Halloween At the Barnyard – Alternate Ending

This is an alternate ending I wrote to the last story I posted. The original ending was requested by the original commissioner, but I kind of wanted something with a bit more turnabout. That, and a lot of guys have been asking for submissive top stories lately, and this fits the bill. Hope you enjoy! The new content starts about halfway through chapter 4, but I reposted the whole chapter here for context, along with a brand new chapter 5.


Chapter 4 (Alternate Version)

“J-Jimmy?…Jimmy!” Matt shouted through the crowd, forcing his way over to where the large man was chatting with a couple of goats, “I need tah talk tah ya.”

Jimmy did his best to suppress an eye roll when he saw the pig stumbling towards him–this was a tough nut to keep happy, obviously. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said to the others, and turned to the pig. On a second look, however, it was clear that the pig was in actual distress, and he didn’t see Carl with him. “You look like a bit of a mess, Matt. What happened?” The words that fell out of Matt’s mouth came in no easily discernible order, and his panic was only ratcheting higher. Jimmy twirled one hand, a large glass brimming with a dark ale appearing in his hand, and thrust it under Matt’s snout. “Drink this down first–you’ve obviously had some shock.”  

Matt was suspicious–and for good reason, but even smelling the ale was making him feel a bit better. He took the glass in his awkward hands and drank it back in a few glugs, feeling a bit run down the sides of his mouth. When he finished, he gave off a great big belch–and he expected to feel a bit hazy from the alcohol, but if anything he felt more clear-headed than he had all night. Jimmy pulled a cigar from his pocket–Matt was happy to see it, and let Jimmy giving him a light–feeling immediately better with it in his snout again.

“Bit better?”

Matt nodded, sighing out a cloud of smoke.

“Good. Now, what’s going on? Where’s Carl?”

“That’s, Ah mean…” Matt took a deep breath, and he went back to the start, how he’d been eating for…well, he couldn’t quite be sure how long he’d been eating, but at some point he’d felt someone working him over, and he’d assumed it must have been Carl. He glossed over some of the details–Jimmy had no trouble filling them in–the pig was still soaked to the skin with piss–and skipped to the part where he’d looked back and found himself staring up at some massive minotaur, or bull, or something. He’d freaked out and gotten away, but it was only after that he’d realized the bull had been wearing the same costume as Carl had. He’d gone back to the trough to look for him, but he’d disappeared, and he’d spent the last…who knew how long looking for him all over the room. He’d heard the bell go off twice at some point–he assumed for two in the morning, and he’d spotted Jimmy here, and hoped he might be able to help him find Carl.

Jimmy listened attentively, and when Matt ran out of story, he frowned. “Well, it sounds like Carl ended up getting…something at the bar, but I gave very clear instruction as to who should receive what…this is a rather embarrassing mix up, I must say. Follow me, let’s see if we can find out what happened.”

He moved through the crowd towards the bar, Matt struggling to keep up with him. Even though he was taller, with a longer gait, Jimmy could somehow flow through everyone, leaving Matt to stumble and push his way through, muttering apologies in every direction. He caught up in time to see Jimmy talking in a rather stern tone of voice to a dog behind the bar, who had his head down and ears back. He tried to ask what he’d learned, but Jimmy was no longer paying attention to him, just striding off towards one wall of the bar where a curtain was hung over a doorway, and Matt hustled off after him, sweat pouring from his body, the fat working its way off his body little by little, thankfully, as he walked, leaving him with a more manageable, if still very hefty, body. He reached the curtain after Jimmy had already gone through, and ducked behind it, finding himself in a rather dull looking locker room, with a hounddog manning a desk next to another door. 

“Interested in a room for an hour?” the hound asked, “you’re welcome to pay by the hour, and…are you alone? I’d be happy to match you up with someone, if you give me your preference.”

“No…what? I mean, did Jimmy just come through here?”

“Boss? I mean, he did–hey, wait! You have to pay first,” he said, trying to stop Matt from going through the door, but he steamrolled by him and into a long hallway lined with doors. Some were standing open. Behind the closed doors, he could hear all manner of squeals, groans, howls and grunts coming from them, but it was about halfway down that he saw Jimmy pounding on a door and fiddling with a large keychain full of keys, shouting at whoever was on the other side. Matt was exhausted from trying to keep up with him, and he walked down the hallway, heaving for breath around the cigar still clamped in his teeth. Jimmy found the right key, apparently, worked it into the lock and threw open the door, storming into the room. A few seconds after him, Matt reached the doorway and was able to see what was happening inside.

The entire room was filthy, the floor slick with mud and covered with straw, and it stank like a barn. On one large heap of straw to the side was the bull Matt had seen earlier…was Carl, actually. Matt could…recognize him now. He was lying on his back in the straw, and mounting him was a massive boar, shorter than Matt was now, but quite a bit thicker, and a bit more feral–large tusks sticking up from his fully formed snout, bristly hair covering his rough hide. He had a leash wrapped up in one trotter, connected to a collar around Carl’s thick, muscular neck, pulled taut, forcing him to keep his neck raised, even as he tried as hard as he could to thrust deeper into the pig’s hole, his own hooved hands bound up in front of him with chain manacles, both of them snorting and grunting and heaving, covered with sweat, neither of them paying any attention to Jimmy in the middle of the room shouting at them–or rather, shouting at the boar, who was apparently named Stu.

“Fucking get off him Stu! Don’t even try and tell me you don’t remember what happened last time you pulled this shit with me.”

The pig slipped down further onto Carl’s cock, making him blurt out a long, loud moo of lust, “I don’t know, Jimmy, he doesn’t seem to want me to get off him very much, and he is a customer. Isn’t the customer always right? I can’t help it that I’m a better fuck than his stupid boyfriend,” Stu said, throwing a quick glance over to Matt in the doorway, and tightening his hold on the leash with a snorting laugh.

“I said get off of him!” Jimmy shouted, and some strange force picked Stu up into the air, the leash unwinding from his trotters. He was still laughing and grunting, as he was thrown him up against the opposite wall on his back, pinning him there, Jimmy stalking over, the two of them trying to shout their way over each other. His cock no longer inside anyone, Carl gave a snort and looked up, trying to figure out where he was, his balls aching with unfulfilled desire and started jacking his cock with his bound wrists as best he could, snorting and mooing.

It was a mess, and Matt found himself unsure of whether he should walk away and try to pretend that he’d never been a part of any of this, and…and a second desire to…to walk over there and help that big bull take care of his needs. Because he was horny too–in fact, he’d been horny for months. In all the time Carl had been slipping away here, Matt had been the one to stay true. Not because he didn’t have a choice–he’d always had more than a few fuckbuddies who’d been willing to play with him in the past. No, he’d stayed loyal because he’d wanted to, for Carl, and all those months of jacking off, they just weren’t enough. That sex earlier in the day, that fuck at the trough…rough but…much too brief. He’d been terrified, but he’d also…he’d also enjoyed it. He didn’t know if that was him. He didn’t know if that was the costume, or the the potion. He didn’t know if there was really a difference anymore.

Carl rolled his head around, getting closer, and finally noticed Matt in the doorway. He stopped what he was doing, his hands frozen, his eyes wide. “M-Matt? Oh fuck, Matt, I…I mean, I don’t…it was, I mean…All I wanted was–”

That was it. That was all of it that he could take, and Matt turned around and started off back down the hallway. Because he didn’t care what Carl wanted; what he cared about was that Carl didn’t seem at all interested in what Matt wanted, in what Matt might be able to give him.

Carl struggled up from the straw, rolling off onto his knees, struggling to pull his jeans back up and get them up over his cock. He ended up getting the button done up, his massive cock hanging out the front–his jockstrap had already been torn off by Stu earlier. “Matt–Matt!” he shouted after him, “Wait–wait just a fuckin’ minute, I’m so fuckin’ tired of ya just walking away from me.”

Matt walked faster, but his legs couldn’t match Carl’s massive stride. The bull caught up to him in the locker room, grabbed him by the back of his overalls, and threw him into a corner of the room, blocking him in. “Will ya jus’ talk tah me? I’m sorry alright? I don’t–”

“Ah’m fuckin’ tired a listenin’ tah yer bullshit, Carl! Jus’ let me fuckin’ go. It’s obi–ovius ya don’t wanna be wit’ me.”

“Don’t wanna–Fuck Matt, why the fuck do ya think I did all a this, if I didn’ wanna be wit ya?”

“Ah don’ fuckin’ know! Ya drag me all the way ‘ere, ‘n ya still end up fuckin’ that pig!”

Neither of them said anything for a moment. 

“Have…Have ya got a cigar I can have? I could use one bad…” Carl finally asked. Matt sighed, but rummaged in his pocket, finding one with a lighter, sticking it in Carl’s snout and lighting it for him, since his hands were still bound up. “Thanks,” he said, “Look, Matt, I’m sorry. I don’…know wha’ happened.”

“Ya don’ know wha’ happened? What the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Yeah! I was trying tah git down wit’ ya, and ya freaked the fuck out! Ya say all this ‘bout wantin’ tah be wit’ me, and yer the one who went ‘n ran off first. Face it–ya can’t fuckin’ handle me! You can’ handle this, but this is me too! If ya wanna be wit’ me, then…then sometimes, I jus’…fuck.”

Would ya fuckin’ look at yerself?” Matt shouted, “If ya saw that fuckin’ yer hole, you’d a flipped out too!”

Carl’s snout curled up in confusion, “What?”

“Ya mean…oh fuck, a course,” Matt said, grabbed Carl’s bound hands and pulled him over to a bank of mirrors in the locker room, where he figured out how to unhook Carl’s hands from each other, “Have a fuckin’ look at yerself, ‘n ya’ll see what Ah mean.”

Carl knew he’d been feeling strange ever since those drinks at the bar, but he still hadn’t quite been able to articulate what was wrong with him. Hell, he hadn’t seen himself since he’d put on the costume, and even that had been odd, walking around, feeling “bigger”, but not really able to tell what had changed, exactly. For the last while, all he’d really been able to focus on was how horny he’d been, how sensitive his cock had been, and how…eager Stu had been to make him feel good. He looked in the mirror, and just like Matt earlier that day in in his kitchen, his jaw dropped when he saw himself, the veil of magic peeling away from his eyes.

No wonder he felt massive–he was massive. Next to him, in the mirror, Matt had to be close to six foot four–a big, hulking piece of boar–and Carl was easily a foot taller, his head a bit too close to the ceiling to make him feel comfortable, the two…horns pushing their way out of his temples coming dangerously close to scraping it. They grew out a few inches and then arced up, around the sides of the hard hat he still had on. His face had grown out similar to Matt’s, but his mouth was wider, his teeth broad and flat behind his lips, his wide nose pierced with a thick, silver ring–though he couldn’t remember when that might have happened to him. He still had on the collar and lead Stu had put on him. His entire body was coated with a thick layer of brown hair, but he could still see his skin underneath, and the tattoos coating his body, much like he’d seen on Carl earlier. He no longer had hands–much like Matt–it looked like a hoof split into three black, solid fingers–he also could see why his boots had felt so uncomfortable–his feet had become actual hooves. The rest of him had bulked up–he was packed with muscle, his arms bulging out of the tank, which was riding up, no longer able to contain his big gut. The cock hanging out of his jeans had to be at least a foot long, and his balls were equally sizable and covered with the same brown hair all over the rest of him. He looked like…like a brute. Like the brute he’d…always kind of felt like, especially when he was with Stu. No wonder Matt had been so terrified of him–if that had walked up behind him and started fucking him, he would have had a few questions too.

“Fuck, is this why Ah sound like such a fuckin’ hick? Ah look like I jus’ rolled in from the trailer park,” Matt said beside him, looking at his own reflection too.

Carl looked over at him, smelled him. He still reeked of their piss from earlier, and he…he couldn’t help but want him. Not just because he was there, like with Stu, but because…because it was Matt. “I think ya look pretty hot,” he said, stepping closer to him, pushing their bellies together. “Kinda makes me wanna finish what Ah started back by that trough.”

“We…we were tryin’ tah have a ser–surios talk, Carl…Ah wanna know what ya have tah say fer yerself…” he trailed off, sudddenly more interested in how good he smelled–how good they both smelled, actually, and how hard the bull cock pressing against him was, under his gut. 

“No, Ah don’t…I don’ got anythin’ tah say,” Carl said, “Ah can’ make this better. All Ah know, is that this…this is me. This is me too, this is maybe me more‘n anythin’ else. Now ya know, Ah shoulda told ya before all a this, Ah know. Ah spent…so much time tryin’ tah hide it from ya…but Ah think ya’ve been hidin’ somethin’ from me, too.”

