Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 5)

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it! He was too weak like this, he was too scared, and too gentle, and too…too much in love to take what he wanted. He wanted Bruce to be his pig, to be happy as his pig, but he could see now that Bruce was too terrified to pursue it. He needed to be someone else. Someone forceful. Someone who cared less, and wanted more. Someone with bigger balls than he had. So Jay had dug into the app, and started filtering out everything about himself that was weak, layering everything else on, making someone who could do it, someone who could take what they wanted, someone who could do what Jay was too kind to do. Someone who could show Bruce what he needed, someone who could give them both what they wanted–what Jay knew they wanted.

And that is who was staring down at Bruce now. He recognized him as Jay, but knew it wasn’t the same Jay who had left the barn before. He was…huge, at least seven and a half feet tall, thick with muscle and fat, covered in bristle from face to trotter. He had, apparently, taken Bruce’s words to heart–Jay was as much a boar as Bruce was a pig, thick tusks pushing out from his short snout, bristle running from his coarse, wiry beard over his head and down his back, a treasure trail running down the front of his thick gut, broad shoulders, thick hips, massive thighs, huge trotters a foot from Bruce’s face, and all he could do was smell him. Perhaps he wasn’t even as imposing as Bruce thought, staring up at him, but so much of what he was seeing depending on what he was smelling–what he smelled was more important. This was an alpha, this was his owner, his master, his ruler, his top, his partner.

“:Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Jay grunted out, and followed with a snort, “We both were pathetic, really. Well, no more of that shit, I don’t think, do you?”

Bruce couldn’t do much other than snort, and just blankly stared at the thick bulge in the front of Jay’s overalls, while the boar pulled out his phone, and in the app, started tweaking a few of Bruce’s filters, and after a moment, he took a picture of the hungry, sex-desperate pig below him, and watched him start to shrink–slightly. The massive bulk which had enveloped him a moment ago, pinning him to the muddy floor of the barn, receded enough that he could stand up and move again, but he didn’t shrink to the same size he’d woken up at. A few other changes swept over him, a softening of some of his features, but twisting in other ways, especially in his face, which looked less like a pig than before, and more human, though he still had his floppy, ring pierced ears and a prominent pig nose pierced with a doorknocker ring. Bruce felt other changes more profoundly on the inside–a dull pain in his guts and groin especially, and he realized, after a moment, through the fog of the pheromones pouring off the boar in front of him, that he’s lost his nuts. The hefty sack he’d had a moment before simply disappeared, his cock shrinking to a much smaller nub, and he found that all of that sexual energy directed at his own pleasure refocused on the stinking boar in front of him, and without even thinking about it, he forced himself up, gut still dragging along the floor of the barn, licking and chewing at the front of the boar’s overalls, hungry for his cock, hungry to serve, hungry for…for so much. He felt like a pit had grown inside him, a hole, and he needed to fill it more than anything else. Food, sex, pleasure, sevice, all of it would fall into it, but Bruce could already tell it would never be full. Had it always been there, in his guts? He didn’t know for sure, but he could already feel it swallowing his fear, his weakness–there wasn’t room to be afraid inside him anymore. The emptiness would either eat him, or his fear, and as he felt it disappear, everything felt so much easier.

It was easy to be a pig. It was easy to suck his master’s cock, easy to snort in his musk, easy to love him. He loved him! Bruce loved him so much, loved him in ways he could have never allowed himself to love anyone before. He’d taken away the fear, he’d taken away the weakness. Jay had freed him, had made everything easy, so easy, so smooth, so empty. He wanted to make him happy too, wanted to be a good pig, wanted to give him everything he could, be everything that Jay wanted him to be, wanted to tell him all of this, but even with his human face, his voice hadn’t returned. It didn’t matter–if Jay didn’t want him to have a voice, than he didn’t need one. He could show him in other ways, he could show him what Jay’s love meant to him.

“Yeah, that’s the kind of attention I wanted this morning from you, you stupid hog,” Jay said, while Bruce sucked his cock, “I have a feeling these changes are going to open up new horizons for you, pretty soon–and if you don’t like them? Well you know what? I can just fucking make you like them. I can make you forget anything was ever different. I know what you need, you fucking hog, I always knew what you needed most, but you were too chickenshit to figure it out for yourself. Well, now you don’t have to think about anything, other than filling up that need sitting in your fucking soul–that, and keeping my boarcock good and happy.”

Suggestion Box Open for December! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s suggestion box is open! If you’re a patron at any level, you can put your suggestions in the box, and I’ll use them to write my weekly flash fiction that I post for Patron’s only! If you’d like to support me, you can find more details here. Here’s a story from last month to give you a taste!

The Recruitment

Todd had, for as long as he could remember, wanted to join the army. Part of his conviction was that the army was a family tradition–not only had his grandfather and father both gone into the army, so had Todd’s older brothers–well, Marcus had gone into the Marines, but that was close enough. Since he was a young teenager, Todd had been introduced to the various recruiters in the town where he lived, he participated in all the training exercises, all the information sessions–as far as he was concerned, he was ready to head right off to boot camp, and now that he’d finally graduated from high school, well, it was time.

His appointment was in the afternoon at the recruitment center, and was just supposed to be a formality, really–signing his enlistment forms, and his final physical–but he knew everything was all set for him to head off to boot camp in a few weeks. However, when he got to the office, he discovered, from the receptionist, that he wasn’t going to be meeting with his usual recruiter, but instead with Marshall Blackburn, a fairly new sergeant at the office who Todd didn’t know well at all, aside from the fact that he was…well, massive.

He was several inches taller than the other recruiters, with hairy forearms and hair coming out of his chest, with perpetual stubble all day long. He hadn’t spoke much when Todd had been around him, and the other recruiters…well, there had been this strange vibe between them and Marshal, but Todd didn’t really know what might be the issue exactly. In any case, he was ushered down the hall to Marshal’s office, and found himself sitting across from the hulking fellow in the small, cramped quarters–and Marshal gruffly introduced himself, and started going over the paperwork.

