Digital Manipulation (Part 3) [Interactive]

The man who stepped inside didn’t bother looking at him as he came in, and it wasn’t until he was a few steps in that he looked up, saw Perrion behind his desk, and looked at him with a bit of confusion. “What are you doing here? They told me that this office was empty.”

Perrion didn’t quite know how to reply. Well, he knew how he should reply to someone interrupting his work, especially someone like…this. He wasn’t…anyone. No one important, at least. Just a contractor coming in to do some grunt work, either some cleaning, or painting, or whatever it was grubby, stupid men like this did to make their days pass, and pretend to be a contributor to a society rapidly outpacing them. They’d all be replaced with robots soon enough–hell, most of them already had been in a lot of other places. But he wasn’t quite able to produce his usual confident disdain, and instead, he just muttered, “I mean…this is my office.”

The man looked at him, and just laughed. A very long laugh, like Perrion had told a marvelously original joke. “You? In an office like this? Yeah fucking right.”

“No, I mean, really.”

“Shut up and get the fuck out of here, so I can work. This ain’t your office.”

Perrion just stared at the man, unable to believe the gall of him telling him what to do. “I…No, I have work to do.”

“Yeah?” the man said, and walked up to him at his desk where Perrion was sitting, and then kept coming, looming over him. He was…big. Very big, and he…smelled. He smelled like a man who hadn’t bothered showering in a few days, he smelled…good. Real good. He raised a hand to his mouth, but not soon enough to stifle the moan that slipped from between his lips. He tried to tear his eyes away from the man’s crotch, which was now a mere foot away, from him, and up to his eyes–he had to try and meet his eyes, he had to–but he couldn’t. “Maybe you do have some work to do in here after all. Can you think of something a loser like you might be good at?”

“Y-Yes sir, I can sir…if you want me to.”

“Let’s see if that worthless mouth of yours can do something better than talk.”

His hands fumbled with the man’s fly, and Perrion tried desperately to stop himself, but that…buzzing was back, and everything felt like it was stuck on rails. The smell only got stronger, and when his cock was finally free, Perrion felt his mouth water, and he was drooling onto his suit like a fucking whore…but he wanted it. He wanted this man’s cock, he needed it. This man…deserved to be treated well, just like all men, wasn’t that right?”

The taste was foul, but Perrion didn’t mind it. If anything, it made him feel…privileged, that he was getting to clean this man’s filthy cock, in addition to giving him pleasure. His blow job was meager–he wasn’t exactly experienced in giving them, and the man had to smack him around a few times whenever he made a mistake, like not using enough slobber, or when he grazed the shaft with his teeth, but it was good enough for the man to reward him with a load of cum shot across his face, which the man rubbed into his cheeks, chin and nose, telling him it looked good on him, and that it was about time they got to work.

Perrion didn’t quite know what the man meant, but another sharp smack sorted him out. This wasn’t just any man, after all, this was his Boss, and they had work to do, together–or rather, Perrion was going to do as much of the work as he could, while Boss “supervised” from the chair at the desk, boots up, just watching Perrion work, and work up a sweat as he painted one of the walls, and replaced a couple of ceiling tiles–the sort of grunt work that a stupid, worthless, meek piece of shit could manage to do. When he finished, they moved onto another empty office and repeated the procedure, and if he did well…then Perrion got a reward. Another load from Boss’s cock, or the pleasure of cleaning his feet and his pits–or even eating out his crusty ass. Perrion hadn’t noticed his suit morphing into a filthy set of coveralls, or the patchy beard filling in across his face, or the fact that his once sizable cock was now just a couple of inches long. He was too focused on Boss, on making sure he was doing his best work, and his best to please his superior.

The day flew by, and soon enough, it was quitting time. Perrion found himself out on the sidewalk with Boss, and suddenly…he didn’t know what he was doing. He’d lost all of his old memories of work in the course of the program–as far as this version of him knew, he’d never not been a worthless maintenance man–but beyond work…who was he? He looked up at Boss, needing guidance, and the burly man just looked down at him, and said…

What sort of after work activity should Perrion get involved in?

Servicing Boss and his friends at the bar.
He has to get home to serve his Master.
He has a second job working at a sex club nearby, as a gimp.

Polls will go live in a few minutes in the usual places.

Acceleration (Part 9)

They were ok. They were really ok! Russell looked down at the watch, only for it to smoke and spark suddenly, and they both rushed to get it off him and toss it away, where it gave a few pops, the screen cracking–but at least it didn’t explode. But a moment later, there was an odd flicker in reality, and it completely disappeared. Whatever it had done, there was no going back, it seemed–not that either of them was interested in that possibility. They were here, together, and that’s what mattered most.

Looking around, it was clear something had changed. The couch they were sitting on was, well, massive–Russell could sit on it well enough, though it was still a bit too large for him, and for Finn, he would have looked like a kid sitting on it. There was, however, a second sofa across from them with proportions more…appropriate to his size. The ceilings were higher by several feet–nearly thirteen or fourteen, most likely–but that was all Russell had a chance to notice before he heard the garage door open, and he realized their fathers were home.

Wait–fathers? From the confusion on Finn’s face, it was clear he was wondering something similar. Finn hauled himself free of Russell’s cock, still nursing his cum stuffed gut, and a couple minutes later, Russell saw a man he…somewhat recognized as his father enter the house–but he was, well, massive. Easily twelve feet tall, and completely naked–not that it much mattered. He had so much hair all over his body that he might as well have been clothed in it. His cock was easily three feet long, with a massive foreskin–and smell! It was like his own musk, but so much more intense. Looking over at Finn beside him, he was drooling and groping himself, before he struggled off the huge couch and waddled over to him, hugging him at the waist, humping at him. “I missed you daddy!” he said, and Russell’s father laughed.

