel and drove off, leaving him there naked.

While it was late, it wasn’t so late that the bar wasn’t still crammed full of men–all of them far rougher and meaner than Travis had seen at any city club. He saw a couple bikers smoking out front run over to him to help him up, but the two big men started laughing at Travis when they caught a look at his tiny cock. Travis, however, had other needs at the front of his mind. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed the beer bottle out of one of the biker’s hands and started shoving the neck up his ass, telling the big men how badly he needed a good, long fuck.

They didn’t disappoint him–none of the men in the bar did, who all took a turn with his ass over the next few hours disappointed him. It was a very different party than the one he’d been to earlier, though he was still the center of attention, in a different way. Each man who fucked him drove Travis to hornier heights, but release was always kept from him, the men laughing at him, for the puny cock which couldn’t even get off one load as every man there took a turn with him. It was horrible–not the fucking, he loved the fucking–the humiliation of it. He wanted to cum so much, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why.

When the bar closed for the night, Travis was left abandoned. He booked it down the road as fast as he could worried that Larry might come back to find him, clad only in a pair of boxers a trucker had given him, his cock still hard, and a beer bottle still firmly planted in his ass. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to go somewhere…didn’t he? Still, where could he go? He had no ID, no life to return to–he was lost. It was almost a relief when Larry pulled up beside him in his truck.

“Get in boy,” was all he said, but Travis did nothing, but the order sent a throb of lust through him. 

“No…No, I’m not going to be your slave, I’m not.”

“It’s too late for that, boy,” Larry said, “You gave me your charge–I own you whether you want it or not…and I know you do. Did you get a load off in there? I bet you didn’t. You need to submit boy, you need to be owned. Come here and get in.”

There was that throb again, his cock leaking a bit. He came over and got in, a shiver of lust from his obedience sinking in. “Why…why me?”

“Because you need this. Now jack me off,” Larry said, and again, Travis wanted to obey, and he reached over, stroking Larry’s cock. “See, it feels good to obey, doesn’t it? Now look in my eyes–let’s seal the deal boy, give me the rest–give me all of it. Give it up, and you can cum, I promise.”

Travis resisted for a moment…but could it really be that bad? He could still get out, but what was out there for him, really? Nothing, at least here he had something. So he looked. He fell into Larry’s eyes one final time, completely. He gave it all up, his free will, his personal ambition. He would be a vessel for Larry, but that no longer scared him–it thrilled him. His cock shot the load it had been building all night, soaking the front of his boxers. “Thank–Thank you, sir,” he said, the deference automatic and natural.

“Suck me boy,” Larry said, and Travis obeyed without a second thought. Travis’ future was no longer his–it was Larry’s. His master got him a construction job, with a group of men who had no objection to using the burly slave’s holes all day long. Travis had no choice but to love it now–but he didn’t regret his choice. He had hated being in charge–giving it up to his Master Larry was the greatest decision of his life.

Patreon Bonus: Two Gear Sketches

I had two gear related suggestions from Patrons this month, which I’ve turned into a couple of sketches.

In the first, a strange science experiment gone awry has caused a young man’s skin to start tearing apart revealing something–or someone–else underneath. Skintight gear seems to keep the monster within at bay, but for how long?

In the second, a strange chain email offers to make a young man the perfect football jock. It turns out the email had a more…permanent idea in mind, as the man finds his very flesh being corrupted and twisted into football gear he’ll never be able to take off again.

If you’re a $5 patron or more, you already have access! If you’d like to see these, and other sketches, stories, and stuff I’ve posted to Patreon, there’s never a better time to support me! You can find out more information here.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 7)

“Fuck it, I wish I was the big man on campus,” Timothy said. Is that what he’d wanted to say? He couldn’t quite recall, exactly, what he’d meant to come out of his mouth, but that seemed…right, mostly.

“Ah yes, that can certainly be arranged, Master,” the genie said, snapped his fingers, and Timothy felt something happening to his body. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it also didn’t feel comfortable. It was his feet, at first–they were growing in his shoes, and it was getting uncomfortable in there, and then it really did start to hurt. He tried to undo the laces in time, but in a few moments, his feet ripped out through the sneakers entirely, and Timothy found himself face to face with his new size twenty feet, the tops covered in hair, and he just, gaped at them.

The sensation was rising higher, his legs beginning to throb and expand. Again, Timothy tried his very best to get out of his clothes, but he was growing too fast. He tore his way out of his jeans, his thighs now not only thicker, but longer as well, as he grew taller, in addition to larger in general. 