“Ah don’–”

Carl pressed his hoof to his lips, quieting him, “No–let’s…let’s not be that us, fer a bit. Hell, I’d be happy never bein’ that us ever again. That old us. Let’s try…somethin’ different.”

Three bells rung out in the still air. Matt stepped back, and shook his head. “No, I don’…I can’t do do this with ya anymore, Matt. This is too fuckin’ much. This whole fuckin’ day–changin’ me, fuckin’ around behind mah back. Yer just sayin’ this shit cause yer horny, but tomorrow we’ll wake up, back in our old bodies in our old lives, and then what? Ya’ll just go out ‘n do it again. Well I’m fuckin’ done, Carl.”

Matt turned around to leave, only for Carl to grab hold of one of his forearms with his hooved hands and tug him back around. “Wait! Wait, yer right. Yer so fuckin’ right, I know. All of this was about me, and what I wanted, but let…let me make it up to ya, please let me at least try. There’s still a few hours a the party left, ya…ya can do what ya want tah me, alright? Anythin’ ya want. Show me what ya want. I’m just a stupid stud thinkin’ with mah dick, it’s always got me intah trouble, but I did all this ‘cause….’cause I wanted tah make it work. I wanted tah show ya this side a mahself, and here I am. Now…now show me what ya are. If ya wanna just ditch me here, fine. I get it, but…but I’m askin’–no, I’m beggin’ Matt, I’ll do whatever ya say.”

Carl got down on his knees, and he was so large, his horns still came to the base of Matt’s fat chest. Matt’s first instinct was to just tell him to fuck off, and go sit in a corner until dawn came, but two things stopped him. First, he was horny. Whether it was him, or the food, or the costume, or whatever it might be, he wanted to get off one way or another. Second, looking at this massive beast, smelling him there, on his knees in front of him, head raised–something else inside him clicked, something that Matt didn’t quite understand himself. He liked it. He liked seeing Carl kneeling in front of him, humbled slightly. That, perhaps, might have been why things had stopped clicking for him in their relationship, why he’d felt himself growing so distant. He felt like they were competing, two strong personalities trying to wrestle control away from one another. Carl had been in control long enough, this evening–it was time Matt had a turn at the reins. He reached down, grabbed hold of the chain lead connected to the collar, and yanked it up, making Carl snort in surprise, eyes a bit wide.

“One fuckin’ condition. Ya do everythin’ I fuckin’ say for the rest of the night. And then, when we’re back to normal tomorrow, ya do everythin’ I say then too. One fuck up, ‘n I’m gone, for good, no warnings. No more a this behind mah back shit. If ya wanna love me, if ya wanna be with me, then yer gonna be mine, understand?”

“O-Ok…”

“That’s, ‘Yes Boss,’ from now on. Let’s hear it.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Fuck, that sounded hot. Matt pushed his big gut against Carl’s snout. “So what do ya think? Am I big enough fer ya yet? Think I gained another hundred pounds or so at the trough.”

Carl gave a little snort, clearly not used to being in this sort of position, but the huge gut pushing into his face was turning him on. “Yeah Boss, yer real fuckin’ big, I love it.” Carl reached down to give his massive cock a tug, only for Matt to shove him hard by the shoulders, hard enough to send him back on his ass and into a bank of lockers behind him. 

Matt came up quick, shoving his gut in Carl’s face, pinning him there with his weight.

“Were ya thinkin’ ‘bout touchin’ that cock, stud?”

“I…I mean–”

“I think that cock a yers has gotten ya intah plenty a trouble this evenin’. From now on, ya don’t touch that big fuckin’ piece a meat unless I give ya permission, is that fuckin’ clear? As far as yer concerned, that’s mah cock now–ya use it how I want ya to, ‘n ya only put it where I tell ya to. Is that fuckin’ clear, stud?”

“Y-yeah…” Carl said, only for Matt to apply more pressure, the vents of the lockers digging into the back of his head, “Yes Boss, it’s clear!”

“I know yer just a stupid stud bull, only thing yer really ever thinkin’ ‘bout is where tah stick that cock a yers next. Ya want that cock in mah piggy hole, don’t ya? That’s what ya were just thinkin’ about, plowin’ mah fat ass?”

“Oh fuck Boss, yeah…”

“Well too fuckin’ bad, stud. Ya want this hole tahnight, yer gonna have tah earn it. Now come on, I got’s an idea…”

Matt kept a firm hold on the chain connected to the collar he had on, as he led Carl back down the hallway they’d come from. Carl felt more than a bit humiliated by how Matt was treating him now, but in all honesty, he did deserve it. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also enjoying it, just a little bit. Stu had always liked this little dynamic with him, though he’d never taken it as far as he had tonight, chaining him up and riding him. To say Stu had him dommed from the bottom was certainly accurate. Matt kept the chain a bit too low, so Carl had to stoop a bit as they walked, only emphasizing their new difference in size. Carl again reached for his cock, which was mostly hard again already, and Carl batted his hand away. 

“What the fuck did I just fuckin’ say!” Carl said.

“Sorry Boss, I’m just so fuckin’ horny, ‘n–”

“Well too fuckin’ bad,” Matt said, and looked down an intersection, trying to recall where Stu’s room was. The answer came when Jimmy stomped his way out of the room, his fancy suit and tie all disheveled. “There you are!” Matt said, and dragged Carl along with him towards Jimmy.

“I was wondering where the two of you got off to,” Jimmy said, realized that Matt had Carl by the collar, a somewhat humiliated bullman dragged along my a squat, chubby pig. “I want to apologize profusely for what happened tonight, absolutely none of this was my intention when I suggested to Carl he bring you along to the party.”

“Look, I don’t fuckin’ care,” Matt said, “But if you want to make it up to me, then I have a costume change I’d like to request.”

“I don’t usually allow anyone to…wait, did he see himself too?” Jimmy said, noticing that Carl seemed especially quiet. “Fucking…look, the most important thing is that the two of you focus on forgetting as much of what you can. You’re both in a rather precarious position tonight, and as the night gets later, it’s only going to get worse. I have some drinks I can mix for you, now if you’ll come along–”

“No, I’m done being told what to do by you, by Carl, by who the fuck ever it is,” Matt said, “This stud is going to be mine for the rest of the evening, I don’ fuckin’ want him fergettin what the fuck he did. So no–no drinks, I want some costume changes.”

Jimmy sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and said, “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

Matt described what he had in mind. Carl tried to interject once with a moo of dismay, only for Matt to quiet him with a sharp tug on the collar, reminding him of their deal. Jimmy’s face started out a little sour, but even he had to admit, it sounded hot–and after the stunt Carl pulled in all of this, he did deserve it.

“If I do this…there’s a risk that this will have some strong repercussions on your reality, I want you to realize this. When you wake up tomorrow, both of you will probably not be the same men you where when you arrived here. There’s even a chance that you won’t leave at all–and if that happens, the only job opportunities left are either as waitstaff, or as whores. Are you sure you won’t just take the drink?”

“Matt, I–”

“Stud, I said shut the fuck up,” Matt said when Carl tried to interject.

“No, I want to do it, Boss. I’ll risk it.”

“Oh. Guess the stud has some balls after all,” Matt said, then looked back at Jimmy, “So that’s two votes. Now do what you need to do.”

“Alright,” Jimmy said, cracking his knuckles, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Both of you strip down. I can do what you want with what we have on hand, mostly–and I don’t want the two of you to miss any more of the party than you already have.


Chapter 5 (Alternate Version)

The bell rang four times, but not many people in the party even noticed. The magic was still near its peak, and everyone was fully immersed in their personal, or collective, fantasy. The air was heavy and thick, humid and musky, men of all sorts grinding up against one another all over the room, falling into piles of hay with one another if they didn’t mind a public showing, while more than a few opted for a quieter, more private experience in a room rented in the back. Not long after the bells ceased, Matt emerged from behind the curtain, tugging on the heavy chain in his hand, and Carl lumbered out after him, butterflies in his gut.

The first thing Jimmy had done was switch their basic costumes. Matt had ended up in the grubby hi viz that Carl had been wearing, Jimmy shrinking it to fit better on his smaller frame, and making a few other changes in the process. Matt was still plenty obese after his numerous stuffings throughout the day, but he’d packed on a good amount of muscle as well. Thick boar bristle was filling in thicker across his body, and a couple of thick tusks pushed their way out of his lower jaw. The hi viz was plenty grungy, but across the vest was now a full jacket, and across the back of it was the word “BOSS” in full capitals, large enough to be read across the room. He was smoking a massive cigar clamped in his mouth, took a long inhale and pushed two twin jets out of his nose as he stepped out.

Carl, on the other hand, had ended up in Matt’s filthy overalls. They had grown to fit him a little better, but not that much, the muddy denim stretched tight across his powerful thighs and calves. The crotch had ripped out completely, letting his massive bull cock flop out the front–a cock that seemed even a few inches longer than it had been earlier. Beyond that, Carl was sporting a few new body modifications, to Matt’s specifications. He had a massive padlock through the head of his cock, too wide to get into even a well trained hole without coming out, and heavy enough that even at full arousal, it pulled his cock down vertically. The padlock was also connected to two chains, each leading to a shackle around Matt’s ankles. There was enough slack that he could almost get a full stride, but if he moved too quickly, or carelessly, he would get a painful tug on the head of his cock. He had a few other additional piercings, thick gauge rings in both of his tits, which were the size of a small cock themselves, as well as a massive doorknocker hanging from his snout. Thick chains were connected to the tits and his nose, tight enough to force Matt to keep his head slightly bowed, or else get a painful tug on his tits, and his wrists were also shackled to the chain, forcing him to keep them close to his chest.

Matt gave a tug on the lead connected to both sets of chain, and Carl lumbered after him, wincing as the chains tugged on all of his sensitive parts. He walked a respectful distance behind his Boss, noticing that Matt was walking with a newfound confidence, even as he felt himself deservedly shrinking. Now that they were out in the room, the brands on his back were visible, where the thick fur of his hide had been burnt away. Across his broad shoulders, the words “STUD SLAVE” could be read just as clearly as “BOSS” on the back of Matt’s jacket. One cheek of the overalls had been torn away, allowing his long tail to escape, and revealing one muscular haunch with a smaller brand on it, a pig silhouette with the word’s “property of” inside it–signalling to everyone that this big bull was owned, and broken. 

Everyone was staring at them, a few in envy, many in lust, a few in confusion. No one could recall them from earlier in the party, but all of the attendees should have already been here. Matt ordered a beer at the bar–a normal one, not designed to make any further changes–sat down at a table, and ordered Carl onto his knees beside him while he kept smoking. His big bull spent the next while happily worshiping his Boss, sucking on his tits, worshiping his gut, before eventually working his way lower to lick the pig’s balls clean and suck on his cock. Matt’s scent was intoxicating to him, Carl kept getting lost in it. It had taken on a shift from earlier that day–more pungent, more commanding. Carl found himself sliding deeper and deeper into his burgeoning subservience, while Matt, emboldened by the public display, worked on humiliating his stud further, reminding him what a stupid stud he was, no good at thinking. If he did well, he’d get the occasional hit off Matt’s cigar, sucking down the smoke, and also served as the pig’s ashtray. This, in particular, was deeply humiliating, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He deserved it, after all. Whenever he tried to do something smart, he just ended up ruining everything, like he almost ruined this. Better to just let Matt take control, better to let Matt be the Boss, and focus on being a good stud slave like he wanted to be. 

Matt finished his beer, and felt a growing pressure on his bladder. On a whim, he shoved Carl off his cock, stood up, and hosed him down with his piss. “How’s that feel, stud slave? Like gettin’ soaked down in yer Boss’s rank beer piss? Might as well make ya mah urinal too, since all yer good fer is breedin’, ‘n ya ain’t gonna be doin’ that all the damn time.”

Carl’s massive cock pulsed, hefted up the massive padlock in the head for a moment, then dropped back down onto the floor with a clang. The horniness he was feeling was so intense, he just wanted to fuck, but he knew he needed to be a good bull for his Boss, and wait. He’d get his chance, he just knew it, if he was a good dumb bull. He gave a snort, smelling Matt’s piss soaking into his fur, and saw Boss’s cock was hard and drooling precum. “What the fuck are you lookin’ at, stud?”

“At you, Boss, fuck, yer handsome can…please, I…can I fuck ya now?”

“Ya think you’ve earned it after the shit ya’ve put me through?”

Carl gave a restless, deep low, “Please Boss, I know I’m just a stupid bull, I fucked up real bad, I knows, but I can fuck, ya know I’m good at that.”

“I know yer good at fuckin’ ‘round behind mah back.”

Carl danced a bit on his knees, cheeks burning red. “I’m sorry, I fucked up, Boss.”

“Who owns that big fuckin’ cock a yers from now on?”

“Ya do, Boss.”