“I missed you too, boy–but it looks like you and your brother found ways to entertain yourselves while we were gone,” he bent over and gave Finn’s belly a pat, throwing Russell a wink. “Looks like someone is finally getting frisky.”

Russell didn’t quite know what he meant, at first, but memories flooded in a moment later–how not even a year ago, he had been a little smaller than Finn, still waiting for puberty to kick in–and had it, in grand measure. In just a year, he’d become the massive man he was now–and his father assured him he had plenty more growing to do–he was already outpacing him, after all.

Behind his father, Russell saw a second, smaller man come through the door–who he recognized not only as his own dad now, in this reality, but as Finn’s old father as well. He was about eight feet tall, hips wide, gut distended, looking like a slightly larger version of Finn now. “Finn, I know you’re horny, but you can’t take advantage of your brother like that.”

“It was him!” Finn said, “He just smells so…good! Like…like daddy…”

“Do you need a ride on daddy’s cock, son? Seems like that’s the only thing that will settle you down,” Russell’s dad said, and looked back at his husband, “Puberty, remember?” He bent over and picked Finn up like he weighed nothing, and threw him over his shoulder before heading upstairs, and Finn’s dad shook his head, and walked over to Russell, only to get a funny look on his face as he did.

“What’s…what’s wrong, dad?” Russell asked.

“Damn–Finn’s right…you are smelling…ripe today.”

“Sorry…I can go shower, I’m just not used to it.”

His dad stopped him, and climbed up on him instead, licking at his pits. “No son–don’t…unless you don’t want to give your dad a good fuck, first?”

“Are…are you sure?” Russell asked, but he knew his dad never joked about this sort of thing.

“Come on–I got a good load from your dad at the store this evening–I’d love to feel the seed of the two men I love most in me together.” He got back down off the couch, and onto his hands and knees, “Now come on son, pump your slutty daddy full your that seed of yours–show me what kind a man you’re gonna be!”

Russell wasn’t going to object to an offer like that. Upstairs, he could hear his brother and other father moaning loudly in the bedroom, the rafters shaking slightly as they fucked–but Russell was enjoying his father’s ass too much to really notice. Fucking his brother was fun…but he just wasn’t very experienced. The things his dad could do with his hole–fuck, Russell might be topping him, but it was his dad calling all of the shots. Three loads later, his dad had had enough and sent Russell upstairs to shower. As he did, he had a difficult time believing–or even remembering–that things had ever been different. As far as he was concerned, everything was exactly how it should be.

Epilogue

The next Monday at school, everything felt like it was mostly back to normal, though some things were harder to adjust to than others. The fact that there were no women, most of all–just two types of men, though the line between them was…blurry. It was hardly uncommon, after all, to see a hulking, fifteen foot tall beast with a fill gut distended by cum. Or a (relatively) short fellow with a five foot cock, long enough to rest of the ground, smelling strong enough to bring even the largest of men to their knees in eager worship. Everything was so new, and everyone so strange, that at last, it was easy for Russell to feel, well, normal.

School, however, was strange. Mandatory showers to start the day, and every few hours, to help keep everyone focused on the tasks at hand. Still, it wasn’t uncommon to see students (and occasionally teachers) rutting in the halls, though it was preferred that such activities be restricted to the designated areas. It wasn’t until the afternoon that Russell saw Jack in the halls, and his jaw nearly dropped. Just under six feet, his hips were wide, his body smooth, and when he saw Russell standing there, the desire in his eyes was impossible to mask.

He waddled over, tugged Russell down by the front of his shirt. “You and me, the bathroom after school. You wanna?”

Russell smirked. Now that was the sort of invitation he could get behind.

Acceleration (Part 8)

“Russell, what…why the fuck do you smell so…fuck…” Finn moaned, and he started grinding against his friend’s massive body, sniffing deeper, licking at his sweat. “Please…we can’t…we can’t do this…”

“No–no, I’m taking orders from you. I don’t take orders from anyone, anymore. You do what I say now, and what I want, is for you to clean out my nasty pits. You want to do that too, don’t you boy?” Russell growled.

Finn tried to resist, but after a moment he gave in and licked faster, enjoying himself more, Russell telling his friend what a good boy he was, obeying his daddy like this. Finn hadn’t really managed to take in much of his friend’s new body, when he’d first entered the house–it had just been such a shock, seeing the nine foot tall brute waiting for him. Now though, he was starting to appreciate it all. How hairy he was, how amazing he smelled…and his cock. Russell wasn’t gay–or at least, he’d had sex with enough girls at school to assume he was straight, but this was something else. He didn’t want Russell because he was a man–or at least, that wasn’t the only reason. No–he wanted him because he was…superior. Better than him in every way. Worthy of his worship. Russell pulled his friend’s face free of his pit, and saw the look of pure contentment on his face. “T-Thank you, sir…” Finn muttered.

“You’re welcome boy–but I don’t think you’re done serving me, do you?”

Finn shook his head.

“Yeah, but you were a bad boy, doing something that I didn’t like. You aren’t going to try that again, are you? Or else I’m going to have to punish you.”

“Sorry sir, I won’t sir.”

“That’s very good to hear,” Russell said. “Now, my parents won’t be home for a while still, so why don’t you tell me everything you know about this watch? I think we’ll probably be able to figure out a solution that will make me happy, don’t you?”

Finn was much more agreeable after that, and so, he told Russell the story of the watch–which wasn’t really a watch at all. No–it was something much, much more powerful than that. It could change the physical characteristics of whoever was wearing it, in whatever way they desired. However, the family had to be careful to make sure people didn’t notice anything to extreme.

“So wait,” Russell asked, “What were you planning to do when you came back?”

“The watch…can warp reality in a limited sense. It can make changes seem normal to people–but we don’t know how it works. I don’t…think it could work for a change like this, its too big.”