The meeting started out normally enough, going over the forms, the sergeant not seeming too interested in anything much, but as the session wore on, Todd began to…notice that something was off. The room was stuffy, and too hot. He could see sweat beading on the sergeant’s forehead, and then, he could smell him everytime he reached over, the strong musk of the sergeant’s pits…and every time Todd caught a whiff of it, he felt his heart race slightly, for reasons he didn’t want to admit.

See, Todd was gay–had always been gay, knew he was gay, but still deep in the closet, not wanting his family to know, but the sergeant was, well, turning Todd on more than any man he’d ever been around before. He started to notice something else too, that the sergeant seemed…to have picked up on something. He was slyly smiling as he went over the forms, and kept reaching over further, almost like he was testing Todd, and the questions got more personal, asking Todd if he was going to be missing any girlfriends, asking him if he’d fucked anyone lately, was too personal of questions for Todd’s liking, and he didn’t know how to answer.

“Fuck boy,” the sergeant said, sitting back in his chair, “I know I’m real damn horny–fuck. Get’s damn hot in here in the afternoons, and my musk just fuckin’ makes me want to nut all over the place. How ‘bout you boy?” the sergeant said, groping his package, “Seems like you’re enjoying it too, from that bulge in your pants there.”

He’d been made. Todd hauled out of the chair and headed for the door, but the sergeant got there first, pinning Todd against the wall, holding him there with his bulk, with his musk, one of the sergeant’s big hands groping Todd’s hard on, and he shushed him. “Now now boy, I knew ya as soon as you came in here the other day–that’s why I took your appointment, so we could have a little time to discuss a…special recruitment opportunity for young fellows like you.”

The hand that was down the sergeant’s pants came up and cupped over Todd’s nose and mouth, and he could almost taste the sergeant’s musk, his cum…and Todd felt something…happen. Something in his body, something strange. There was a sudden heat, all over, deep in his muscles and his bones, and then the sergeant had to step back, because Todd had…grown.

He was taller, and also thicker–which was saying something, because Todd had gone in the office with a stellar physique to begin with. Now though, his chest and arms were more developed, his legs thicker…and he was horny as all hell, hornier than he’d been in his life. He stepped up and started kissing the sergeant, at least until the older man shoved Todd down to his knees and had the boy suck his cock, and as he did…he could feel it again, that heat, that growth. Something in his was changing, something…was different. When he finished, and the sergeant stood him back up, he was still the man he’d been…but he also wasn’t the same at all.

“Welcome, boy, to my squad of homo-infiltrators. Together, we’re gonna corrupt these straight fucking army brats and make them all into proper fuckers–how does that sound to you?”

It sounded pretty damn sexy to Todd–and later that night, when he and the sergeant had the lead recruiter–once straight, but now addicted to their musky cocks–between them, being spit roasted, Todd knew he’d found a place in the exact squad he need to be in.

Suggestion Box Open for December! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Training Camp (Caption Sketch)

For those of you who like these sorts of caption stories, I’ve started writing and posting them with some regularity over on my discord server for Patrons! It’s open for everyone supporting me at the five dollar level and up, and includes the ability to request captions, get exclusive access to all the captions I post (because I won’t be posting them all here) and you can also help me out by play testing some of the odd transformation RP games I design in my rare spare time. You can find more details here! I hope y’all have a nice holiday!

Training camp, day 1

“Yeah man, fuck, I could really go for some dinner.” Vince said, and inside, all Hugh could do was stare at Vince’s gut, hanging out from his practice uniform. The guy didn’t need more food, as far as Hugh was concerned, but what did he know? The massive fucker had just, well, shown Hugh up in just about every way, and it was just the first day of camp, with two weeks to go. This was supposed to be his time to shine, but this massive, stupid lug was going to ruin everything for him. Worse still, he discovered after dinner, the two of them were going to be rooming together in the college dorms.

As soon as they were in the room, Vince started stripping out of his clothes, and his musk started to permeate the air. Hugh tried to not let it bother him, and tried to ignore the fact that it was giving him a headache, and a hard on, until the shoes came off–and he lost it. He got down, shoved his face into one of Vince’s cleats, and started huffing in the musk, horrified, and unable to control himself.

Above him, Vince just sighed. “Fuck, was hoping you wouldn’t need it. They always put me with guys who need it. Don’t worry–I can help you, little guy,” Vince said, patting Hugh on the head, “We can help each other.”

Training camp day 4

Hugh wasn’t feeling good. At least, that’s what he told the camp coaches. In reality…Vince was right. This training really was more important than getting out on the field. He took a few long huffs from the stench of Vince’s tennis shoe, and he felt it, the same feeling he’d had inside him, starting in the last few days, and he felt himself…grow, slightly. Inflate, almost. Vince said that if he was good, if he did everything he told him to do, then he could make Hugh big–not as big as he was, but plenty big enough. Big enough to be a star player. Big enough to…not need it anymore.

He’d resisted at first, but last night, something in him had broken, and he realized why Vince had so much control over him–it was because he had what Hugh needed. Size. Power. Strength. So he’d agreed–Vince would coach him for the rest of the camp, and for his first day, that meant sitting here, huffing on his shoe with a moist jock shoved in the end all day long…but this…wasn’t so bad, was it? There was another dull throb, and he heard a bone pop and reset. No–this was exactly what he needed.

Training camp day 11

Hugh was ready for it, ready for what he really needed. He’d been practicing with the toys Vince had given him, the huge dildo and benwa balls, working them in and out of his hole. He was…so much bigger now, so much bigger. Six feet three inches, so much muscle mass, but he wouldn’t get any larger without…well, without Vince’s seed. It was only natural, after all–he needed it, but Vince was so large…he hadn’t been able to take him yesterday. But tonight would be different. He knew tonight would be different.

The door clicked, and Vince stepped in, seeing the massive man on the bed, gas mask still on with Vince’s dirtiest underwear inside, ass ready. He hauled out his fifteen inch cock, and pressed it to Hugh’s hole–it took some work over the next half hour, but finally it slid inside, and Vince fucked him, hard and rough, until he came, and gave Hugh exactly what he needed.

