Halloween At the Barnyard – Alternate Ending

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


Chapter 4 (Alternate Version)

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

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

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

“Bit better?”

Matt nodded, sighing out a cloud of smoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of them said anything for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah don’–”

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

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

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

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

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

“O-Ok…”

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

“Yes, Boss.”

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

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

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

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

“I…I mean–”

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

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

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

“Oh fuck Boss, yeah…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Matt, I–”

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

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

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

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


Chapter 5 (Alternate Version)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ya do, Boss.”

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

“You, Boss.”

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

“Fuck yeah, Boss!”

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

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

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

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

“Beg. Beg tah fuck mah hole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Boss!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are, Boss, of course ya are!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Boss, what–”

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

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

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

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

“I…Yeah, I know Boss.”

“Go make us breakfast.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…what?”

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

“I…Well, what do ya think, Boss?”

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

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

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

“Thanks Boss, It’s my pleasure.”

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

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

“I wanna go talk tah Jimmy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Boss, sure am,” Carl said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Halloween At The Barnyard

Happy Halloween! Since my patreon got a little compromised, I’ve been digging though and trying to sort out what I had posted on there that might have been deleted. This was a sizable furry commission that wasn’t posted anywhere else, but since it is the season, I thought I’d go ahead and repost it here. It’s from 2015 I think, and there’s also a sequel already written I’ll be posting to Sponsus, as well as a third entry in the series currently in the works! Hope you all enjoy it.

– Chapter 1 – 

“I know it’s the third time this week…yes, I know I promised I’d be there for dinner…I know you have to plan these things, but my inbox is just slammed right now, you know how it is…I know, but I have to get this done tonight.” 

Carl had the phone caught in the crick of his neck while he zipped up his backpack quietly, trying to keep the noise away from the speaker as best he could. Matt, on the other end was disappointed, but trying to be understanding.

“Look, I’ll be over in a few hours, just keep it warm for me, and I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Yes…Yes of course, I…I love you too.”

He hung up the phone and slung his pack over his shoulder. It was a little after six–he really had stayed late at the office, so he hadn’t completely lied, right? The thought didn’t make him feel better, even if it was the truth. He got in the elevator and headed down to the lobby, taking off his tie and stuffing it in his pack as he rode. He’d always hated wearing suits–he was a burly guy, and he’d never been able to find shirts that fit him very well in any store, and hiring a tailor was too damn expensive for him, but working out was one of the only things that kept him sane, where he could zone out and unwind. The gym was also where he’d met Matt. The two of them were both corporate types, working in the city, happy with their lives and happy with each other…sort of. Matt seemed happy at least. Carl had been happy–or, he thought he’d been happy, until that day a few months ago when he’d stumbled into what he’d thought was just a bar–a run down place in the next district likely to get gentrified–the only thing that marked it as anything at all was a cut steel sign hanging over the cracked sidewalk with a name on it–“The Barnyard.” He still couldn’t remember how he’d even found the place, and now he wished he never had.

He waited at the bus stop for a few minutes, got on and rode it for about twenty minutes, before getting off a few blocks away from the bar, but he knew that where he should be going was the gym, and then to Matt’s, but he hadn’t been going either place much recently. Actually, he’d pretty much stopped going to the gym entirely. He’d used to go after work, almost religiously–he and Matt would meet for a workout before heading over to one of their apartments for dinner and fucking. But he’d been staying “late at work” so much lately he’d nearly stopped going entirely…and it was beginning to show in his paunch and his chest. Matt had noticed, of course, and didn’t appreciate it. Carl blamed it on work stress and a new snack bar HR was providing in the break room. What he couldn’t bear to tell him was anything close to the truth, but he just couldn’t stop. He’d never felt this before, this sort of addiction. He’d never been a smoker, he’d never been a heavy drinker, but every night he skipped going to The Barnyard, it…it was all he could think about. He knew he had a problem, but he also thought he could keep a handle on it. He’d…get bored of him, eventually right? The worst part was that he didn’t feel bored at all. In fact, the reason he’d stopped going to the gym was because going to The Barnyard was better. More…satisfying. And as much as he hated to admit it, the reason he kept blowing Matt off was because it was better than anything he could give him, too. 

It had started out as a once a week thing. Matt usually had plans on Thursdays, and so Carl would just…go to The Barnyard instead. It wasn’t hurting anyone, right? Besides, Matt had mentioned that open relationships could work, so he’d be ok with this, Carl told himself, even though they had never talked…explicitly about being open themselves. But before long he’d needed to go twice a week, and now he was going almost everyday after work and on the weekends. Already, just walking down the street, his hands were shaking, his cock was hard, his mouth was dry. This couldn’t be normal–he felt like he was under some fucking spell. He just had to stop doing this, he had to. This wasn’t…normal. But he just kept walking in the crisp mid-October evening, the sun already setting behind the buildings making it even chillier, and he picked up his pace, ducking into the unmarked door that he never wanted to see again in his life, and where he couldn’t wait to get inside. 

The problem was that The Barnyard was more than a bar–it was also a front for a brothel specializing in…a particular kind of whore. Not that Carl had known that when he’d gone in the first time, but when the proprietor–a man he’d at first only known as Mr. Crice, but who had eventually insisted that Carl just call him Jimmy–had struck up conversation with him that first evening over a few too many beers, he had sown the idea in his mind. After all, there was no harm in a little fun, right? Besides, Jimmy insisted that his men he kept could provide experiences Carl could hardly imagine. He’d been drunk–he tried to tell himself, even now, that he was too drunk to know what he’d been doing, but he’d known better. There was just…something about Jimmy that had made the entire venture seem so much more…enticing than it should have been.

Inside the door was a narrow flight of stairs down into a basement, but then the hallway opened up into a surprisingly spacious bar–decorated accordingly, of course. The floor was covered with straw, the tables were perched on barrels with the chairs mismatched but equally worn, picnic benches and booths were scattered around the perimeter –like they’d been pulled collectively from a midwest flea market. A damp, musty smell lingered in the air, something which might just be laughed off as poor ventilation. It was still early but the bar already had a sizable crowd, though the crowd seemed divided into two camps. The first group, the bar regulars, was made up of working men and burly guys laughing and joking and having a grand drunk time having just gotten off of work. The other group was scattered about, each sitting alone at a table or the bar, casting glances at a curtain strung up in the back blocking a hallway from view–that’s what they were all really there for, after all, including Carl. Along one wall ran a thick walnut bar lined with stools, and there, wiping out glasses with his towel, was Jimmy. He was wearing his customary flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off his thick, hairy forearms, a few too many buttons unbuttoned exposing his mass of chest hair. From a distance, it was difficult to see where the man’s light brown beard ended and the forest below began. He turned to the door, saw Carl, and beamed a smile. “Well hey, Carl! Stu’s just finishing up with someone else in the back–why not join me for a beer while you wait?”

Did Jimmy have to seem so genuinely happy to see him? It would be so much easier if the guy at least admitted that he was trying to destroy Carl’s life. Still, he took a seat at the bar, but didn’t say anything. Without asking what he wanted, Jimmy pulled a pint of one of his house brews and set it down in front of Carl, who just stared at it dejectedly, running one finger through the condensation on the side of the glass.

“Alright, what’s the matter?”

“You know what the fucking matter is,” Carl snapped at him. Jimmy’s brow furrowed, and Carl immediately felt bad, even though he knew this was all Jimmy’s fault…somehow. He drank some of the beer to try and calm himself down–a bit more than he’d been planning. Just…all his beers were so damn satisfying. That was the real problem–this was satisfying. It shouldn’t be, but it was. He should already be satisfied, he should be satisfied with his job, with the gym, with work, with Matt, but he…but he wasn’t. None of that had been satisfying, not really, but he’d been able to pretend, until he’d found…this place. He took another, longer drink, leaving just a few swallows in the glass.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“This is ruining my life.”

“All I do is provide a service, Carl. You’re more than welcome to refuse it.”

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“But it’s true, you know. If anyone is ruining your life here, it’s you. But if you really thought that, then you wouldn’t be here, drinking my beer, and waiting for Stu to finish up, now would you? So why don’t you be honest, and tell me what the real problem is.”

Carl drank the rest of the beer, and while Jimmy pulled him another one from the tap, he started talking, or confessing really. How he and Matt weren’t having sex much at all, and how it was because…because Matt wasn’t who he wanted to have sex with anymore. Sure he was handsome and muscular, but…

“But you want Stu, I get it.”

Carl hadn’t wanted to say it in so many words, but that was the truth, as much as it disgusted him.

“Look, I get it. I provide sex that most people never even dream about. It’s only natural that you might prefer this to real life. But if Matt can’t make you happy, then–”

“Matt does make me happy though! I just…I just wish that…I could have both…Fuck, that makes me sound like a selfish asshole…”

“Yeah…” Jimmy said, “Have you tried talking to Matt about this?”

“Oh yeah, that would go well. What the hell would I even say? ‘Hey Honey, see, there’s this whore house I go to, I hope you don’t mind.’”

“The word ‘brothel’ is a bit more polite.”

Carl rolled his eyes, “Because Matt would care about word choice.”

Jimmy sighed, “Look, all I’m really saying is that I don’t think you can go on like this, but you’re going to have to explain it to him eventually. Look, maybe…I throw a big Halloween party here at the Barnyard every year. You were already going to get an invite, of course, but…why don’t you bring Matt along with you? Who knows, he might actually enjoy himself too.”

“Are you crazy? I can’t bring him here, what would he think of me?”

“Now calm down,” Jimmy said, “This is…a rather special party. We provide the costumes, you see…and you’d be surprised by how realistic they are. Some even call them life changing. See, here’s something you haven’t considered–maybe all Matt needs is to experience you here, in your element. Maybe he just needs to see how much you could love him if…you know, if he was more…”

He didn’t finish, he saw Carl knew what he was going to say, and Jimmy let that sink it for a moment. “That’s not even…possible,” Carl said, shaking his head.

“Look, I pride myself on my establishment and the services I provide, but I also don’t think anyone should have to choose between their desires and their love. This would be a great opportunity for you to get out, have some fun, and introduce Matt to every side of you, you know? Because I know one thing–you can’t just keep bottling this up. I think he might come around, if he really loves you. At the very least he’d understand what’s going on, because I guarantee you, that he knows something is wrong already. More than anything, I know how much fun you’d have at this party, so with or without him, I’m going to insist that you come, and have a good time. But if he does come, I think it can only make your relationship stronger in the end.”

“But…what…” Carl didn’t know what to say. He really liked the idea…but he hated himself for liking it so much. “I can’t just tell him where we’re going–he’d freak out.”

“Leave that to me. You won’t be the only person bringing along someone…unfamiliar with my services to my party. I’ll give you some stuff to help you warm them to the idea during the day, and by the time they get here in the evening they’ll fit right in–trust me, I know what I’m doing–you’re not the first guy with this sort of problem I’ve helped out before.”

The curtain flipped to the side, and the second group of patrons turned to look at the man who slipped through, eyes down, and he waved meekly to Jimmy as he left. “You’re up Carl,” Jimmy said, “Same price as always.”