“Well, have you ever tried?”

Finn shook his head. “But it’s…intense sir. The one or two times I’ve had to do it–and for small changes–I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“What’s the worst that could happen, really?”

Finn didn’t say anything for a moment, “I…I honestly don’t know what it would do to you, if it didn’t work. It could kill you. It could probably do something worse than that, too.”

Russell looked down at himself, at his massive frame, his thick cock which Finn was hugging with his arms, nursing the head and drinking his precum as he spoke. What could be worse than dying, really? As far as he was concerned, having to go back to who he’d been, the runt–that was the worst possibility of all. He’d do anything to avoid that. Could he…live with being smaller? No–no, this was all or nothing, but before anything happened, he…needed to know what it felt like, being inside someone. He stroked Finn’s head, “Do you want me to fuck you, boy?”

Finn nodded, but looked at the mostrous tool, “It’s…it’s so big, though.”

“I bet that watch of yours could help, don’t you?”

Finn’s eyes lit up, and Russell allowed him to put it on, fiddling with the settings, and he pushed the button in. Finn didn’t get larger, exactly, but his hips widened, his ass filling out with a thick layer of fat–and he assured Russell would have no problem getting inside him now, because Finn could take anything. Sure enough, ten minutes later, Russell was on the couch, Finn in his lap, moaning and grunting, the massive cock slammed deep in his guts. “Oh…Oh fuck it feels so good sir, fuck!” he said, grinding down further, his own cock leaking like a faucet.

“Of course it does boy–that’s where it belongs, right?”

Finn nodded, delirious, and Russell grabbed him under his arms and started lifting him up and down like it was no challenge at all. Finn just went limp with pleasure, eventually spurting a massive load of cum all over Russell’s chest, gut, and face. Russell picked up the pace, feeling himself getting closer until he dropped Finn all the way down to the root and shot, watching his gut actually expand slightly from the size of the load. Finn rubbed it, feeling his friend’s seed deep inside him, and then bent forward and licked up his own cum as well, enjoying the taste of it mixed with his master’s musk and sweat. Still–it was time.

Finn opened the admin privileges, and Russell put the watch back on his wrist. Finn calibrated it, and then started pulling himself fress of his master’s cock–but Russell pushed him back down onto it.

“But sir, if we’re still touching…I don’t know what the watch might do.”

“If this is the end, the last thing I want to feel is my huge cock in your guts boy–you feel the same, don’t you?”

Finn nodded, reluctantly, and soon enough, the watch was ready. It took…quite a while for it to calibrate, and Russell kept checking the clock, nervous about his parents imminent arrival. Finally, the button popped out, and after a final kiss, Russell pushed down the button, and everything around them came apart at the seams. It lasted a moment, according to the clock, but for the two of them, it was an eternity together, Russell’s massive cock buried deep inside him, and while they couldn’t remember much about it, it didn’t hurt, and when they came to, back on the couch, both of them erupted all over again, simultaneously, Finn’s already taut gut bloating out even further.

Acceleration (Part 7)

The house was silent for a moment, as he considered what to do next. Maybe…they would just go away. Did he want them to go away though? What if it was the same person who left the watch? They might know how to fix this! Did…did he want them to fix this?

No–he didn’t want that, he supposed. But if he knew more about it, maybe…maybe there was something else he could do about it, maybe a way to hide it, for the moment, until he can figure out what to do on a more…permanent basis.

The doorbell rang again. Whoever it was, wasn’t going away, apparently. He could at least go and see who it was, if nothing else. He went to the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible, but it was nearly impossible to keep his feet from thudding on the wood floor, the boards creaking under his substantial weight. He got to the door and crouched down, pressing his eye to the peephole, and was surprised to find Finn standing on the stoop outside the door, looking around nervously.

That wasn’t who he was expecting, by any means–why was he here? Did he want to try and apologize? Now was definitely not the time for that…even if Russell did want to show him what he looked like now. He could just see Finn’s mouth dropping open at the sight of him, he could…smell him, how turned on he’d get, and when he dragged him inside, shoved his face into one of his stinking pits–well, Finn would be more than happy to ride his cock before too long…

Russell recoiled from the door, unable to believe he was thinking this about his friend. No–he couldn’t risk it. Finn rang the doorbell again, impatiently–he obviously wasn’t going away, but he’d give up soon enough, right. Finn shook his head, pulled out his phone, dialed a number and Russell heard his phone start ringing upstairs–and Finn looked up. He could hear the phone through Russell’s open bedroom window.

“Fuck!” Russell growled, and Finn banged on door.

“Russell–did you get the gift I left you?” Finn said through the door, and Russell’s eyes went wide. Finn…left him the watch? He thought back again to that summer, and how Finn had come back looking like a whole new person. Had he used the watch too? “Let me in–we’ll get it sorted out, alright? You don’t have to be afraid, but I…I know you didn’t want to see me, so I left it for you here. I know…it’s not enough, and I shouldn’t have even taken it from my dad, but I wanted to help.”

It was Finn? He’s the one who’d left him the watch?

Russell found all of the pieces fitting together, how Finn had disappeared for that summer, and come back looking…well, looking like Russell had after just that first time using the watch. He must have used it too–that’s how he had changed. Finn would know how to fix this, he’d be able to get him back to normal! Well, or at least, more normal. One thing was for sure, thought–Russell was never going back to being runt, ever again. He unlocked the door, pulled it open, and was careful to hide behind it (as best he could) until Finn stepped inside, and then shut it. Finn turned, saw him, and his jaw dropped. “Oh…oh fuck, what the fuck did you do, Russell?”

“What the fuck do you mean? I used the watch!” Russell said. His voice was so…loud, he saw Finn flinch slightly. “Sorry…I…I might have gotten a little…carried away?”

“Carried away how?” Russell said, “I programmed it specifically to only run one program!”