“Who gets tah decide what holes it goes in?”

“You, Boss.”

“If I order ya tah fuck me all fuckin’ day, ya gonna do it?”

“Fuck yeah, Boss!”

“How ‘bout if I lock it up, fer good, in a big fuckin’ cage, say yer never gonna get tah fuck again?” Matt said, running one trotter under Carl’s massive cock, applying some pressure to his nuts, “Seems like this cock’s only gettin’ ya intah trouble, might be better tah keep it good ‘n safe…”

Carl let out a moo of dismay, but kept his head bowed. 

“Maybe I’ll rent ya out. Turn ya into a fuckin’ whore, men payin’ me tah let ya fuck ‘em.”

Carl gave a snort, not sure whether he felt more humiliated or more horny from the thought.

“Beg. Beg tah fuck mah hole.”

“Please Boss, please,” Carl said, “I know I fucked up. Yer right! I’m stupid, ‘n dumb, ‘n shouldn’t make decissions now more. Ya can decide everythin’ from now on, I’ll do whatever ya say, please jus’ don’t lock up mah cock, I’m so horny Boss, I’ll do anythin’…”

“Clean up mah trotters, they got some piss on ‘em, while I think about it,” Matt said. He sat back down, took a long draw on the cigar and put his feet out, Carl squatting lower to lick the rough feet clean of the dirt and piss sticking to them. Matt just watched him do it, amazed at how eager his once strong willed boyfriend was to obey him now. Maybe this sort of treatment was what he’d needed. Maybe it was what they’d both needed. He wasn’t really planning on locking up his cock, of course. Watching that huge dick swing around with that weight on it, Matt’s hole was hungry as ever for it–but not here. He’d gotten enough of the spectacle, and taught Carl his place around here. He stubbed out the cigar on one of Carl’s tit rings, close enough for him to feel the heat without burning him, and stood up. Jimmy had given them a room for free for the rest of the night–they might as well retire for a while. He tugged Carl up by the chain, and led his big stud away from the rest of the party and back past the curtain.

A friendly doberman showed them the way to their already prepared room, but they weren’t alone–there, chained to the wall, was Stu, gagged and clearly a little roughed up, scowling at them both. “Don’t mind him, Jimmy wanted him tah watch,” Matt said, and Carl’s snout and face turned a bit red under his fur. “Now, let’s git ya situated. How did he have ya? Like this, I think.”

Matt unhooked Carl’s wrists from the chain, and secured them to some bolts on the wall, leaving his tits and nose ring chained up. Happy with the bull’s placement, he lit two cigars, handing the first to Carl, shoving it in the bull’s mouth, and then a second for himself. Then Matt took his time, using his hands and hot cigar to tease Carl’s cock, still padlocked to his ankles, while he enjoyed the bull’s own powerful musk, mixed with his own piss and the smell of their smoke. Carl was getting impatient, but the more he tried to hurry Matt up, the slower the pig took, leaving him as a snorting, groaning, smoky mess. 

“Alright stud–you want that big cock of yours in my ass, then ya’d better give it some good lovin’ with that snout a yers first,” Matt said, backed up and shoved his ass in the bull’s face. Carl was more than happy to service his Boss’s hole, slurping and pushing his tongue in, feeling the pig’s hole begin to loosen up. Matt pulled away, bit by bit, Carl forced to push his head more and more forward, tugging his tits up and his arms away from the wall, fighting to get to Matt’s hole, to lick it, and taste it, and worship it. Finally, when Matt was safistied, he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the padlock from the head of Carl’s cock, and the massive shaft sprang right up, ready to be mounted.

“Ya don’t fuckin’ cum until I fuckin’ tell ya to, stud,” Matt said, as he lined himself up. “Cum too quick, ‘n ya can ferget about ever gettin’ in this hole ever again. This ain’t about makin’ ya feel good, this is about servicin’ mah horny hole, ya understand?”

“Yeah Boss, please, please, I won’t, I fuckin’ swear,” Carl moaned, but he was so excited, he thought he might explode as soon as Matt sat down on his cock and worked the first six inches in. He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep calm, tugging on his tits with his nose to keep himself from losing focus. Matt just watched his big bull squirm underneath him as he slid more and more of the cock into him, deeper than anything he’d ever taken before, but that beer–Jimmy might had had the bartender slip a little something in, to help his relaxation. Matt moaned, his own piggy cock rock hard and jutting out from under his belly, drooling precum onto Carl’s own gut. About halfway down, he pulled up a bit, then down a little further, and up, working his way deeper and deeper onto the shaft, snorting and oinking in delight, happy to finally be getting some good deep satisfaction out of this whole ordeal. He was getting excited from the cock, he decided he might as well milk a load out himself. He reached under his gut and started stroking off, dragging harder on the cigar, aiming for Carl’s addled face, and dropped a few more inches onto the bull’s huge cock. It was enough to push his own cock over the edge, and he exploded, spraying a massive load of pig cum all over Carl’s body and face to go with the piss from earlier. He could see Matt’s eyes filled with desire and jealousy–he was holding off well enough, but Carl wanted him to suffer a while longer. He wanted to see how much he wanted to please him, see how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. He kept sliding up and down on Carl’s cock for a few more minutes, until he was sure he was good and loose, and then he pulled all the way off–Carl letting off a long moo of frustration. “No Boss, don’t stop, don’t…”

“Shut up stud, ya’ll git what ya want, hold the fuck on,” Matt said, and unhooked his wrists from the wall. “Show me what ya got, stud–fuck mah piggy hole, good ‘n rough–but remember,” he said, giving a tug on the lead with one hand, and the chain connecting nose and tits with the other, “No fuckin’ cummin’ til I fuckin’ say so, got it?”

“Yes Boss!”

Carl scrambled up while Matt laid down on the ground, legs up. Carl shoved his legs back, enough to get his massive cock lined up with his Boss’s loose hole, and slid inside with a long moo of delight. Matt reached out and grabbed hold of the lead, keeping it tight, reminding Carl who was in charge here, as Carl started fucking–a little slow at first, but then harder, slamming in and out of Matt’s wrecked hole, snorting and grunting in delight, nose and tits stinging with pain, but he didn’t care, he liked it. He liked all of it, he wanted to make Matt happy, and Matt was right. He was stupid. He let his dick control him. It was better if he wasn’t in control, if Matt just…was the Boss. Matt came again after a couple of minutes without even touching his cock, shooting a load hard enough to spray his own face this time.

The sight of making his Boss cum made Carl lose a bit of control–and Matt figured his stud had been teased enough tonight. He rammed in deep, and Matt said, “Come on you fuckin’ stud, I wanna feel you blast that big fuckin’ load deep in mah guts!”

Carl gave a long, roaring low, and came, cum pouring from his massive balls into Matt’s hole. His cock refused to soften for another five minutes, and he just kept fucking and churning the cum deep into Matt’s hole, the pig groaning and grunting, telling Carl what a good bull he is, what a hot stud, what an obedient stupid slave breeder he’s gonna be from now on.

Five bells had chimed at some point while they were fucking, bringing them closer and closer to dawn. Carl pulled his cock out, and laid down with Matt, who unhooked the chain from his nose and tits so he could properly kiss his big stud. “That was a real good job, slave, ya treated mah horny hole just how I like it,” he said.

“Thanks Boss, I love fuckin’ ya,” Carl said, licking Matt’s load up from his belly with his long tongue. Matt pulled him close, and the snuggled up together, not minding Stu behind them, rattling his own chains. 

“So, who’s a better fuck? Me, or that pig back there?”

“You are, Boss, of course ya are!”

“Yer not just sayin’ that? I’m not gonna find ya here again, am I?”

Carl shook his head side to side. “I…I fucked up, I mean that. I…I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. I never knew I even wanted tah feel like this with someone. Are…What’s even gonna happen next?”

Matt pulled him close. “Don’t know. Jimmy didn’t sound like he was too sure himself. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we, stud?”

Six bells chimed out, and both of them felt a heavy drowsiness clouding their minds. In a few seconds, they were both asleep, snoring loudly, while Stu grunted and objected through his gag–but even he knew he’d lost. Jimmy had warned him before about getting too attached to clients, and Stu knew that whatever punishment Jimmy came up with–it wasn’t going to be a pleasant one.

Out in the bar, the rest of the revellers had fallen into the same slumber, all of them except Jimmy and his various employees, who were standing in the midst of them all, pleased that yet another Halloween party had gone so well, even better than last year’s. As they all slept, he saw everyone around him start to revert back to their usual selves. Some had a few…lasting changes, but you couldn’t do magic without a few consequences. Still, as long as you didn’t think about it too hard and take too well to the change, you could usually get away relatively unscathed. 

Some, of course, had never planned on getting away without a few changes, some more extreme than others. The older man in the cop costume was slumbering in a booth, a german shepard curled up under his feet–he’d be having an interesting life for a year–or longer, if he ended up preferring life as man’s best friend. With a wave, those normal enough to go back to their lives disappeared–all of them would wake up in their own beds. Sure, maybe not the exact same beds–a few of them might have taken to their costumes, and find themselves in a…new walk of life. The magic usually managed to sort it out well enough, at least, though he’d never really been able to figure out why it affected some people more than others. Just a handful remained, those looking stuck in the middle. He’d have to have some awkward conversations with them when they woke up in a few hours. They’d probably be stuck working with him for the next year–still, there were worse fates, he supposed. He realized that he had never actually checked in on Carl and Matt after fixing their costumes–he stepped over the remaining bodies in the bar and slipped behind the curtain, hoping he wouldn’t be stuck with either of them for the next year–one night had been plenty exhausting. He unlocked the door to the room he’d reserved for them, peeked inside, and it was empty aside from Stu fussing on the wall, thank goodness. Of course, just because they’d left, didn’t mean they wouldn’t have some changes to deal with. He had a feeling they would be in for a rough morning, in any case.

***

Carl moaned, rolled over and nearly fell off the bed, where Matt was still snoring beside him. What a hangover–he hadn’t felt this sick in years. He needed to piss, in any case. Doing his best not to open his eyes beyond a squint, since the sun was well risen at this time of morning, he pushed his way into the bathroom, smaller and much more cramped than he could recall it being, stood in front of the toilet, grabbed for his cock, and felt his hand wrap its way around a massive snake. 

He opened his eyes and looked down, vision blurry, and started pissing–it wasn’t a stream so much as a fan, thanks to the massive holes in the head of his cock, where Matt kept his padlock when he wasn’t using his stud’s cock. The toilet and the seat were dripping with piss when he was through, leaving Carl standing there, ogling the foot long, inhuman dick in his hands, trying to figure out why everything felt so strange. The mirror, he thought. Something about…a mirror. He went to the sink, but the glass above it was coated with grime. He did his best to wipe what he could away, well enough to get a decent look at himself, and he stared at himself with something between horror and arousal.

That wasn’t him. That wasn’t his face, that wasn’t his body. His once handsome face was deformed now, not quite the minotaur mug he’d had at the end of the party, but with the broad nostrils, the bock head, the heavy jaw and big teeth, he didn’t make for an attractive man by general standards, especially not with the massive gold ring hanging from his septum, big enough to drop below his top lip. He could see above his temples a couple bony points, little tiny horns that were pushing through from his skull. No one would notice them under the hardhat he usually wore, or unless they looked close, but it made him self-conscious anyway. He still had on the collar Matt had put on him the night before…or had it been years ago? Things seemed slippery in his mind, like he was trying to keep track of two very different stories at the same time. 

He was much larger than he’d been before, easily six foot three, and packed with muscle, with a healthy, firm gut above his massive cock. His pecs in particular were plump and thick, with two rings through his meaty tits. He had hair all over, some of it brown, some of it silvery grey, but rather than being distributed symmetrically, the two colors intermingled like patches across his body. Then, there was his cock, his massive, freakish cock, and heavy balls below. He turned around, nervous at what he’d find, and there, sure enough across his back, was a the brand from the night before turned into a tattoo–STUD SLAVE. There on his ass was the little pig brand tattoo as well. 

“Fuck it reeks in here, I thought I told ya tah piss sittin’ down, ya stupid fuckin’ bull.”

Carl looked over, and there was Matt–or at least, a man he knew was Matt, but his mind stubbornly corrected him, and thought of him as Boss more than anything else. He was a squat, five and a half foot, rotund man with a barrel chest, big gut and wide ass. His face was just as messed up as Carl’s was, though in a different way–a flat, upturned nose, small eyes, ears that seemed a little too big, and a bit floppy. He wasn’t as hairy as Carl was, but the hair he did have on his body was long and bristly, mostly down his back and legs. “M-Boss, I…we didn’t change back, look at yourself…”

Matt looked at him, a little confused, then there was a little spark of realization as he put the story together, squeezed in beside him and looked in the mirror, letting out a squeal of surprise when he saw himself. “Fuck–that…that fucker.”