Carl set the five hundred dollars cash on the bar, walked over to the curtain and ducked behind it, the smell growing stronger as he did. Now it was more than just poor ventilation–it had pangs of sweat and musk, of mud, manure and wet straw.Hall led right into a locker room with a few open showers. Carl undressed and stashed his clothes, wrapped a towel around his waist, running one hand over his furry gut. He should leave, leave and ask for his money back, go home to Matt, eat dinner and pretend none of this even existed. None of this should exist. None of this should be possible. But it was possible, and there was no retreating from the facts. He put on a pair of rubber boots set next to the doorway on the opposite side of the room, and trudged down the hallway beyond it, lined with doors on either end, until he reached a door with a wooden sign hanging from it that read “Stu’s Sty.” He pushed open the door, his cock achingly hard, but paused in the doorway.

“Oh Carl, back again? Weren’t you here just yesterday? I’m so excited… *snort* You’re becoming quite the regular customer…”

Carl stood in the door, just…staring at him, there in the…mud and the straw. The smell was even more pungent here, and while weeks ago it had been a turn off, now it had him even harder. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep doing this, he couldn’t.

What are you waiting for, big boy? Get over here and let’s have some fun. I wanna get dirty with you…”

Fuck. Fuck it, just…seeing him, smelling him , hearing him. “Fuck, you’re so damn…sexy,” he whispered.

“Oh stop it. *grunt* Get in here, my ass needs a good stuffing.”

***

An hour and a half later–after a long fuck and a shower to get the sweat, muck and straw off him, Carl got dressed and left through the curtained hallway. The first group of burly men had grown, some of them making out at tables around the room, the air smoky with cigars and pipes, and a different set the second group were waiting impatiently–Jimmy waved at one, and he got up from his seat and went behind the curtain as Carl left. It was late, and he needed to get back to Matt’s apartment quickly, but Jimmy stepped out from the bar as he tried to make a quick escape and stopped him.

“I was serious, you know, about the Halloween party. You should come–both of you.”

“I…I can’t bring him. I can’t involve him in this.”

“I really think it would be good for your both, Carl,” Jimmy said, and handed him a small bottle stoppered with a cork. “Look, on Halloween eve, make sure he drinks this. It tastes a bit funky, but you can add it to a drink, or to food, and he doesn’t have to drink it all at once either–just make sure he gets all of it in him before midnight. On Halloween, he’s going to be hungry–really hungry, but you’ll be able to take care of that I’m sure. Just make sure you have plenty of food on hand–the more fattening the better…but  maybe stay away from bacon, that might be a bit weird. But this is the most important part–make sure he doesn’t get a good look at himself though–it might spoil things a bit. No mirrors, reflective surfaces, that stuff. The party starts at midnight–make sure you’re here before that, or you…well, just don’t be late. Just bring yourselves, it doesn’t matter how you dress–I’ll provide the costumes and plenty of entertainment. I promise your relationship will improve–no, I guarantee it.”

He pushed the bottle into Carl’s hand, and he looked at it. He wasn’t…actually considering this, was he? “But…what does it do?”

“Oh, he’ll be your perfect date for the evening, of course. Everything you said you wanted–Matt and Stu together in one package…you know what I mean?”

“This can…make him…”

Jimmy nodded. Carl’s eyes went wide. “It’ll just be for Halloween, Carl. Anything is possible on Halloween. Now get going, and have a good night.”

Carl told himself he’d take the vial and throw it out in a trashcan outside, but there wasn’t one between The Barnyard and the bus stop, so he ended up keeping it in his pocket. He couldn’t use it, there was no way he’d do something like that. It probably wouldn’t even do anything. I mean, who heard of people just…changing? Stu…Stu was just a freak, you couldn’t just, make someone like that, right? He transferred buses, and found a growing part of himself thinking about using it, groping his cock in his tight khakis, thinking about what it might be like, for Matt and Stu to be…the same person. How happy he would be. Didn’t Matt always say, that he just wanted Carl to be happy? Well, wouldn’t this make him happy? Would it? 

He was still asking himself that same question, two weeks later, as he was mixing another “experimental” cocktail for Carl on Halloween eve, adding the last third of the vial to his boyfriend’s next drink, following it up with ginger vodka, orange bitters and apple cider. The horror movie was still on, but neither of them had been having a very good evening. It was rather apparent to them both that the spark had gone out of their relationship, and Matt was trying to figure out how to end it, since Carl seemed focused on trying to cling to whatever might have been for a bit longer. Maybe next week, he thought to himself. He could break the news then. Besides, Carl seemed really excited about this Halloween party tomorrow, and he didn’t want to spoil the holiday after all. The third drink was the best of the night, though it still had that odd tang, which Carl had blamed on the ice and the bitters. Still, he drank it, but when he was finished with it, and midnight struck, he suddenly felt a bit sick, and Carl hurried to put him to bed, telling him that everything would be better in the morning.

***

– Chapter 2 –

Matt decided, as he laid in Carl’s bed, that this was the strangest hangover of his life. There was the headache, the sensitivity to light, the lethargy, the screaming need to piss (and possibly puke), but on top of all of that, Matt woke up feeling like some massive creature was sitting on his chest and stomach. He’d heard tales of sleep paralysis, and after flailing for a moment, half awake, he finally managed to break through and sit up on the side of the bed, panting hard, trying to remember what it the hell he’d been dreaming about. Carl had been there, and…and they’d had sex? If they’d had sex, it must have been a dream–Carl hadn’t touched him in at least a month or more, and every time Matt tried to get the juices flowing, he would…cringe as soon as Matt reached for his cock. He’d tried to shrug it off as Carl being upset over his recent weight gain–Matt didn’t care, and tried to talk to him about it, but Carl would just shut down everytime. No one kept their peak form forever after all, and both of them were pushing forty. Still, he was starting to think it was more than that. That…something about Matt simply repulsed him, but his boyfriend refused to talk about it. 

This wasn’t what he needed to be thinking about right now. He pushed those worries away and focused on something more immediate–pissing in a toilet instead of the bed. The sensation of something pressing down, or maybe hanging off of him, lingered, and when he pushed himself up from the bed, he felt off balance and dizzy, teetering a bit, hobbling towards Carl’s master bathroom, clutching the doorway for a moment to keep balance, and then stumbled onto the floor, nearly losing himself on the slick tile. Why was he having a hard time balancing? He felt like he was walking on tiptoe for some strange reason. With his legs spread a bit wider to keep himself upright, he stood in front of the toilet and finally let loose his bladder, but he couldn’t get a good grip on his cock. He ended up fumbling with it too much, soaking the rim and even the floor around the toilet. The piss smelled vile. He scrunched up his nose and snorted, shaking his still leaking cock a bit, looked around for something to wipe the piss up with, and then noticed that the bathroom mirror was missing.

This was no small mirror. It was clear from the outline in the paint on the wall that it had been there for a while, and from the screw holes in the drywall, it had been no easy task to remove. The real question, was why? Had it been there the night before? He’d used the other bathroom, and that one had still had a mirror, so why in the world had Carl taken down this one? Maybe…maybe he felt worse about his body than Matt had thought, if he was taking down mirrors so he didn’t have to look at himself. Still, if he felt that bad, then why hadn’t he been going to the gym as much? Sure, work was hard, but…it felt like he was missing some key piece of a puzzle, or maybe he was just too tired to figure it out. The headache was only getting worse, now that he was standing, and the dizziness wasn’t going away either. If this kept up, he didn’t think he’d be able to go to any party, no matter how much he wanted to please Carl.

He got a towel off the rod, bent over and tried to wipe up his piss, but for some reason he couldn’t get a good grip on the fabric. He finally took a long hard look at his hands…part of him was convinced that something was amiss, and yet he couldn’t figure out what could be wrong with them. They…seemed normal enough, to his eyes. And yet, they couldn’t do things he knew they should be able to do. He gave up, after the towel landed in the toilet bowl and he failed to fish it out; he’d just have to go find Carl and get help, to deal with his…surprising ineptitude this morning. 

Careful to keep his footing and balance, he maneuvered himself out of the bathroom, and tried to call out Carl’s name, but all the words came out garbled. His teeth felt too big, his mouth oddly shaped, his tongue too long–he must be sick, there must be getting sick with something, there was no other explanation for any of this. He tried again, and managed to get out something resembling “Carl” to fall off his lips, and he kept stumbling, out the bedroom door, propping himself up down the hallway, where he smelled the food, even before he heard Carl working in the kitchen, and the smell! His mouth began drooling uncontrollably, saliva welling up in his mouth in greater quantities than he could even imagine swallowing, feeling it run out both sides of his mouth, down his chin and onto his chest and stomach. His belly growled, nose leading him to the kitchen, his mind struggling to keep up with what was happening through the haze shrouding his mind. 

He turned the corner, and found himself faced with a table already laden with all sorts of breakfast fare–everything from a tower of pancakes and a heap of waffles to heaping bowls of oatmeal and a huge bowl of scrambled eggs–however, his mind noticed that there was no little meat, just some chicken sausages on a plate, which was odd because Carl had always been a devout meat eater. He wiped one forearm across his mouth, but it didn’t feel quite right to him, like he’d somehow managed to punch himself in the nose at the same time. It didn’t help much anyway–the slobber had only grown more intense, as he licked his tongue up around his lips and teeth. Carl had heard him in the hallway and turned to look, and frozen in front of the stove, his eyes wide and jaw gaping. In the back of his mind that seemed…strange, but without even really asking if this was all for him, his belly took command. Before he could even sit down, he started grabbing at the fork next to him, growling when his fingers again refused to work, and he instead started pulling food to him with his hands, clumsily shovelling it into his mouth as best he could.

Carl couldn’t stop staring…and he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face either. Already…already his boyfriend was looking so much…more appealing, and it seemed like Matt hadn’t noticed anything amiss at all–or at least not enough to really stop and worry. Still, he could see the distress forming in his eyes, as he realized he couldn’t stop eating, no matter how hard he tried. He kept trying to talk through his food, but he couldn’t get anything out–which wasn’t at all surprising to Carl, but Matt was getting flustered. Carl walked over and stroked his hair, calming him down, urging him to just keep eating. For whatever reason, it worked–Matt’s eyes grew more relaxed, and he started eating with more focus and commitment, and Carl went back to cooking.

He checked over his shoulder every few minutes, still unable to believe what he was seeing. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as…complete as Stu, but…but still. It was working! It was really…really working. He could see the snout pushing out from Matt’s face, the tusks starting to extend past his lips. His hands were worthless as hands now–his fingers had merged together and were hardening, even as he watched–he’d given up on using his hands at all, in fact, and was simply shoving his face into the food, eating and snorting and grunting, standing up to get at the food closer to the middle of the table, and his gut…fuck. He was…getting fatter. The food was going right to his belly, and as Carl watched, it was beginning to expand out, turning…flabby, and…and soft… 

More food. He had to make even more food. Carl found himself in a bit of a race. Matt became more adept at eating with his changing mouth, and Carl struggled to find more food in the kitchen for his boyfriend to eat. He managed to hold out for several hours, but finally Matt cleaned him out, and after licking the plates clean with his longer tongue, he groaned, sat back in the chair behind him, and after a moment of trying to support him, the wood cracked and collapsed underneath his massive bulk, plopping Matt down on his ass with a loud smack. Carl rushed over to make sure he was alright–Matt gave a groan, and tried to speak for the first time since entering the kitchen. The words were garbled, but understandable. “Fuck, was so hungry…” he groaned, and looked around. “Did I…break the chair?”