“It just kept…working though.”

Finn stared at him. “Oh shit–it kept recalibrating, didn’t it? How many times did you use it?”

Russell just looked a bit sheepish, “I…uh, three?”

“God fucking dammit,” Finn said, and headed into the house, “Where is it? We have to change you back.”

“Hey now, hold on man–it’s not that bad!” Russell said. “I mean, I’m good! I just…I don’t know how to explain it to my parents, is all.”

“No, I can’t explain this to my dad, is the problem,” Finn said, “Let’s…look, we’ll change you back, and figure it out from there, ok? This was such a stupid idea, I knew this was so fucking stupid…”

Russell froze. There was no way he was going to go back to being that…that fucking runt! The watch was still in the kitchen–he chased after Finn, catching up to him in just a couple of strides…but what could he do? Well…there was one thing that had occurred to him, but…no–no, that wasn’t right. Still, what other choice did he have? He grabbed Finn by the back of his shirt and pulled him back, wrapping him in a bear hug, tight. “Fuck man, let me go!” Finn shouted, struggling–but Russell held him easily. He was so…weak compared to him, and that too, was getting him a bit horny.

“I’m not going back, Finn. You can’t make me.”

“Russell, I’m not kidding around!”

He spun Finn around, lifted an arm, and with the other, palmed the back of Finn’s head and pushed it into his pit. He struggled more, trying to get away, but Russell could…tell it was having an effect on him. “Just relax man, relax…”

Winter Vacation (Part 6)

Brett and Nate left the kitchen, and while Brett peeled off and headed upstairs, Nate continued on the ground floor, which seemed…odd to him. Usually bedrooms were upstairs, right? But something was telling him that his room–the right room–was down on the ground floor. He found a small mudroom with two doors. One had a small window that led out into the backyard, and Nate took the other one, which entered the garage.

For a cabin in the mountains, it sure was a spacious garage. It had three doors, and much to Nate’s surprise, there were already vehicles parked inside–an old pickup, and then four motorcycles in the other two spaces. But why four? There was only him, his little bro, and their daddy in the house, so didn’t they only need three? He spent a moment trying to sort out who, exactly, would need the fourth bike, but the dull buzzing in the air made it hard to keep the thoughts and numbers straight in his head. Instead, he saw another door on the other end of the garage–and that, he somehow knew, was his room.

He weaved through the motorcycles, all of them sizable Harleys, and went into the room–into his room, his head corrected him. It was completely disconnected from the house–the only way to get there was through the garage. That was…strange, right? But then again, it seemed…logical. Didn’t…he spent most of his time in the garage anyway? He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, exactly, but it didn’t seem right to question it either. The room itself was small, with a double bed in a corner with flannel sheets, a closet and a dresser, a stereo and a TV set. The one nice luxury was an attached bathroom–but it didn’t have a shower, just a toilet and a sink. The air smelled like grease, and it was cold–he should put some clothes on, shouldn’t he? His clothes were back by the front door of the house, though…it would be better to just see what was in the closet.

He went to the closet, unsure of what to expect, exactly, but when he opened the doors, he was mostly surprised by how…little there was inside. A pair of jeans, some flannel shirts, some pairs of boots, grubby pairs of overalls and coveralls–and leather. Lots of leather gear he might imagine a biker wearing, and all of it was well worn, and…smelled. The same odd smell of the room, but he grabbed a pair of stained briefs, an undershirt, and one of the pairs of overalls, and started to get dressed. They seemed…massive, and yet fit him snugly. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was because he hadn’t quite yet gotten used to how fat he had become, or if it was because the clothes had seemed to…shrink to fit. In any case, the clothes seemed as greasy as the air around him, rubbing off on his skin somehow. It wasn’t…unpleasant, and yet it didn’t feel quite right either. He settled on the pair of cowboy boots, pulling them on with some thick woolen socks, and when he stood up and saw himself in the mirror in the bathroom, he was a bit taken aback.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he should be wearing. He shouldn’t be this fat, or this dirty, or feel this gross. He was about to take the things off, when he felt something hard in the back pocket of the overalls, reached back, and pulled out a small tin of chewing tobacco. The sight of it gave him a great sense of relief–he’d feel much better with a proper lipper. He packed the chaw into his mouth, feeling the slight tingle as it went to work, and his eyes glazed over slightly. This was right. He just…needed some time to adjust. Maybe he should give the hogs a little tune up? The family wasn’t exactly riding much in the summer, and Nate always wanted to keep everything in the garage in peak working condition. He turned on the stereo, let it blast country music out into the garage, and got to work, humming along easily with the songs he didn’t quite recognize, and soon enough he was singing along, his voice slowly picking up the same drawl as the singers–and then becoming even more extreme.

As he worked, his body was changing too, slightly. He kept drooling spit down onto his chin without meaning to, and where ever the black tar went, hair grew in, leaving him with a thick mustache and a goatee after an hour. The grease and funk of the clothes was wearing off onto him as well–along with something else. Colors were beginning to appear on his skin–patchy at first, but then coalescing into patterns and images–tattoos all over his arms and chest. The hat on his head was doing wonders for his hair, as well. When he took it off to wipe his brow, a thick mullet had appeared running down the back of his head, and as he spit out some tar, he didn’t even notice a couple of teeth come loose and end up on the floor of the garage with the rest of the grease stains.

In his mind, he found that knowledge about engine repair was pushing out everything else. It was…easy to think about mechanical parts, and fixing things, but everything else just seemed so…difficult to him. He knew he wasn’t the smartest fella, but he could fix just about anything you handed him, and he was pretty handy around the house too, if something was broken. Pleased with his work, he took a break to lounge about in his bedroom, packed himself another lip of tobacco, and jacked off to some porn on his little TV, thinking about daddy and his little brother, what those two might be getting up to at the moment.