Matt looked at Carl again, then back at himself. Carl said. “What…what are we gonna do, Boss? Are…we stuck like this?”

Matt looked away from the mirror and shook his head, the little recognition fading slightly. “I…Fuck, you…Fuck this, I gotta piss, and ya made a damn mess–get down there and lick it up you stupid fuck.”

“But Boss, what–”

Matt wrapped one thick hand around the shaft of Carl’s huge cock and squeezed it hard, enough to make the massive fellow let out a loud moo-like sound. “I can’t think this fuckin’ hungover, we’ll figure it out later. Get down, clean it up, or I’ll lock ya up fer a month, make ya fuck me with the strap on–that what ya want?”

Carl did not want that. He didn’t know what Matt meant, really, but he could almost remember times, earlier times, when he’d been a bad bull, and Boss had kept him from fucking and cumming for a month, or more. After a week, he was just a stupid wreck, could barely think straight, willing to do anything for his piggy master, no matter how humiliating. He got down on his knees in front of the toilet and started licking up the piss where it had sprayed. Matt walked up beside him, pulled out his short, thick cock, and pissed onto the back of Carl’s head, where it dribbled down into the bowl, mostly. The smell was enough to get him even hornier–Carl had to resist the urge to touch his cock–if Boss caught him doing that, he’d get locked up for sure. When Matt finished, he spanked his bull’s butt while he licked around the rest of the toilet, and the floor, getting every drop, and then, feeling better and much more awake, they left the bathroom, and found themselves in a double wide trailer that had seen much better days.

“Light us some cigars while I get that cock of mine locked back up,” Matt said, rummaging around for the massive padlock he kept through the head of Carl’s dick when it wasn’t in use. Carl gave a little snort of frustration, but lit a cigar, handing it to Matt, before lighting another for himself. 

“Someone sounds a little annoyed,” Matt said as he clicked the padlock into place, “Is my stupid stud bull already horny? You fucked my piggy hole not even eight hours ago.”

“I…Yeah, I know Boss.”

“Go make us breakfast.”

“But…what about all of…this ain’t where we lived, Boss! Don’ we gotta try ‘n fix this?”

“I can’t think on an empty stomach, and we both know the hornier ya are, the stupider ya git. Go cook, we’ll figure it out once I’m full.”

Carl gave a snort, but did as he was told. This wasn’t like him, he told himself. He didn’t cook, he didn’t follow orders, he certainly didn’t like being bossed around, but he felt lost. Matt was the one thing that felt certain to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to screw that up anymore, if he could help it. So he cooked, and while he thought he would struggle in the tight, messy kitchen, he found that his body and mind, if he relaxed and trusted them, started to churn out a massive breakfast all on their own, without him having to worry about it. He delivered plate after plate to Matt, sitting at the table, grabbing some bites for himself as he went, but making sure his Boss had enough to satisfy his massive appetite. When he could tell Matt was starting to slow down, he ate his own breakfast, but Matt called him over, and had him get under the table. Matt worshiped his Boss’s gut for a while, sucked on his cock and balls, cleaned his hooves, while Matt finished and smoked his cigar down to a nub. 

Matt pushed back from the table, looked down at the big bull, red in the face, nostrils flared, cock hard but dragged to the floor by the heavy padlock. “What…what now, Boss? You…uh…fuck…”

“What’s wrong, stud? Thought there was something you wanted–I’m too full to remember really.”

“I…this…it ain’t supposed tah be like this, don’t play with me Boss, I know ya know it.”

“What, ya ain’t supposed tah be my big, burly stud slave with a locked up cock, desperate and eager for permission tah ram that whole beast deep in mah hole? Just a stupid brute who let’s me do whatever the fuck I want tah ya, cause without me, ya know ya’d be ankle deep in shit a yer own stupid ideas? Stand up.”

Carl did as he was told, crawled out from under the table, and stood up. He towered over where Matt was still sitting. He reached out and ran a rough finger down the length of Carl’s huge cock, making the massive brute shudder. “Tell me ya don’t like it.”

“I…what?”

“If ya really don’ like it, tell me. Be honest,” Matt said, “If ya think that fuckin’ shit we were up to, with the gym and the office and all that fuckin’ bullshit is better than this, me teasin’ that big fuckin’ cock a yers until ya ferget how tah even speak, tell me. We’ll go tah Jimmy, see if he can fix it. Bet he can’t, but we’ll try. If ya say so, honestly.”

“I…Well, what do ya think, Boss?”

Matt smirked, “That’s the right answer, right there. Come on.”

Matt led the big brute into their spare bedroom in the doublewide, which had been outfitted into a makeshift playroom, and secured Carl’s wrists to the ceiling with some schackles, and put a spreader bar between his ankles. For the next few hours, the pig toyed with him, teasing his cock with everything from paddles to feathers, clipping and weighing down his nipples, beating his ass and flogging his back, Carl taking it all effortlessly. Every hit, every touch, every word seemed to channel through him and right to his cock. He was hornier than he could recall being, even last night, Matt occasionally asking him questions, Carl’s answers becoming simpler and simpler until he couldn’t manage it anymore. He was just a dumb stud, aching to fuck, which is exactly what Matt wanted. He unhooked him from the ceiling, took the padlock off his cock, and Carl knew what to do from there–the only thing he could do reliably, anymore. He fucked. He fucked his Boss just how the pig liked to get fucked, like he’d fucked him for years–slow and deep, fast and rough, always keeping himself right on the edge of orgasm, as the pig pumped load after load out onto the floor under them. At last, when Matt was satisfied, he gave Carl the order to cum, and the bull unleashed a massive load into the pig’s sloppy hole, and collapsed onto him, sending them both to the ground.

“Git off me, ya fuckin’ lug,” Matt growled at him, and Carl rolled to one side, his cock popping free of his Boss’s hole. The room stank of musk and cum and piss and smoke. It stank like home. It stank like them. Matt rolled over after him, pushed his way under one of his breeder bull’s arms, and took a deep sniff from his pit, “Fuck, nothin’ better ‘n the way ya stink after ya give me a good plowin’, slave.”

“Thanks Boss, It’s my pleasure.”

They laid there a while longer, until Matt got up, replaced the padlock in the head of Carl’s cock–more out of habit than anything else, and then paused. “Come on, let’s go.”

“We got work in the mornin’ don’t we?” Carl said, vaguely recalling that Matt was a foreman for a construction company, and he worked under him, mostly as a grunt laborer. “I don’t…”

“I wanna go talk tah Jimmy.”

Carl just stared at him, “Ya…don’t like this? Ya wanna go back tah how we were? Did…I not fuck ya good ‘nough?” The panic caught him off guard. He’d told himself he hadn’t wanted this, but realized it had been a lie. He did like this. He’d thought Matt had liked it too, but now worried he was wrong.

“Didn’t say that, dumbass. I jus’ wanna talk is all. Git dressed.”

So the two of them got dressed in the sort of gear they usually wore to the barnyard–Carl in a set of well worn overalls, and Matt in a leather kilt and vest, showing off his substantial gut. Before they left, Matt took a chain and strung it between Carl’s tit rings and the padlock in his cock, pulling it tight enough that his hard cock was dragged up against his body, though still hidden from view by the front of the overalls. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was rendered useless.

They climbed into Matt’s truck, left the little trailer park where their double wide sat, and drove off down the highway. They lived a good hour out of town, but it was easy enough to pass the time. Carl spent much of the ride sniffing Matt’s pits, licking and worshiping his belly hanging out of the front of the vest, and served as Boss’s urinal on the highway for good measure. They arrived at around nine in the evening, descended the steps into the bar–no hallway and mysterious corridors tonight–and found themselves in the usual dive bar form The Barnyard took. Walking in, they bumped into one of the clients on their way out, obviously looking a little ashamed, and certainly intimidated by them both. Carl realized he was never going to have to feel that way again himself–that alone made all of this seem more worth it.

Matt led them up to the bar, where Jimmy was pouring. “There you two are–didn’t see you take off last night, wasn’t sure what condition you’d ended up in. I…hope the morning wasn’t too much of a shock.”

Matt sat down on a barstool, and motioned for Carl to sit beside him. “Jimmy–as far as my memory goes, I’ve been coming here for years with mah stud, but I know last night the two of ya fucked me over royally, and I don’t feel like I quite got a proper apology fer that, especially given the way we’ve ended up here.”

“Now, I told you the risks, but you’re the one who wanted the costume shift.”

“I know what I wanted. I got what I wanted–but ya owe me, Jimmy. Well, this fucker here owes me, ‘n I have a little suggestion that I think might make all a this a bit easier.”

“Look, if you’re going to ask me to change you back, I can’t. My powers are at their peak on Halloween–next year, maybe I can do something to help, but as of now, you’re both…well, stuck.”

“I think ya misunderstood, Jimmy,” Matt said, “Carl ‘n I are plenty happy with how things turned out, ain’t that right stud?”

“Yes Boss, sure am,” Carl said.

“What I want, Jimmy, is a little business venture, just between the three of us.”

Carl tuned to Boss, wondering what scheme the pig had come up with that day. Jimmy looked exhausted, but didn’t say anything to oppose at least hearing him out. 

“I got a real nice stud here. Ya got clients that I know would pay top dollar for this bull’s cock. How about…three nights a week, a 60/40 split on the revenue?”

Jimmy just started laughing, and Carl went completely red in the face, realizing what his Boss had just suggested. He really was going to start renting him out as a stud! His cock throbbed at the thought, making him grunt from the sudden tug on his tits in the process.

“He likes pain, loves humiliation, I think he’d be a great part time addition to your stable here,” Matt said, grinning right along with Jimmy.

“Ya know what?” Jimmy said, “That doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, honestly. Didn’t get as many new whores from the party as I usually do, and had a couple retire and move on. He can fill in–provided he wants to. What do you say, stud? Wanna let this pig rent that big bull dick of yours out?”

Carl gulped. They all knew what the answer was, but both Matt and Jimmy wanted to hear him say it, after the trouble he’d caused both of them. “Yeah Boss, sounds…real damn hot, honestly.”

“Didn’t think this was where we were going to end up, when I suggested you come to the party, but I’ll take it,” Jimmy said, poured a brew and slid it across the bar to Carl. “Drink up, stud–you gotta look the part if you’re gonna be working here, and then we’ll find you a room.”

“Oh, and I get first fuck each night,” Matt added, “Gotta make sure my stud’s quantity is good before letting other guys use him.”

“Naturally,” Jimmy said. Carl downed the beer in a few gulps, and Matt pulled him back behind the curtain, his feet changing, horns growing and pelt filling in as he went. Jimmy was right–it wasn’t the outcome he’d planned on, but both Carl and Matt were plenty happy with the reality they’d ended up with.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 5)

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fuckin’ promise?”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

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

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

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

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

“Round two, bro?”

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

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

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

“No, yer gonna be a uncle, dumbass.”

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

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

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

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

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

(Flash Commission) Monster Cock

Jeff saw the package sitting on the porch when he got home, got out of his car, hurried up, got it, and took it inside. He’d been waiting weeks for it to arrive, and finally, it was here. He put it on his table, opened it up, and hauled it out, turning it over in his hands, already wondering if his eyes had been bigger than his stomach, or his ass, rather. It was a custom dildo from a fellow who called his creations “monster cocks”–each one was one of a kind, and while he didn’t charge for them, getting your hands on one of them was hard as hell. The creator took applications for his work, but who received them always seemed a bit random. He said that his toys chose who they wanted to own them, but after trying for most of a year, Jeff had finally been chosen, and now, it was in his hands.

It was in his hands, and the thing was massive. Far larger than anything he’d ever taken before in his life. He had a modest collection of dildos for when he didn’t have anyone around to fuck him, and he’d always enjoyed it. Some guys he knew had suggested he start training to take a fist, and he was close to that at this point. This dildo though was thicker than most guys fists, and easily a foot long. The dildo’s skin was a dark brown mottled with tan up the shaft to the head, which had a sheath, or a foreskin, bunched up around the glans of the cock. He toyed with it, and saw that it was actually rather elastic, and could stretch over the head, even, giving it more of a sheathed look. The base of the dildo included a set of substantial balls, the sack the size of a small melon. The sack and the bottom third of the cock was actually covered with hair–running his hand over it, he couldn’t quite tell if it was real or not. It had to be synthetic, but it felt a bit like soft boar bristle–he wondered what it would feel like on the inside of his hole–if he could get it that far in, even.

Jeff tried at least. Got himself cleaned out and lubed up, warmed up with the largest dildo he had, and then gave it a go. He was just too tight–he couldn’t even get the thing in past the head. He felt demoralized, got cleaned up and onto his computer, where he saw a chat message from the dildo maker.

