Tag: photo caption

Here at WaleMart, we have spent several years trying to capture shoppers belonging to a wider variety of demographics, yet our core consumers, and our most reliable shoppers, still share a few, common qualities: they come from lower income households, are overweight or obese, and possess IQs below 100. However, rather than struggle to attract other demographics, Walemart will embark on a bold new approach–bringing these shoppers into our core demographic.

Here we see a man being assisted by one of our helpful new demographic associates, trying on clothes which have been treated with special chemicals which, even now, are causing weight gain, as well as promoting hunger, encouraging a trip through our grocery aisles once he’s finally settled into his 54 inch waist overalls. The food itself is not only laced with addictive chemicals, but also decreases intelligence with repeated consumption. With time, his lack of energy and diminished faculties will force him out of the upper income bracket he currently occupies, and he will be one more loyal WaleMart customer cemented in our key demographic for life.

He keeps staring at you…you think. It’s hard to tell with those strange lenses in his mask. He’s watched you since you arrived at the bar, and the mesmerizing attraction you feel towards him is easily countered by his strange, not-quite-human movements. You decide to leave–but he follows you, grabs you and drags you into an alley, stripping away your clothes with amazing strength.

His red cock spews a strange, black liquid onto your flesh, and when you try to wipe it off, you realize it is latex which had already adhered to your body. He pumps more and more, coating you, bringing you under his physical control, and when all that remains uncovered is your mouth, he shoves in his cock and begins pumping the latex into your body. 

It is a strange sensation, feeling your stomach and lungs fill with fluid until they burst in your chest. No longer able to breathe, you sense, more than know, that you should be dead–but strangely you can still think. You feel the rubber flowing directly into you now, filling your chest cavity, coating your muscles–your heart pumping liquid rubber to every inch of your body for a minute before stopping all together. 

You sense that you are full, and yet still it flows, and you begin growing. The rubber pulses and bubbles under your skin before layering on top of your muscles and bones, expanding them to inhuman proportions, your veins bulging from your black, shiny skin. Your cock grows as well, dropping down and growing to nearly two feet long, with massive balls suspended beneath. They feel surprisingly heavy, and a moment later a strange liquid begins to pump from your cock–the fleshy pump of your own body. Only one part of you now remains–your brain–but not for long, you realize. Your new body is nearly complete–and the rubber is already creeping up and over your fleshy mind.

You imagine that it will simply coat it, but when the headache starts, you discover that it has no intention of allowing you to continue thinking. It is crushing you. Destroying your brain, turning it into pump to be discarded and replacing it with a small, rubberized computer. It isn’t much, but it need only regulate a few simple tasks. You no longer need to think–only obey. The red man removes his cock and the last rubber seals your mouth shut. You stand, the last of your humanity dribbling from your now hollow balls. They can now be filled through your anus with any liquid one might desire pumped from your massive cock. The master’s will enjoy pumping you full of their cum, before having you serve it to their prisoners and human slaves in training. You do not care–you only serve, and you follow your compatriot to your master’s lair, where you will serve for eternity.

For most athletes, college football is as high as they go, if they aren’t planning on going pro–and at a division III school, no one ever goes pro. It was the eve of their final game of the year, and someone (the prankster never revealed themselves, but it had to have been someone from the team, they thought) had left the box of shirts at the party house that night. 

Laughing and already drunk, all of the football players had put them on, and when they woke up the next morning, hungover and aching, they saw that the shirts hadn’t been joking at all. They were all potbellied, in their thirties, balding, and very confused. When a group of biology students whose experiments they’d sabotaged last year as a prank came by, pretending to be members of the staff, and told them that the reunion was over and they had to get off campus, they had nowhere to go. How could they play, go to class, or even graduate, looking like this? Still, one thing was certain–none of them would play football ever again.

Source: usexybrah

Ned hadn’t had a very happy birthday yesterday. You see, as a greedy child, Ned had been cursed to receive a gift from everyone he met on his birthday–only it was never something Ned wanted. Well, he’d managed to avoid going out on his birthday–but this year had been a mistake. See–he’d paid a gypsy to protect him from the curse, and it had worked for a while–until he’d accidentally wandered past a gay leather bar. 

The sheer force of desire had overcome the gypsy’s protections, and before Ned could escape, he’d taken on so many gifts he could barely process them. Some were small, but others, like a fascination with piss and shit, or the need to have his mouth and face stuffed with filthy dildos–those were going to be harder to manage. He was definitely getting a refund–but that could wait until he’d found his master. He’d picked up a collar from some unhappy sub–and now all Ned could think about was servicing a Master Jordan. He didn’t look forward to finding out why the sub hadn’t liked his master–but Ned knew he was about to find out.

“Dang son, you smell so good, I could ride you all damn night!" 

Yep, I think I handed out the wrong drinks, judging from the horny looks on my dad’s friends’ faces as they close in around us, but my cock was so hard, thinking about how it would feel to serve them, I don’t care.

I’d bought the pheromones to prank my asshole father, who loved calling me a faggot and a pussy. He was the one who was supposed to get the Beta drink, but they’d all looked the same, and maybe I’d flipped the tray when I’d brought down the beers…

Dad pulled down my shorts as Uncle Willis shoved his thick cock down my throat, and I nearly came from that dominant thrust alone. The pills would last for 24 hours, but hey, I might as well make the best of a bad situation right? In fact, maybe being a faggot isn’t so bad after all, I think as my dad’s cock enters my ass, and I cum uncontrollably for the first of many times that night.