He could feel the seed inside him, coursing into his blood, changing him. His mind dulled rapidly, so quickly that Hugh didn’t even notice that he lost most of himself in the process. There was just…Vince. Just his master. Vince took the mask off, and revealed the almost ape-like visage underneath as the hair filled in across Hugh’s body, just another brutish beastial slave for Vince’s perpetually growing harem. Still, it’s what Hugh had needed–just maybe not what he wanted.

Holiday Curses – Thanksgiving (Part 2)

The results of the polls were pretty clear on the winners, so I went ahead and wrote the next chunk early!

“Hey John, why don’t you come with me for a second, there’s something I’d like to show you,” Mark said.

“Faggot, what the fuck could you possibly want to show me? Your dick?” John said, not really realizing that his body was standing up from the couch and coming closer to his youngest brother.

“John, where you going? It’s the middle of the quarter!” His father said.

“None of you need to worry about it–you’ll get your turn soon enough. For now, dad, go turn off the appliances in the kitchen–I don’t think any of you will be getting your thanksgiving meal tonight. Then, all of you just keep watching your precious football, and don’t disturb me, or do anything stupid like try and get help. Just watch TV, and wait until it’s your turn.”

The unease on John’s face spread to the rest of them, as his dad got up and realized his wife had left without him even noticing, the dinner half cooked. When he came back, John and his faggot son Mark were gone, disappeared into the back rooms of the house, but he couldn’t do anything but sit down with the rest of the men and keep watching the game, none of them understanding what, exactly, was going on.

In the bedroom where Mark led John, however, he began to get an idea–there, on the bed, was some strange stuff–a gas mask, some dirty looking clothes, a massive cigar, and a…really, really large dildo (in reality, it wasn’t that large, but John lacked much context in this arena, and wasn’t particularly large himself). “You really are some fucking faggot! What the fuck is this shit?”

“You know John, all these years, you’ve taken such good care of yourself,” Mark said, “Lording it over everyone else. Well you know what? I happen to think that vices are healthy–and that it’s high time you pick up a few. Get undressed, sit down on the bed, and put that gas mask on.”

He struggled now, harder, but his body couldn’t resist the compulsion to take off all his clothes, sit down on the bed and pick up the mask, not noticing the chalk circle he crossed over, a circle that Mark sealed with a drop if his blood behind them both, as he followed him in, feeling the crackle of power around them. This was a curse of threes, and of vices–he’d already imbued the items with the power–now, all he had to do was use them–or make John use them, rather.

John pulled on the mask, and then Mark cinched it tight, ordering him to not remove it until the next morning came. Then, he took the dirty underwear and socks, and shoved them down the tube connected to the mask, and whispered the first incantation. Inside the mask, the stench overwhelmed him, and Mark could see his older brother’s eyes dilate with excitement. “Smell that bro? You don’t know what that jockstrap and those socks have been through, but you sure to do love it. Look at how hard that pecker of yours got already, and we still have two to go.”

The smell was rank, like the nastiest locker rooms of his youth, but Mark was right–it was like something in his mind had been rewritten, and now the stench of unwashed man musk was…thrilling. He huffed harder on the hose, while his brother cut the cigar, plugged the end of the tube, making it hard to breathe, and lit it, speaking the second incantation as he did. The smoke poured into the mask, and he had to inhale it–not that he minded after the incantation finished. In fact, he craved, feeling his head go light, and his stomach go queasy, but he…he needed the smoke.

He was horrified–he hated smokers, and he struggled on the bed, trying to fight Mark off, but a couple of words froze him in place, and Mark just laughed at him. “Now now, John, I can tell you’re loving this. Fuck, I remember when I came home smoking those cigarettes one year, and you flipped your shit! Now you’re going to be smoking so many cigars a day–you fucking hypocrite. How’s that smoke taste with that grungy funk in there? It’s probably fucking ambrosia to you right now–well just wait, things are only going to get better from here.” He shoved the end of the tube with the cigar in it into John’s hand. “Now be careful–you don’t want to lose your cigar, do you? Now get up on the bed, on your hands and knees, ass at the edge.”

His brother, shaking now, and careful to keep the cigar in the tube, got up and assumed the position as his brother ordered, eyeing the dildo on the bed beside him. Fuck that though–his brother needed a taste of the real thing first–raw. Mark dropped his pants, his cock rock hard, and pressed the head against his brother’s hole. “Think of this as a warm up–besides, I’ve been looking forward to popping your cherry, bro.”

John struggled, but there wasn’t anything he could do–he was locked in position as his little brother fucked him for a few minutes–but since he didn’t say the incantation…he didn’t want it. John felt his orgasm coming, and as he shot, he spoke the incantation, feeling is brother start to push back to his thrusts, and when he was finished cumming, he pulled out, and slammed the dildo into the hilt, his brother screaming in pain–and need. Mark stepped back, breaking the circle and unsealing the spell–and watched his brother reach around, grip the dildo, pull it out…and then plunge it back in of his own accord, over and over again.

The desires will fade somewhat, but the next hours, until dawn, were crucial. The more he stuck to his vices now, the harder they would stick after dawn, when the spell lost strength entirely. “Here bro, too keep you well supplied through the night,” Mark said, and set a pack of cigars on the nightstand, along with a cutter and lighter. “Oh, and if you need some variety…” he opened the drawer, and revealed a set of dildos, different sizes, some that vibrate, “that should keep you busy all night long, I think. Be good now, and do what you want to.”

With that, Mark left his brother in the room, and returned to the living room. “Alright Isaac,” he said to his cousin, “Your turn.”

The men on the couch could hear something happening to John in one of the bedrooms, but they hadn’t been able to do anything to get up and stop watching the game. Isaac tried to make a break for the door, when he found his body free, but he found himself following his cousin back into the bedrooms.