“Hold…hold on, could you slow this down or something?” Timothy said, trying to get out of his shirt, but it was too tight already to come off, and in frustration, he tore in down the front as his chest expanded into two meaty pecs, the genie just holding his usual cocky smile. “I said I wanted to be the big man on campus, but I didn’t really mean it literally!” 

“Oh I know Master, don’t worry, the physical changes are only part of the wish,” the genie said, and that didn’t exactly fill Timothy with confidence either. Thankfully, the changes were beginning to slow down somewhat, Timothy tearing off the rags of the clothes he’d been wearing moments before as he looked down at his new body. He was massive, easily six and a half feet tall, weighing in at over 300 pounds. Much of it was muscle, but he was…thick in other areas too, especially his gut, which was filling in last, along with plenty of body hair all over his chest, arms, and crotch. He looked over his gut and his eyes went wide–he was certainly the big man where it counted now! He gave his new, eleven inch cock a few strokes, and it hardened almost immediately, filling out to almost a foot long, thicker than a beer can–whoever he was with was going to have a hard time taking this monster, that was for sure.

“Look, this…this is too much, I don’t want to be a freak!” He turned to look at the genie, only to be captivated by the genie’s shimmering eyes, as the rest of the wish took hold of him. After all, a body like this would be wasted on a RA position–this was the body of a jock! Timothy’s mind began to drain, his studious nature replaced with a more athletic focus, his diligence replaced with a smug masculinity as well. The genie snapped his fingers again, and they weren’t standing in Timothy’s RA dorm room anymore–they were standing in Tim’s room at the nearby fraternity instead. Tim blinked a couple of times, looked around his room and grinned. “Fuck genie, this is fuckin’ crazy man! I’m a fuckin’ jock!”

He turned towards the mirror and gave a flex, admiring his new look, and already in love with it. “Fuckin’ amazing…” he said, picked up his still burning cigar, and took a long drag off of it, still working his cock. “Man, I wish my bros were big men like me! We’d be fuckin’ unstoppable on the field, man.”

The genie was already hard at work, warping Tim’s idle wish that he hadn’t really thought too hard about making. Still, the genie thought that Tim was in good shape, but he needed to start having some fun, or the genie was going to get a bit bored.


Sorry for the delay on this next chunk! Here’s your poll for the next wish. Patrons can find their bonus poll over here.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 4)

“I wish I’d grow older and start gaining.”

Adam froze as the words left his mouth, and Rich just stared at him. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Rich said, as Adam looked around, and saw the genie smiling at him with those glimmering eyes, but before he could do anything he felt that same power overwhelm him–and Rich. 

“I…I don’t think I wanted to say…” Adam muttered, but Rich just shushed him.

“Put that down honey,” Rich said, and took the gym bag off Adam’s shoulder, “I think we both know that isn’t going to be good for your goals, right? Besides, you need your after work six pack first. Gotta keep that beer gut of yours growing.”

Adam wanted to scream at the genie, demand to know what he’d done, but he just allowed Rich to pull him into the living room and sit him down on the couch. As he did, he found himself settling into a comfortable indentation on the old sofa…because it was his spot, wasn’t it? He rubbed his gut, and felt it growing a bit larger, and was there more grey hair on it than there was before? Rich returned with a six pack of cheap beer, and a knife–flipped one can upside down, punctured a hole there, pushed it to Adam’s mouth, and had him shotgun it–and then a second one right after that, and he could feel the beer going right to his gut, and to his head, which was getting a bit…fuzzy.

“There we go daddy, that oughta get you started,” Rich said, and put the other four on the table next to him. “Now let me get you some snacks, I bet you’re hungry.”

He was hungry. Starving, in fact, but he needed to resist this. He felt…weaker all of a sudden, but that wasn’t really a surprise, was it? He hadn’t been going to the gym regularly for years–not since he was in his forties. Ever since he’d moved in with Rich, he’d been going less and less, and packing on the pounds, and he’d…liked it. They’d both liked it. Liked it enough for Adam to stop going entirely, and focus on gaining instead. He let off a belch and rubbed his big gut, feeling it swell larger still, losing a bit of the firmness it had had in his middle age, and start to sag around him instead, thighs growing thicker, arms losing their bulk and turning into fatty hams instead. He had to fight this, he had to, if he didn’t, he…he wouldn’t remember that he wasn’t supposed to look like this.