Ethics? Why should I care about ethics? I’m a scientist, and what I have done here is genius, a solution to a grave problem we all face. We are awash with criminals–our prisons filling up, and those who are released often return within months. I have only sought to find a way to make the world a safer place for the rest of us.

What is a man, really, beyond an animal? These men–these beasts–have already signaled that they have disregarded their higher human faculties. They have no desire to create, or love, or respect one another. I have simply forced them to become that which they already are.

Animalization is the solution. Sure, it might be painful, but they have no memory of it after the operation. My dog Bruiser was frolicking about the yard in days. Sure, he required a fair amount of training, but where before there was only a vicious skinhead–who I should mention, murdered by husband in cold blood–there was now a pet completely loyal to me. 

Sentence me as you will, but I will never believe that what I did was wrong. These men are monsters–beasts. I say we treat them that way.

Source: leepup

You wake up, and are momentarily hopeful. Please tell me I didn’t do it last night, please… but the cold, wet mattress tells a different story. You wet the bed again. Just like you have for the last two weeks. Every night, you tell yourself you won’t, but nothing helps. Resigned, you get up and go over to the mirror and see what else has changed in the night.

Ever since you started wetting the bed, your body has been changing as well, packing on weight especially, and a few days ago the last of your hair, beard and body hair fell out, leaving you perfectly smooth. Even worse, your cock has been slowly shrinking down to nothing, but no one else has noticed, like this is how you’ve always been.

You still have to go to work though, so you pull on some khakis and a massive shirt which have kept pace with your growth, but the pants are actually a bit roomy in the ass. You don’t think much of it and head for the door, when you find a box on your doorstep.

Wondering if it might be connected to your strange changes, you bring it inside, open it up, and find it packed full of puffy fabric, and a note–“Thought you might start needing these today, little boy,” You separate out one of the garments, and discover, to your disgust, that it’s a diaper.

Who in the hell sent me this, you wonder, and toss the garment back into the box. Suddenly, you feel a rumble in your stomach, and a second later the back of your khakis fills up with a huge load of shit. Your bladder releases as well, wetting the front of your pants with a dark stain. Your cheeks flush red at your complete lack of control, your eyes start to well up, and before you can stop, you’re crying uncontrollably, and the only thing you can think to do is pop your thumb in your mouth and start sucking on it.

Sucking helps calm you down enough to stop your sobbing, waddle into the bathroom, strip, clean yourself off, throw away your clothes, and then return to the living room. With trepidation, you take a diaper and pull it up around your groin, and arousal overcomes you. With your thumb back in your mouth, you rub your tiny cock through the fabric until you shoot a massive wad of cum into the absorbent pad.

When you try to change out of the now soiled diaper, you can’t figure out how to take it off–and being an hour late for work, you just pull on a new pair of slacks and leave, thumb still in your mouth. You worry that if you piss or shit yourself, you might be carrying it around for the whole day, but who knows? Maybe tomorrow will be better–but probably not.

“Hell dude, you have no idea how awesome it is having a pet fag around, trust me…Fuck no, it doesn’t make me gay! Don’t be a dipshit. Look, I’ll take you to the shop tomorrow and get another collar so you can have one too…Yes he does everything I say, he can’t fuckin’ help it! I tell him to suck my dick, and he sucks my dick. I tell him to clean my apartment, he cleans my apartment. He’s on his knees right next to me, right now, just waiting for me to give him an order…Look, it’s easy. All you have to do is go to one of the bathhouses–…For the last time, none of this is going to make you gay, dipshit. It’s fuckin’ awesome man, now I always have a hole, whenever I can’t get a chick…He can’t get out, idiot. He can’t take the collar off, hey, where the fuck–

…

Yeah, I’m sorry. Your friend can’t talk with my cock down his throat. He’s gonna have to call you back–if I let him. *click*

Source: the-alley

Marcus didn’t know what to do. He kept trying to shave it, and within an hour, it was back, thicker and wilder than before. He decided to just let it go and see what would happen–and was thankful when the growth slowed and appeared to stop leaving him with a massive wiry beard coating his face.

That spell had been a horrible idea. He’d wanted a beard, but one he could control. He found the spellbook and flipped through until he found the counter curse and started casting it…but the strangest thing happened. His beard began twisting against his face, contorting his lips and jaw into slight changes. He lost control of the spell, strange syllables falling from his mouth, making something new.

He could feel the power resonate within him, and he felt itchy. Looking at his body, he saw hair filling in the rest of his smooth form in a thick layer, and there was nothing he was going to be able to do about it. The beard had more than a mind of its own–and there was no telling what Marcus’s new sentient pelt might do with him.

Source: thedailybeard

My housemate Mark–he’s a nice guy, but I feel like he’s taking this charity thing too far…Here, let me back up. Mark does a lot of volunteer work outside of college, and one thing he’s really involved in his helping the homeless. Well, one night last week he brought this disgusting bum home and let him sleep on the couch for a night. I woke up to Mark’s screaming, and I burst in his room and the fucker is naked with his hands around Mark’s throat. I bring the guy down–I mean, I know how to tackle from football–and the derelict gets carted off the jail…but…

Mark’s been acting really strange: missing classes, getting drunk and high, inviting all of these other derelicts around. He doesn’t even seem like the same person. And there’s this one new friend of his, I think he was…waiting for me in my room. He tried tacking me to the ground while saying these strange words…I don’t know, I just ran. I don’t want to go home, but I think they’re following me. Is…is that them? Oh god, no–