The Doppelganger Conspiracy

This is my contribution to the Secret Santa Story Exchange over on Gay Spiral Stories this month! The two tags I received were…not my usual sort of thing, “teachers” and “robots”, but I’m honestly pretty pleased with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy it!


“Coach, can I…talk to you about something?” Evan said as he stepped into Coach Harrison’s office. Football practice had ended half an hour ago, and Evan had dragged his feet getting undressed and showering while the rest of the team had left already, leaving him and the coach alone for the moment. 

“Sure Evan, what’s up?” Harrison said, looking up from his computer. The coach was in his mid forties, and kept himself in good athletic shape. He was well liked by the whole team, and in Evan’s opinion, was a good listener. Now, Evan just had to hope that the coach wouldn’t think he’s crazy.

Evan hesitated a moment, looking down at his sneakers, then up again. “Have you noticed something…off, about Rick and Phillip? Joshua too?”

Harrison cocked an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, you’re all playing great out on the field,” Harrison said, “I think we have a real shot at going to state this year, honestly.”

It was true. When the team had started practicing in late summer, they’d been good. Good, not great. But after about a month, some of the players had improved remarkably–specifically Rick, Phillip and Joshua, who were all seniors like Evan. They were almost too good to be high school players, but none of them would admit something had changed. “I just, something’s off about…how good they’ve gotten.”

Harrison sighed, “Look, Evan, if you’re worried that they’re upstaging you, don’t stress about it! You’re just as crucial to this team’s success as they are.”

“It’s not–I’m not jealous! It’s more than just…how good they got all of a sudden. Have…you met the new computer science teacher? Mr. Klein?” 

“Sure, what about him?”

“Does he seem normal to you?”

“Evan, what is this about exactly?”

This was the moment. How could Evan put to words the unease that had been building up in his gut over the last few months about his three friends? All of them all enrolled in Mr. Klein’s intro course to get an easy good grade in their senior year and immediately complained about how creepy the fellow was. How he was always sneaking looks at them, ogling them in class, making these lewd comments. Then, one by one, they’d gotten sick, were gone from school for three or four days, and when they came back, they were fine. Except none of them could recall complaining about Mr. Klein before. All of them were remarkably better at football, enough that their midtier school was expected to dominate the state championship. Little things, their eyes, their smell, their mannerisms, the way they only hung out with each other now, and no one else. It wasn’t right, something must have happened to them, but what? “I just, I think they’re…different, all of a sudden. I don’t know how I know, just…and I think Mr. Klein has something to do with it. Have any of them talked to you about anything? They don’t…talk to me really at all anymore, and they won’t even say why.”

Harrison leaned back in his chair, wearing the scowl he always had on when he was thinking deep about something. “Have…you told anyone else about this?”

A bit of hope flared in Evan’s chest. He believed him! “No, I haven’t, I…didn’t know who I could trust, and you know them, so I thought if anyone would have noticed something like me, it would be you. There is something off, isn’t there? What’s going on? It’s like they’ve all been replaced by clones, or robots!”

“I…have some suspicions. I’ve been taking some notes. Tell me what you think of these?” the coach said, and opened up a word document on the screen. Evan went over to look, only to find himself looking at a blank page. Before he could ask his coach what he meant, the older man leapt up from this chair, wrapped an arm around Evan’s neck, and had him in a choke hold from behind. Evan tried to fight him off, but all he succeeded in doing was kicking over the coach’s chair, his vision tunnelling and going black. He came to after a few moments, lying on the floor, and saw coach Harrison looming over him, drawing something from a vial into a syringe. Evan struggled weakly, but the coach plunged the needle into his neck, and after a few moments, darkness overwhelmed Evan again–a deep well of darkness, complete and total.


SYSTEMS CHECK…….PROCESSING PERSONA……….VERIFICATION…..