No poll today! Tomorrow we’ll catch up with Brett, and see what his slobby room had in store for him.

Winter Vacation (Part 5)

Maury looked at himself in the mirror, and realized he was a complete mess. The last few days had been spent in a food focused haze, and he’d smeared himself with more food than he could even remember eating, encouraging his two boys to eat it off their daddy’s flabby body. He…loved how their tongues felt, worshiping and digging into his fatty rolls. They might have to skip the table for breakfast, and just use their daddy instead. Still, it would be good to get a bit cleaned up, because…well, just because! It was the right thing to do, something was telling him, and so he turned on the shower in the tub and let the water heat up, watching the water swirl away down the drain for a moment, until it was at a comfortable temperature.

It took a bit of effort to get into the tub, with his size, but it was at least spacious enough to be comfortable. It was only after getting himself good and wet that he realized he’d forgotten his toiletries in his bag–but thankfully, there was a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap already in the shower, which must have been left there by Rich’s uncle. It was funny, Maury realized, in all the years he’d known Rich, never once had he even mentioned having an uncle, until the topic of this cabin came up. Still, that wasn’t really something he needed to worry about, was it?

He grabbed the bottle of shampoo and squeezed it out into his hand–it came out in a thick glob, and as he lathered it into his short hair, it began to foam and lather–so much so that it was running down the rest of his body, until he was coated head to toe in white foam. It smelled nice though, and did have a soothing feel to it. He massaged it into his scalp, not really noticing that, as he did, the hair on his head was beginning to grow. He began working the shampoo in elsewhere–focusing particularly on his face, where his stubble began to grow as well, filling out into a full beard, as he moved down lower, working the shampoo into his armpits, down his flabby chest and huge gut, and then used a brush hanging in the shower to scrub it into his back, the crack of his ass, and all the way down his legs to his feet.

He…didn’t really know why he was being so vigorous with the shampoo, but as he rinsed off, it began to make a bit more sense. He was…an extremely hirsute fellow, after all. His hair had grown out into a shaggy mane hanging down past his shoulders, and his beard was now long and wild, extending down to his chest. All over the rest of his body, Maury’s relatively hairless frame was now packed with fur–especially all over his chest and back, curls erupting from between the cheeks of his ass, and tufts on the tops of his feet. Without giving it much more thought, he grabbed the bar of soap and started working a lather out of it, but the smell of the bar was much, much more pungent.

It reminded him of the locker room after practice, at first. He…thought about gagging, but the more he smelled it, the less he minded it. And as he rubbed it into his pits, into the fold of his sagging apron of fat, deep into his crotch and between his things, around to his ass, and again, all over his feet. He went from being put-off, to indifferent, to actually enjoying it, to…finding it arousing. It took some work, but while he let the soap work on his skin, he reached under his gut to jack off, shooting a sizable load of cum which ran down the drain, along with the rest of the runoff soap as he rinsed off. Finished, and feeling refreshed, he stepped out and toweled himself down.

He…stank, he realized. In fact, he smelled worse now that he was out of the shower, than he had before…but it was a good stink. It was his stink. He took a long whiff of his pits, feeling his cock shudder in his fat, but saved it. His boys would enjoy it too, after all. He gave his hair and beard a shake, and then stepped back out, and headed for the kitchen, where his boys were just finishing up the meal. The sight, and smell, of their daddy alarmed them at first, but once he had each of them tucked under an armpit for a moment, they were happy to sniff and lick at them while he ate–Brett ending up under the table to clean off daddy’s nasty feet, while Nate cleaned out his stinking fat rolls, Maury feeding them more as they pleased him.

Meanwhile, the drain fed the shower’s grey water down into the basement, where the filter was chugging away, and Rich, still encased in rubber, found himself gulping down…something new. For the longest time, it had just been this…foul liquid flooding into his mouth, a taste he had learned to enjoy, at this point, but this was different. It was…less concentrated, but there was more off it, tasting like wet dog and dirty jockstraps, and as he drank it, he felt his own body…begin to sweat, and shift around uncomfortably in the rubber body suit. It was good though–this was right. He felt like his mind had slowed down, his thoughts caught in a rubber prison, his mind mostly empty, unless he was consuming the liquid pouring into him. He wasn’t finished yet, though–he could tell. Soon, hopefully, but he didn’t know for certain.

Upstairs, the three men lounged about, bellies full, the boys reveling in their daddy’s powerful musk, and enjoying his furry body. They…knew something had changed, but couldn’t quite figure out what, exactly. “Alright boys, daddy is going to watch some TV for a bit. Why don’t the two of you go play in your rooms until dinner?” They nod, not quite sure where they’re going, but they know they’ll figure it out as they leave the kitchen. Alone again, Maury heaves himself up from the chair and goes back into the TV room, where it sits back down on the couch, turns on the TV, and before long is staring at the static, eyes glazed over, drool running down his chins, and learning so…so much he never knew about being a proper daddy.

This poll will be a bit different! The top two answers on this poll will be used for inspiration in the next two chapters, one posted on Saturday and the next (ideally) on Sunday, but early next week in any case. So, each boy has a room with a special theme–what should the themes be?

A room that looks suspiciously like a nursery.
A room adjacent to the garage, full of biker and redneck gear.
A room full of dirty laundry and porn that reeks of cum.
A shack outside, that smells of odd musk and smoke.

The public twitter poll is here!

The patron only Patreon poll is here!

You have until Friday afternoon to get your vote in!

