New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 12 – Finale)

Martin heard the Sergeant wake up and start shouting for him to free him, but that was the last thing Martin had in mind for him. He was in the Sergeant’s supply room, looking at the massive amount of BDSM gear on on the shelves, hanging in the closets, and tucked into drawers, but he didn’t know what he was doing exactly, with any of it. He should just run, shouldn’t he? But the resolutions that had been made for him wouldn’t allow him to run away, of course. What was he going to do then?

As he was looking around, at a loss, he saw a small golden envelope lying on a table, next to a strange looking helmet. The helmet Martin recognized. The Sergeant had used it on him a few times down here, both as a means of conditioning him to obey him, and as a way to toy with his mind during a session. It was a VR system designed to play hypnotic visuals and tracks that the subject would be unable to resist. He picked up the envelope, tore it open, and read the contents:

Well, it seems that you’ve hit a bit of a wrinkle in your year, Martin. Now, it isn’t too late, you know. You can still go out there, free the Sergeant, and accept your punishment. If you do so, things will continue as they would have–after a year in training with the Sergeant, you would have been returned to your old life, generally, though with a physique you could have only dreamed of a few months ago. However, if you do not wish to free him, then there is only one thing for you to do. We have taken the liberty of loading an appropriate file into the helmet–don’t bother trying to pull it out or change it. If you do, you’ll find yourself wearing it instead. If what you really want is revenge–then place it on his head, and we will give you the revenge you so desire. Beware though–revenge can come with costs of its own.

It was the middle of summer. Six more months of this nightmare, before he could go back to his old life, and try and put it back together? It wasn’t like those six months would be easy either–the Sergeant was not the forgiving sort, and his punishments were…severe. For a betrayal like this, Martin didn’t even want to imagine what the Sergeant might do to him. He picked up the helmet, eyed the slot where the disc went to play the hypno program. What could be on it? He didn’t have any idea, but whatever it was, it had to be better than six months of torture, right?

He went back out into the dungeon where the Sergeant was still sitting in the chair, and when he saw the helmet in Martin’s hand, the Sergeant looked shocked, and then outraged, demanding that Martin let him up this instant. Before he could doubt himself, he dropped the helmet over the Sergeant’s head, hit the play button, and after a few minutes of protest, the Sergeant went quiet as the programming washed over him.

Martin didn’t know how long the program would last. The helmet was very effective–but it could still be hours, depending on what the company had in mind for the Sergeant. He didn’t want to leave him though–so he sat there and waited. That made him anxious, so he passed the time with some exercising, mostly pushups and pull ups around the room, until he heard a grunt come from inside the helmet, signalling that the Sergeant was coming out of his trance.

He walked over, and saw another envelope taped to the back of the helmet, which had appeared at some point out of thin air. Martin pulled it off, and opened it up.

Revenge it is! We can work with that. However, we will need to provide you with a few new resolutions, Martin.

I resolve to take the Sergeant’s place here. I will style myself as closely to him as I can, wear his clothes, adopt his haircut and his vocal style. I will exercise everyday, following his exact routines, and maintain a physique just like his. I will forget my own name, and only know myself as Sergeant from now on, even in my own mind.

I resolve that I will no longer find muscular bodies attractive. From now on, I will only be attracted to fat, obese men.

I resolve to keep this man as my personal pigslave for the rest of my life. His mental faculties are now closer to beast than to man, and so I will have to feed him from a trough and care for him like a pet pig. I will love him dearly, and I will have my pig fuck my hole at least twice a day.

I resolve to work for New You Resolutions from now on as a feeder and trainer. I will take men in and fatten them up into the sorts of obese men I desire, as required by my employer.

Welcome to the team Sergeant! We hope you find these new conditions acceptable–not that you have a choice, of course.

He tore the helmet off his pig, who was grunting and snorting, and looking around a bit crazed and confused. He could speak–sort of. Anything more than short sentences was difficult, and he usually got out more grunts, squeals and snorts than words anyway. The new Sergeant, however, could only think about one thing–he dragged the pig over to the trough that appeared along the wall, went upstairs for the pig’s slop, dumped it in, and watched the muscular man shove his face in and scarf it down as quickly as he could.

While the pig ate, he went upstairs and got dressed in his new clothes. They were loose on him, of course, but after another few months in the gym, he would fit into them like a glove, just as his predecessor had. Inside, he was horrified. This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all! He looked at himself in the mirror, and found himself disgusted–he was so…ripped. He didn’t want this sort of body at all, but he was trapped in it now, for good. He went back downstairs, and his pig had finished eating, his musclegut bulging from the massive meal. The pig could barely move, but that didn’t stop him from mounting the Sergeant and fucking him with his piggy cock, grunting and squealing the entire time while the Sergeant cried, disgusted with himself in ways he could barely explain. 