“It was…just old is all,” Carl said quickly, “Here let me help you up.”

The first couple times were nearly impossible. Without fingers, and with hard half-trotters coated with butter and grease, neither of them could get a good enough grip on each other for Matt to get up. On the floor, Matt was simply…confused. He felt heavy, heavier than he could really understand. Looking down at himself, there on the floor, none of this really made sense, and he let off a massive belch, feeling his stomach rumble–Carl watching Matt’s gut suddenly heave outward again with the blast of gas, sagging down over his waist. “I don’t…feel…” Matt belched again, his body expanding once more, and Carl suddenly didn’t think he’d even be able to pick him up.  He went around behind him, crouched down and got his arms under Matt’s armpits, and strained up, Matt scrambling to get his slick, awkward feet underneath his body. His balance was all off; he managed to get upright, but could only stay there by clinging to the doorway into the kitchen. Carl could see that part of the reason it had been so difficult wasn’t just that he was fatter, he was also quite a bit taller. Neither of them had been short, by any means, but now Matt loomed over him by about a half a foot, close to six and half feet tall.

Matt scanned the mess in the kitchen. Empty plates were scattered everywhere, even on the floor, where several had broken. Food, too, was everywhere, and all over him. He wiped his face with one hand, still confused by the feeling not matching what he was seeing, and felt his jaw, neck and chest covered with drool and food. “There we go,” Carl said. He couldn’t help it, he slapped Matt’s overhanging gut, watching it jiggle in response, his cock hard as a rock. “Got you back upright, at least.”

“I don’t…know, don’t feel good at all…” Matt said, “I can’t…go to that party…I don’t–”

“No!” Carl said, “No, you have to go with me, you’re just…just a bit woozy is all, from eating too much. Look, why don’t we, uh, get you in the shower. That’ll make you feel a bit better, and then we can go out and have some fun tonight, alright? You’ll love it, trust me.”

“I just don’t…something’s wrong, Carl…” Matt said, “I don’t…” he turned to his boyfriend, and he…smelled…he could smell him. Not like a usual smell, he could smell…arousal. That was the only way he could describe it. Like cum, and sweat and musk…and it smelled good. As good as the food had smelled earlier. He managed to stand up on his feet, wobbling a bit, snorting a bit, “You’re…horny…” he groaned, “Smell…fuckin’ good. Still…kinda hungry too.”

Before Carl could react, Matt was back down on his knees in front of him, scrapping trotters against the front of his pants, making frustrated noises, snorting and grunting and licking his lips. Carl was more than happy to give him what he was asking for. He popped open his fly, and Matt slurped down his cock, sucking and nibbling and licking at his shaft and head. It was…awkward. Matt obviously wasn’t quite sure how to work his new snout and tongue, or how to keep his growing tusks away from Carl’s sensitive areas, but looking down at his boyfriend, Carl didn’t care, and he grabbed hold of Matt’s larger, floppier ears and started thrusting into his snout and down his throat, and he shot in less than a minute. Matt, however, kept licking even after drinking down all the cum, his tongue slathering across Carl’s balls, until his boyfriend took a step back away from him, breathing fast and trying to get his pants back up. Matt focused all his energy and heaved himself back up to his feet, stumbled a bit, and found himself facing a direction in the kitchen he hadn’t yet, looking right at the shiny, stainless steel refrigerator. It was so shiny, in fact, that it had always functioned as a decent enough mirror, and even though his image was distorted by the curve, for the first time this morning he saw himself. And what he saw…

The enchantment over his eyes fell away in the face of his own reflection, and he could finally look down at himself. At his solid, trotter hands, at his massive apron of fat and heavy moobs hanging from his chest where his lean muscle had been just the day before. At the snout sticking out into the middle of his vision, the tusks popping up from his bottom jaw. He screamed, but through his new mouth it came out as a high pitched squeal, which only terrified him more, and he fled the kitchen, pushing past Carl and towards the door of the apartment…but he couldn’t go out there like this! He flipped around and found himself facing Carl, and realized that he must have known. Why else would he have pretended like nothing was wrong all morning? “You! You…what did you do to me?”

Carl froze, not sure whether to spill the truth or try to lie. What had gone wrong? Hadn’t he taken down all the mirrors, like Jimmy had told him to do? He looked back at the fridge door and realized what must have happened, and he turned and ran away from Matt at the door towards the bedroom.

“Hey!” Matt shouted and charged after him, the floor shaking under his massive weight. Carl threw the bedroom door shut behind him, but Matt charged right into it, throwing him forward and tumbling to the floor. Before he could get up, Matt dropped down on him, pinning him to the floor. Carl tried to get something out, but looking up at the pig face glaring down at him, he was certain he was about to be ripped limb from limb and…well, he had to admit that he did kind of deserve it. But Matt snorted, and took a deep breath; Carl could feel…something hard pushing between them, and realized it must be Matt’s cock. “Carl, you…you had better have a…damn good explanation for why this shit is turning me on…so damn much. And fuck, why do you smell so fucking good…”

“Look, I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t…It’s a long story, and I…I know, but…but the way he said it, it just made so much…sense…at the time, when Jimmy gave it to me.”

“Who the fuck is Jimmy?”

Carl knew he’d said too much–there was no backing out now.

“Is he the fucker you’ve been cheating on me with? Is he the fucker you’ve been ‘staying late at the office for,’ you lying son of a bitch?”

“No! Not him–It’s…more complicated than that.”

Matt glowered at him, his smaller eyes looking like mean, dark dots on his face, “Then you’d better start talking, Carl, cause I want a fucking explanation.”

So he started explaining. He started at the beginning, as best he could remember it, how he’d discovered The Barnyard, and his first visits with Stu. Stu, the short, round boarman he’d been sleeping with for months now. How he’d tried to stop, but couldn’t. How Jimmy had offered him a possible solution to his guilty conscience. That, however, was about how far he got. Matt was doing his best to pay attention, but the smell of Carl’s arousal, now that his anger was ebbing, kept pulling at his attention. About the time Carl got to the vial, he had given in, rubbing his face into Carl’s chest, licking up his sweat, grinding their cock’s together. Something in him was still changing. His body might have stopped, but his head–it felt so thick all of a sudden. He was so angry, but so much hornier, that it just made sense to give Carl another blowjob. This one was a bit better than the last, now that he could properly understand what he was working with, and Carl managed to last a bit longer, before blowing his load into Matt’s snout.

“Don’t think, just cause I keep blowin’ you that…I’m not pissed off…” Matt slurred around his tusks, “You just smell so…fuckin’ good all of a sudden, and I’m not…thinkin’ too good.”

“Look, try not to worry about it, Matt–we’ll just go to the party tonight, and Jimmy will change you back. I just wanted…I wanted you to be happy with me.”

“Fuck you, you just wanted me to be your fuckpig, don’t fuckin’ sugarcoat it.”

“No, no, that’s not just it, I love you Matt. I’m just…I’m not attracted to normal guys anymore, I guess, but I do love you, I do!”

“You’re fuckin’ sick, you know that?”

Carl slid down, so he was face to snout with Matt, and gave him a deep kiss on the snout, and then pushed him over onto his back, his fat body resting around him, and Carl got his first look at Matt’s new cock, slick from his sheath, head twisted just…just like Stu’s, but even bigger, and he dove on it, sucking it hard, feeling Matt buck up into his throat, squealing with pleasure. He hadn’t expected it to feel so good, and he orgasmed, the pleasure blossoming and billowing inside him. He kept expecting it to subside, but it didn’t, not even after he’d finished pumping cum into Carl’s mouth–so much he couldn’t hope to swallow it all. “I didn’t do this because I wanted a fuckpig, I did this so you could at least…know how much I want to be with you, Matt.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Matt muttered, but kept snorting, “How…fucking how long does this last?”

“About half an hour.”

“You’re fucking…seriously?”

Carl nodded, but inside he wondered–was he lying? Did he really love Matt? Was that why he’d done this? He couldn’t help but admit that…part of the thrill he was feeling was being in control, in how much Matt wanted him suddenly. How much he needed him. It was something he’d had to pay Stu for, but Matt…it made him even hornier, how vulnerable he was, suddenly. And he wasn’t sure he really wanted that feeling to end.

“You know, you fuckin’ forgot something. How the fuck am I supposed to get all the way across town, on the bus, without everyone seeing me? Without anyone calling the fucking cops? We aren’t going anywhere tonight.”

“What, did that thick head of yours forget already? It’s Halloween, Matt. No one’s gonna look at you twice.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Ok, so they’ll look twice, but only because of how cool you look.”

“Cool? Shut up.”

“Seriously.”

“I’m not going.”

“If you don’t go, then I have no idea how to turn you back, and then you really will have to be my fuckpig. I thought that’s what you didn’t want?”

Matt scowled at Carl on top of him, orgasm still pulsing through him, and snorted. He was right, as much as he hated to admit it. “Fine, I’ll go, but we’re breaking up–you do realize that, right? We’re fucking through, after tonight. I never want to see you again.”

Carl nodded, but he had a feeling that he might still be able to turn things around, maybe with a little help from Jimmy. Maybe Matt would see that Carl had done all of this for him–no, for them. He could see that, couldn’t he? “If that’s what you want, I understand. But we’d better get you dressed–we don’t want to be late now, do we?”

***

Matt first demanded that Carl at least let him take a shower first, and even Carl had to admit that he needed one. His face was coated with food, as was his flabby chest. However, he quickly discovered that working the shower was going to be nearly impossible with his new hands. They were still…somewhat functionable–especially now that he was able to see what exactly he had to work with. His four fingers had fused into two hard trotters, and his thumb had grown larger, becoming the same size as the others. He could grip with them, but doing anything remotely delicate–say, grabbing and holding onto a bar of soap and using it on his body–proved impossible. Still, he was too stubborn, angry, and embarrassed to consider asking Carl to help him wash off; he ended up simply letting the water run over his body, getting himself as clean as he could, exploring his body as the heady orgasm finally began subsiding. He’d certainly gained a substantial amount of weight–compared to his previous body he was outright obese–and yet, he did enjoy it somewhat. His fat didn’t sag–it was firm, much of it pushing out in a heavy gut and firm moobs on top of them that wobbled slightly as he moved. His arms had beefed up, and his legs had grown much thicker and longer, though with a pronounced bow, forcing his stance to be quite a bit wider than before. 