“I saw that the package got delivered, just wanted to make sure everything got there alright.”

“It did,” Jeff replied, “It’s bigger than I thought it would be. Don’t know when I’ll be able to take it.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. It’ll get in you faster than you think, just keep trying. I know this is the right one for you, it won’t be too long at all.”

Jeff wasn’t sure of what to make of that, but he poked around online, looking for a dildo to train with larger than the ones he had, but smaller than the monster cock, but all he could think about was the beast waiting for him upstairs, and how much he wanted it inside him. It was getting late, and he had work in the morning, so he went to bed. His dreams that night were intense, and when he woke up he couldn’t recall much of them at all, aside from a strange sensation of being stalked. That, and he woke up with the monstrous dildo in his arms, when he was certain he’d left it in the drawer with the rest of them before bed. Confused and a bit bewildered, he went to work, but found it more and more difficult to focus. At first, it was just because he was tired after his restless night, but as the day progressed, he found himself thinking more and more about the dildo waiting for him at home, and he rushed home so he could be near it again, feel it again, lube it up, and once again try and fit it inside him.

That day, after an hour, he finally managed to get the head inside his hole, and that alone was a revelation. It was a sign of progress, and Jeff kept working at it, sweating and grunting, until he was too starving and shaking to continue. He went downstairs, found a couple of steaks he’d been saving in the freezer, and cooked them both, not caring they were rarer than usual, he was just starved. He considered a shower, but felt too tired to bother, and simply went upstairs to bed, curling up around the dildo without even thinking about it. The dreams that night were no clearer, but he woke with a groan, rutting his own cock against the dildo, the sheets under him soaked with sweat and cum from what must have been a very active night. He pulled himself together as quickly as he could, not even bothering to shower, but when he headed for the door, he struggled. He couldn’t…leave it here. He bundled the dildo up and took it with him not quite sure what he was doing, but it felt instinctual. He managed to leave it in the car for most of the day, but found himself terrified someone might see it, or worse, steal it. On his lunch break, he went down, retrieved it, and struggled to resist the urge to take it out and start riding it right there in the office. He settled for taking it into the bathroom with him, licking and sucking on the head while he jacked off, horrified by his loss of control, but still unable to stop.

It was when he got home, that he noticed something was off. He hadn’t really bothered looking at himself in the mirror that morning, but in the bathroom, ready to clean himself out and try again, he saw his reflection, and just stared. He hadn’t been that hairy before, or that muscular. It wasn’t…much, really, but it was there. His clothes didn’t quite fit right, which explained some of his discomfort the day before. His beard was thicker, and when he lifted an arm up in the shower, he caught a whiff of his musk, and that was more pungent too. He didn’t have time to shower though–he hosed out his hole, skipped the soap, and was back in his bedroom, riding the dildo again, working it deeper, inch by inch, now sliding halfway down the shelf. 

He could almost feel it…throbbing inside him, trying to wriggle deeper. He couldn’t tell if it was real, or if he was just imagining it. The idea of it was so hot, though, that he kept shooting load after load of cum all over his bed and his sheets until he collapsed again, too exhausted to move. It was nearly midnight, he’d been at it for hours. He had to piss, but was too weak to get up from the bed. He released it onto the bed under him, horrified at first, but the scent of it satisfied some deep, primal need inside him, and sleep took him soon after.

The next day, he got up from the bed, sniffed his hairy pit, and before he even really realized it, he was pissing all over the carpet and the wall next to the bed. Part of him was concerned, but it was much quieter than it might have been usually. Instead, he hauled out his cock and jacked off as well–it was the only thing on his body that wasn’t larger, all of a sudden. He squeezed his way into some office attire as best he could, no longer certain why he was wearing this, why he was bothering with it. He had more important things to concern himself with, after all, but some part of him clung to that normalcy, tried to deny the drives and desires that were well on their way to overwhelming him.

He didn’t last long at the office that day. He kept sneaking away to the bathroom to masturbate, to worship the dildo, his cock, his monster cock, as he kept thinking about it. Each load that he shot did nothing to calm him down, it only seemed to drive him to more intense heights of desire. When he stepped out of the stall shortly after lunch, and saw the one of his burlier coworkers at the urinal pissing, maybe it was the smell, maybe it was the sight of his ass filling out the back of his slacks, but he went over, shoved the man up against the urinal, and rutted against his ass, grunting and snorting like some animal. The man managed to get away, and before security could get a hold of him, Jeff fled the office with the dildo, abandoning everything else, and sped home.

He wouldn’t go back there. It wasn’t safe. He was safe in his home, in his den. He had to finish, he had to fuck himself with his cock, with his monster cock. He threw himself into the task, he was so close. The dildo was warm now, he could feel blood pulsing through it, the hair no longer synthetic, but so close to the hair that beginning to sprout all up and down his own body. He only had a couple more inches to go, and He worked at it, pushing everything else out. Every time he shot a load of cum, he realized, the dildo would slide in a little deeper. His body was getting larger, yes, but he noticed at last that his balls were shrivelling, his cock dwindling. At long last he took the dildo to the hilt with a roar, and felt the monstrosity come alive, the entire thing digging deeper, screwing into his guts, his wrecked hole closing up behind him.

He felt it push out, forcing its way from his body, his human cock stretching and ripping apart as his new, monstrous cock erupted from his crotch, his massive balls coming through last and dropping, slapping against his hairy thighs. He could feel it, his new cock pumping…something through him, changing him. His teeth, already sharper than they had been, grew longer, into proper fangs, is mouth and nose distending into a furry muzzle. The hair that had been growing thicker on his body became a thick pelt of black fur, hands becoming paws with thick claws on the end, his whole body filling out with layers of muscle and fat, until he was nearly eight feet tall and close to seven hundred pounds of pure mass. He looked at his monstrous bear body in the mirror, cock throbbing and leaking, and that was the last thing he recalled clearly, as he wrapped his paws around his cock and kept stroking, kept pleasing his cock, a slave to his new sexual desires, no longer interested in anything else.

When he awoke, his body had reverted–somewhat. His room was wrecked, as were several of his doorways, but he hadn’t managed to make it outside at least. That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was what his new cock desired–and it wanted a hole to fuck. There was a knock on his front door, and much to his surprise, there on the doorstep was his old coworker from the bathroom, the one he’d rutted up against. He was shaking and sweating, muttered some excuse about needing to see him again, but Jeff knew what the man needed. He grabbed him by the collar with his clawed hand and dragged him inside, shoved him down to his knees, and pissed all over him, marking the man as his new property, or rather, the property of his cock. It would take a while to open this one up and fuck him properly, but he had no doubt that in time, he would be a perfect slave–and when he took him to the hilt, and filled him with a load of his corruptive cum, he too, would turn. He shook off the last bit of piss from his cock, and dragged the addled and horny man into the bedroom now reeking of his scent, threw him on the bed, and went to work.

Commission: Arctos – Air Freshener

“We here at Arctos Outfitters are dedicated to ensuring that every one of your senses is delighted in your home! That’s why, Brendon, we’ve decided to send you a sample from our new line of plug in air fresheners. Each comes with three unique scents that, once you get a whiff of them, you won’t be able to get enough! Enjoy!”

Brendon put the note down and picked up the little plug-in air freshener that had been in the small box as well. He didn’t know how the company had gotten his address, but they weren’t necessarily wrong about his interests. Brendon did like having his apartment smelling nice, and kept a regular supply of candles and air fresheners around to keep it that way. It was a bit odd that the company hadn’t bothered to tell him what the scents were, and when he sniffed at the plug in, he didn’t smell anything at all, really, which was odd. You could usually get a good idea of what it was going to smell like beforehand, which meant this was either going to be some weak scent, or they had just sealed it in really well. He figured he’d try plugging it in overnight in his bedroom, let it do its thing, and see what he thought of the result in the morning. That evening, he popped it into the outlet by his bed, and while he heard it whirr to life, he still couldn’t smell anything. With a shrug, he laid down, and it wasn’t long before he was fast asleep, and with a little click, the plug in started to release a smoky haze into the room around him. Brendon tossed and turned for a moment in his bed, and began to dream…

Brendon wasn’t sure where he was at first. It was a narrow room with a number of booths running down either side, and the air was full of smoke. Men were crowded into the booths, and all of them were smoking cigars of various sizes. Brendon wasn’t a smoker, and had always found cigars unappealing. He passed the booths, the men all staring at him as he passed them by, trying to find his way out, but when he reached the end of the smoky room, all he found was a waiter standing by a sizable humidor. He turned around to leave, only to find the way blocked by a thick wall of smoke coming closer and closer to him. Before he could react, it had swallowed him up.

The smoke was everywhere, all around him. He could smell it, the deep, pungent cigar smoke pushing at him, probing him, trying to get inside him. He held his breath as long as he could, but when he had to inhale, the smoke forced its way inside him, driving down into his lungs. He could feel it solidifying, and a massive 80 gauge cigar manifested from the smoke, crammed in his jaw, fully lit and spouting smoke. He couldn’t help but inhale now, sucking down more and more smoke, feeling it permeate his entire body, his cock rock hard and aching. He needed it now, the smoke. Men came out of the booths around him, now naked, still smoking, feeling him up, urging him on, stroking his cock, and–

Brendon woke as the orgasm hit him in his bed, surging through him, his cock erupting all over the sheets around him as he spasmed in his room. He sat up on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. He’d never had a dream that intense before, and he hadn’t shot a load in his sleep since he was a teenager. He ran his tongue around his mouth, already missing the cigar he’d been smoking, but then, it was about time for his midnight smoke, after all. He opened up the humidor on his bedside table, took out one of his shorter sticks he preferred for his breaks in the night, and lit it up.

Fuck, he was so fucking addicted to these things. He smoked them almost constantly during the day, and had to wake up a couple times each night just to keep himself hopped up on the nicotine. The air was hazy with smoke, and he could smell it–stale and fresh mixing together, and heaved a contented sigh. He reeked of cigars too, of course, but he didn’t care. Why wouldn’t he want to smell like a cigar?

He finished the cigar in half an hour, snuffed it out, and climbed back into bed. He’d already forgotten about the plug in the wall, which had exhausted its first scent, and now was moving onto the second, as Brendon began to dream again…

This time, he found himself standing in a locker room, naked. From the sounds coming from nearby, it was connected to a gym. He looked around, smoking his dream cigar, a bit embarrassed–he needed to find some clothes before anyone saw him. He saw something lying on a bench near him, went over, and found a set of gym clothes scattered about on the floor, all of which looked to have been worn recently–but no one else was there. Without thinking too much about it, he pulled on the sweaty, musky shorts and tanktop, socks and shoes, and when they were all on, much like the last dream, be felt the scent begin to soak into his skin, making him feel a bit woozy.

He sat down on the bench for a moment, taking deep inhales of the musk rolling off the gym clothes, aware that…something seemed to be happening to him, but it was difficult to describe what. When he felt he could stand again, he did, turned, saw himself in the mirror, and gasped. He…he was massive. The clothes, which had been too large on him before, were now too small, the spandex stretched tight across his thick frame, hair popping out everywhere, each inch of his soaked in sweat. He flexed, watched the outline of his thick cock in the shorts throb in excitement, reached down to take care of that, and

He woke with his hand shoved into the filthy jock he’d worn to bed, one muscular arm thrown up over his head, nose shoved as close to his pit as he could, masturbating to his own stink, unable to control himself, not that he even really wanted to. He finished, shooting the second load of the night all over himself, rubbing the cum into his sweaty body, and sat up to have his second cigar of the night. He flipped on the light, and had a small moment of confusion when he looked around at the piles of dirty clothes scattered throughout his room, but…of course he didn’t want them. No, he loved how they all smelled, he loved making them all even muskier even, of course he did. He took a deep inhale of his cigar, laid back on his unwashed sheets, and sighed smoke, not really noticing that the ash was falling on the bed. He didn’t care–after all, he smelled like an ashtray most days, why would it matter? He finished his cigar and turned the light back off, rolling over as the third scent filled the room, and another dream began…

He was in the gym locker room, naked aside from a towel, going into the sauna. It was empty, for the moment, but as soon as he sat down, a series of muscular bears all filed in as well, taking up the various seats, crowding in around Brendon. They all started to sweat, but then the bear beside him lifted one leg in Brendon’s direction, and let loose a long, loud fart. The smell caught him a moment later, pungent and ripe, and he couldn’t seem to escape it, there was nowhere to go. He leaned away, only for the bear on the other side to lift his leg and let loose one of his own, and soon, every bear in the room was farting up a storm, the small sanua filled with the scent of gas, making Brendon gag. He got up, trying to get free, only for a leg to trip him. He ended up on the floor, on his back, and one of the bears got up and sat his naked ass right on Brendon’s face, letting loose a fart directly on him.