Stinker’s Drive (Sketch)

It had been a gag, one day–a prank by one of the guys on the football team, and no one had ever fessed up to it, not that Jeff would really give a fuck who it was. He’d gone out one afternoon, after practice, to find that someone had slipped his keys from his locker, gone out, and hung his dirty jock from the rearview mirror, like an air freshener. It had been a gentle ribbing, aimed at Jeff’s hygiene, because he almost never washed his jocks and other gym clothes, so the rest of the team could smell him coming around the corner, but rather than humiliate him, he just considered it to be a source of pride–and so, rather than take it down, he decided to just leave it there for the rest of the semester.

It wasn’t like his decoration went unnoticed around town, either, since it was a small college town in a rural part of the state. He didn’t really mind the reputation though–he didn’t give to fucks what anyone thought of him, because when it came right down to it…he liked the way he smelled, and he wasn’t going to change for anyone, just to make them more comfortable. So it was, one afternoon, that Jeff climbed into his car, at the end of the day, and when he did…he noticed that something stank a bit more than usual.

He looked around at his car, which was a bit of a mess, but there wasn’t any food or anything in the back. Besides, it didn’t smell like rot–it smelled like…sweat, and piss, more than anything else. Still, he couldn’t find the source, and figured it wasn’t a big deal–he buckled up and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the house he was renting with some friends a few miles away from campus.

Still, the smell lingered, and while it didn’t bother him, he was…surprised to find that it was making him a bit horny. He hadn’t gotten laid lately–most of the girls on campus avoided him because of his musk, but it didn’t bother him all that much. He liked his hand more, in some ways, because a pussy always seemed to be attached to something complaining. But he did want to know what in the hell the smell was, and so, stopped at a red light, he looked around again–and noticed his jock, hanging from the rearview mirror–or at least, what should have been his jock, but it wasn’t.

This thing–it was almost grey brown in color, and looked like it hadn’t been washed in years. How in the hell had he not noticed that? Was this another prank by one of the guys on the team, pushing him a bit further, since the first prank hadn’t worked? But…maybe it was his jock. It looked right, to him, and part of him was telling him that it…smelled right too, somehow, but he couldn’t quite be sure. Against his better judgement, he leaned in, took a whiff, and as pungent as it was…it did smell amazing.

He shuddered in his seat, groping himself waiting for the light. It seemed…hotter in the car, than it usually did, somehow. Sure, the sun was out, beating down on the chassis, but this…it was an internal heat too. Something inside him, making him sweat–and by the time the light turned green, it was pouring off him, soaking his hair down, and soaking into his clothes too. It didn’t feel right–in fact, he was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. He…he needed to smell that jock again. Yeah, that would make him feel better for sure.

He took another whiff, shivers crawling up and down his spine. He kept driving, but his mind was focused elsewhere–he didn’t notice his college t-shirt soaking through with sweat under his hoodie begin to dissolve away, the same with his jeans–the denim around his ass succumbing first, and then the rest down his legs, to his feet, which were similarly melting his socks and shoes. He started groping his cock openly now, looking around at the drivers in the other cars, wondering if they could see him. It felt…good to be driving naked, actually. Risky. He liked risks, and he liked showing off too. He unhooked the jock from the mirror and looped it over his neck–better to smell it, and better to let other people see what a fucking pig he was too.

The air was heating up inside the car, the seats blistering and popping, the metal warping and reforming around him as he drove. Over the course of the next two streets, Jeff’s little sedan swelled and grew into an old grey pickup, paint peeling and rusted, but man, did the cab smell good. It smelled like the jock–it smelled like him. He was breathing deep, sucking in as much of the filth off his jock as he could, hair growing in all over his chest, shoulders and back, and something else was happening to his body too–color swirling to life all over his chest and belly, down onto his legs. Thankfully, he had a ways to go before he would be home–give him plenty of time to sniff and edge himself while he drove, passing the little house where college students usually lived, and got on the highway out of town. He enjoyed the ride, sniffing his ripe pits, stroking his long, sweaty cock, hotboxing in his own heat and sweat. He got to the house after about half an hour, pulled into the garage and finally opened the door of the truck–and the scent of the place–oil, dirt, smoke and beer. He started stroking faster, jock out in front of his cock, and he shot a massive load into the pouch, feeling a pair of leather biker boots form around his feet, along with a leather bracelet and cock ring–his usual driving gear.

As he recovered from his orgasm, Jeff realized that he had no clue where he was, or how he’d even known to come here. Still, just like the jock, he could tell, from the smell of the place, that he was home. He was home, and he was finally the man he’d been meant to be, all this time.

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 9)

Apologies for the sudden ending on this one. It was either cut it off here, or continue the thing for an entire month. Hopefully I’ll expand it into a proper something at some point!

I didn’t expect him to get up for a couple of days, mind you. Bruce had been through something rather extreme, and I was rather forgiving, so long as I had easy access to his holes to pleasure himself. I woke up that afternoon raring with energy, and I headed right for the gym…where I found a rather sordid affair had developed around the bench where I’d had my way with Bruce the night before. The manager had cleaned up the cum well enough, but the scent had lingered, and any man who wandered too close had been caught in the scent. There were five or six of them clustered around there, jacking off, sucking off, fucking…and as soon as I stepped inside, their heads swiveled toward me, and I joined them for a few minutes, before getting started on my own workout.

Like I said, I had never worked out in my life before this–I’d been a bit tubby, in fact–but this new body of mine, it seemed to have absorbed more than just Bruce’s energy, but quite a bit of his body’s experience as well. Lifting…fuck, feeling this muscular frame lift and move and force and sweat–it got me so horny that I’d have to pull the nearest man over and fuck them every few minutes, the all of them swimming in my scent, enamored with me, hungry for me and only me. I…I spent most of the weekend there. It was such a rush! The men all serving me, eagerly, and when I returned to the office the next week, I called a meeting for all of them men in the office, and within minutes, I had convinced them all how necessary it was to serve me as well.