He got out of the shower and dried himself off as best as he could, and then went out into the bedroom. His phone was still on the bedside table; he carefully picked it up with one hand and tried to work it, but the screen refused to respond to his trotters. He’d been hoping to get a better look at his face with the camera–not that he really wanted to see what he looked like, but at least then he’d know how best to…try and disguise all of this. He couldn’t believe that he had to cross town looking like this–that Carl had been planning on dragging him over there without even knowing what was happening. The anger that he’d managed to keep at bay unravelled slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. He caught himself snorting loudly as he breathed, and managed to reel his emotions back in, but it was difficult. Everything felt…closer to the surface, like there was less he could do to control his head and emotions. While the veil might have been lifted, he still didn’t feel normal…or think normally either.

Carl had laid out some clothes for him–it was a joke. It was a sweatsuit Carl had obviously bought recently, since he’d been gaining weight steadily for months. It served him right, Matt thought. He was the one who deserved to be a fucking pig right now, not him. Still, even though the sweats were double extra large, the sweatshirt left a significant slab of belly exposed, and his thick thighs could barely fit in the snug material, meaning they not only showed off every bulge, but that his morphed cock and balls were displayed obscenely in the front. Carl came in to see how things were going, and Matt turned to him, “What the fuck? You don’t really expect me to wear this, do you?”

Carl’s jaw dropped at the sight of Matt’s hefty package well outlined in the front of the sweats, and missed his chance to respond. 

“Oh fuck you, you fully intended this, didn’t you?”

“No! I mean, I didn’t…I didn’t know what that stuff would do to you, I mean, not really. I hadn’t…really thought this all the way through.”

“No fucking shit!”

“Look, that’s the best I can do, alright?”

“The fuckin’…best?” Matt said, trying to sound angry, but he felt…strange all of a sudden. He tried to think harder, to catch the rest of what he’d been planning on saying, but his head started pounding painfully, “Fuck…headache…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’ know…” Matt said. Carl came closer to help him, and the smell of him–of their sex earlier, it overwhelmed Matt’s mind for a moment, lost in Carl’s musk, his cock hardening, pushing out over the waistband of the sweats. “You smell…good still…”

“Matt, can we focus here?” Carl asked, but looking at his boyfriend’s eyes, it looked like focusing was going to be a bit difficult for him. His head had changed from earlier in the day. Where it had been still recognizably human, with rather piggish features, that was now reversed. His snout was highly pronounced, his eyes slightly beady and a little glazed. “Look, you’re still changing. Just try to stay calm until we get to the bar, and Jimmy will sort this all out, alright?”

Matt tried to stay angry, tried to argue, but everything seemed to just…melt away from him, and all he really wanted was…to keep smelling him. “Sure Carl,” he said, “Smell fuckin’ sexy though.” He grinned–or tried to–and Carl took a step back. “I…think somethin’s wrong in my head.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, “Hold on–stay put, I’ll get that.”

Carl left him in the bedroom, and Matt could hear him talking to someone, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. After a couple of minutes the door closed, and Carl shouted, “All clear, you can come on out.”

Matt’s nose told him everything he needed to know–that had been a pizza delivery guy, and even though he’d already gorged himself all morning, his gut growled at the mere mention of food, drool already cascading down onto the sweatshirt. “Really?” Matt said, snorting, “More food? I’m already…having a hard time fittin’…”

Carl was waiting for him with a n open box of pizza, and Matt didn’t bother objecting twice. Carl set him down on the couch and fed him pizza after pizza, rubbing his full gut, and doing his best to keep the grease and slobber off his clothes. This time, Carl at least managed to get something to eat as well–he was starving, especially after he’d spent the night taking down every mirror in the house, and all morning cooking. Matt begrudgingly enjoyed himself, especially when Carl slipped his hand down his pants and started working his cock as he ate himself silly yet again, though he could feel the clothes he had on constricting him a bit tighter, the sweatshirt riding up over his gut. It was also hot, and he was sweating more…which only made him smell better, Carl licking the sweat and grease from his snout as he finished off the sixth, and last, extra large pizza he’d ordered for them.

Matt let off a great belch, his gut expanding out as he did, the sweat shirt riding all the way up his gut. “Was that…fuck, really necessary?”

“I didn’t want you to go hungry,” Carl said, “Besides, I hadn’t eaten all day. I thought it would be rude to not get some for you too.”

“But I’d already taken a shower…”

“You look fine–besides, we needed to kill a bit of time, right? You’ll be less conspicuous in the dark, and the party doesn’t start until midnight anyway.”

Matt looked out the window, and realized time had really gotten away from him. The sub had already set, and there was just a dim twilight outside. “I…I don’t know Carl, will people really…not notice?”

“Everything will be ok in a bit, alright? Just, you know, play the part,” Carl pulled a coat for him out of the closet by the door, and an overcoat for Matt, “ This will help keep you under wraps too–now come on, we need to get going, or we’ll miss the buses.”

Matt pushed against the fog that had settled over his mind. It was similar to what had afflicted him earlier, when he’d been under whatever spell “Jimmy” had cast on him. But before, when he’d felt addled, he hadn’t felt in control of himself. More like a dream than anything else. This though–it was like his brain had shifted down into first gear. Getting anything beyond a simple thought through was so difficult, and he he tried too hard, a headache would sear through his temples. He didn’t want to go out there. He didn’t want people to see him like this, even at night. He didn’t want to get arrested, or worse. But he…he couldn’t just stay here. It was obviously getting worse, and as much as he hated to admit it, going to the stupid party was the best choice–not that he could formulate any other option, if one existed. So he let Carl help him into the overcoat, which barely fit him at all, and wouldn’t even close all the way in the front, and followed him out, self-consciously trying to tug down the sweatshirt and pull the over coat around him at the same time, but he stopped when he heard a ripping sound come from the armpit. 

They got out onto the sidewalk, and everyone looked at him. No, they didn’t just look at him, they stared at him–hard. Eyes popped from heads, but thankfully (perhaps) most people were so obsessed with his strange face that they didn’t even notice his massive bulge that he couldn’t cover with the coat at all. He’d grown quite a bit taller indeed, and it was even easier to notice now, with everyone looking up at him as they walked, and Matt pulled closer to Carl, wishing he could have at least had a hat or something to try and cover his face a bit. He felt like a freak, but being with Carl made him feel a bit better. Just…just something about the way he smelled, made him feel a bit calmer, a bit…horny. His cock threatened to pop free from his sweats, and he focused as best he could, trying to keep his needs under control, and pushed himself away from Carl, trying to get away from whatever smell that was. This was not the time to lose control, especially not in public. 

Aside from a few minor incidents, the journey across town was without catastrophe. A young boy demanded that Matt let him feel his “mask,” and the parents seemed rather expectant. It terrified the kid, because of how warm it felt, and the parents tried to urge him to take it off, so he could show the boy it was fake; instead, Carl muttered an apology for them both, and hurried away. Later, on the bus, a group of teenagers in partial costume spent much of the ride pointing and snickering at him a few seats away. One of the boys pulled an apple from his backpack and lobbed it at him, telling him to “Eat up, Piggy!” The group dissolved into laughter, and Matt very nearly let the anger get the best of him, but Carl pulled him back into the seat. The group got off after another stop…and as humiliated as he was by the whole thing, his gut gave a growl, and Matt ended up eating the apple down–core, stem and seeds included. He also ended up giving an old woman a scare as they exited the bus, sending her screaming in the opposite direction down the street–but beyond that, perfectly normal–aside from the fact that he was some strange pigman wandering the streets of the city. Carl led him on for a few more blocks, until they arrived at The Barnyard. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was about to make an even worse mistake, but what choice did he have, really? He followed Carl down the steps, through the door, and into the club.

– Chapter 3 –

Carl started down the hallway, but was caught off guard by a sudden right turn. The hallway had always just been a straight shot, and then he was in the bar, but the hallway continued, the lighting growing dimmer, odd sounds coming from the dark around them as they walked. The sounds were…they didn’t sound like recordings, but they also didn’t sound particularly human. Pleasure? Pain? Carl found himself going a bit slower, Matt pressing closer to him, his boyfriend’s musk muddling his brain again in the tight space. He leaned in and licked the back of Carl’s sweaty neck–he screamed and jumped around.

“What the fuck, Matt?”

“Sorry, you just…smell really good.”

“You don’t have to fucking freak me out like that.”

“Where are we even? This isn’t a bar, this is some weird tunnel.”

“Look, I…I’m not sure, alright?” Carl said, “Now come on, let’s figure this out.”

Matt wanted to press the subject, but ended up just following him. Thankfully, after another couple of turns Carl couldn’t remember, they emerged into a large room–it wasn’t the bar, however–if anything it looked like a massive storeroom, filled with piles and piles of clothes and equipment. There, in the dim, flickering light of several lanterns hung from the ceiling, was Jimmy. He had traded in his customary flannel and jeans for a suit that seemed better suited for a carnival barker, his face covered by a small mask over his eyes, though he was still perfectly recognizable by his bushy beard and hairy chest.

“Carl!” he said, “So glad you could make it. I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show! The party’s already in full swing.” He spied Matt behind him and grinned, “Oh ho, and you did end up bringing your guest, I see.”

Matt gave a snort of disapproval. Jimmy didn’t seem to notice, and stepped forward, immediately trying to put his hands on Matt’s physique, only to be batted away by Matt’s trotters. “Hey! What the fuckin’ hell?”

Jimmy’s grin turned to a frown. “He saw himself? I told you no mirrors.”

“It was an accident.”

Jimmy sighed, “Well that does make things a bit more difficult then.”

“Well let me sili–I mean…simple it fer you,” Matt said, “Just change me back. I wanna be normal again, and then I’m gettin’ the hell outta here.”

“Well, the good thing is,” Jimmy said, “Everything will be back to normal in the morning, all on it’s own! But only if you stay. See, the spell is tied to the party here–if you aren’t here all night, then you’ll be stuck like this. So I suppose you might as well just make the best of it and stay, right?”

“Bullshit!” Matt said, stepping close to him so their chests touched, looming over him by several inches, but Jimmy was unfazed. “You did this, and you can change me back.”

“It really isn’t that easy, trust me.”

Matt huffed up, but before he could just start shouting up at him, Jimmy reached up pressed two fingers to the taller boar’s lips, and the breath sighed out of him, his eyelids drooping, his shoulders releasing all of their tension. 

“Is he always like this?” Jimmy asked, turning to Carl.

“Well, I mean…it was a bit of a shock.”

“Well, if you’d made sure he hadn’t seen himself, then he wouldn’t be being difficult at all.”

“If I had known what was going to happen, maybe I would have been able to prepare a bit better! You were more than a little vague…” Carl said, sighed, and continued, “Fuck, what the fuck am I even doing? Why in the fuck did I think this was even going to work? It’s hopeless. He hates me, and I don’t blame him. He should leave me, after all of this.”

“Oh shush,” Jimmy said, “He’s just scared.”

“Of course he’s scared! Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well, he’d be having more fun if he wasn’t, that’s all I mean.” Jimmy looked to the still sagging Matt. His finger’s hadn’t left his lips, and he seemed to be sizing up a cut of meat, and that gave Carl a shiver.