Rich came back into the room, and Adam said, “Please, I wanna go to the gym Rich.”

“Why would you wanna go to the gym, Daddy? Don’t be silly.”

“Please…I…” it was risky, but he had to try, “I wish you’d let me go to the gym.” 

Or that’s what he tried to say.

“I wish you’d always been going to the gym,” is what the genie allowed out of his mouth instead, and Adam watched as Rich’s physique shifted in a matter of moments, losing most of his fat entirely, as he packed on all of the muscle that Adam had lost in a matter of moments, and then even more than that. He was no cleaner than he’d been before this of course–he was still a slob after all–but instead of smelling of beer and lazy BO, he stank of gym musk. When he leaned in to kiss Adam, and he smelled him…Adam moaned. Fuck, he loved how Rich smelled after the gym so much, reminded him of…of all those years ago now, when he’d been a gym rat, but why the fuck would he want that now, right? He knocked back another beer while Rich sat his muscular ass down next to him on the couch and started kneading Adam’s fat gut as he passed 350 pounds and headed for 400, his age creeping up past 55 and getting closer to 60. Most of his hair was white now, his beard thick and long, crusted with food and drool, his face lined with creases and wrinkles. 

For the rest of the evening, he pounded back beers and snacks at Rich’s urging, and by the time it got to be time for bed, he’d polished off ten beers, and more food than he’d eaten in ages. Rich helped him up off the couch, and the sixty-one year old, 450 pound Adam waddled his way to bed, belching and farting the whole way, where he laid down on the dirty sheets. He tried to reach for his cock, but as horny as he was, he couldn’t get a good grip, and without thinking, he said, “I wish my dick was big enough to fuck you.”

Only what came out instead was: “I wish my gunt was deep enough to fuck.”

“Fuck Daddy, your cockhole is wet tonight,” Rich said, as he reached down and slid two fingers under Adam’s belly. Sure enough, Adam’s little cock had been pumping precum out all evening, not that you could find it at the bottom of his six inch deep gunt. Rich pushed in deep and ran his finger around the head of Adam’s tiny cock, making the old man shudder in excitement.

“Fuck boy, give Daddy’s hole a good fuck, would ya?” he muttered, and Rich was happy to oblige, and the friction of Rich’s cock against his own buried deep in his fat was enough to bring them both to orgasm. Then they fell asleep, Rich’s arms and musk wrapped around Adam’s fat body.

In the morning, however, came clarity.

Rich was already up and making breakfast, and Adam was staring at himself in the filthy bathroom mirror, horrified at what had happened to him. He could…remember, vaguely, that this wasn’t…right. That he hadn’t wanted this. “Genie…Genie!” he muttered, and the genie appeared beside him. Adam glared at him. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

The genie just smiled and shrugged, “I am allowed, as necessary, to modify my master’s wishes slightly so that the world can better accommodate them.”

“You fucking piece of shit! I fucking knew it. I wish I was thin and muscular again!” Adam shouted at him.

Or tried to. What he shouted instead was: “I wish I could never be thin and muscular again!”

“Easily done!” the genie said, “From now on, you’ll never lose another pound of fat, and getting bigger will be easier than ever for you–especially with that new hunger of yours, Daddy…”

Adam nearly doubled over from the pain of it, his gut growling in desperation. “You fuck…that’s not…what I wanted…”

“Alas, what you want is only a starting point for me, Master,” the genie said. “Perhaps you’d like to try again?”

“I wish I’d never met you,” Adam groaned out.

Or rather: “I wish I’d forget I’d ever met you.”

And Adam forgot everything. Everything other than the fact that he was an obese, sixty year old pig desperate for breakfast. Thankfully, his muscular boy had breakfast ready for him by the time he waddled out to the kitchen, and he scarfed it down, dribbling precum from his gunt, his boy teasing him, feeding him, wanting to make sure his old Daddy got as big as possible, as quickly as possible.

The genie watched for a while, but eventually decided to retreat. That had been a fun one, but there were other men who needed his services. He found his way back to the dorms where he had met Adam to begin with, and peeked in a few of the rooms on the floor, where he found a few young men in need of his services. But who became the genie’s master next?


Let’s choose someone new! It seems like you all are enjoying these, so I’ll do a couple more characters before moving onto something different. The patron only bonus poll is over here!