Isaac’s curse was a bit more…complicated. Called the curse of the imago, it was about freeing the inner impulses of the target from within, taking off the outer layers of the self, and revealing the true self with in. The results could be…freakish, but Isaac had figured out a solution for that already. Isaac had always been good about hiding himself behind a facade–but what sort of self is he hiding, that Mark wants to reveal?

Issac has always been a violent brute, though he doesn’t look like it.
He’s a lazy glutton, but none of what he eats shows on his waistline.
He’s a sex obsessed pig, with a clean cut appearance on the outside.
He’s a sycophant for Mark’s brothers, always enabling their abuse.

Here’s the public poll

Here’s the patron only poll

Voting ends early next week!

The Kingsford County Line (Part 4)

“Look, you two stay here for a bit, I’m gonna go see what’s taking dad so long in there,” Jeremy said, and he opened the passenger door and climbed out, disappearing into the gas station after his father. Tyler and Dave watched him, and then Dave slid open the side door of the van, undid his seatbelt and got out.

“Dave? Where are you going?”

“We’ve been in this damn van all fucking day, it feels like. I just want to stretch my legs for a bit is all.”

Tyler thought about telling him to stay–they shouldn’t just walk away without telling anyone. He undid his own seatbelt, flipped around and shook his uncle’s belly, until the older man started awake.

“H-Huh? What?”

“Hey, we stopped to get gas. Dad and Jeremy are inside, Dave and I are gonna walk for a bit, stretch our legs.”

“Oh, uh, sure…don’t go too far…”

By the time Tyler had climbed out of the van and slid the door shut behind them, he was already mostly asleep again, and Tyler hurried to catch up to Dave as he slipped around the corner of the gas station. “Hey, wait up? Where are you going?”

“I was just gonna walk around the building is all–you didn’t have to come along.”

“No, it sounded like a good idea, getting out for a bit. And I told Uncle Logan where we were going, so they wouldn’t worry.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but that snort Dave made usually meant he was rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“Do you…I mean…No, just forget it.”

“Come on, what–you haven’t said anything all day, what’s up?”

Dave stopped walking and leaned against the brick wall of the building, “Fine, but you have to be honest with me, promise?”

“Sure, of course.”

“Are you actually enjoying this as much as it seems like you are?”

Tyler shrugged, “Look, this isn’t the most exciting trip we’ve been on sure, but that’s just how it goes, sometimes. Once, I remember we were going through North Dakota, and–”

Dave turned and walked away, making that snort again.

“What? Come on. If you hate it this much, then why’d you come along?”

“Because I thought we’d be going somewhere interesting, but it’s like…like none of you want to go anywhere fun!”

“Hey, that second largest ball of yarn was kind of fun–who the fuck cares if it’s the second largest, right?”

“That’s exactly my fucking point! This trip is fucking boring, and your family is fucking boring! What the fuck is even wrong with all of you, that you don’t see this whole thing as a fucking disaster? I mean, we don’t even know where the hell we are!”

“We’ve gotten lost before, we always just get directions back to the highway.”

“That’s not the–gah, I hate it when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Nevermind, just…just go back to the stupid van or something, I don’t fucking care, just leave me alone already.”

“Whatever,be miserable if you want, I don’t fucking care,” Tyler said, and walked back towards the van, but didn’t get back in. He saw that while they’d been talking, a muddy tow truck that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years must have pulled up to get gas while Dave was trying to get him to join in his poutfest. It wasn’t like Tyler was having a great time, or anything, but this still wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him on a road trip. This did suck, but so what? Sometimes…sometimes things sucked, but you had to take the good with the bad. If there was anything these road trips had taught him, it was that. Be patient, solve the problems you come across, and everything will be alright in the end if you stay positive. He thought about getting back in the van, but he did want to walk a bit, so he took a few laps around the pumps, and a couple of people got out of the tow truck. The first was an older guy with a huge beard and big round gut jutting out, wearing clothes that looked like they’d last been washed at the same time as his vehicle. The guy saw him, grinned, and started toward him, when a second voice spoke up, “Pa, stay focused–go git yer beer, I got it handled.”

The man didn’t look very happy about that, “Sure Skip, you…got it,” but he turned and started towards the station and went inside, while the second speaker came around the other side, a young guy who couldn’t have been much older than Tyler himself. He was…big. Probably six foot four or so, more muscular than his father, but with a good amount of fat padding him out as well, just making him look thick–the fact that all he had on was a ragged flannel vest, showing off two thick arms and a very furry gut only accented his size. Skip took a drag off the cigarette he was smoking, and looked Tyler up and down, before walking over. Tyler went back around the van, keeping it between them, ready to get inside or pound on hood to get his uncle’s attention if he needed to. The young man must have found something about this funny, because he grinned a bit, showing off teeth which were way too yellowed for a guy as young as he was. He was a good five feet away, but the most horrendous smell wafted over to Tyler from the young man. He started breathing through his mouth, but it didn’t really help–the only comparable thing he could think of was walking into the locker room at school once after a bunch of practices, how musk had permeated the air so much, it was like the air had taken on a life of its own. But it wasn’t just musk, it was also…pangs of piss, and rotten eggs, and cum, and…and was…was he breathing through his nose? Deep–Deeper? Maybe, maybe it didn’t smell all that bad, yeah, maybe…maybe he could even get a bit…a bit closer. He forced his feet to stay still, but something strange was going on, he could tell, even if he didn’t know what.

ChatChange – Jock Slave (Flash Commission)

Thank you for using ChatRandom! You’re now being paired with a new chatter…..Partner found, welcome DirtyTubbs56!

DirtyTubbs56: Hey bud, how’s it hangin?

CollegeJock97: Fuck, put a fucking shirt on, would you? No one wants to see that.

DirtyTubbs056: Heh, how about this? Wanna see my big ol’ cock boy?

CollegeJock97: What the fuck, why won’t it let me close the window?

DirtyTubbs56: Sounds like someone didn’t pay for the premium membership. Guess you’re stuck with me for a little bit. Come on, whip out yer cock too–helps the time pass by real easy.

CollegeJock97: I’m not showing your my cock you fat, dirty faggot.