“Look, just give him what he wants. Change him back, and let him leave.”

“I already said that it isn’t that simple.”

“Wait…seriously? I thought you were lying to get him to stay! You really can’t change him back?”

“Look, things will be just fine, mostly…probably…as long as you both stay for the party. Like I said, I’ve done this plenty of times, but usually, the less you know about the magic involved, the less opportunity you have to screw it up–not that you haven’t screwed it up already. I mean, the self-awareness alone, who knows what that might leave behind, but as long as we keep him fairly well addled for the rest of the night, he should be fine…ish…” Jimmy said, stroking Matt’s fat cheek with his other hand.

“You don’t sound very confident. What might go wrong?”

“Look, you were almost late for the party, and we don’t even have costumes for the two of you yet,” Jimmy said, “We’ll sort all of this out later, I promise, but why don’t the two of you focus on having some fun tonight? How about you Matt, you wanna have some fun, don’t you?” 

Matt’s snout turned into a drooling grin, and he nodded slowly.

“And since your boyfriend there already got to choose most of your costume, it’s only fair that you get to pick out the rest, right?”

Through all this, he hadn’t removed his fingers from Matt’s snout, and Carl could see a strange, greenish wisp wafting up from those fingers and into Matt’s piggish nose. He gave a great snort suddenly, and shook his head, trying to piece together what had been happening, “Were…you guys sayin’…something?”

“Nothing important, Matt–now, why don’t you pick out your costume?”

Something about that didn’t seem quite right–he hadn’t been planning on staying. “No I was gonna leave, I thought. Besides, I already…have clothes…”

“Do you?” Jimmy asked, and Matt felt the sweatshirt, sweatpants and overcoat he had on constrict around his burly figure, and he started clawing at the fabric around his neck, where it had cut off his breath. In a matter of seconds it had begun ripping, and Matt tore it the rest of the way off his frame, the shreds of cloth disappearing in the air before they could even hit the ground, leaving him heaving his big gut for breath, Carl amazed at the amount of changes that had happened while they’d been crossing the city. He was a few inches taller, and his body had solidified–even after his substantial second feeding. The fat he’d packed on earlier had been turning to muscle as they travelled, giving him a beefier physique with a solid, barrel chest and belly…and a massive cock hanging from his sheath, with two orange sized balls swinging below…and a short, curly tail above his ass. 

“I…I mean, I guess not…”

“Those weren’t really good clothes for a Halloween party, anyway. Why don’t you go digging for something a bit more…appropriate for a dirty pig like you?”

There was something wrong here, he’d been wanting to leave, but…but maybe he did want to stay. He couldn’t leave without clothes either way…and he could smell…something, in there, in the piles of those clothes out in front of him. His nose was suddenly so much more sensitive, and more than that, the dirtier something was…it was turning him on, the nasty clothes heaped around them. They all smelled so…filthy, his trotters taking a few uneven steps forward, until he tumbled down onto his hands and knees, and started rooting through the piles of dirty laundry with his face, hurling shirts, pants and underwear to the side with his tusks, snorting and huffing as he sought out the source of the nastiest, filthiest stench he could find, coming up, first, with a brown and yellow, crusty jockstrap in his mouth, and he grabbed it in his trotters, and did his best to get it over his legs–Carl rushing over to help him get it on. The pouch was well stretched, but even then it could barely contain his massive equipment. Matt rolled back over and crawled to a different pile, eventually surfacing with a pair of muddy and stained overalls, the fabric frayed and torn, and Carl again walked over to help him–though it was a struggle. He managed to get the overalls on him, but the smells around them had gotten Matt rather excited; he ended up on top of Carl and started grinding his crotch into him, grunting and kissing him until Jimmy walked over and pulled him off by the back of the overalls.

“Slow down now, after all, your boyfriend isn’t even in his costume yet. Since you did such a good job finding one for yourself, why don’t you find one for him too? One that’ll match your…tastes.”

Matt squealed with excitement, and Carl turned to Jimmy, “I don’t know if that’s really the best–”

“Oh hush–as if you haven’t gotten your way enough tonight already. It’s just for the party anyway–Stu’s told me a few tales of what you enjoy–let loose, have some fun for once!”

Carl watched Matt root about for a moment, and then a stomach churning thought occurred to him, “Wait…Stu isn’t…at the party, is he?”

“Well of course he is! Why wouldn’t he be?”

“I mean, what if…you know, we meet?”

Jimmy patted him on the shoulder, “I understand your concerns, but Stu is a professional. I’ve known him to get a bit attached to clients in the past, but we already talked about it, and you have nothing to worry about it. If you do see him, he swore to be that he’ll be on his best, behavior.”

“What do you mean, ‘attached to clients’?”

“It’s really nothing to worry about. Now go put on your costume, Matt’s almost done finding it.”

Matt had collected a small pile from the surrounding clothing, and was kneeling next to it, looking around in case he had missed something. A bit nervous at what he might have in mind, Carl still stripped off his clothes and handed them to Jimmy for safe keeping, and then walked over to see what his pig had found. First came a jockstrap as equally filthy as Matt’s, though a bit smaller, since he was now quite outclassed in that department. Then a nasty, well stained tanktop, a pair of muddy jeans, two crusty wool socks, some boots crusted with mud, a hi-fiz vest which had lost it’s luster quite a while earlier, and lastly a muddy yellow hard hat which stank of someone else’s head sweat. Once it was all on, he felt a bit ridiculous…and more than a little dirty. It didn’t help that nothing fit him very well–the jeans were too tight, the tank and vest too big, the hard hat sitting so low he had to tilt it back to keep it out of his eyes, the boots threatening to pull off his feet with each step. 

Jimmy walked over, obviously pleased from the smile, “A very good choice. Now, for a few finishing touches…”

Jimmy gave a flourish in the air…they waited a few moments but nothing seemed to happen. Carl turned to Matt, and realized his boyfriend had most certainly changed. Even though Matt had showered earlier and gotten himself reasonably clean, his appearance was looking similar to the clothes he’d picked out–mud caked on his elbows and wrists, and all up his arms and across his chest, where Carl could see them, were a series of tattoos–most of them rather redneck in subject and sloppily done. He also had thick, long beard sprouting across his face under and around his snout, even as his hair had shrunk back into his head, leaving him shaved bald…and a cigar. How had he missed the cigar? Matt had always been an adamant anti-smoker, but here he was, with a thick, long stogie clamped in his snout, puffing smoke…it was so…damn sexy. Along with the smell of the smoke, he also just plain stank–sweaty and musky, cum and piss and muck. Carl stepped closer, and realized that he was…looking down at Matt, even though the boar had been taller than him a second before. Something was in his mouth too–he took it out and found himself staring at a cigar of his own, equally massive…and his fucking hand. His very…very large hand. A very large, calloused, grimy hand…

Jimmy put a hand on his shoulder, “Try not to think about it too much–like I said before, the less you understand what’s going on, the better, alright big guy?”

That…that was smarter, probably. He didn’t really feel like thinking much anyway–it was giving him a headache. Matt leaned in, and they kissed, tasting each other’s smoky, dirty mouths for a few moments before pulling away, a bridge of droll connected their chins for a moment before breaking. He felt…different. Sizable. The gear that had felt so odd before now felt made for his body…or maybe a body slightly smaller than his. It…smelled like him too, like it was his–which for the night, he supposed it was. The kiss was interrupted by a very loud and resonant chime–a bell deep enough for the sound to resonate in their chests.

“What…what was that?” Carl asked.

“That’s the first bell–midnight already–it’s amazing how quickly time can fly down here.”

“Midnight? But it was eleven when we got here…”

“Yes, well…magic can bend…things, sometimes. It’s all very complicated, trust me. The bell helps us all keep on track. It will ring each hour from now on, until just before six o’clock–that’s dawn, at which point the party is over, and everything will be back to normal.” Carl wanted to ask more, but Jimmy spun around and walked off, still talking, “Now, how about we get to the party, lovebirds? I’ve been neglecting my duties as host long enough!”

“I…I ain’t sure ‘bout this, Carl,” Matt said under his breath, his voice suddenly coming out slower, with a long southern drawl, “I mean, I…I kinda like it, but…”

“Look, it’s just for a night, right?” Carl said, and grabbed his trotter hand in his, pulling him after Jimmy, “Try not tah think about it too hard.”

“I’m…kinda havin’ trouble thinkin’ at all, tah be honest,” Matt said, “Jus’ makin’ sent–sentaces is hard.” He exhaled a pair of smoke jets from his nose, “Uh…was I smokin’ before? I don’t…quite remember. Taste’s good, anyway.”

Carl took a drag off his cigar, and had to agree. It felt…natural enough, but that only scared him more. For the first time in this whole exercise, he was beginning to have his own doubts that this was completely safe–and those worries only escalated when Jimmy showed them through the next hallway and out into the bar proper.

It was a zoo, or to be more literal, it was a barn. The room was quite packed–Carl was surprised that enough people in the city shared his interests for the bar to be this full. All of the attendees were men, that he could see, although a few were…questionably so. In particular, they passed a cowman who still had a cock, although his balls had become an udder which was leaking something like milk onto the floor as he staggered past, mooing. Flannel, denim and leather abounded, aside from a few exceptions. One older fellow, still human like him, was in a police uniform (if he imagined him without the uniform, he looked awfully similar to a man he saw on the bus regularly during his commute) and crouched in front of him was a police dog–or someone who was mostly a police dog–licking the man’s cock openly in a booth. Pigs, horses, donkeys, bulls, goats–it was quite a menagerie, and Carl no longer felt entirely comfortable being there. He’d always regarded this place as some seedy, secret place–but to see it erupting out into the open made him feel…ashamed? Terrified? There was no easy word that came to his head, but the air stank of musk, and he was rock hard in his gritty jeans. Matt pulled closer to him, equally unsettled; Carl put his arm around the his pig’s shoulders, pulling him closer still, smelling their smoke, happy that he was there with him–or maybe he was simply happy that he hadn’t come alone.

The rumble was audible over the dull roar of the crowd, and more than a few patrons around them turned and looked right at Matt’s belly. “Sorry…guess I’m hungry again…” he muttered.

“Well we can fix that,” Jimmy said, and pointed towards one wall. They pushed through the crowd and came to a huge trough, laid out over about twenty feet along the wall, and all along the length were any number of pigs–and men, and man-pigs–with their faces shoved deep in the slop. “How about that? Eat all you like–it refills all night long. Eat yourself immobile if you want, I doubt Carl will mind one bit,” Jimmy said with a wink.

Matt wasn’t paying attention. He’d caught one whiff of the food and stomped over, eyes unfocused, drool flowing from his chops. He fell to his knees and shoved his face in, snorting and devouring as much as he could, leaving Jimmy and Carl to watch. 

“Satisfied?” Jimmy asked.

“I…I don’ know,” Carl replied, “Guess I didn’ really know what tah expect, but it wasn’t this.”