Home, gym, work–those were the places I existed. Warping men, intensifying my stink, growing my harems. It really was a shame about Bruce–he never could manage to get out of bed, after everything I’d taken from him. I’d been rather hopeful that he could be my muscular brute fucktoy–but instead, he became another pig for Jack to care for and fuck while I was away. Adam was developing nicely, and within a few weeks he’d managed to pack on half the weight he needed to service me again. He was…so close to his goal, when he caught up to me. Now…well, now all of that was gone.

It was my boxers, which had been my mistake. I’d left them stashed in the alley, and when he’d come back for his underwear, he’d found them, and tracked me down. It had been difficult, since I’d covered myself up in so much else, but for a proper stinker, no scent is too faint to track. I’d come home from work and found him waiting for me, and as soon as I caught a whiff of him…fuck. The real fucking thing. I’d just been toying around at the edges, I wasn’t a real stinker. He had me naked in less than a minute, pulled on his underwear–the underwear I’d tried to claim as my own, and forced me to suck out all of the mess I’d made in it over the last few weeks. I…I don’t know how I did it, but I did. When I’d finished, and scent of myself was gone from them–they were his again.

I’d hoped he’d just leave me, but he had something else in store, I discovered. He dragged me out of my apartment, and told me to say goodbye to my men–I wouldn’t be seeing them again. He hauled me down into the basement and shoved me into the trunk of a car and drove off. We made one stop, somewhere, a few minutes, and then we kept going until we pulled in somewhere else, and he hauled me out of the trunk, and into a tiny little studio apartment…and he got me dressed.

A dark brown jockstrap. Camo pants. Grungy wifebeater, a filthy, holey t-shirt three or four sizes too large, a flannel, and a coat over that. Work gloves on my hands. Socks and boots on my feet–big enough to fit my larger size, surprisingly. Lastly, a hard hat…and then…and then he started to jack off. I’d never seen a man pump out as much cum as he did, but he came, and he coated me in his cum–and I mean he coated me in it. It dried quickly, soaking into the clothes he’d forced onto me, and then…and then he’d just left, and now…now nothing will come off.

Something about his cum, it’s stuck every zipper, it’s adhered the cloth to my skin. I can’t even haul off the gloves, forcing me to grope the front of my new pants until I cum in the front of them. Now, though, there’s the voices. I can…I can hear the men in the clothes, their lives, their minds, their desires, warped and twisted by the stinker. They’re getting so loud now, I can barely hear myself…and I think that’s the point.

He told me that for him, the clothes can make the man, and he’s remaking me. He padlocked the door shut, and told me he’d be back when I was finished. I…I don’t remember my own name now. I could a few hours ago, I’d almost forgotten it and had been reminding myself, but it had slipped. It had slipped, and the rest of me is slipping away too. I’m…I’m telling myself the story. I’m telling myself what I did, to try and remind me, but I…I don’t know if I can again. Instead, I smell construction sites, and grungy bathroom gloryholes, and piss and cum on my stubbly lips. I’ve grown a gut, and I think…I think I’m shorter too. Not too much longer, and I’ll be gone.

The one thing of mine that I can still hear clearly, though was this, the last thing he told me: “Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 8)

The gym closed at ten, but a little chat with the manager, and he agreed that Bruce needed to continue his workout, so he left the key with me, and I promised to return it to him in the morning. Bruce, on the other hand, was inconsolable. When he realized he was going to have to keep working out all night long, until I was satisfied with the state of his shirt, he pleaded and begged me to let him go, to let him rest, to let him stop for a moment. He was having a hard time walking, his legs were shaking so badly, and I realized that I had worked him nearly to the point of exhaustion. Still, the shirt…it was close. It wa stronger than it had been when I’d first smelled him, in fact, but at this point my greed was getting the better of me. In the end, I told him he could have an hour nap in the sauna, sweating out some of his misery, and then it was back on the floor to keep at it.

He could barely lift anything, at this point, and so I put him on an exercise bike for a couple of hours, sweating him out a bit further, keeping him plenty hydrated, and when he tried one too many times to get a break by telling me he had to piss, I started just making him piss his shorts on the bike–and let me tell you, when I caught a whiff of that, mixing with his sweat? I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out for much longer. It was three in the morning when I decided he could finally stop, and that I was satisfied. He tore that tanktop off and handed it to me with a sob of relief that he could finally stop, and I pressed it to my nose, inhaling his stench, ripped off my own shirt and pulled his on, feeling his damp sweat against my skin, and it was like all of the energy he’d put into it began to flood into my body. I was tired too, at this point, but like a strong cup of coffee, suddenly I was awake. I was more than awake, I was eager. He could barely move, but I didn’t need him to move–I just needed to bend him over the bench, tear down his piss sodden shorts, and slide my cock into his tight, virgin hole.

He couldn’t even flinch from the pain–if anything, the cramps in his legs were probably more painful than my fuck was. He’d wanted me to fuck him, after all. He’d been begging me for it for hours–because he knew that when I fucked him, it would be over. He wouldn’t have to workout anymore. However, I was far from done–the longer I wore that tank, the hornier I got, and the stronger I got, and the longer I could go. I remember glancing over at the mirror, and I could see my body swelling with muscle right in front of my eyes–I took a quick break from my fuck to haul off Bruce’s shorts too, and pull them on, shuddering at the piss wet mesh, but I could feel my ass begin to tone up, my thighs and calves too.

When the manager knocked on the door the next morning, wanting to be let in, I was still fucking. Bruce had gone slack hours before, his cock shooting the occasional load–dry by now–just from the friction of rubbing against the leather bench. I had packed on close to forty pounds of muscle–I was even larger than Bruce had been when I’d put on the tank. I made the manager wait a few minutes until I’d shot another load–I’d long since lost count–and when I pulled out, the…sheer volume of cum which flowed back out of his ass, pooling on the floor under the bench…fuck, I realized just how much control I’d lost. I went to the door, opened it…and as soon as the manager smelled the stale air of the gym, his eyes glazed over, he gave a snort, and he started groping the front of his shorts, horny beyond belief, his rational mind slowly shutting down.