He tried to resist, tried to hold his breath, but like before, he could feel it probing down into him, sinking into his pores, multiplying there, and soon, it didn’t smell so bad at all. He started licking at the sweaty, hairy crack, and after a few moments, it was replaced by another, and then another, all of them farting, and Brendon could feel a pressure building in his guts. He let loose a massive fart that reverberated off the walls around him, and–

–and he woke up to the sound of his own fart in his room, just as loud, and just as noxious. So noxious in fact, that Brendon snorted up as much of the fumes as he could and jacked off again, wishing the hot asses from the dream were real, smothering him now, but he’d just have to make do with his own scent for now, he supposed. After he shot his third load of the night all over himself, he rolled off the bed, checked his phone, and saw it was just a few minutes before his alarm. He got up, gave a little flex, and started sniffing around for something that smelled good for the gym this morning. He ended up in a cum crusted tanktop, the jock he’d been wearing to bed, a set of gym shorts with a few burnt out holes from some cigars, and a couple of stinking socks and trainers. Feeling good, he went into the kitchen, got one of his protein shakes together–a blend that he’d found gave him the rankest farts possible–and guzzled that down. Feeling good, he stepped outside of his filthy apartment, and bumped into a young man in a suit coming down from an apartment upstairs. 

“Sorry bud,” Brendon said, “wasn’t lookin’.”

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust, and took in the sight of the massive, musky muscle bear who was his downstairs neighbor apparently–had the other guy moved out without him even noticing? “Whatever freak, take a fucking shower,” he said, and tried to push past him, only for Brendon to grab his wrist, pull him close, and shove his face right into his pit. He…didn’t know why he did that exactly, but it felt right. The man struggled for a few moments, and then relaxed a bit, and when Brendon pulled his face away, he could see it was a bit…different. A little more stubble on his cheeks, drooling a little. 

Maybe the gym could wait for a bit. He took a drag off his cigar, wrapped a big hand loosely around the man’s neck, and fed him the smoke, pleased with how receptive the man had become with just a little taste of his pitmusk. “Why don’t you come in for a bit, bud? Take a load off, have a cigar with me,” Brendon said, wrapping one muscular arm around his shoulders, and leading him in, “What’s your name, man?”

“Uh…Cliff,” he said, “But I…gotta get to work.”

“Come on man, just a little cigar, that’s all.”

Brenden sat the man down on the couch, stained with cum in several spots. Cliff looked around, visibly grossed out by the state of the apartment, but Brendon could tell from the erection in the front of his slacks he was already giving in. ‘Hey Cliff, can you smell something for me? I wanna see what you think of this.” He then dropped his shorts, turned around and ripped a long nasty fart right into his neighbor’s face.

His eyes glazed over, part of him still thinking that it was disgusting, but when his mind told him to get away, his body leaned in and started snorting up the fumes from Brendon’s ass, and he groaned out, “Oh fuck,” as his cock unloaded right into the front of his slacks. “Oh fuck, that’s fuckin’ rank, bro…” he said.

Brenden flashed a huge smile. “Glad you like it. Now, how about that cigar man? You can finish this one,” He placed his cigar in the man’s mouth, who started puffing contentedly. Cliff’s stubble had grown into a full beard now, his office attire stretched by his expanding body, packing on muscle. Brendon climbed into his lap and tore off his shirt, tossing the rags over the back of the couch, pushed Cliff’s arms into the air and ate out his pits, which were growing more and more intense by the moment, Cliff sucking down the cigar, feeling the smoke warping his mind, dumbing him down, making everything seem so simple. It wasn’t long before he was on his knees on the couch, bent over the back, Brendon’s bearded face shoved into his crack, tasting the first of Cliff’s own rank farts, his own cock hard as steel and ready to fuck after a few minutes of rimming his bro’s hole.

He pulled his face away, wiping the sweat and drool into his beard, and then pressed the head of his cock against Cliff’s hole. “Ready bro? Wanna feel my big, rank cock slam into that gassy ass of yours?”

“Fuck bro, what the fuck are ya waitin’ for!” Cliff said, looking over, just a butt of a cigar remaining. 

The fucked for half an hour, and by the time Brendon finished, Cliff had shot his own load all over the couch below him, adding his own cumstains to the fabric there. His mind had faded, his old life lost, and with his roommate, and boyfriend’s cum planted in his musky hole, he pulled on a pair of filthy gym shorts off the ground and a tank top, and the two of them left to get to the gym, a bit later than planned.

They went down the stairs, and as they did, Cliff let off a little fart of each step, filling the back of his shorts with Brendon’s load of cum, making them both giggle like idiots as they stood in the cloud of their own stink, getting hard again, but they resisted the urge. They could fuck later, after all. The gym was just a quick walk down the street, long enough to work up a sweat for sure. And when they got there, they were sure that once the local bodybuilders all got a whiff of them, they’d have them all following them back to their place after their workout. Their smell had a way with guys, after all–that was the Arctos promise.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #1 – The Hitchhiker Swap

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


Brett pulled into the rest area, needing a piss on his way home, climbed out of his car, and saw a guy heading in his direction. He was scruffy and shirtless, and when he got close, there was a real pungent musk rolling off him that almost made Brett climb back into his cab and drive another 40 miles to avoid him.

“Hey man, any chance I could get a ride from ya? I’m heading in your direction.”

Brett shook his head, “Sorry man, I don’t give rides.”

The guy thanked him and walked on, Brett holding his breath until he’d passed, and then went to the bathroom. On his way back though, his pocket felt light, and he realized he didn’t have his keys! He retraced his steps into the bathroom, but they weren’t in there. He didn’t understand how he could have lost them–it wasn’t like he dropped his pants or anything. He realized, with a sinking feeling, he might have locked them in his car. He headed back, but found something strange–the hitchhiker from before was sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. When he got closer, Brett could see that the man had his keys lying in his lap.

“Hey! That’s my car, get the fuck out!” Brett said, went to reach for the keys, only for the guy to grab his wrist and pull him into the car window, closer to his musky body. Brett gagged, but this time, it wasn’t as offensive as it had seemed before, and it made his head feel a bit…cloudy.

“Buddy, this is my car. I think you’re mistaken.”

“No, I…those are my keys, and–”

“Buddy, if you’re lookin’ to cruise, all you gotta do is ask, you don’t have to just reach in for my cock,” the stranger said, unzipped his jeans, and hauled out his cock. It…smelled different than the rest of him, and Brett found himself wanting to get closer, wanting to know how it smelled, intimately. The stranger popped open the door, the keys were…right there. He should grab them, but…but he went to town on the stranger’s cock instead, the musk driving deeper and deeper into his mind.

Of course this wasn’t his car, he didn’t have a car. He was just a hitchhiker of course. A horny, cock hungry hitchhiker. A horny, cock hungry hitchhiker who loved dirty men like this guy, loved worshiping their stinking bodies, doing anything they told him to do. The man came down his throat, and Brett swallowed it all down of course. 

“So what do you think, good enough to give me a ride?” Brett asked with a smirk, wiping a bit of cum from his lips and sucking it off his finger.

“Sorry man, I don’t give rides, but I got a little time. I know a cozy little spot not far off in the woods, where you can lick my body clean, and when you get my cock hard again, I’ll give ya proper fucking, how about that?

Brett thought that sounded just fine to him. An hour later, they emerged from the woods, cum running down the inside of Brett’s legs, and he watched the stranger climb into his car and drive off. There was a moment of panic inside him, but it calmed down in a moment. He started over on the trucker side, and it wasn’t long before he found a ride with one of them, going nowhere in particular. As long as they wanted to use his holes, he didn’t care where he ended up, anymore.

Caption: Daddy Issues #4 – Jace the Lout

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.



Jace’s father was a lout, in his opinion. He’d never really been able to hold down a job for longer than a year, preferring to milk unemployment and Jace’s grandparents for cash as much as he could. Jace had resolved to never be like him, and doubled down on his efforts in school, aiming for college, as an opportunity to get out from under his father. His intellect and drive only led his father to brand him a faggot, and when Jace found that he was gay, he didn’t dare breathe a word of his to his father, who could have a substantial rage when he was drunk, which was more and more these days. 

And now, after a few months of bliss, away at school, he had to go back. He pulled into the driveway, and the first thing he noticed was that someone had mowed the lawn. Usually it was a mess of tall grass and tangled weed, but it was freshly shorn. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, in all honesty. He went in through the front door, and gasped–the whole fucking house was just like the lawn. It was clean.

Pictures were hung on the walls. The carpet was vacuumed and the tile was mopped. Lightbulbs were changed that had been out when he’d left for school in the fall. He had no idea what was happening, and when he went into the living room, he found his father sitting there and waiting for him, though it certainly wasn’t the father he recalled.

He beamed at Jace when he saw him, got up and gave him a hug, telling him he was so glad he was home, and when he did, Jace felt…something start to grow and curdle inside him, something he didn’t understand at first. His dad pulled him into the kitchen, told him he had dinner all ready for him, sat Jace down and started bringing him all of this food, and Jace, who had always been careful with his food and drink, found himself stuffing his face greedily, and when the six pack of beer appeared next to the place, he pulled one free without a second thought, and guzzled it down, letting some of it run down his chin.

When he’d finished, it was a different sort of Jace sitting there in the chair. Gut doubled in size, head shaven, tattoos appearing all up and down his arms and legs, piercings in his ears and face. He sneered at his dad and said, “Fuck, at least ya can still cook a good meal, for a old faggot. Go on then, I know what ya really want.”

His dad was on his knees, face between his son’s thighs sucking on his cock, and Jace smelled something, some musk rising up around him. His musk, of course. He raised an arm and took a whiff of his own pits, enjoying the scent, knowing that it would drive his horny father wild too. School was already fading from his mind–why the fuck would he leave a cushy gig like this? A horny father who took care of him day and night, who would do anything for a load of his son’s cum? What lout would turn that down?

“Been a while since I’ve had the boys over,” Jace said, “Ya wouldn’t mind cookin’ again, right? Ya know how much they all can eat. If you’re real good, we’ll all fuck that old hole of yours, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds amazing son,” his dad said, and went back to sucking on his cock. Yep, this was the life, and Jace wouldn’t trade it for anything, anymore.

TPC – Chapter 2.13

Chapter 2.13 – The Give and Take

Barry and Dennis didn’t cuddle much. Perhaps it was because Dennis was a bit cold in bed, and guarded his sleep close. You couldn’t do a clean surgery if you were tired in the morning, after all. But this morning, Dennis appreciated it. The little spoon wasn’t his usual position, since he was bigger than Barry was, but this morning, he felt enveloped in his husband’s arms somehow. Safe. He snuggled back a bit, thankful it was Saturday and he didn’t really have to get up for anything quite yet, other than a jog–maybe.

The arms around him squeezed him tighter, and maybe it was how strong they were. Maybe it was the rasp of the stubble against his neck, the tongue that flicked his ear. Maybe it was the cock that slid up between his cheeks when the grip around him tightened. Maybe it was the smell, the sounds, the rougher sheets than his usual. Maybe all of it. Dennis realized that he wasn’t in his bed, and it wasn’t Barry that was holding him and pulling him closer, and in a panic, he wormed himself out of the stranger’s hold and nearly fell on the floor beside the bed.

“Hey now, calm down cub, it’s all fine,” the man said behind him. It took Dennis a moment to recognize him–the bouncer from The Hideaway. He vaguely remembered going home with him the night before, after…after everything else that had happened, a massive crush of memory, seemingly too much for a single night. He felt nauseous, and disgusted with himself. He stumbled through the bouncer’s apartment (he didn’t even know his name!) found the toilet, and fell in front of the dirty bowl, almost willing himself to vomit. He wanted to vomit, he wanted something to present to the world that would demonstrate his disgust, but nothing came up, just tears, and then the bouncer was beside him, on the tile, pulling him close, and Dennis sobbed into his chest.

“Fuck, first time, eh? Don’t worry boy, I got you, just let it all out.”

Dennis sobbed, unable to reconcile what had happened to him the night before, what he’d done, with the person he’d thought he was. He didn’t go to leather bars like that. He didn’t wear leather, he didn’t have sex with random men, he didn’t…he didn’t! But he had. He had, and he’d liked it. The disgust was there, but it was one level removed. He wasn’t disgusted at what he had done in the club–he was disgusted that he had enjoyed it all so very, very much. He could smell the sweat and the musk rolling off the bouncer’s chest, and Dennis felt his cock throb, and that was enough to push him away and wipe his eyes. He had to get himself together. 

“The first few hangovers are a real bitch. I know, I remember mine. You’ll get used to them, don’t worry.”