“It’s not about meeting expectations, Carl. It’s about experiencing pleasure, fleeting though it may be. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Carl got halfway through his reply before he realized Jimmy wasn’t standing beside him anymore. He looked around and the man had either disappeared, or made an amazing slip into the crowd around them. He looked at Matt stuffing himself, his cigar burnt out and forgotten on the ground beside him, and felt some mix of guilt and desire that he didn’t really feel like sorting out. He took a breath of smoke, and felt better for a moment, until a too familiar voice squealed his name, and the balance of his feelings shifted completely into guilt.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you tonight so much! You haven’t been coming around as often, ya know. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Stu came waddling up and pulled Carl into a big hug, his fat encompassing him in such a…familiar way, that Carl let himself sink in for a few moments–though the pig was smaller than he remembered. When he let him go, he was able to get a better look at him. The boar had always been on the short side, very chubby with stubby legs, and bristly hair all over his body. Tonight, however, he was in a silvery gown, with blush on his cheeks above his bearded snout, and a long blond wig on his head. “Hope you didn’t think I wouldn’t recognize you in costume, but I can’t say the get up surprises me much–you’ve always had a filthy streak, haven’t you? Do you know who I’m going as tonight? Come on, guess…” 

He leaned in close, batting some long, false eyelashes in his direction. Carl pushed him away, and looked to Matt. Stu followed his eyes, frowning.

“Who’s that? You looking at other pigs?” he laughed, but when Carl didn’t laugh with him, he stopped. “No seriously, who’s that?”

“That…that’s Matt…my boyfriend.”

Stu was less than pleased, “Jimmy’s said something about trying to play matchmaker again. He always tries to kill my fucking business.”

“Look, I didn’t know you’d be here, I just–”

“You didn’t think I’d be here? You really think I’d miss the best party of the year?”

“I didn’t know that! I didn’t–I mean–it was complicated.”

“Well, he’s busy anyway–why don’t we nip off and have some fun, big boy? I like how you’re looking, for sure. He won’t even know you’ve been gone.”

Carl shook his head.

“What, seriously? You think he can give you what I do? There’s no fucking way. I didn’t get this good at what I do through one of Jimmy’s fucking spells, this took years of work. I’m all pig and he’s just playing. I’ll show you what you really want, fucker,” he said, and slipped one trotter hand down the front of Carl’s pants, making him shiver, “I’m the only one who can handle you. The real you. I know what you like. You’re a beast–he can’t take it. After all, if he could take you, then your relationship wouldn’t be on the rocks, now would it?”

Carl took a step back, forcing Stu’s hand from his pants. This, he figured, must have been what Jimmy meant, when he said Stu could get too attached to his clients. “Look, I’m sorry…but I love him. I want to try and make it work.”

“Please, you didn’t bring him here because you love him, you brought him here because you want ass like mine without having to pay for it!” Stu said, pointing at Matt gorging himself in the trough, “You want a pig, but you don’t want me. Well fuck you–and when you two fall apart, which always happens whenever Jimmy tries to muddle with this shit, then I’ll be a shoulder you can cry on…at twice the price. Because once he sees the real you, he’s not gonna want you anyway, no matter how much of a pig you try and make him.”

Before Carl could object, Stu had spun around and stormed off into the crowd. Carl didn’t follow him. He looked over at Matt, but suddenly he didn’t feel very…sexy. What he wanted, he realized, was a drink. A strong drink. Matt seemed…content, for the moment at least. He probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped away for a moment, right? It took him a few minutes to work his way through the throng to the bar. Jimmy wasn’t tending tonight–it was an all-too-cheerful sheep dog. He ordered a whisky and coke, drank it straight away, and ordered a second. He was halfway through that glass when the realized the drink tasted a bit strange…like it had a tinge of grass to it. He asked the bartender what brand of whisky he’d used, and all the dog said was it was one of Jimmy’s specialties. For obvious reasons, that didn’t help him feel better. Still, it was just a drink, right? And if something happened, it was still just for the night, so what could it really hurt? In fact…why…why not order another one?

A barstool opened up next to him, and he settled onto it, the bartender bringing him a third round. He took this one a bit slower, relishing the flavor a bit more along with his second cigar, which he pulled from the pocket of his jeans. Sure, it was strange, but kind of nice. Like a fresh field, clover, wildflowers–maybe a tinge of manure. It didn’t help him feel less strange, however. He was too hot, even though he was just in a tank top. His boots were suddenly hurting his feet, and he ended up kicking them off–which felt much better. A headache struck at his temples, making his vision go a bit blurry. He swore, for instance, that if he crossed his eyes he could see his face…growing. But that…that didn’t make sense, did it? In the midst of it, he still noticed the bell tolling–one hour into the party, and things were already going terribly for him. The rest of the night wasn’t exactly shaping up to be much better. Still, he figured he’d disappeared for too long at this point–Matt was bound to be wondering where he’d been gone. 

He got up from the barstool, a bit unstable–then again, he’d just downed three surprisingly powerful drinks, so that much didn’t surprise him. What did feel odd, was that as the pain faded, he was left feeling…powerful. That was a bit too simple, but that was the only word he could seem to think of. The drinks had only slowed his head down further, and to be honest, the only thing he really wanted right now was a fuck. A good fuck, a rough fuck, the kind of fuck he’d only gotten from Stu, because if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t the fact that Stu was a pig which kept him coming back–well, it was part of it, for sure. But Stu…he could give him something. Something Matt had never been able to do, maybe something Matt couldn’t do. He walked back towards the trough, dimly aware that the crowd seemed to be parting easier for him this time. People seemed to be noticing him more, and they seemed a bit…scared? Awed? A bit of both? They all seemed smaller, that was for sure. He found Matt rather easily by the smell of him…somehow. He was scarfing down slop on his hands and knees, though he was quite a bit heavier, his gut nearly grazing the hay strewn floor around them. Seeing him, fuck–

Carl got down beside him, beside his pig, running his hands over his fat body, feeling Matt shiver as he did. Did it really matter that Matt couldn’t give him everything he needed? At least like this, he could…his thoughts trailed off, and he nuzzled Matt’s back, licking the spot between the straps of his overalls, tasting his sweat, snorting. Matt could sense that something was strange, but he…he really didn’t want to stop eating long enough to figure out what it was. Carl’s hands–he knew they were Carl’s, he could smell him (though he smelled much, much stronger than he had earlier…however much earlier that had been) but they didn’t feel quite like hands. They were hard and rough, and yet that felt amazingly good against his skin and the bristly hair filling in across his body. It surprised him when he felt, and heard the seat of his overalls rip open, the sudden draft as his ass was exposed to the air, but when Carl got down and started licking his hole, probing deep with his tongue, and something in Matt, that last bit of him frayed a bit more. He was just feeling so…so dirty, but also so free. He only noticed it too late to stop it, the piss flowing from his cock, soaking through his jock and right into his overalls, the front sopping wet, leaking piss to the floor, but he didn’t stop himself. He didn’t stop because it smelled amazing, because it felt amazing, because he’d secretly always wanted to, or maybe not, but he did now, and suddenly that was reason enough.

Carl’s tongue retracted, one rough hand smacking his fat ass, “Dirty fuckin’ pig, pissin’ all o’er yourself,” even his voice was gruffer than before, more gutteral. He hefted himself back up, snorting, hauled out his cock, and started pissing all over Matt, soaking him down with his stink, Matt feeling it run down all over his body, into his crevices and folds, making him even muskier. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be enjoying this, wanting this. He felt something pressing against his ass, shoving its way in. It hurt and he squealed, but Carl no longer found himself caring. His big cock was still leaking piss, but he wanted in. He wanted to fuck, he didn’t really care how much it might hurt the hole. 

“S-Slow down, ya fucker!” Matt managed to yell into his slop, “That ain’t yer fuckin’ pinky!” He got no reply, and finally pulled himself out of the trough long enough to look back over his shoulder, his chubby neck barely able to bend enough to see, and he let out something between a squeal and a scream. 

That wasn’t Carl. That was…that was some fucking, massive minotaur, horns and everything, with his foot long cock buried halfway in his asshole. He wrenched his way from the trough, now in a panic–the thing behind him clamped down on his thighs, hard enough to bruise, trying to drag him further back onto his cock. However, a well placed back kick to the bull’s large sack made him let go, and Matt was able to scramble up as best he could, lugging much more fat than before along with him, and he fled into the crowd, not stopping until he was certain he wasn’t being followed. Only after panting for a few minutes, trying to not vomit everything he’d just eaten, did he put together something he hadn’t noticed in his terror. That minotaur–it had been wearing Carl’s costume. 

Back at the trough, Carl was cursing under his breath, his sack throbbing in pain from Matt’s well placed trotter. Furious, he yanked his pants back up and looked around, but couldn’t see Matt among the crowd. However, he did see someone staring right at him, a few yards away–Stu. The pig had discarded the dress and wig and was now completely naked, though he hadn’t bothered to take off the blush or the eyelashes. The boar waddled up to him with a smug grin on his face. “See? I told you he wouldn’t be able to handle the real you.”

Carl tried to focus through the pain, through his lust. “Ya…ya did somethin’, I’m…”

“You know, as Jimmy loves to say, the less you think about it the better, big boy. Let’s just say the bartender is…a friend,” He bent down and licked Carl’s huge cock from head to root where it was still sticking out of the his sheath and the fly of his jeans, feeling him shiver. “You don’t scare me, you know. I know how to make big bulls like you happy. Come on, let’s go have some real fun–I might not even charge you, if you’re good.”

Stu walked off towards the back curtain and slipped behind it, heading for his sty. Carl ached for too many things, all at once, but everything came down to his aching cock. He glanced about for Matt one last time, and then stomped after Stu, huffing thick plumes of smoke, unable to think of a good reason why he didn’t want to.

– Chapter 4 –

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

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

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

“Bit better?”

Matt nodded, sighing out a cloud of smoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of them said anything for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah don’–”

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

The bell rang out three times, as Carl took the collar and wrapped it around Matt’s neck, pulling it tight, and Matt’s mind raced. What…what was he doing? Was he gonna just…let him do this to him? He kind of wanted to, he kind of wanted…wanted all of this. Maybe…maybe this was part of him, as much as he hated admitting it. Carl wrapped the leash up in his hoof, pulling it tight, bent down and kissed him, his long tongue pushing it’s way into Matt’s snout, exhaling smoke into him, feeling the pig suck it from his lungs. 

“This is…hot and all,” the hound behind them said, “But are you two gonna get a room, or just fuck right there?”

“Don’t know–ya got somethin’ a bit…muddy, for me ‘n my hog to play in?”

“A mudroom? Sure thing,” the goat said, and took a key from under the desk, “That’ll be fifty bucks an hour…hey!” 

Thanks, we’ll take it,” Carl said as he walked past, picking the key up from the desk with a snort, and marched off down the hallway, pulling Matt snorting and grunting behind him, amazed at how much this was turning him on. 