DirtyTubbs56: You know, I wasn’t too different from you when I was younger. You should watch what you say boy.

[Premium user DirtyTubbs56 has activated ChatChange]

CollegeJock97: What the fuck is chatchange?

DirtyTubbs56: You’ll see boy, now hold on a second.

[Change applied]

GrungeJock97: Oww! How the fuck–it fucking shocked me!

GrungeJock97: And why…what the fuck happened to my screenname? B?

DirtyTubbs56: Well I gotta say, it looks accurate–how old is that jock you have on boy?

GrungeJock97: Fuck, this…this thing? I’ve been wearing it all year so far

GrungeJock97: Why did I write that? I mean I have but I wasn’t wearing it, and my room, fuck it reeks so fucking good in here all of a sudden, makes me so damn horny.

DirtyTubbs56: Well then whip it out boy, let’s see what you got.

GrungeJock97: Fuck, you fucking did this to me, what the fuck did you do? Change me back, you fucking sicko.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck boy, been wearing these whities of mine for months–bet you’d love to give them a sniff, wouldn’t you? Look at the color on ‘em–ain’t they pretty. Hold on, gotta get up here for a sec, show ya the shit streak down the back.

DirtyTubbs56: Eh? What did you think of those? Damn, did checking out my dirty undies just make you leak all that? Now who’s the sicko around here?

GrungeJock97: I can’t fucking help it!

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck, reminds me of when I was younger, sneaking underwear from the locker room, especially the coach’s, if I could manage. You like older guys, don’t you boy? Fat old pigs like me?

GrungeJock97: Fuck no, you…no, I won’t do this, I fucking won’t.

DirtyTubbs56: Well it wasn’t really a question anyway, no worries

[Change Applied]

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, that fucking hurt! Fucking stop it! What did you fucking do this time, daddy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen:Why the fuck did I type that? You’re fucking with my head, aren’t you daddy?

DirtyTubbs56: Just made you a little more appreciative is all. You should be thankful, shouldn’t you? That I’m turning you into a whore for dirty old men like me? Come on, tell me what you’d do to me, if I was in that dirty room of yours.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, I don’t wanna say daddy, don’t make me do this, please sir.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me boy, that’s an order.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck–fuck, I’d…I’d sniff your pits, and clean your whole stinking body sir. Suck your cock, and eat out your ass if you wanted, I’d…fuck, feeling you on top of me, fucking my dirty hole makes me so hard just thinking about it

DirtyTubbs56: How about my feet boy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: I fucking love dirty feet sir, I’d lick them clean–the…the stink of ‘em makes me cum harder than anything.

DirtyTubbs56: That’s a much better attitude boy–but I think we should punish you for some of your rudeness earlier, don’t you think?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: No sir, please, I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want, you don’t have to change me anymore, please

DirtyTubbs56: No–see, I think you’re still a bit too proud of yourself. Your youth, your body. But living like this, well, it won’t last for long, trust me. All those hours spent alone in your room, masturbating to your own heady stench–it doesn’t leave much time for working out, does it? But you can’t stop–and the more you lose, the more you want it back.

[Change applied]

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, that…fuck, what the fuck, I think I’m going to be sick…

DirtyTubbs56: Just accept it, just let it wash over you. You’ll feel so much better soon, trust me, you don’t know it yet, but you’re going to love this. I thought the same thing, but this is so much better than you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: I’m, fuck, I’m old, and I’m so fucking fat! Change me back you fucker! You can’t fucking do this to me, you fucking can’t do this, I was

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, why the fuck can’t I remember? I…I remember getting in the locker room, yesterday, but I wasn’t playing, I…fuck, that’s right, I took a fucking haul, five rank jocks from the locker room. I…know the janitor, and he’ll give me fifteen minutes to raid the place if I blow him, and it’s fucking worth it every time. Can’t do it too often though, but fuck, you should fucking smell these things.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck man, they look so filthy, I can almost smell them through the screen!

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck yeah, I watch them at practice too, usually, wearing my favorite ones, even a jersey or two, while I’m under the bleachers, jacking off. Just fucking wish I could get close to them, you know? Really show those young studs what an old pig like me has to offer.

DirtyTubbs56: I bet you’d do anything for a stud like that.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: You fucking know it! I…fuck, I know you fucking did this to me, but everything feels so fucking…far away now. And fuck if I don’t fucking love this.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me what you want, pig–if you really want to go back, I could be persuaded if you ask really nicely–though I might need a favor in return.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, all I really want is all those fucking jocks around me, fucking me, pissing on me, using me as their fucking pig slut, fuck now that would be the fucking life!

DirtyTubbs56: Well I can arrange that too, you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Wait, I didn’t mean it, not really, I was just fantasizing!

DirtyTubbs56: You sounded pretty serious to me.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck you, fucking change me back, I’ll do anything you want, I’ll find you and blow you, please

DirtyTubbs56: Nah, I like your idea better.

[change applied]

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: Fuck, what’s happening, why

DirtyTubbs56: Huh, he vanished–must not be living in that room anymore.

[Find user – FilthySlavePig4Jocks]

[User found. Local internet device found–connect user to device? Y/N]

[Y]

[Connection reestablished]

DirtyTubbs56: There you are–fuck, look at you, looks like those jocks sure did a number on you.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I…I can’t be in here, this is Master Coach’s office if anyone finds me I’ll get punished so bad

DirtyTubbs56: No worries, I won’t keep you for long, I just wanted to see what those jocks did to you–and fuck, what the hell didn’t they do. Is that the mascot?

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I’m property of the team, they tattooed me to show it. Keep me shaved all the time, lock up my cock where it belongs The team uses me whenever they need to, and…and I love it. Thank you, thank you for doing this to me, I didn’t know I needed this so badly, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m so happy–this was where I always belonged I just didn’t know it.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I have to get back in my pen though, if anyone finds me they’ll put me in the box and I hate the box.

DirtyTubbs56: Alright pig–get back in your pen–and you’re welcome.