I dragged him over to the bench, where he was more than happy to start licking up the puddle of cum from the floor, and I hauled Bruce upright on shaking legs, but he could barely stand. He just wanted to go home, but I still wanted to fuck–still, I couldn’t very well keep fucking him here, right? Even with my musk, I was sure that would get a call from the police at the very least, and I had no real interest in dealing with that. I…I was afraid that if I dealt with that how I knew I could deal with it…then this power really would go to my head. Instead, I got Bruce dressed in some spare clothes the manager had lying around, and then helped him home. Home to my apartment, of course. I knew, from Jack, that he’d just track me down if I left him. He needed me now, and I sure as hell wanted him. Best to just…simplify things. My home would be his home from now on.

It was hard going, down the dawn lit sidewalks. Not to conspicuous, I think–most people probably thought I was just helping my drunk friend home, though why we were dressed in gym gear, especially in weather this cold, was probably a bit of a mystery. The excitement and rush of the clothes was beginning to wear off, and I was starting to realize just how exhausted I was myself. Upstairs in my apartment, I heaved Bruce onto the bed, gave him one last fuck, and then dragged him under my smelly covers and climbed in with him–him naked, me fully clothed in all of my gear, boots and all, hugging him tight,m whispering sweet nothing into his ear while he groaned, telling him how happy he was going to be here, telling him what a privilege it would be for him to serve me and thanking him, of course, for my new gear.

Stinkers: Finders Keepers (Part 7)

It was a few days later that I caught a whiff, again, of the man from the gym.

Just a whiff as I was heading into my building that afternoon, but it was gone before I could trace it and run him down–still, I recalled how he had captured my interest, much the same way Jack’s feet had before…and I told Adam I would be taking the rest of the week off from work. He didn’t object–he just kept eating, not that Jack was going to give him much of a break. I’d told Adam that when he’d gained fifty pounds, he’d have the privilege of cleaning one of my feet again, and that was more than enough to inspire him to greatness–that, and Jack was proving to be quite an excellent taskmaster.

Thankfully I remembered the name of the gym from when I’d stalked him before–Planet Workout. I had no way of knowing if that was the gym where he actually attended, or if he just had one of their old gymbags, but it was the only lead I had, apart from scouring the city for him up and down. So that day, I walked over to the gym, housed in a rather rundown looking warehouse, and stepped inside…and holy fuck, the smell of the place.

The city smells. As my nose had become more sensitive, I had found that I everything had become more intense–especially the smell of men–but there was so much out on the streets I just…tuned it all out, because it was simply too much to process. But stepping into that gym…it was the first place I’d entered where the scent of man was just…so concentrated. It was everywhere, and it hit me like a brick, my cock spewing a load right there in the entryway–it was all I could do to keep myself contained and not start jacking off right then and there. Even better, I could smell him on the air–not strong enough to tell me he was there right now, but plenty to confirm for me that this was most certainly where he got his workouts.

The woman at the desk looked like her stomach was going to turn as I approached, and she left before I could ask about membership. I had to hunt down a guy on the floor, and he was more than happy to sign me up for the gym, even if it meant cutting the session short with the member he was working with. With my membership card in hand, I went back to my apartment, threw on some reasonably appropriate clothes to work out in, and went back to the gym. I had never worked out in my life, but I haunted that gym for hours, filling the place with my musk as I sweated and stank all over the place, and by that evening, all of the women had left, leaving a smaller collection of men wondering why there were all so horny all of a sudden. As tempting as some of them were, I was waiting for him, my muscle man. The rest…I’d sample them later.

I arrived early the next morning as well, determined to wait. From the smell of him he was here often–there were only a few smells of men there more prevalent than his, and sure enough, around two in the afternoon, he walked through the door, and I whirled toward him…and scowled. He wasn’t wearing it. He wasn’t fucking wearing it! He was there, his smell was there, but the beautiful musk of that fucking tanktop he’d been wearing was nowhere to be found. I went over to see what he had on instead, and my heart dropped–in fact…he was wearing it. I realized then, that since I’d seen him, he must have fucking washed it.

I can’t tell you how fucking angry I was, when I realized that. I had already taken ownership of that shirt in my mind, it had been mine ever since I’d first caught wind of it. The idea that he’d taken that perfect musk and washed it out…it was the closest I’d ever felt to true grief. I could barely function–I just sat around the gym, staring at him, wondering what I could do to him, but nothing seemed to match the travesty he’d committed, no punishment would suffice. Still, as he worked out, as he sweated into the shirt, I…I could smell it a bit better. Faint, but it was there all the same. Different too…but given enough time, and the right sort of encouragement, I had no doubt that he’d be able to produce something equally pleasing, even if it wasn’t quite the same. In fact, I bet that I could make something even better.

He finished up his workout, or at least he thought he did. He was heading for the door, when I intercepted him, struck up a bit of a conversation with him, and directed him into the locker room instead, and directly into the sauna with me. Let me tell you–I stink, but put me in a hundred degree room with a ton of humidity, and there’s nothing fucking like it. I did bother to learn his name, finally–Bruce–and after an hour of him worshiping my body, of keeping his rock hard cock right at the edge of orgasm, he was willing to do just about anything to get a taste of my grungy crotch, but I kept him back. When I was certain he was well in control, we went back out onto the floor of the gym, and he went back to working out–and he didn’t stop. I was nice enough to run out and get him some dinner, which he devoured, arms shaking, barely able to lift anything–so I had to feed him the entire pizza I’d bought–but then I ordered him back onto the machines. All the while, I could smell him, the shirt, intensifying–soon, it would be ready. Soon, it would be mine.