BOOT SUCCESSFUL

Evan woke up. It wasn’t quite like waking up, but that was what his head told him it was, and he had no way to contest it, so that’s what he called it. Waking up. But it wasn’t the gradual move from unconsciousness to awareness, it was like a switch. Everything wasn’t, then everything just was. He was awake, lying on a mattress naked, and there was Coach Harrison at the foot of the bed, staring at him, completely naked. “C-Coach? What’s going on? Where am I?” Evan said, trying to remember what had happened, but he couldn’t seem to recall anything from beyond the end of practice. He’d talked to him about something, hadn’t he? But what?

“Fuck, he said you’d smell better than the other models, let’s see, eh?” Harrison said, and the burly, hairy man climbed onto the bed with Evan. He tried to move, tried to do anything, but his limbs refused to respond. They felt heavy, like bricks attached to him, not like flesh. In fact, his whole body felt off, cold and hard and immobile, but that didn’t make any sense, none of this made any sense at all. Coach Harrison pushed up one of his arms, shoved his nose into Evan’s pit, took a long sniff, and then released the breath with a shuddering sigh. “Fuck, fuck! You’re fucking perfect, fucking…” he snorted up more of Evan’s smell, and he could smell it too now. It didn’t smell like his body usually did. It was deeper, earthier, thicker somehow. It didn’t smell entirely human. “Fuck boy, you’re gonna get coach so fucking hard, I hope you’re fucking ready,” Harrison said, pulling away from Evan’s pit and leering down at him.

“Coach, what’s going on? I don’t understand what’s wrong, why can’t I move.”

“Shut up, you stupid hunk of junk. Enter bottom mode, plus nullification.”

Something inside Evan’s body, something unfamiliar, whirled to life in his guts, or what should have been his guts. He could feel it churning though, like gears, like screws. It made him nauseous at first, and he kept expecting there to be pain, but there was only discomfort. Looking down, he saw something happening to his cock, the flesh separating into panels with metal visible inside. It telescoped, and proceeded to retract down into his groin until it was flush with his crotch, and then the flesh smoothed back over, leaving him with just a hairy patch, his nuts sucked back up inside his body as well. Coach reached down and grabbed hold of the blank patch–Evan felt nothing, not a mote of pleasure from the touch. Harrison gripped him tighter, making Evan wince–there was the pain, a familiar sense of pain, but somehow not entirely familiar to him, like it was tracing new paths through his body to his mind to be understood. The coach’s hand slid lower, between his thighs, parting them, to his hole. One finger grazed Evan’s ass, and he let loose a moan of surprise. His body–he could move now, but he didn’t seem to have full control. His asshole twitched, his legs spread wider, and he could feel, and hear, something wet down there as the coach slid a finger into Evan’s ass. “Coach, please…don’t…” he muttered, but he couldn’t get anything else intelligible out through the moans.

“Shut up. Good to know the lube pump is working up in there, good and slick already,” Harrison said, and forcefully rolled Evan over. “Get into position B.”

Evan didn’t know what that meant, but his body knew, somehow. His limbs moved him onto hands and knees, ass high, back arched, hole flexing. The sensation of gears and hydraulics inside his limbs made the nausea return, but there was no sense of organs inside him. What on earth was wrong with him? What was he? Harrison’s cock slid up and down his ass crack, and each time it caught on his hole, Evan shuddered and gasped, until the coach finally slid inside him. His ass gave no resistance at all, and there was no pain, only a deep pleasure, a satisfaction at being used and penetrated that sprang right to the forefront of his mind, told him how much he liked being fucked, how much he wanted to coach to use him. Harrison pulled him tight, and shoved his nose into one of Evan’s pits from behind. He could feel his coach’s cock throb and harden further. 

“Make that ass pulse for me, milk my cum out.”

Evan’s hole started throbbing and sucking at the coach’s cock. He couldn’t control it, he couldn’t even understand how he was doing it, the mechanics completely alien to him. His body, what was wrong with his body? He tried to sob, tried to scream, tried to crawl away, tried to beg, but all he could do was moan as his coach slid in and out of his pulsating asshole.