“Fine, I’ll…I’ll just put it on your tab then!” the goat shouted behind them. Carl found the room and pushed it open, shoving Matt into it, watching him fall in the pit of mud in the middle of the room and start rolling around in it, grunting, and Carl snorted, his cock rock hard, and followed, shutting the door behind him.

Quite a while later, Jimmy finally emerged from Stu’s room, his tuxedo rather muddied and dirty. He focused and cleaned himself up again before walking off, already dreading having to try and sort out the mess Stu had made of all of this, and cursed himself for always trying to play matchmaker! Why couldn’t he ever just be the proper, uninvolved businessman? He shook his head and passed by one of the mudrooms, where he heard a very low, familiar squeal, and a voice, gruff and deep, shouting, “That’s right pig, ya like daddy’s cock in your hole? Fuckin’ take it! Take all a it!” Followed by a long, extended moo.

Obviously, things had sorted themselves out. He fiddled with the ring of keys hanging from his waist. He should probably check on them and make sure everything’s ok…but then again, it sounded like the two of them were…busy. Hadn’t he just been saying he should butt out more often? besides, he had a party to host, and those two had sucked up so much of his time already–at least this way the two of them might sort out their problems on their own. 

Four bells rang, and eventually, five more. The party was beginning to wind down a bit, and Jimmy had forgotten about the two of them in the room entirely. Inside, Matt and Carl had finally reached a point of exhaustion. Both of them naked at this point, Carl was lolling half in, half out of the mud pit in the center of the room. Matt was coated with it, and it suited him. He still had on the collar, Carl still had the leash in his hand, pulling his head around to different parts of his musky body, Matt happily licking the bull’s fur clean of their piss, cum and mud. Matt had to be honest–that had been the dirtiest, but best, sex of his life, and he didn’t need to talk to Carl to know his big bull felt the same way. 

The bells started again–dawn already. Carl knew that meant the two of them should get out and leave, but he was suddenly feeling so lethargic. By the fourth chime, he looked down and saw that Matt had stopped licking–he’d fallen asleep–his head across his thick thigh, cock against his face. By the fifth, Carl was asleep too. Out in the bar, the rest of the revellers had fallen into the same slumber, all of them except Jimmy, who was standing in the midst of them all, pleased that yet another Halloween party had gone so well, even better than last year’s. As they all slept, he saw everyone around him start to revert back to their usual selves. Some had a few…lasting changes, but you couldn’t do magic without a few consequences. Still, as long as you didn’t think about it too hard and take too well to the change, you could usually get away relatively unscathed. 

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

– Chapter 5 –

Carl let out a low grunt, the sunlight slanting in at an odd angle across his face. Wasn’t…wasn’t the window usually on the other side? His head hurt, either way–what a fucking party. He had no idea how in the hell he’d gotten home–the last thing he could remember was the mudroom, Matt licking him clean…

He was already horny, his cock hard with morning wood. He rolled over, listening to Matt’s loud, violent snoring. He was turned away from him; Matt inched closer, pressing his gut into the small of his back, nuzzling his beard against the back of Matt’s hairy neck, feeling the old leather collar there Matt refused to take off–the silly pig. He pushed his cock between Matt’s ass cheeks, getting his still loose hole a little slick with precum, and the slipped the head in gently, inch after inch, until Matt finally woke with a snort. “Fuck, yer still hard after all tha’ last night?”

“When the hell’m Ah not hard?” Carl said, pushing it in the rest of the way, listening to Matt snort in pleasure, feeling him push back. He wormed his arm under Matt’s bulk and pulled him tight to him, spooning him with his cock buried to the hilt. There was…more of Matt than he could remember…or was there? His big hands found Matt’s big nipples and started tweaking them, licking his ear and nibbling at it with his teeth as he thrust in and out a bit quicker, eventually rolling him over, face down, and mounting him, cumming deep inside him after a few minutes, and then collapsed down on him…and looked around the room.

This…this wasn’t his apartment.

Hell, this wasn’t even an apartment at all!

He pushed himself up, looking around–or rather up and down the single wide trailer where they’d woken up. The queen bed was at one end, and through a flimsy door he could see a kitchenette piled with dishes, and at the other end a living room, side tables with ashtrays filled with cigar butts and ash. 

He licked his lips–he needed a cigar, actually…what…had he been thinking about again?

He slipped his way out of Matt’s hole, his pig rolling back over, playing with his hefty gut before wrapping his hands around his cock, jacking it slowly while he grunted a bit. Carl rolled his legs off the side of the bed, grabbed a cigar from the humidor there, and lit it. 

“Fuck, git me one too, would ya?” Matt asked. Carl handed him the one he’d just started, and lit a second one for himself, before taking over for Matt’s hand, slowly milking his…very large cock. His…strange looking cock, actually, or was it that strange? It didn’t look quite human–the shaft twisted oddly, but that was just how it looked…right? Matt went back to tweaking his meaty nipples, moaning around his cigar until he too exploded, shivering with pleasure as wave after wave washed over him, long after his cock had stopped spurting. Carl licked the cum off his still muddy hand, and wondered what that must feel like. He’d always been a bit jealous of Matt’s massive orgasms. 

Matt was content to loll for a bit longer in bed, and Carl was again struck by a sense that something was off. This…this wasn’t where he lived. Or, more accurately–this is where he lived now, he knew that somehow, but this isn’t where he’d lived before this, he could remember…kind of. It was like trying to hold onto a dream, but the more he focused on it, the clearer it came. He looked down at himself–his firm pecs and solid gut, his cock hanging down between his legs off the side of the bed, still dribbling cum. It was…huge. At least a foot long, and it too looked a bit strange. Not at all like Matt’s–but the head seemed a bit misshapen and narrow, and it was very pink, but it was…his, wasn’t it? 

He needed to see himself better. He got up, vertigo hitting him as he did, considering how close his head was to the ceiling. he had to duck and turn to the side slightly just to get through the door in the trailer and into the bathroom. It reeked of piss and didn’t look like it had been cleaned in quite a while–the mirror was grimy, but he could see himself well enough–the short hair, the bushy beard with flecks of gray, the big bull ring through his septum, studs in his ears, and smaller rings in his nipples. He had his tattoos from…before. He couldn’t remember when he’d gotten them all exactly, but there they were anyway, all over his arms, chest and gut–even circling his neck. It seemed wrong, and yet normal, which only made it feel more wrong. Feeling a bit nervous, he found himself chuffing a bit harder on the cigar, which at least helped him calm down a bit. 

The bed creaked, and after a few moments, Matt appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, and squeezed behind Carl to get in front of the toilet. He was bigger too–though not as tall as Carl–with a thick, barrel body that still sagged slightly, counterbalanced by a wide ass. Just like Carl, he too was covered with hair, and beneath that, just as many tattoos as him. His beard was quite a bit larger, and his head was shaved bald. He grabbed a sizable beer stein from the top of the toilet’s tank–though Carl wasn’t sure why it was there–until he saw Matt put in under his cock, and with a grunt, he started pissing into it, filling the massive glass at least three quarters of the way before he finally shook his cock, spraying piss everywhere, and raised it to his lips, drinking down his own hot piss.

“Wha’…what the hell’r ya doin’?” Carl asked.

“Huh? Why, ya wan’ some? Got plenty. Well, enough fer me, ‘less ya got some too,” Matt smirked, taking another drink, a good bit running down into his beard, he slipped the stein under Carl’s cock, rubbing his bull gut with the other.

He…did want some, but that was beside the point. This wasn’t…He felt his cock release, adding his piss to the stein, the heady scent filling the bathroom with their smoke. It brimmed over in a matter of seconds, piss slopping onto the bathroom floor, Matt pulled it out, got down, and finished drinking the rest of Carl’s piss right from his cock–Carl reached down and picked the stein up in his hand, and took a long drink of their mixed piss. “Fuck, tha’s better,” he said, licking his lips, “Ah never feel right ‘til Ah git mah first drink a piss in the mornin’.” Matt was only half listening–he dropped to his hands and knees, cigar on one hand, face to the floor licking up the puddle of piss Carl had made between them. Matt finished cleaning the floor, and stood back up, taking the stein back and having another drink from it, and Carl asked, “Matt, do ya…feel like somethin’s…different tahday?”

“Whadya mean?”

“Ah…Ah’m not sure myself.”

“Well, Ah got everythin’ Ah want,” he said, stepping closer to Carl, inhaling his smoke and musk, “Got mah bullfuck, got mah piss, ‘n after Ah git breakfast, everythin’ll be jus’ fine. Come on, Ah’ll cook.”

Carl sat down at the cluttered table and watched Matt get to work in the kitchen, and food came out in a steady stream–pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage (chicken, of course)–he had no idea how he was able to navigate the mess and make it happen, but they tucked in–Matt eating much more than Carl, but the nagging thought still wouldn’t leave him. They finished up, leaving the dishes were they fell, and Carl said, “Let’s go out tonight.”

“We were just at The Barnyard, Carl, ‘n Ah don’ feel like drivin’ all the way tah the city. Ah think it rained last night, why don’ we find a big puddle ‘n have some fun closer tah home?”

“Don’ ya…haven’t ya noticed that…that this ain’t all right? That we’re…this…” Carl tried to finish the sentence, but everything in his head either sounded insane or made no sense, even to him, “Look, Ah still owe Jimmy fer the room last night, we should go pay.”

“We ain’t gonna git paid til Friday though.” Carl gave Matt his “I’m the boss” stare, and the pig backed down. He loved Carl, but he could be so damn stubborn. “Fine, but Ah git tah pick the outfits…” Matt said, with a wink, and started digging around the piles of clothes littered around the trailer. He tossed Carl his well worn leather pants and a bulldog harness–for himself he got in a full harness, and over that a dirty jock, bulging obscenely from trying to contain his massive bulge. 

“Yer goin’ lookin’ like that?”

“Ah never wear more ‘n this, ya know that.”

At…at least put on some o’eralls, fer the ride.”

Matt rolled his eyes, but did as Carl asked. Carl pulled on the leather pants, but he could only fit into them by forcing his thick cock down one leg, where it fell into a well worn bulge, his crotch still bulging out with his massive balls. They pulled on their boots, and climbed into Carl’s old truck, pulled out of the trailer park, and drove toward the city. It was a long drive–about an hour and a half, but they made it regularly. Carl had no real idea they’d ended up so far away, but he somehow knew his way around the winding back roads so he could get to the highway. Matt occupied himself during the long ride by sucking Carl off slowly on the way, jacking his own cock as he did. 

Night was just falling as they arrived, managed to park on the street, and headed into the bar–but as soon as they were inside, Matt unhooked the overalls and stashed them away by the door. “What the hell’r ya doin’? Put those back on,” Carl asked.

“What? Alright, wha’ the hell’s the matter wit’ ya tahday?” Matt asked, “Ya’ve been actin’ all weird since we got home las’ night.”

“Ah don’t even remember gettin’ home, do ya?”

“Sure! Ah mean, we must’ve, right? We woke up in bed after all.”

“So ya don’t remember actually gettin’ home?”