[End Connection]

[Find new User? Y/N]

[Y]

Curse of the Homophobe (Part 12)

Evan pushed the temptation away. He didn’t…want this life, did he? He just wanted to be normal. He wanted to go back to the way things were before, he wanted to just…be himself. Alone in the locker room, he sat down on the bench and just thought about himself, about all the selves he’d been, trying to piece something together about who he’d been, but everything was such a jumble now, that nothing seemed…right. Everything he could recall about who he’d been seemed right when looked at from one angle, and wrong from another. He just…wanted to be happy, didn’t he? When had he last been happy?

I know what makes you happy, Evan.

Robbie popped into his mind then, and his stomach turned. It wasn’t true. What he’d done with him was sick, every time he and Robbie got together, no matter who he was…it was awful. Back in that trailer, when he’d turned him into a pig, in that apartment when he’d worshiped his young, dirty, athletic body, in the apartment earlier, thinking about…about all the filthy fun they got into when they were alone…

I know what makes you happy, Evan, because it makes me happy too, watching you give in. You don’t want to want it, but you can’t help yourself, can you? Well, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re together again, since that’s what we both want, right?

[random check, dirty sheriff or mall cop…dirty redneck sheriff it is!]

He…smelled himself then. The musk wafting up around him, growing stronger, and he pushed back. He wasn’t some dirty construction worker, he wasn’t! He…he was an officer of the law, he was in control, he had power, he was important!

Yes, you are, aren’t you? A very important man in these parts…

On the bench, he felt himself shifting, growing taller, feet expanding, his hefty gut pushing out, covered in grey hair, the smell of himself shifting. It was more than sweat now–it was…whiskey, and dirt, and…and cigar smoke. Plenty of smoke, after all, he was never without a cigar in his mouth, usually. He shook his head, trying to focus, trying to push back, but the world around him was already here–he wasn’t in a locker room, he was in his…office. The county sheriff’s office, that is. He wasn’t naked anymore either, he was in his tan uniform, sweat marks under his arms in the summer heat, a full ashtray on his desk, cowboy boots on his feet, his beard trimmed back into a set of friendly mutton chops, just like his pappy had, when he’d been sheriff. He groped himself, feeling his anxiety and fear dropping as he settled into his new life, and leaned back in his chair. “Harry?” he hollared around his cigar, “Got one last thing fer ya, deputy.”

After a moment, Harry came to the door…looking rather similar to the short, chubby cub he’d been in the locker room earlier, but with a few…redneck twists, including his own cigar shoved in his young mouth. Evan couldn’t stand the idea of a boy like that not smoking like him, after all, so he’d been working hard on getting the young cubby deputy well addicted to them over the last few months. “Y-Yes sir?”

“Come on boy, get yer mouth o’er here–fergot tah piss.”

Harry gulped, but got down in front of his sheriff, drank down his piss and ate his ash, before being excused for the evening. He’d have the deputy spend a weekend with him and Robbie soon enough–then he’d have a full service toilet for himself both at home, and at the office. This was good enough for now–he’d chosen well, after all, finding this willing young pig desperate to serve him on the force. Once he’d left, Harry closed up his files and hit the road, climbing into his patrol car, which he had smelling nice and smoky, lit up another cigar, and drove home.

He and Robbie were together, and most everyone in the county knew about the arrangement, but most everyone was scared enough of Evan that they knew better than to say anything. Besides, crime was down (not that it had ever really been up) and he had his Pappy’s name, so Evan wasn’t too worried about having anyone contest him in an election. If someone did…well, he’d be able to put them in place quick enough, he figured. He could afford to live in town somewhere, of course, but he liked…his distance. Fewer questions, and Robbie wasn’t usually fit for polite company, anyway. No use scaring anyone with his filthy pig of a boyfriend, after all.

He did stop on his way out of town and picked up five pizzas–his usual order, and then headed home. He parked on the gravel outside the trailer, and undressed there–wouldn’t do to get his uniform dirtier than it had to be, after all. Naked, he got his pizzas out and headed for the door, cock already hardening from the smell of their grungy life together. Inside, Robbie was where he always was, on the filthy couch in his piss and shit stained clothes, watching old porn on VHS–the classics. Evan stuffed his fat face, and then made the pig beg for the load of shit he’d been carrying around for him all day. He never got tired of listening to the pig beg, after all.

Later, as they fell asleep on the bed, and Evan came back to himself…somewhat. He couldn’t escape this–the spirit wouldn’t let him escape it. It wanted to see him suffer like this, wanted to see him succumb to this…corruption. Worse…he really did enjoy it. He was happy here, as sick as that was…and maybe, the curse would finally let him rest.

***

I’m gonna call it good here on this one! I’ll run a poll here in a bit (probably for Patrons only) on some possible ideas for another interactive that I’ll start next week sometime.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 4 (Part 4)

He didn’t tell me much more after that. I pressed him for more, tried to get him to tell me how the bruiser had changed him, how he had accomplished the physical changes, to make the man in the mugshot into the man in my basement, because it just…wasn’t possible. It wasn’t just a matter of years–no one could grow six inches in height. No one’s jaw went from a triangular point, to a flat square. No one’s eyes went from a bright blue to gray. He just laughed, and said that he might tell me more later, if I was good.

I reminded him that I was the one in control here, and he just laughed at me, and told me I owed him five loads for the story…and I refused, but he pulled me close to him, my head to his cum coated chest, and I…I lost it. I couldn’t stop jacking, grinding my cock against him, my dress uniform filthy now, and he whispered in my ear, twisted things, filthy things, and I heard them like my own voice, I heard my own voice shifting slightly, changing inflection, saying more, saying different. Saying how horny I was. Saying what a dirty, filthy, corrupt little copper I was. I came again, spraying a massive load all over his face, the largest load I had ever seen, and realized just how much my body had changed in the course of the night, my balls swelling to twice the size they had been, throbbing desperately, aching to empty themselves onto him, onto the filthy pig I owned and controlled, onto my property, my right.