One side of the room was mirrored. Behind that mirror, looking on, was Evan. In horror, he watched as his coach fucked the android copy of himself that Mr. Klein had made of him over the last few days while he was unconscious, the android that had all of Evan’s memories and personality copied into it, the android that had no clear idea that it was in fact just a machine. A machine that Mr. Klein had crafted to pleasure other himself and his accomplices, like Coach Harrison. 

Of course, Harrison hadn’t been thrilled at the idea when Klein had mentioned it to him, but after a few brainwashing sessions, as after getting him addicted to the unique pheromone he could only get from the androids’ pits–from Rick, Phillip, Joshua, and now Evan–he’d been more than happy to help Mr. Klein execute his master plan. Knowing that the androids were sure to help the school’s team win the state championship didn’t hurt either. 

The real Evan, the Evan made of meat, he struggled in the bondage chair Mr. Klein had him strapped into, but it was no use. All he could do was look away as the coach roared and came deep in his doppelganger’s hole, only to lean in, snort up more of that artificial musk, and feel his still leaking cock return to full hardness in a matter of moments.

“It’s quite the powerful aphrodisiac,” Mr. Klein said, from where he was standing beside Evan, “I’ve seen him get eight or nine orgasms in during a single session. His nuts run dry around the sixth ejaculation, but your coach is a persistent fellow. He knows what he wants.”

“Is this what you fucking did to my friends, you fucking freak?” Evan said, “You fuck–god damn it, let me fucking go! You think no one will notice?”

“No one will notice. Even if they do, trust me, I’ll make sure they become just as committed to helping me with my plans as Coach Harrison there is,” Mr. Klein said, “This is just a beta test, after all. It won’t be long before I can replace important people. Business leaders. Congressman. Before long, I’ll have everything I ever wanted. No one will care about some high school that went to state this year–you won’t matter at all. You’re just my seed funding.”

“What?” Evan asked.

“You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to let you keep your mind, do you?” Mr. Klein said with a chuckle. “I have your memories and personality backed up, just in case the bot in there gets corrupted somehow. I don’t need you anymore, for anything. Of course, a body like yours,” the teacher said, running his hands over Evan’s toned body, down to his youthful cock and down his thighs, “Bodies like this are worth quite a lot. Some people still value flesh over artifice, for now at least. And since I can give you whatever mind I want…well, let’s just say you’re going to be a high value commodity, once I customize you. Of course, I wasn’t planning on converting another so soon–I don’t have a buyer for you yet. That doesn’t mean we can’t return you to factory settings, of course.”

Evan struggled as Mr. Klein lowered the helmet down onto his head, the same helmet that had copied and digitized his entire mind over the last few days. Erasing a mind, though, was much easier, and would be complete in a matter of hours. All that would remain of Evan, the original Evan at least, was a new basic protocol of a cock hungry slave, eager to obey and service any man–the perfect foundation for whatever his new owner would desire him to be. Evan begged  and pleaded for mercy, as they always did, then there was a bright flash inside the helmet, and the young man slumped over in the chair where he was strapped, his mind being wiped clean of anything troublesome. 

Mr. Klein walked over, put a hand under his limp chin, lifted him up and used his thumb to wipe a little drool from the corner of his new slave’s mouth. He looked over at the coach, about to unload into the android for the second time. He really should wait for the processing to complete before using his new toy, but watching the coach rough up at slutty robot, and listening to Evan’s pleading had gotten him plenty horny. He dropped his pants, pushed his cock into Evan’s slack mouth, and fucked his face roughly, feeling the mouth start to suck on him instinctually.