“I’ve never had a hangover in my life. I didn’t even drink last night.”

“Not that kind of hangover. A Pigtown Hangover. We get lost in it all, and wake up back home, no idea how we got there. Or in someone else’s bed, still no idea. It happens. It just means you had a real good night.”

“I…you all raped me. I didn’t want to do any of that!”

The bouncer sighed. “Really? You didn’t want all the guys in the bar to line up behind you and pump a load into that hot hole of yours? That doesn’t turn you on?”

Dennis had to hide his cock as it got harder still, and the bouncer laughed. “Dicks don’t lie, bud, not around here.”

“But I didn’t–”

“You disregarded my very clear suggestions that this was not the place for you, and instead you snuck in, violating our rather clear dress code. What did you think was going to happen?” he said, then sighed, “I guess you didn’t know what was going to happen, did you? Well, part of you knew. I could smell how hungry you were at the door.”

Hunger. Dennis poked around a moment, but that hunger he’d felt for days now, it was gone. Not gone, not really, but sated. “I…I need to get home.”

“Sure thing man. You live close?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t have a car, or I’d drive you. Looks like you’ll have to join the march of shame.”

He helped Dennis up to his feet, who turned, saw himself in the mirror, and gasped. He looked different. Really different. Younger, for one thing. Shorter, hairier, a little chubbier. He gave his face a poke, then the rest of him, trying to map his ego onto the body he was seeing. 

“I think that was Marshall, did that to you. You were trying to talk to his apprentice, weren’t you?”

Dennis focused, and could remember that smoke, the strange sensation. But it was Kyle who had done it, not Marshall–or the older fellow who had been with Kyle at least, if that’s who he was. “He…said I was going to be a cub with…a hungry hole, looking for a Daddy.”

“Well, you found one, and that hole sure was hungry last night,” the bouncer said, coming up behind him, running a hand down Dennis’s ass, running a finger around his ring. Dennis moaned at the sudden pleasure that welled up in him, and pushed back before getting a hold of himself. “Does the cub need one last fuck before he goes?”

“I can’t, I…my husband doesn’t know where I am, and…”

“No worries man, I get it.”

Dennis looked at himself, at what he was wearing. He still only had the jock, boots and harness on. No phone, no wallet. No keys. “I don’t…have any of my stuff, I must have lost it with my pants at the bar.”

“It’ll show up where you need it. Pigtown loves to take, but it’s not interested in any of that stuff. It gives you plenty too, if you’re brave enough to let it in.” He probed his finger against Dennis’s hole, working in a bit, feeling how eagerly it opened for him, and smiled. “Come on you cute cub, how about one more for the road?”

Dennis knew he should say no, knew he should push him away, knew he should hold onto what little bit of dignity he still had. Instead, he let the bouncer bend him over the counter, lube his cock up with some spit, and slide it deep in his hole, right where it belonged. Getting fucked had never felt like this before, it had never, not once in his life, felt good. But this was wave after wave of pleasure washing over him, and he found himself pushing back, begging for more, the smell of their sweat filling the bathroom and steaming the mirror in front of them before the bouncer finished inside him, reached around, and with just a couple of strokes brought Dennis to orgasm all over the front of the counter.

He kept his cock inside Dennis until it got soft, both of them panting together, and Dennis eventually muttered, “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Craig.”

“I’m Dennis.”

“Nice to meet you Dennis, I hope you don’t regret it.”

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Craig pulled free of him, helped Dennis out of his leather gear, and they showered together. He offered him breakfast, but Dennis really was starting to worry about Barry, and declined.

“Well, we should at least cover you up a bit. Otherwise, you won’t make it to your car before some other Daddy drags you down a dark alley and has their way with you.”

Somehow, Dennis didn’t doubt that Craig was telling the truth. He also found himself wondering if that might not be so bad after all. Craig gave him some jeans an old flame had left in a drawer that mostly fit–the legs were a bit long and the waist needed a belt, but it worked well enough. Then, he gave him the work shirt he’d had on at the bar the night before. It was soaked with sweat still, and smelled like heaven when he pulled it on.

“I need that back eventually–company property,” Craig said.

“What’s your address?”

“You can find me at the bar–you know where I work,” he said, giving Dennis a wink and a swat on the ass as he pushed him out the door and into the hallway of the apartment building where he lived. “You even have some leather gear now–so you can get in the front door, like a civilized cub.”

They had a bit of a laugh at that, and then Dennis was out and onto the sidewalk, along with a good number of other men in situations similar to his. He exchanged a few knowing nods along the way, and that helped too. That he wasn’t alone. Dennis made it back to his car in good time, and without losing his hole to any sexy Daddy along the way–though more than once he considered it. Just like Craig had said, his keys were resting on the hood of his car, his phone and wallet in the center console. How they had gotten there he didn’t know, but after everything else that had happened, he wasn’t surprised. He drove home, already trying to figure out what he was going to tell Barry to explain…any of this. The fear almost made him turn around, go back, and crawl back into bed with Craig–but he couldn’t do that. But the thought made his guts growl. He thought it was because he’d skipped breakfast for a moment, but he knew what it was now, that hunger. He’d sated it for the night, at least. But how long could he go without now that he’d feasted?


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TPC – Chapter 2.12

Chapter 2.12 – The Hardhat Life

“Rise and shine meatheads, let’s get to fuckin’ work!”

Richard groaned and rolled over on the mattress, and nearly tumbled off–he reached out and found a post and stopped himself, then looked around. He had no idea where he was. In fact, he had no idea where he was supposed to be. He had no real idea who he was, either, for that matter. It was easier to start with the where–so he did that.

It was a long metal room, the two sides lined with bunk beds. All around him, guys were clambering out of their own narrow mattresses, all of them naked, and pulling on a wide variety of grungy, unwashed clothing that had been heaped in the center of the room. He laid there, watching, until someone came up and gave him a smack upside the head. He looked down and saw a face glowering up at him. “Newbie! Get your ass up, get dressed, and get your ass outside.”

The knock and the barking of the order was enough to stiffen his little cock, and he did as he was told. By the time he got down and lumbered over–his body just didn’t feel right, somehow, but he didn’t know how it was supposed to feel anyway, so maybe this was how it should be–the pile of clothes had dwindled to nearly nothing. He pulled on a filthy wifebeater than smelled like someone had pissed on it recently, found a set of overalls that were too long for his shorter legs, and ended up in sets of mismatched socks and workboots, but he was dressed. The last one out the door, he took the hardhat the boss handed him, and put it on like the rest of the men milling about in the yard. The crowd was larger than just the men who had fit in his quarters, which now that he was outside of it, he saw was a converted shipping crate. There were three more in the vacant lot where they were now wandering around. Some guys were trying to swap clothes, others were standing, waiting for orders probably. The Boss called them to order, and they all stopped what they were doing, and listened.

“Alright, we got the usual three spots today, and some special jobs I’ll be assigning myself. Twenty of you on the right–twenty on the left, and the rest in the middle.”

There was some jostling, and Richard ended up on the left flank.

“Alright. Right hand side, you have the project with House of Kings, working on their new compound. Left, you’re working the apartments up the block. Center, you’ll be broken into smaller teams for odd jobs. Alright, let’s get to it.”

The men broke off and headed to their assigned locations, Richard swept away with the twenty other grunts headed for the apartment job. They got there in a few minutes, and another Boss was waiting for them, lined them up, and assigned them duties. He gave Richard a once over and sighed. “Newbie, you’re gonna be runnin’. Just make sure everyone’s got the shit they need, and try not to fuck anything up,” he said, and then moved onto the next guy in line. Richard wanted to ask him what they were doing, why he was here, but he didn’t get a chance, and the other guys didn’t seem particularly interested either. When he was finished assigning duties, they broke off and headed to their duties, but Richard stayed behind.

“I…uh…I don’t know why I’m here, I think…I think there’s a mistake.”

“There’s no mistake hardhat. Get to fucking work.”

“But…I don’t think I work here. My name…my name’s Richard, and–”

The Boss slapped him across the face, and for the second time that morning, Richard found himself with an embarrassing hard on. “Get in the fucking trailer. I don’t know where they’re getting you fucks lately, but they aren’t even cleaning you out properly.”

Richard gulped, but did as the Boss ordered, following him into the trailer. He noticed a couple of other guys watching, then they shook their heads and got back to work. Richard felt a little shame at that, but what had he done wrong? He just didn’t understand. The door closed behind them, and he had no chance to think before the Boss whirled on him, put both of his hands around his neck, and shoved him back against the wall.

“Now, you need to listen real close, Newbie. I don’t like having to explain shit, and you fucking hardhats are too fucking stupid to understand half of it anyway. You don’t have a fucking name–not anymore. You’re a fucking hardhat. You’re all interchangeable. You work, you eat, you sleep, and you do it again the next day, got it?” Richard nodded, but the Boss only squeezed his throat tighter, until he was gasping for breath, and then released him. Richard fell forward as he stepped back, and he landed on the floor in front of him on all fours. Without letting him catch his breath, he shoved the toe of his dirty boot in his mouth. “Clean it, pig.”

Richard tried to pull away, but he just pushed it harder, rolling him onto his back, the bottom of his boot against his mouth, while the Boss pulled his belt free from his pants, doubled it, and gave him a sharp smack on the nuts with it, making him grunt–and much to his horror, leak profusely, enough to wet the front of his ill fitting overalls. “I said clean it, pig. I know you fucking hardhats love the taste of a grimy boot.”

Richard realized he was already licking the boot by the time Boss gave the order. Even worse, he realized that he was enjoying it. He reached down to grope his cock, only for Boss to smack his hand away with the belt. 

“Keep your hands off pig–do a good job, and maybe I’ll let you cum with my cock deep in your guts.”

That image just made Richard lick harder, much to his shame. But the shame only made him more excited, made him leak even more, and that made him lick more, and he…he was enjoying this. He wanted this. When the boots were clean, he begged Boss to fuck him, begged him to breed his dirty pig hole, and Boss eventually relented–but only after looping his belt around Richard’s nuts and pulling it tight while he fucked him good and rough. That was enough for him to explode with a loud squeal, shooting his load all over the desk he was bent over, and once Boss had finished inside him, he made Richard clean off the desk, then his cock, and then gripped his neck again.

“Now, who are you?”

“A…hardhat, Sir.”

“And what is a hardhat?”

“A…stupid pig, sir. A stupid, horny, stinking, gross pig…”

“And what are you gross pigs good for?”

“Work sir. And fucking. But mostly work…will…you fuck me again sir, please?”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” he said, and released him. “Get to fucking work, don’t you realize how much of my time you wasted, Newbie? Give me that hat.”

Richard handed him the orange hat he’d received that morning, and Boss handed him a yellow one. 

“You know what that means?”

Richard shook his head.

“Means you’re today’s urinal. Tomorrow too–as long as I think necessary, until you get used to being a filthy hardhat. You’ll still be running, but all the hardhats know what that hat means. Think you can do that? If not, I have another one you can wear instead,” he said, and pointed to a brown hardhat on hanging on the wall. “But maybe you’d like that one too much.”

Richard gulped.

“Now get out of my sight.”

Richard scrambled out of the trailer and back towards the workers, and saw that quite a few of them were waiting to see him come out–and when they noticed the swapped hat, more than a few of them even looked a bit jealous. Richard understood why. Boss stuck his head out, hollered at them all to get back to work, and they scrambled back to their duties, Richard quickly finding a little bit of a flow. Guys would shout at him if they needed something, and he’d find it and get it to them. If there was no one shouting, he started asking around–and if they didn’t need something, they usually needed to piss, and Richard was more than happy to drink it down for them.

“Lucky fucker,” one of them said as he finished, “Wanna trade hats? I never get to be the urinal.”

The hardhat considered it for a moment, then shook his head, and headed off to check with someone else, his concerns already evaporating, as the day heated up. He was a hardhat now–he didn’t need to know more than that–but he did, for some reason, hold onto his name. It wasn’t important really, but he liked the sound of it, how it felt in his mouth. Richard. He whispered it softly to himself that night, and each night after that–and before long, it was all he had left.


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Flash Commission: A Good Dicking

I’m currently offering patrons flash commissions! I’ll be posting a few of them here, but if you want to read all of them, and want to read them sooner, I’d recommend you go sign up! You can find more info here. This one was commissioned by Mutabear.


“Well boy, this is what you came for, isn’t it?” Coach Gus said, swinging his hard dick in front of Liam’s face, “You gonna stare at it all night, or are you gonna suck it like a good cockhound?”