Six months later, the new Sergeant was ready–the spitting image of the old one, though brown haired instead of strawberry blonde, green eyed instead of brown. His pet pig was always naked, and always at the Sergeant’s side. The pig was weighing in at 350 pounds now, and the Sergeant was so proud of his massive beast, and how far he’d come in six months. It was January now, and he’d just heard from New You that his first client would be arriving in a few days for a four month fattening. The Sergeant sighed, and looked at his muscled body in the mirror. For the rest of his life, he’d be giving men that which he could never have. All he wanted now for himself, was to be fat–but he’d never have that again. He’d just have to fatten his pig instead, and every man that crossed his path. It would be enough, probably, right?


That’s it for this interactive! I’m taking a couple of weeks to focus on commissions, and I’ll be posting those as I finish them. I’ll have a new interactive starting up sometime in March!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 11)

Martin found himself, eventually, falling into a routine. Before, when he’d try to lose weight, he’d always end up running into a wall of some sort, something coming up that was just more important to him than exercise was, and so he would skip the gym, and before long, abandon his resolution entirely. Now, however, there wasn’t anything else–there was just him, the Sergeant, the woods, and his punishing exercise. There was no work, other than the general upkeep of the house where they lived. There was no TV, there was no internet. On a calm night, the Sergeant would, at most, relax with a cigar, some bourbon, and a book of history, while Martin finished his chores–or more likely, sat at the Sergeant’s feet, polishing his boots, or servicing his cock.

The thing that he hated most, however, was that it was working. The weight fell right off him, and after three months, he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror, fifty pounds lighter, without a hair anywhere on his body, with a bit of muscle starting to show under his skin. The sun was out in the Spring, and he was already starting to tan a bit. Satisfied that his charge was progressing well, the pace of the exercise slowed somewhat–that, or Martin was simply getting used to the punishing pace. Instead, Martin found himself spending more and more time with the Sergeant down in the dungeon, working on various other exercises.

The first time he went down with his Sergeant, he wasn’t sure what to expect. The basement was rather bare, with just a cement floor, the walls painted black, the lighting dim. The Sergeant collared him, then cuffed him, then put a blindfold over his eyes. After a few minutes, he was hauled up by a leash, pulled over to a cross on the wall and shackled there–and then the Sergeant pulled off the blindfold. He had swapped out his fatigues for a full leather military uniform, with a flogger in his hand–and he proceeded to whip Martin until he was begging for mercy. Only then did the Sergeant fuck his ass, still shackled there on the cross, Martin feeling the precum dribbling from his caged cock onto the floor under him.

The collar never came off after that–the Sergeant padlocked it in place. Martin begged him, pleaded with him to never to that to him again–the Sergeant just laughed at him, and that night, he found his cot was replaced with a mummy sack. After he was locked securely inside, the Sergeant placed headphones over his ears, and Martin spent the night listening to hypnosis, conditioning him for…well, who knew what. But the pain…he found himself enjoying it, more and more. The act of submission, the punishing workouts, seeing the smile on the Sergeant’s face after he’d served him well–outside, in bed, in the dungeon, it didn’t matter where. He…found himself wondering if he might actually be falling in love with his captor.

That, he decided, could not happen. Martin did his best to balance the knife’s edge, pretending to be the perfect slave, while keeping his own thoughts of resistance alive. Eventually, the opportunity presented itself–and he found a stash of chloroform while cleaning out the dungeon. That evening, while the Sergeant was reading his book, Martin got up to refill his bourbon, and returned with a cloth soaked in the drug, which he forced over the Sergeant’s face. The man struggled mightily. Thankfully, Martin was no longer the weakling he’d been when he arrived, or he would have lost easily–but soon the Sergeant was passed out in his arms, and Martin found himself with an aching cock inside his cage. Had…this turned him on? Really? He couldn’t quite process that–all he could focus on was getting the Sergeant downstairs, where he hauled him into a bondage chair and secured him in place.

But now what, exactly? 

He was angry. Furious, really. He found the key to his collar, and he took it off–he felt naked, so naked without it, but free too, so fucking free! It took some searching, but he found the key to his cock cage as well, and freed himself. By then, the Sergeant had woken up from his nap, and was struggling against the chair, shouting and screaming at Martin to free him, or else he would be in for a nasty fucking surprise.