Maybe this one, Mr. Klein would keep for himself, as a personal pet. It had been a long time since he’d had one for himself. He’d gathered plenty of seed money at this point, and he had to admit, Evan was handsome. He could picture the young man now, shaved completely, crawling around on all fours, cock forgotten and locked away within a steel chastity cage, perhaps his nuts removed entirely. There were a few more extreme programs that Mr. Klein had been working on that he needed a guinea pig for–he could envision making Evan a complete masochist, only able to receive pleasure from painful stimuli. Making him beg his new master to tattoo him all over his body, pierce him, destroy him–and when he’d been all used up, he could always sell him off cheap to some biker gang that needed a gimp and fuckdoll to abuse.

Mr. Klein was so excited by the thought that he drove his cock in deep to the young throat and exploded, feeding his new slave the first load of many more to come. He pulled free, and smiled. For Mr. Klein, it seemed that Christmas had come a few months early.

Frat Daddy – Interlude #2 (Mike)

Mike had thus far avoided any of Frat Daddy’s direct attention, and he counted himself thankful, because keeping up with just the new rules of the frat house was proving challenging enough. The worst part, though, was the showers. Or really, the lack of them. Mike was on the football team, along with a few other guys in the house, and between only showering three times a week, not being allowed to use much soap at all, and just being an active guy, trying to workout and burn through the massive calorie diet Daddy had them all on, he reeked–and he hated it. Mike had always prided himself on his cleanliness and style, always smelling and looking good for the girls on campus–none of who would give him a second look now.

None of this had escaped Ethan’s attention though–especially when he found contraband in Mike’s drawer during a surprise check. It was a can of deodorant (unscented even, because he knew any scent would have given him away in the house) and Daddy had him turn around, and threatened to shove the aerosol can up his hole, if he ever found something like this in the house again. Instead, he just gave him ten solid paddlings with the metal cylinder, and left the house with it. When Friday rolled around, and it was again time to gather up and find out who Daddy would have spend the weekend with him, Mike was surprised when Daddy chose him. 

The week before, Carter had come back and he’d been…different. More assertive. Bigger too, somehow. He’d been vague about his time with Daddy, but said it had been something very special, and that he couldn’t wait to go back and see him again sometime. In fact, Carter looked outright despondent that he hadn’t been selected, while Mike was trying to figure out, why him? If it was a reward, why pick him after finding contraband in his room? If it was a punishment…he didn’t really want to think too hard about that, actually. There was only one bright spot, he thought, as he followed Daddy through the tunnel and over to his home, and that was, maybe, he could get that little can back from him. It was risky, sure…but maybe, if he could just talk to him, he’d understand, right?

Daddy cooked him dinner, which was off putting. He hadn’t had much in the way of real food, aside from the occasional dining hall visits, since anything consumed outside of the house didn’t actually count towards their daily goal, and the shakes were so damn filling. Daddy was quiet–not like he was angry, but like he was trying to give Mike some space to think. It was enough for Mike to reconsider him for a moment, that maybe he was something more than just the taskmaster he had taken him to be. Daddy asked him about football, and about the coach in particular, if he’d said anything to the boys about their uniform, their diet, or the fact they were forbidden to shower after practice. From there, talk drifted to the topic of hygiene. Mike tried to, gently, suggest that maybe the boys could be allowed to shower more–at least after practice, but Daddy didn’t seem interested in changing his mind. What he did say, was that if Mike still felt that way after this weekend, then he might consider it. It wasn’t much, but a bit of hope was better than nothing. When Mike asked him what they were doing this weekend, Daddy was honest–the house needed some work, especially outside in the garden, ahead of winter. As part of his punishment, Mike would be helping him. That seemed fair to Mike–and he imagined that Daddy could have inflicted much harsher punishments if he so chose. Daddy showed him to his room, and then left–he’d get him up in the morning.