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 2)

“I wish I was a middle aged ex-jock,” Adam said with confidence, only realizing, after it was out of his mouth, that those weren’t quite the words he’d been planning on saying. “Wait, I…that’s not what I…I swear I didn’t mean–”

But before he could try and correct himself, he felt a strange force wash over him, as the genie’s eyes grew rather intense, flashing through so many colors and shades he couldn’t barely understand what he was seeing, the mist picking up that same brilliance all around him, as the wish began to take form.

Adam began to grow. He was a rather small fellow to begin with, around five foot nine inches, and around 140 pounds soaking wet. He felt a heat radiating out from his chest and abdomen, shocks and waves of heat shooting down his arms and legs, and he had to cling to one of the bookshelves in the dorm room to try and keep balance. He picked up around six inches, growing to six foot three–even taller than Eli, his roommate was, and his muscles were growing as well, his legs growing massive cords of muscle from calf to thigh, pecs inflating across his chest, his arms and shoulders bulging out as well…but while the muscle was appreciated, some of the other physical changes were less so.

The gut was one thing. Adam had never had much fat on him, but even as muscle packed on everywhere else, his abdomen inflated into a rock hard muscle gut, large enough that when he tried to stand up straight, he found it difficult to balance with leaning back somewhat. As the growth slowed down, he felt something between a shudder, shiver, and goosebumps spread across his arms, legs, chest and back, and hair began to grow…everywhere. Brown at first, the same color as his hair, but then there was some grey sprinkled through the hairs, and then, there was almost an even amount all over his body in a thick coating. He found his way to the mirror in the room, and saw that his face was no longer the youthful one he recalled. His hair was cut short, but obviously receding past the crown of his head, a short, greying beard spreading around his face as well. He looked to be in his forties at least, and he rubbed his face, rubbed the rest of his body, certain this had to be a hallucination.

“Look, I…I didn’t fucking want this, this wasn’t the wish I thought I was saying!” Adam said, as he turned to the genie, speaking in a much deeper voice now, with a certain, gravelly tone to it.

“Do not be ashamed Master, I know that many…gay men–that is what they call you now, isn’t it? Enjoy the idea of being…a daddy? A bear? I’m not sure what to call them, really. You are rather handsome, are you not?”

Adam turned back to the mirror, and the genie wasn’t wrong, of course, but still, he…what had he wanted to say? Everytime he tried to think about it, that same string of words was all that would come to him, but he knew…knew what, exactly? Had the genie tricked him somehow? But they why couldn’t he recall how it must have happened? Maybe he…he was mistaken.

“It is a shame about that shoulder though, isn’t it?” the genie said, eyes flashing and shifting in a more subtle manner now. 

Adam saw a number of scars appear on his right shoulder, where he’d had it rebuilt in his senior year of college, effectively ending his budding football career in the process. Wait–that hadn’t happened, had it? “Don’t…don’t fuck with my memories, I don’t want to forget who I was!”

“How could you forget! You were a star, weren’t you? But all good things must end, as they say, and that was years ago now. Your life has not been bad, has it?”

He was twisting things. The mist was rising up around him, obscuring everything, choking him even, making his head spin. He tried to cling to who he’d been, but that small, tiny man seemed so far away now. He’d been…fuck, he’d been scouted by so many national teams, and overnight, it had all evaporated, and now…now he was here. The mist fell away, and Adam was no longer in a dorm room, but in his small, one bedroom apartment–looking at himself in the dirty bathroom mirror he hadn’t cleaned in, well, years probably. It was his bachelor pad. The genie was right, of course, it wasn’t a bad life. He made decent money working in construction, after his shoulder had healed up. He worked out a lot of course–he couldn’t imagine a life without going to the gym five days a week. Boys were always interested in hooking up with him, now that he was a proper daddy, and a few even loved calling him coach, which was always a fun scene.

The genie’s eyes returned to their normal, now that Adam’s new identity was well in place. He would not remember being that man he’d been before–unless the genie deemed it, of course. He would recall making a wish, but not the details of it–and it would seem…unimportant. Adam left the bathroom and went into the messy living room, smelling himself on the air, and he was…a bit disappointed. The place was a mess, really, and while he knew he could fix that with the genie–hell, he could go back and make his injury never happen! He…didn’t really want to be that pro athlete now. But there was one thing about that life he resented that he’d never gotten–the money.

“Alright genie, here’s my wish. I wish I was fucking rich!”

Or at least, that’s what he tried to say. The genie chuckled to himself, tinkered with time, with Adam’s words, and what came out instead was…


Here’s the next poll! As usual, you can pick up to two options below. Here’s the bonus poll for patrons as well.