In the end, I gave him seven loads before I finally collapsed and exhausted, and could crawl away from him–but not without attaching his cuff to the pipes on the wall again. Did it really matter if I had cuffed him or not? Probably not. He could have made me do anything he wanted, probably. He could have escaped, he could have taken me with him. No–he wanted to be here. He was supposed to be here…but I needed the illusion of control all the same. I retreated upstairs to my bedroom, saw myself, and I was…horrified.

My uniform was trashed. Wrinkled and soaked in cum, front and back. I stripped out of it, knowing I should wash it…but the voice told me no. I couldn’t wash it, it had to stay dirty. I was a dirty pig cop, and a dirty pig cop needed a dirty uniform. I snorted at the thought, cock throbbing again in need, and started jacking off–but before I could cum, I had to find…something. Something to catch it, because I couldn’t spill it just…anywhere, now could I? No, my cum had to go on Cumster. I ended up shooting my load into the water glass I kept by my bathroom sink, and I watched it gout from the head of my cock, filling the eight ounce glass nearly three quarters of the way to the top before it finally slowed and stopped. Still naked, I went back downstairs, got some water and food, and took them down to Cumster, along with my cum still in the glass. Before eating or drinking, he drank a mouthful of cum, swished it around in his mouth, and then let it fall from his mouth down into his beard…and fuck, the sight of it made me horny all over again, and I came for the ninth time while he ate, letting it spill on the top of his shaved head, watching it run down the sides and back, coating him, knowing I was sealing him in a layer of my spunk, and I just felt so…powerful. I felt more alive in that moment, than I ever had before in my life, and I was so scared, that when I went back upstairs, I was shaking uncontrollably. I wanted a shower…but I couldn’t. I had to be dirty, I needed it, I deserved it.

Instead, I just went to bed, but sleep didn’t come easy that night. I was too horny, for one thing. I had to keep a bowl beside the bed to catch my cum, when I had to jack off. While I lay there, in between sessions of masturbation, I found myself running Cumster’s story through my head, thinking about what it could possibly mean, thinking about how this rapist could do this, and why he was doing this at all. Perhaps what chilled me most was Cumster’s description of how cold the rapist had been to him. How unfeeling–just rough and brutal, with no compassion, not even speaking to him for as long as he’d been imprisoned there. Breaking him down until…he changed.

I wondered if I was going to change. No, I knew I was changing, but I wondered how far this would go, I wondered what I was becoming. Steven had heard Cumster’s voice there, in the old shop where he’d been imprisoned. Whose voice was I hearing? I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to know, because I was worried that knowing would give it even more power over me. That admitting it was real, that separating it from myself, meant that it was more than me, outside of me…that I could…end. End in the same way Steven had ended, somewhere in that abandoned mechanic garage. Steven had died, and Cumster had been born…and the rapist was the connection between them. I knew more than I had, but I didn’t feel like I had any better understanding of what was going on here. I wouldn’t give in, I told myself. I wouldn’t give into this any further–I would find this rapist and end it, whatever he was doing…and he would fix me. I would go back to who I was, who I was supposed to be–it was the only way I would ever get back, I imagined…but is that what I really wanted? Even now, I don’t know what I want, honestly. I know what I should want…but do I have the courage to take it back?

The Brusier Rapes – Episode 4 (Part 1)

All else considered in the nightmare this case was becoming, I had to remind myself that (all things being equal) if you ignored the fact I was imprisoning a man in my basement and fucking him, this was, still, a substantial break in the case. It wasn’t until the next morning that I thought to dig through the biker’s cut up clothing, find his wallet, and check his ID. He did, in fact, have a license, and a name–Steven Perkins. He laughed when he saw I had found it, and just told me that his friends called him Cumster. I ignored him, as much as I knew he still deserved to be…punished, and left the basement, making sure he had food and water, and then remembered to shower–finally.

How many days had it been at that point? It was such a relief, feeling the water wash over me, taking away some of the thoughts and compulsions–or maybe I was just imagining it, but even the illusion was enough to give me some confidence I still had some power here. I was, after all, literally the one holding the keys to his freedom–as I should be. The righteousness was distressing, still is distressing, to some extent, but I’ve had to learn to embrace it. To accept that what I feel is, necessarily, right. It is mine, the core of it at least. Whatever might happen to me, I know, in the end, I will win–because order has to win. I will not allow these agents of chaos to have their way…and that’s why I have to do this, why I am writing this. For myself, hopefully. If not, for someone else who can carry on in my stead.

I wonder if you’re hearing the voice too, now. If it can reach even through writing. I pity you, if you are, but know that I will bring order to you as well, one day.

I hadn’t checked in at the precinct in over a day now, and I was certain the brass was going nuts, wondering if I’d gone the way of Jules, and fucked this case over even more. I got in the car and went in. I spent the first hour getting raked over the coals for not getting this case under control, because someone had gone and leaked details of the second rape to the media. I knew immediately who it had been–Marcus. Probably, he was angry at me for not giving him a chance to speak to Ray in the interrogation room, but I couldn’t see how this would help him…although, it did put everyone on high alert. I wondered, again, if he could be the rapist behind all of this, pretending to play a victim in order to get closer to the case and track our progress. He also, I supposed, could have been a friend of the rapist, much like Cumster, working with him to confuse us and keep him off the trail…but that didn’t seem right either. He really was desperate to find him, and given Bernard’s behavior, it seemed consistent with someone the rapist hadn’t had a chance to…finish. Or had purposefully decided to leave unfinished.

Jules still hadn’t shown up anywhere. No one had seen Bernard or Ray. The case was out of control, and they were looking to me–had I found something? Anything? A lead? Something to feed the press hounding them all about what they were doing about this strange serial rapist? I couldn’t tell them about the man locked up in my basement, but I told them I may have found someone else with a history with the rapist–we had talked, but then he’d gotten spooked and disappeared, but not before I’d gotten his name. So I ran Steven Perkins through the system–and I found plenty. Multiple arrests for public indecency. He’d been in jail until just recently, in fact…and it looked like he’d left before the end of his sentence, but the file didn’t explain why. He was just released one day–without any clear reason.