But Mike had a hard time sleeping, for a number of reasons. He was horny, for one thing, but that had become a rather constant feature of his life, since he didn’t exactly enjoy having sex with his brothers, and women were off limits. In fact, Mike hadn’t fucked anyone in the last week–as hard as it was to resist after a cigar. It wasn’t required, so why do it? That, though, brought up another reason sleeping was difficult. He’d taken to consuming one of his required cigars in the evening, and he hadn’t today–so much to his displeasure, he was jonesing a bit for nicotine. The room was also quite hot–hotter than it should have been, especially this late in October. He’d kicked off all the sheets, and was still soaked in sweat. He tried to open the window, it wouldn’t budge. In the end, he got up, tried to door, and much to his surprise, it wasn’t locked–though why he’d expected it to be…he didn’t know. Maybe he could find that can of deodorant at least–if he didn’t have to smell himself, he’d sleep a bit better. If not that, a cigar–Daddy would understand, he was sure. He’d seen a humidor downstairs in the lounge–might as well go there first, for an alibi.

After fetching a cigar–the smallest he could find, since he didn’t want to be up all night, he made his way back upstairs, and found himself outside Daddy’s room–he could tell from the snoring. He pushed open the door, which was ajar, and it was just as sweltering as his own room, not that it was bothering Daddy at all. Sure enough, there, on the dresser, was the little can of deodorant. Just grab it, slip out, spray it on, put it back, and he’d be good for the weekend at least. But instead, as he crossed the side of the room as quietly as he could–he smelled something else. Looking down, he realized what it was, he was standing right on some of Daddy’s well worn underwear, and he could smell it, the cum, the piss, the sweat, all of it wafting up to him, and he didn’t understand what he did, or why, but he bent down, picked them up, and retreated to his own room where he closed the door, lit his cigar, and spent the next hour with the underwear pressed to his nose, moaning and groaning and jacking off, always on edge, unable to cum, until at last, he passed out, the butt of the cigar balance on the side table, still smoldering. 

Outside the room, Ethan was crouched, looking through the door that Mike thought had been shut tight, but no doors were closed to Daddy. He hadn’t been sure that Mike would take the bait–but the deodorant would have been a fine surprise for the boy too–just a different sort of surprise. For now, he would go with this plan–the weekend was still long, after all, and Mike was a tough nut, he could already tell.


The pounding on the door jostled Mike awake. “Come on boy! Get a move on,” a voice said from the other side of the door, and it took Mike a moment to place it, before he remembered where he was. It was Daddy of course. He sat up, saw the cigar on the side table, and remembered everything else that had happened last night, and his stomach turned. The underwear! He looked around for it on the bed, but it wasn’t anywhere–and then he looked down, and saw that he…was wearing it.

His stomach turned a bit, at the sheer thought of wearing someone else’s underwear–especially one as dirty and…and why were they still wet? He tried to take them off, only to discover they refused to budge from around his waist. In a rising panic, he stood up, almost called to Daddy…but then he’d have to admit that he took them, and admit what he did the night before, which he could barely even reckon with himself. Instead, he put on the clothes that had appeared on a chair by the door–a pair of old 501 levis that fit surprisingly well, a wife beater, socks, and a pair of work boots. They were all used as well, they all smelled of a vague musk, but what choice did he have? He’d just have to get through the weekend and be done with it. He thought again about that can on the dresser, but Daddy pounded on the door again, ordering him out. Mike emerged, followed Daddy downstairs and they had breakfast, followed by a cigar, as Daddy outlined the tasks for the day.

Daddy had some general work to do winterizing the house and the backyard. Mike would be spending the day mowing the lawn, organizing the shed, and a few other general tasks, should he be a good boy and finish all of those quickly. The morning chill burnt off quickly, and Mike found himself mowing the lawn in a heat that felt more like August than Fall–it was unnatural, and he found himself working up a sweat almost immediately. The lawn was connected seamlessly to the frat house’s front lawn, and Daddy told him to mow that as well. Quite a few of his brothers could see him through the windows, and Mike grumbled a bit, knowing that the rest of them would know that he was Daddy’s chore boy this weekend. At least he could smoke a cigar while he was mowing, though that did nothing to ease his horniness. Every erection he sprouted as he walked, he knew it was rubbing up against Daddy’s dirty underwear, and he found it hard to know how he really felt about that. Disgusted? Excited? Both? He mowed faster so he could at least be done with it, and when he was finished, he went back and found Daddy in the backyard, as soaked in sweat as he was.