Use the poll below to select the final chapter in this story! After this next chunk, I’ll be taking a little time off from interactives to work on some commissions–the next one will start up sometime in March! Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 10)

Martin gulped, and heard a notification on his phone. He checked it, and saw that someone had sent him directions…somewhere, and he knew he had to go there. This was a nightmare–this thing couldn’t be serious, right? But he found himself going into the bedroom, packing up a bag of gym clothes and almost nothing else. He got in his car and drove off, simply abandoning his keys on the counter–somehow, he knew he wouldn’t be coming back here, if New You Resolutions had anything to say about it. 

The directions led him out of town on the interstate, and after a good fifty miles into the rural part of the state, he took an exit onto a smaller highway, and drove through the night, deeper and deeper, away from the city he’d known almost all of his life. All he could do while he was driving was think about how much his body ached from his exercise that day, and wonder who in the world he was going to be meeting on the other end of this journey. The sun rose, and he was close. Exhausted and nearly asleep at the wheel, he finally reached his destination.

It was a rather secluded piece of property in the foothills of the mountains. There was a bit of winter snow on the ground from a few days ago that hadn’t melted off yet. Martin got out of the car, and trudged his way up the wood steps of the house and knocked on the door. There were a few moments of silence, and then he heard the sound of heavy shoes on the other side of the door, and it opened, revealing, he assumed, his new trainer, and landlord.

He was…massive. Easily six foot six, and probably close to 300 pounds. He was older, most likely in his late fifties, his chest covered in grey hair, face shaven but with a layer of stubble, hair cut into a close flattop. He was wearing nothing other than a set of fatigue pants and combat boots. He stared down at Martin with a sense of disdain, and then stepped aside without a word, allowing Martin inside, sizing him up as he squeezed past the massive fellow.

“So this is who they’re sending me this year? Fucking hell. You projects are usually rough around the edges, but I haven’t had to shape up a doughball like you in a long time,” the man said.

“Please, there’s been some mistake, I…I just want to go home, please–”

Before Martin could get anything else out, the man’s hand was around his neck–tight enough to constrict his air a bit, but more an expression of power. “In this house, you will address me as Sir, do you understand? You are here because you want to get in shape, and god damn it, I will do so. I was a drill instructor for twenty years, and I have become very good at taking weak little pieces of shit like you and turning them into something resembling actual men–but the plus side of doing it for private clients is that I get to do everything the army never had the balls to let me do.”

He released Martin’s neck, and he stumbled backwards a bit, falling against the wall behind him.

“Now, drop and give me twenty.”

“What?”

“I said, you fucking worm, drop and give me twenty pushups! This isn’t fucking rocket science, and if I don’t hear a Sir after your next sentence I will beat your ass red and raw to make sure you remember.”

Martin gulped, and got down in the hallway of the house, arms shaking from their massive workout the day before, and he could barely keep himself up in a plank position. 

“Come on, let’s see what you have in you.”

He lowered himself down, but not far enough to the sergeant’s liking, and one boot came down on his back, and pushed him to the floor. 

“All the way down, come on. Kiss my boot each time, let’s see if that gives you a little more incentive.”

Martin pushed himself back up, and the sergeant slid his boot right under his face. Martin tried to will himself upright, tried to walk out the door, but couldn’t–he lowered himself down, kissed the sergeant’s boot, and then tried to push himself back up–and failed. He collapsed against the top of the man’s boot, shuddering, and the man laughed.

“If you’re going to stay down there, at least give it a good cleaning, faggot,” the sergeant said. Again, Martin pushed his tongue out against his will, and started licking at the man’s boot, tasting the fresh boot black on the surface and trying not to gag. He pushed himself back up and down a few more times, licking the boot in between–and he finally noticed that he was hard as a rock. Each time the sergeant insulted him, each time he had to lick that damn boot, he was leaking in the front of him gym shorts from the day before.

He wasn’t gay, he wasn’t into any of this shit–what the hell was happening to him? He made it to ten pushups before he shuddered, and his cock came while on the sergeant’s boot, letting out a little groan of pleasure as he did so.

“You fuckin’–roll the fuck over.”

Martin did as he was ordered, and the front of his shorts was soaked with his cum.

“Just couldn’t fucking contain yourself, eh? Well, we can put a stop to that. Clearly you aren’t in shape enough to workout today, so we might as well get you cleaned up.