That was concerning, but what I was really looking for was anything further back, anything about his past that I could use on him, something that could get him to talk. But again, just like Ray–there was nothing past a certain point, about seven years before that, aside from two other arrests for public indecency–and these mugshots were markedly different from the man down in my basement. Young, small, and utterly terrified, caught sucking cock in two different rest area bathrooms, but nothing had come of the charges in either case.

I had my confirmation then. Whoever this rapist was, they had been active for years at this point, and was only choosing to go public with his acts now because…well, I had no clue. But at the bar, Steven had said that something about him had changed–about the rapist that is. That something was different now than it had been before. I took a copy of his picture and slipped out again, not wanting anyone to yell at me for disappearing–they could do that later. I had an interrogation to do.

It wasn’t until I was back in my car, that I realized I had been half hard for most of the day, thinking about Cumster back in the basement, thinking about all the things I wanted to do to him, leaking cum into my underwear. By the time I got home, it had leaked through to the front of my pants, and thankfully, no one at the precinct had noticed the growing spot. Inside, I immediately went upstairs and changed, back into my formal uniform, though after the night before it wasn’t quite as clean and well pressed as it had been. Still, washing it would have felt wrong, somehow. It was good that it smelled a bit rank, that it smelled like me. I pulled on the leather gloves last, relieved to have them on again, and then went back down into the basement, feeling more like myself than I had in days. Feeling confident that, with a little effort, I could sort this whole case out and have everything back under control, under my law, in due time–and the first person I was going to work on was Steven, or Cumster, rather. The name really did suit him, after all.

The Bruiser Rapes – Episode 3 (Part 5)

He came out behind me, and lit a cigar. The smoke couldn’t cut through the smell of cum surrounding him though. Somehow it seemed to intensify it. I felt it at the edges of my mind again, I felt myself weakening, but no–no, I wasn’t going to let this happen. I remembered now–I knew who I was. I was a cop. I was order, and control, and force. He thought he understood me, but he didn’t know a thing about me. I shoved him into the alley around the side of the bar, and I think he thought I was going to ask to blow him–instead, I slammed him into the wall, wailing on him, and he didn’t fight back. At the time I assumed he was just caught off guard, but once I put him under arrest and shoved him into my car, I had my doubts. He was still smiling. “Well, where to, pig? You have me now. You can do whatever you want with me.”

I knew I should take him to the station and interrogate him, but I couldn’t explain my many breaches in protocol. If I went back there now–I told myself–soaked in cum, dragging along some unknown cumdump biker with a fresh black eye, telling them this idiotic story, none of them would understand. Besides, the man was right about one thing–this wasn’t about the case anymore–not really. This was about me. The one thing I knew, from what he’d said in the bar, was that this rapist wanted me. This rapist wanted me, and hell if I was going to let him get in my head. So I drove home, parked in the garage, dragged him out of the car and inside, still cuffed, and down into the basement. It wasn’t as large as Bernard’s had been, but it was large enough. I handcuffed him to some pipes down there, cleared out the space around him, but he wasn’t trying to fight…and then I realized that I’d just done exactly what he’d suggested I do. I’d brought him home. This was where he’d wanted to go the entire time…and without even realizing it, he’d manipulated me into doing it for him.

“Brings back memories,” he said, tugging at the handcuffs, testing them.

“Tell me what you know. Tell me about the bruiser. What is his plan?”

“Straight to business? Don’t you want to have some fun with your prisoner first, pig? I’m at your mercy after all–you can do whatever you want to me…”

I stepped up, and slapped him across the face. I didn’t know why I’d done it, and the sheer anger I felt at him was both a surprise, and yet as natural as anything else I’d felt that day. He was mocking me. He was mocking order, and my control. I’d put him in line. I’d show him who was in charge here. He didn’t resist, when I took some scissors from my work bench and cut his cum soaked clothes free, leaving him naked on the concrete floor. That was better, better to humiliate him, but I couldn’t do this right, looking like this. I went up to my bedroom, found my dress uniform and put it on, minding every detail, aside from the white dress gloves. Instead, I put on my leather riding gloves, and then went back down to the basement, where he’d started to shiver a bit in the cold. I demanded answers from him, and he stonewalled me. He laughed at me…and so I had to do it. I had to beat him. I had to…to fuck him. I had to cum in his beard, I had to put my scent on him, I had to mark him as mine, but it wasn’t until I’d cum a massive load on his face, after fucking his ass, that I realized what I’d been doing. I regained a bit of control of myself, and he…he was just laughing. Laughing at me.

“Fuck, he’s gonna love you, pig,” he said, “He’s gonna fuckin’ love breaking you. I hope he let’s me watch, because damn, it’s gonna be quite the fuckin’ show when it happens.”

I slammed the basement door behind myself, and leaned against it, panting. I didn’t understand what had come over me, how my mind had traced the steps from arresting him back at the bar, to imprisoning him in my basement, to putting on my most formal uniform and raping him. It had all…made sense in the moment, and it was only now, looking back on it, that the entire idea became heinous and horrific. But there was nothing I could do now. If I let him go, he could have me arrested. If I kept him here, I was compromised. Any information I got from him was tainted–hardly admissible in court, which was really the least of the problems I was facing. If I did get any information from him, and someone wanted to know the source…what was I going to say?

I was too deep. I was beyond deep, I was drowning, but I only had one way forward now. I had to get to the bottom of this. I’d face whatever repercussions were necessary, after the rapist was caught, and whatever he was plotting was averted. Then, I’d worry about facing my own justice for what I was doing. I threw him some water and food–he didn’t object, or try to resist or escape. He seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be, and that only worried me more. I took a shower, and that helped me feel a bit better at least, and then got some sleep, or slept as best I could. I needed to figure this out soon, or else someone would discover what I’d done, or worse, I’d be too late to stop whatever the Bruiser was planning. That, or he’d come for me next, and I knew, if he did, I wouldn’t have the will to stop him.