They had a quick break for lunch, and sat out on the porch to eat it. Each time Daddy raised his arm to take a swig from his beer, Mike would get a whiff of his pits, and the same emotions would roil through him all over again. He was certain this was Daddy’s plan all along, turn him into some…musky boy or whatever he had it mind, like how Carter had come back, and suddenly he was twisting tits and smacking asses as he fucked everyone, and…and what in the world was happening to them all? This wasn’t normal, right? He had to remember that. He had to keep telling himself that.

They finished lunch, and returned to work. Mike spent the afternoon in the shed, organizing and sorting Daddy’s tools, and the tin roof turned it into an oven. Soon, all he could smell was his own musk, or was it Daddy’s? He couldn’t tell anymore, but it was making his cock ache, but he refused to give in. He stayed focused on his task, and finished it without making a fool of himself. If he could demonstrate self-control, if he could show Daddy that he didn’t need to be dirty to be a good boy…then maybe he really would listen to him. He hoped he would, at least. 

With their chores finished, and their bodies plenty sore, they went in, and Daddy cooked another sizable dinner. Once they’d eaten, Daddy poured them both some bourbon and they sat back out on the porch with their cigars, this time on the swinging bench, Daddy’s arm around Mike’s shoulder, his pit inches from the boy’s face. “Well boy, you did some nice work today, I have to admit. Good boys deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Daddy’s arm contracted around his shoulders and pulled him closer, while his other hand groped his boy’s crotch. Mike was very hard–it felt like he’d been hard all day long at this point. The urge to lean in and just…smell Daddy’s pit was nearly overwhelming, but one little lapse, and he’d have lost. He was so focused on not giving in, that he forgot what Daddy would find when he undid the button fly of his jeans–and Daddy chuckled. “Well boy, now where did you get those?”

Mike tried to pull away from him, but Daddy tugged him even closer.

“Looks like someone snuck into Daddy’s room, and made off with a pair of underwear, you little thief. To think, all this time, saying you can’t handle the smell of the other boys in the house, and the first chance you get, you steal a pair of my dirty, cumstained, stinking underwear so you can wear them yourself.”

“That’s not…I didn’t…”

“Sure seems like you enjoy it boy,” Daddy said, groping harder and rougher, and then he pressed his fingers to Mike’s nose. He snorted in reflex, and then moaned, the smell of his own musk mixing with Daddy’s more than he could really take. “What does it smell like, boy? Does it smell like hard work? Smell like hardworking, burly, hairy men? You like men like that, don’t you? Like Daddy? Don’t you want to be a stinking man like that? Dominating all of the men around you with your pits, with your crotch, with your feet?”

“No,” Mike said, and managed to push himself away, and stand up. “No–I know what you’re doing, but I’m not like you, I’m not! I’m not just…just going to let you do this to me, to all of us.”

“Boy, sit your ass back down, right now,” Daddy said, but Mike ran inside, and headed for the stairs. The first place he stopped was the bathroom, so he could get in the shower–but he discovered that there simply wasn’t one there. 

“Boy, think about what you’re doing right now, you’re about to make a mistake.”

“Shut up!” Mike cried, “I’m not some fucking boy–I know what I’m doing, and what I want, and it isn’t this!”

He went into Daddy’s master bedroom, but again, somehow, the shower in the attached bathroom he was certain should be there was just…gone. He turned, saw the little can on the dresser, and made a beeline for it. He might not be clean, but at least he wouldn’t stink!