Cleaned up meant a cold shower, having all of the hair on his body shaved off, his hair buzzed down to almost nothing, and finally, a chastity cage secured around his now hairless cock and balls. He was left in the bathroom, shivering and staring at a stranger in the mirror, until the Sergeant brought him his new uniform–nothing more than a pair of too tight fatigue pants, and a pair of combat boots like his. Then, it was time to eat, and the Sergeant allowed him to rest, finally, on a small cot next to the Sergeant’s own, much larger bed.

He was awoken by the feeling of the Sergeant’s body pressing down on him, and before Martin could do anything, the man’s massive cock was inside his virgin ass, one hand around Martin’s mouth to muffle his screams. He fucked him quick, and Martin was horrified to find himself enjoying it–enjoying the pain, the tightness of his chastity cage, all of it–and then it was over, and Martin discovered he’d slept until the next day. It was time to train.

The days fell into a rhythm. Breakfast. The Sergeant would put him through a rigorous workout, after a long morning jog. Lunch. Martin would complete his chores around the house and the property. Dinner. A couple hours of time to relax. Then bed. The sergeant would fuck him, and then they would sleep hard until the next day.

Winter thawed. Spring came and Summer was blossoming. Martin’s training was progressing–until a new development came along that changed everything again.


Use the poll below to vote! You get two choices. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 9)

Martin groaned as the alarm went off, and he fumbled with his phone for a few minutes, until he managed to get it swiped away, and his bedroom went quiet again. January first–time to try again.

It was a tradition at this point. For the last five years or so, Martin had made the same resolutions to himself in the New Year–to lose weight, and get in shape, and start going to the gym. When Martin had been younger, in high school, he had actually been a decent athlete–playing football in the Fall, and wrestling in the Winter. He hadn’t been particularly good at either of them, but he’d enjoyed being fit, and he’d liked the camaraderie of the sports. In college, however, he’d fallen out of practice, and when he had, the weight started piling on. He hated it, the flab around his waist that seemed to expand a bit more each time he weighed himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he’d never managed to get back into the habit of going to the gym.

Sure, some years were better than others. Two years ago, he managed to keep it up for a couple of months, and lost ten pounds. Then, a business trip had unraveled his habit, and in three months he’d gained everything back, and then even more. It was discouraging, and this year, he wasn’t feeling it at all. Maybe…it was time to give it up for good, and just accept that his athletic years were behind him for good. He grumbled, refusing to give in that easily, and got out of bed.

He made a protein shake, and it was terrible. He couldn’t find his gym shoes. His shorts didn’t really fit anymore. He looked like a fool. There was no way he could do this–maybe tomorrow. He could buy some new gear today, he could…he could just forget it entirely. He heaved a sigh, took off the tight clothes, and went back to bed–where a strange, golden envelope was waiting for him on his pillow. He picked it up and tore it open, and read the note inside.

Well Martin–we’ve decided that this year is the year that you finally make good on your resolution, and we’re going to help! Who are we you ask? We’re a very special organization, called New You Resolutions. We make resolutions easy! We’ll handle all the planning, and make sure you have the motivation and desire to make your fitness goals a reality for good.

Now get those clothes back on! Here’s your first resolution:

— I resolve to go to the gym every single day, for at least three hours.

Have a good time! We’re rooting for you.

Martin scoffed at the note, tossed it in the trash, but instead of climbing back into bed, he grabbed the shorts off the floor and pulled them back on, and the shirt as well. Confused, and a bit freaked out, he got his shoes on, and he was out the door, and on his way to the gym before he could really comprehend what was happening. 

And once he was there, he couldn’t stop. The best he could manage was a short water break when he absolutely couldn’t handle the thirst anymore. At the end of the third hour of the most intense workout of his life, all he could do was lay down on a mat and pant, legs and arms trembling, until he could finally manage to stand, and hobble his way out of the gym, and back to his car, and then to his apartment.

He didn’t understand how that had happened. He had to use the rail on the stairway to haul himself up to the second floor, because his legs refused to lift high enough on their own. At last, he was back inside, collapsing, crying from the pain–and then he saw it. Another golden envelope, just like the first. He tore it open, hoping it would provide some answers–but it didn’t. It just had more awful news:

That looked like it was a bit rough, Martin. Do you know what you need? You need a trainer! Lucky for you, we have just the fellow in mind. Pack a bag of gym clothes, because you’re moving in with them, starting today! They’ll take good care of you–and we’ll have a few more resolutions ready for you when you get there.


So who is Martin’s personal trainer going to be? Use the poll below to vote, and patrons can find their bonus poll over here!

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.