Liam licked his lips, leaned in, pressed his nose to the crease between the coach’s thigh and cock, and took a long inhale of his musk. He smelled amazing, but then, it wasn’t like either of them had had time to shower after practice. Liam was a freshman on the rugby team this year, and for the last few weeks, the coach and him had been flirting harder and harder with each other, trying to sus out just how interested the other was. Today, they had both hung back in the locker room today, chatted a bit, and coach had suggested that Liam come over to his house for dinner. Dinner, though, was apparently going to be a load of cum from the coach’s cock, not that Liam minded one bit.

Well, aside from the fact that the coach’s junk was massive. He’d had a feeling it would be from the bulge, but finally getting to see the older man’s ten inch cock and grapefruit sized balls swinging below–he gave them a lick, and could almost feel them churning with cum in the sack. 

“Boy, don’t play with it, fucking suck it already, I’m about ready to burst,” Gus said, tugged up on Liam’s hair, and pushed the head of the cock against his lips. He tried to tell the coach to go a little slow, but he thrust in, pushing against the back of his throat, and Liam nearly gagged. It wasn’t his first cock by a long shot, but it was the biggest. He started milking and sucking on it, Coach let go of his hair, and gripped his head in his hands, gently thrusting in and out.

“Fuck, been holding this one for you since I first saw you checking me out on the field, you know that boy? I haven’t cum in weeks–saving it all up for a good dicking.”

A dicking? Liam liked the sound of that. He sucked a bit harder, and was rewarded with a grunt from the coach, and precum drooled from the head of the coach’s cock and into his mouth. It tingled a bit as it went down, reminding him a bit of a novocaine shot at the dentist. He tried to pull away and ask about the sensation, wondering if the coach was on drugs, or way worse, if he had some STD he hadn’t told him about, but the coach gripped the side of his head a little harder, thrust a bit deeper, and much to Liam’s surprise, he didn’t gag this time–the coach’s cock slid down his throat, choking him for a moment, before sliding back. “Yeah, that’s it–getting you lubed up. Gonna pump those guts of yours full of my seed, gonna dick the fucking shit out of you boy.”

Liam didn’t have much of an opportunity to ask what the coach was talking about, or about that strange sensation–all he could really do was focus on breathing in time with the coach’s thrusts. He managed a good rhythm, at least until Gus got close, rammed the whole ten inch cock down his throat and held it there for a good minute. He could feel the shaft spasming, pumping what seemed like gallons of cum right into his gut. With his hands, Liam reached down and he could feel his belly distending, his stomach uncomfortably full, but still he kept cumming. The tingling sensation he’d felt before around his mouth and throat grew stronger, but was concentrated lower now–on his legs, for some reason. At last, the coach hauled his cock free of Liam’s throat and mouth, letting him gasp for breath, “Fuck coach, what the hell? What’s wrong with your cum? It fucking tingles.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it–just getting you ready for your dicking is all–fuck, look at you, you’re gonna be a real handsome cock when I’m through with you.”

“I thought when you said dicking you were gonna fuck me, but it seems like you already blew everything down my throat,” Liam said, a bit disappointed. He tried to get up from where he was on his knees, but the tingling sensation was stronger–he couldn’t seem to feel his legs, like they’d fallen asleep. He reached down to massage them, felt something off about them, looked down and gasped.

His legs weren’t quite legs anymore. His ankles had adhered to the back of his thighs, the flesh had swelled around each leg, and were looking more and more like balls. The skin was loosening around them, the bones dissolving, and he could feel sensation coming back to them slowly. He pressed on the massive sack that had replaced his legs–his own cock and balls still sitting there where they had been, but found it increasingly hard to balance on the round testes. He ended up falling forward and catching himself on his arms, surprised that he wasn’t panicking. “Coach, uh, what did you do to my legs man? I…I think I’m hallucinating.”

“You’re not hallucinating, you’re getting dicked.”

“I…I don’t know what the means.”

“It means, boy, now that I’ve flooded you with my seed, turned those legs of yours into a couple of massive balls, now I’m going to fuck your ass. The rest of your body is going to turn into my dick, and when I cum again, you’re going to cream your brains right out your mouth, and stay my stupid cockhound dick forever.”

“I, what–” Liam started to say, only for…something to well up his throat, almost like he was vomiting, but what came out was rather familiar–it was precum. It tasted just like it had when the coach had fed it to him, but now, he realized, he’d just shot it from the massive sack below his waist.

“Look at you, just talking about it got you all excited for it. You wanna be my dick, don’t you boy?”

“No, I mean, I…”

“Come on, think about how good it’ll feel. Your whole fucking body is gonna he so fucking sensitive. You won’t have to worry about school. You won’t have to worry about anything other than driving into the next hole I line up for you. Trust me–my dick gets a lot of ass. I saw how much you liked how it smelled, I’ll always keep you good and musky, just how we both like it. Men will line up to worship you. Doesn’t that sound so fucking hot?”

It did sound surprisingly hot. Another load of precum pushed its way out of his mouth and down his chin; the coach leaned down and kissed him, licking it up from his lips and then got some on his hand. He went behind Liam, got on his knees, and pressed a couple of fingers, slick with precum, against his hole. Liam shuddered. The same tingling sensation from before spread down his ass, and he shuddered in pleasure. “Oh fuck, that feel so fucking good,” he moaned. 

“I know boy, I know it does. It all feels so good. You’re going to feel so good forever.”

“Oh fuck, I…I don’t know if I wanna be a dick!”

“You’re gonna be my dick, boy, I don’t care if you want to. Dicks don’t get to care about shit like that,” the coach said, now pressing the head of his cock against Liam’s asshole. “I knew you were gonna become my dick the first time I saw you. There’s nothing you can fucking do to stop me, so you might as well enjoy it. Every boy I’ve ever dicked has loved it, and I know you won’t be an exception.”

Liam began a half hearted beg, but then the coach’s massive cock slid into his ass, and another massive gout of pre drooled from his mouth, shutting him up. When he coughed it all up, he muttered, “Oh fuck, it…you’re so fucking big.”

“No, you’re so fucking big,” coach said, “One big, stinking dick, that’s what you are. Say it.”

“I…fuck, I…no, I–”

“Fucking say it boy, say you wanna be my fat, horny dick. Tell me you wanna blow your brains all over the floor, forget you were ever fucking human, forget you were ever not a part of my stinking body.”

The coach reached out, ran his hands over Liam’s body. He had been fairly hairy for as young as he was, and was getting hairier now–long pubic hairs sprouting at the base of his back and around his crotch as his own cock and balls were slowly absorbed into the sack below. Liam gasped at the sensation–his skin had never been so sensitive before. “Oh fuck, why does that feel so good?”

“Stroke yourself boy, I wanna watch you jack yourself off until those fucking arms of yours wither away.”

Liam gave himself an awkward hug, rubbing his torso with his hands, feeling his skin shuddering and loosening, becoming…dick skin. He could smell it all around him now, the coach’s musk, his musk. He ran his arms up and down his body, shuddering, a steady flow of precum drooling down his chin. He scooped it up, rubbed it into his chest, shuddering and moaning in delight. “Of fuck, feels so fucking good.”

“Feels good being my dick, don’t it?”

“Fuck, it does!”

“You wanna be my dick, don’t you boy?”

“Fuck, I…I do.”

“Since the moment you laid eyes on my cock, all you fucking wanted was to be part of it,” the coach said, “You can feel our balls churning now, can’t you? Getting the load ready that’s gonna blast out of your mouth in a few minutes, gonna empty that head of yours, erase that pretty fucking face, leave you with nothing more than a drooling dickhole where it was.”

“Oh fuck,” Liam said, “I can feel it.” He was still trying to rub his body, but his hands and arms were tingling more and more. He tried to look down, but his neck had disappeared–his body was now one wrinkly shaft, arms dwindling away to nothing, leaving just his human face plastered on the end of it, moaning and drooling out precum, powerless to stop what was about to happen to him, no longer even willing to stop it. The coach was stroking his body harder now, and he could feel it, his balls churning and tightening, until at last, there was a massive shock of white light and pleasure. Cum exploded from his mouth, and when it did, it tore his mind wide open–he could feel it, his memories, his desires, his humanity shredded apart, huge chunks of it blown out along the way. The next shot scraped away even more, and each one after that scouring what was left of his mind away, leaving him drooling on the carpet. For a moment, he tried to blink, but that was dumb. Dicks couldn’t blink. Dicks didn’t have eyes. 

The coach looked down at his new, massive cock–still around three feet long, his balls as massive as those exercise balls he had at the gym. It would take a few more loads before he was sure all of Liam had been erased, and before his cock would return to a more reasonable size, but he had all weekend for the two of them to get acquainted.

“See, I told you that you’d love being my dick,” he said. He felt the thought return, or a series of sensations really–gratitude, desire, excitement. Dick thoughts. He dragged his massive meat over to his couch and sat down, before putting on the video he’d just taken using the surveillance cameras he had in his apartment. This might be his favorite dicking yet–he was excited to watch it again, and cum again as well. His dick was too. His dick was very, very excited to cum, and fuck, and stink. After all, what else was there for a dick to do?

(Caption) Three Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (16/31)

You don’t always know you’re in Pigtown until it’s too late.

Richard liked to take long runs around the city on his days off. It was a good way to explore, and he nearly always saw something different, that he would have never noticed in his car. Today, he found his way to a large park and decided to cut through it for a bit of nature. It started off innocently enough–families with kids playing in the sun, the occasional picnic. It was wholesome. But at some point, after the trail passed through a few dense patches of wood, he found himself in a chunk of park that was quite a bit seedier. Unknown to Richard, he had just found himself in Pigtown.

It was the light that threw him off first. He had started his jog in the morning, but suddenly, it was like the sun had set. The sodium lights were all lit, but filthy, and they only seemed to increase the shadows around him, rather than dispel them. There were strange moans, thumps and shrieks coming from the woods around him, distorted enough that he couldn’t be certain men were making them, and the few people he did see were men who leered at him, and at his spandex clad running shorts, with lust. 

But he kept running. He tried to turn back, but the path, which he was certain had been straight and unambiguous, suddenly branched and forked and looped back around on itself in countless ways. He was lost, and getting a bit winded. Finally he stopped to catch his breath and calm down, get his bearings, only to find that he wasn’t alone. There was a filthy looking man on a park bench near him, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. He looked up at Richard, licked his lips, and said, “Fuck man, bet you smell fuckin’ amazing.”

Before Richard could even think of how to reply, the man had stood up, thrown up one of Richard’s arms, and started licking at his pit. The man smelled horrific–like a urinal, like a cumrag, like…like heaven. Richard shook his head and gave a snort, trying to focus, but he couldn’t seem to tug himself away from the man, and all around them, more men, just as filthy as him, were coming out of the brush, groping their crotches, leering at him, the light fading more and more as they all surrounded him, touching him, smelling him, and Richard lost track of himself, for a moment. For a while.

When he came back to himself, he wasn’t at the park anymore. He was in some apartment, hands tied up above his head, and he wasn’t wearing his clothes, or at least…they weren’t the clothes he’d had on before. He had on some long underwear and a white t-shirt, all of it covered in cumstains, soaked with piss. He could smell it, and fuck if it didn’t smell amazing. 

The man from the bench came out, still in the same nasty clothes as before, and stood in front of Richard. “Fuck man, I hadn’t really planned on bringin’ anyone home tonight, but fuck me, if ya just aren’t so much fuckin’ fun. Haven’t gotten my hands on freshmeat in a long time, I forgot how fuckin’…flexible you are. We’re gonna have a lot a fun tonight, gonna have some more boys over, and you’re gonna be in heaven, I promise you that.”

Richard tried to do some math, tried to figure out what time it was. He’d left in the morning, but it had gotten dark in the park. He’d spent…hours there already, and now here, and…and it was still pitch black out the window. “I…I have to get home, I…it’s so late.”

“So what if its late, man! The night doesn’t end until we want it to, in Pigtown, and I think we can go for a while longer, don’t you?”

The man shoved the wet crotch of his filthy jeans into Richard’s face, and he couldn’t help himself, licking at the nasty denim, feeling his cock grow larger, and start to pump precum out, soaking the front of the nasty underwear he was wearing. He didn’t want it to stop, did he? No, he didn’t. Not long after that, men started appearing, and toyed with him, pissed on him, came on him, in him, fed him, filled him up, clothed him, changed him in ways that Richard could barely understand, and when Rich awoke, it was morning. 

Some morning. He looked around at the nice backyard where he’d woken up, and part of him knew he should recognize it…but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t find the memory anymore. He pulled out a cigar, lit it, and that helped wake him up a bit, but it still didn’t bring out the memory. One thing he knew for sure, was that he didn’t belong here. It was too bright, the sun…hurt, somehow, even through all of his filthy gear.

He stood up and left, following his instincts back home, back to the park. Rich never left Pigtown again after that, but why would he want to? It’s where he belonged now, after all.