He popped off the cap, and Daddy stepped into the room, hands down, looking…not angry, like Mike had expected of him, but a bit…concerned. “Boy, you don’t understand what you’re about to do. I know it’s hard, but I just need you to trust me, and you’ll understand that what I’m offering you is about more than this. That if you don’t work past this, one way or another, you won’t–”

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired of your rules, and your lectures, and your fucking stink!” he said, and proceeded to spray himself from head to foot–but as soon as the mist struck his nose, he knew something was wrong. This…wasn’t unscented anymore. It smelled…foul. Fuck, it fucking reeked so…so fucking much, and the next thing Mike really remembered clearly, he had crawled across the floor, grunting and snorting, and shoved his nose into Daddy’s crotch, snorting up all the musk there, hungry for it, aching for it.

“I tried to warn you pig, but some boys need to learn the hard way, no matter what,” Daddy said, and dropped his own jeans, so Mike could shove his nose into his dirty underwear, sniffing and grunting and squealing until he shot a load in the filthy pair of underwear he had on still. Mike was desperately trying to regain control of himself, but he could feel that he was changing further, his gut sagging lower, his body coated with sweat and grime like he hadn’t had a shower in ages. Daddy stripped down, got on the bed, and let the pig climb up with him, licking him clean, worshipping every inch of his body, every slight difference in musk registered and relished by his more sensitive nose, until Daddy had had enough with the licking, shoved the pig down on his belly, and pounded his hole, making the pig squeal and shoot another load all over the sheets beneath him. After that, Daddy kicked the pig out of bed. Mike crawled around, sniffing for a while, and eventually curled up in a pile of dirty laundry, and was soon snoring away.


Sunday morning came, and all that registered to Mike at first, was a headache, like he had spent all night huffing paint. He made his way to the bathroom, splashed a bit of water on his face, took care of his business, stumbled out, but Daddy must have woken up already. Mike went downstairs, carefully, since the world was still spinning a bit rapidly, and found Daddy cooking a delicious smelling breakfast. His memories of the night before were…hazy. He could remember the fight, somewhat, and he felt…bad, but he wasn’t quite sure why. 

“There you are, pig,” Daddy said, with a grin, “sleep well?”

“I…I feel like I got hit by a train, Daddy,” Mike said, and sat down at the table.

“I tried to warn you, boy, but you didn’t want to listen.”

“Well I’m sick of listening! I’m sick of you telling us what to do. We’re adults, you know! We’re–” before Mike could get anything else out, Daddy had walked over, shoved his face into his pit, and everything else disappeared–there was just that wonderful, filthy stench, and with a grunt, Mike was licking and sucking at his pit with pure delight, until Daddy pulled away, and Mike came back to himself, horrified. “How…why did I do that?”

“You’re a pig.”

“But the spray, I thought it wore off.”

“It might wear off, eventually. But until then, anytime you smell another fellows musk–you’re going to turn into one hundred percent grade A muskpig.”

“You…you can’t be serious.”

“I most certainly am. It’ll get worse, too. You’ll get fatter, the more it happens. Dirtier. It’ll start wearing off on you. Showers, for you, are optional from now on–if you can stand to take them. You might even start to like it. You might forget you ever wanted to be a man at all, boy. You might just leave here a pig, and never look back.”

Mike sat in silence, while Daddy finished cooking, and set the meal in front of him. Was he hungry because he was legitimately starving, or was he hungry because the pig was urging him on? He ate anyway, trying to hold back, trying to find the line, but it eluded him. “For what I said, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You meant it,” Daddy said, and looked him in the eye, “When you really understand what you did wrong–then apologize. Until then, well, we’ll see.”

After breakfast, Mike returned to the house. The boys all asked him how it had been, if the chores had been a punishment, or something else. Mike didn’t really know what to tell any of them. Later, Carter found him, alone, and sat beside him–and just put his arm around him. Mike knew it was commiseration, but it took all of his will to not leap into Carter’s pit and suck it clean.

“Daddy’s a real bastard, isn’t he?” Carter said, “But fuck, he knows what he’s talking about.”

“He is a bastard, that’s for sure,” Mike replied, and left it at that.