“It’s all a lil’ blurry, but who fuckin’ cares? Yer the one who wanted tah go out tahnight, so we’re out! Let’s have some fuckin’ fun at least,” he turned and headed for the bar proper, “Honest tah goodness, ya can be so damn frast–fusteratin’ sometimes.”

Carl followed him. The bar was back to normal, including the clientele. Like always, the room seemed to be split between two camps–on one hand, was everyone waiting for the curtain, and on the other was the rowdy regulars…who were all shouting Matt’s name as he walked over, joking and kissing, blowing smoke at them…and Carl knew them too. All of them. By name. He knew what they did for a living, what their piss tasted like, who liked taking a round with him and Matt in the mudroom. It was…too much to take in, and he veered to the bar where Jimmy was polishing glasses in his jeans and flannel, eyes widening when he saw Carl plodding over to him.

“Huh…” Jimmy said, “I…suppose you’ll be wanting an explanation then? And a drink–you’ll definitely be needing a drink, I think.”

“No fuckin’…ya mean…Ah ain’t goin’ crazy?” he said, propping himself up on a barstool.

“No crazier than the rest of them,” Jimmy said, looking over at the mob of men which Matt had joined.

“Ya knew this was gonna happen…Wha’ the hell, Jimmy?”

“No, I knew that this ‘could’ happen,” Jimmy replied, setting a beer down in front of him. “It’s an important difference. Did Matt notice at all? It doesn’t look like it.”

“No, he’s got no damn clue. Look, how do we change back? Ah can’t, Ah mean, Ah kinda like it, ya know, but we can’t…we got jobs we gotta  go back tah tahmorrow.”

“Well, you don’t have the jobs you used to have, I can tell you that.”

“Of course Ah do! Ah was workin’ construction–we both were…right? Nah, Ah mean…what…was Ah doin’ bahfore…” his mind drew a blank, “Look, jus’ change us back, alright? No harm no foul.”

“Well…it’s complicated, you see. With magic, the more you notice what’s going on, the more likely the change…sticks to you. And I can’t just wave my hand and put everything back–see, it’s kind of like this…” Jimmy spoke his explanation, and Carl listened as best he could, but it was kind of hard to follow–especially since Jimmy kept using these big words he didn’t recognize. He focused on drinking the beer Jimmy had given him instead. It was…different than the one he’d always had before, but it was nice. The more he drank it though, the less since Jimmy was making…and the less he cared about whatever he was talking about. Carl didn’t know how to get him off the topic, so he just fidgeted on the bar stool. 

Finally he interrupted him, after finishing the rest of the beer, “Jimmy, Ah gotta be honest–Ah got no fuckin’ idea wha’ yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

Jimmy smiled, and shrugged, “I wouldn’t worry about it–it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it? By the way…I think Matt might be getting a little, uh, carried away over there.”

“Gah fuckin’…” Carl said, looked over his shoulder, and saw Matt on his hands and knees, face buried in one of their friend’s crotches. “He ain’t even had nothin’ tah drink yet…”

“Here, take him a beer–I like him better drunk,” Jimmy said with a laugh.

“Heh, tha’ makes two a us…” Carl said, and took the two beers, cigar clamped in his jaw, and walked over to join his friends, his concerns now just a shadow of a shadow, “Who the hell told ya fucker’s ya could git mah pig all riled up without me?”

The guys all laughed, and the curtain slipped up on the other side of the bar, another man scurrying out, nervous and edgy. It gave Carl a sudden sense of deja vu, but more than anything, he was glad that wasn’t him. He sat down with the rest of the guys, Matt digging out his cock and sucking him hard, Carl rewarding him with his first load of piss for the evening. Sure, they had work early tomorrow, but they needed this too. Hell, the Barnyard was really the only place either of them felt at home anymore, with the rest of the guys, with Jimmy.

“You still have a hundred and fifty on your tab Carl, don’t forget!” Jimmy shouted at him.

“Yeah, yeah–payday’s Friday,” he said, grabbed the back of Matt’s head, and drove his cock down into his throat, happy and content in the Barnyard.

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 5)

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fuckin’ promise?”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

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

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

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

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

“Round two, bro?”

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

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

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

“No, yer gonna be a uncle, dumbass.”

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

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

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

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

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

Interactive Story: Arctos Dating (Part 2)

As with the previous entry, folks who support me over on Patreon get access to the surveys that let them choose the next direction of the story. Everyone who supports me gets access, even if it’s just a dollar. You can find out more information here!


Ken did his best to pretend that the night with Jack had been more or less normal. Sure, there might have been a few…oddities, but he had probably just been drunk and imagined things that weren’t really there. He kept hoping, for some reason, that Jack would reach out to him again, since he still had no way of contacting him from his end of the app. However, the more he tried to focus on getting back to normal, the more he noticed that things seemed to be different.

For one thing, he was just so damn horny now, all the time. Horny, and hungry. The day after he met Jack, and he felt like he was hungover as hell, the one thing that still seemed to be working was his cock, and so he milked out three loads before falling asleep that night at last, wishing he had another day to recover before going back to work on Monday. 

That morning, he woke up, needed to jack off again, ate a much larger breakfast than he usually did, and when he tried to get into his usual business casual, he was frustrated to discover that everything was just a bit too small for him. It wasn’t a matter that he’d gotten chubbier or anything, though he had perhaps gained a little chub–everything was off, from the length of his sleeves, to the legs of his pants, to even his shoes feeling a bit too cramped for his feet. He passed it off as nothing, maybe just a strange little bloat, and did his best to get through the workday, but the sensation of being hungover refused to pass. It wasn’t until he passed by some coworkers who had just come in from a smoke break outside that he realized he wasn’t hungover from the drinking, but from the cigar he’d had with Jack.

He’d quit that though. He wasn’t going back to being a smoker if he could help it. It wasn’t even that he found himself craving cigarettes again–he wanted the feel of a cigar in his hand, that more complex flavor, and deeper nicotine buzz. That evening, he held off pretty well, but soon found his porn interest sliding into cigar smoking videos, and as horny as he was without a chance to jack off at work, he found that he couldn’t cum–and the hangover sensation was only intensifying. He tried to go to bed, but just tossed and turned for a couple of hours before he finally gave in, found a smoke shop that was still open, bought some cheap cigars, went home, smoked one, and the relief! It opened the floodgates in other ways as well, and he came twice as he smoked it, and feeling better than he had in days now, he managed to sleep.

The next few days though, everything just got worse. He was definitely outgrowing his clothes. He measured himself, and was surprised to discover he was gaining almost an inch a day–and was now 6’1”–no wonder his pants were too short! He did have a definite belly coming in, but his chest seemed to be growing not only fat, but some muscle as well–that, and there was the body hair. He’d never been that hairy before, but the day after, he’d started feeling rather itchy, and now three days past the date with Jack, he had a full blown forest of fur coming in all over his chest. It was embarrassing, and coupled with the shrinking clothes, he faked an illness on Wednesday and planned on calling out for the rest of the week, until whatever this strange shit was subsided. Only it didn’t subside at all, and the time off from work only gave him more time for his worst impulses. He spent Wednesday and Thursday bingeing food, cigars and masturbation, until Friday afternoon, when he got a notification from the Arctos dating app–someone else wanted to take him on a date!

He opened it up, but again, he couldn’t see the fellow’s profile or picture or anything–but this time, there was a messaging function open that wasn’t there before, along with a message from the stranger.

“Hey man! You’re looking hot–wanna grab dinner and take a trip to the movies tonight?”

Ken hadn’t gone to see a movie in over a year, since the pandemic had struck. Maybe it would provide him a little bit of relief from his recent impulses as well. He was a bit worried that meeting up with another guy might change him more, but it’s not like that was really possible. He was just having a rough week is all, getting back into the dating scene after a year without. He was just pent up, and a little bloated, and a few days away from work was all he needed. He took the fellow up on his offer, and the fellow offered to pick him up. It wasn’t exactly the safest thing, he knew, but it was probably fine. Ken told him to pick him up at a park near his apartment, so he wouldn’t have to give him his address, and at six, he was out waiting, wondering who this next blind date was going to be.

It wasn’t long before an old beater truck pulled into the parking lot. Ken didn’t think much of it, until the driver climbed down out of the seat, turned around, and beamed at him. “You must be Ken!” he said, “The name’s Eddie, nice to meet you.”

Ken was a bit confused at first. He’d been expecting someone of at least Jack’s caliber, but this guy was decidedly not in stud territory. He was quite a bit shorter than Ken, especially at his new, inexplicable height, with a massive ball gut that Eddie had to tilt back to support. He was wearing some old, grungy looking jeans, suspenders, and just an undershirt with a number of unidentifiable stains on it, and when he came in for a hug, he definitely didn’t smell like he’d taken a shower that day. “Uh…yeah, nice to, uh, meet you.”

“Well come on then, get in the truck! I’m starving.”

“Oh shit, you know, I just realized I forget my wallet at home,” Ken said, “Let me, uh, go grab it.” It was a bad excuse, but it was something at least. There was no way he was going to go on a date with this fellow, if he could help it. However, he found himself walking after Eddie to his truck,, and climbing in with him, feeling a bit sheepish, and wondering why he was doing this. He’d felt the same way with Jack, actually–every suggestion had just somehow necessary. Eddie just chuckled, “Don’t worry pal, I can spot you.”

They drove off, Eddie’s right hand leaving the steering wheel and making its way over to Ken’s thigh, across the bench seat. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” Ken said, hoping that a cigar might dissuade him.

“Hell no, light it up! Cigars are fucking sexy as hell. Loved seeing that in your pics.”

His pics? He hadn’t taken any pictures of himself smoking, that he could recall, and he certainly hadn’t put any up on the dating app. As far as he knew, the only photo up there was his face pic that he’d used as his profile picture. “My pics?” Ken asked, as he lit up his cigar.

“Yeah, you got a good little collection going already on there. Love a big, furry fella like you, couldn’t resist adding my own special twist, if you know what I mean,” Eddie said, and gave him a wink. He turned into a strip mall parking lot, and then into a fast food drive through. This, apparently, was dinner. Eddie pulled up to the speaker and rattled off way more food than two people ought to order. Ken tried to tell him he didn’t want to eat that much, but Ken didn’t pay attention. At the window, five bags of food came at them, along with two big drinks each. Eddie pulled into a parking spot, tossed Ken a bag, and told him to eat up.

“I, uh, don’t usually eat fast food, honestly.”

Eddie just leered at him, “Well you do now, pig. Come on, I know how fucking hungry you are,” he unwrapped a burger and pushed it to Ken’s lips, who found himself helplessly opening his mouth and taking a bite, his gut giving a little gurgle, his hunger rising. “Come on, you don’t have to hide that gluttonous side from me, I know exactly how good it feels to just let go and enjoy yourself.”

Ken ate the first hamburger is about six bites, picked up another one and tore a big chunk out of it with a moan, while Eddie slid closer, eating his own sandwich with one hand while he pushed up Ken’s tight shirt and rubbed his belly. “Oh fuck, it tastes so fucking good,” Ken said through a mouthful.

“Sure does piggy, come on, let’s see how big we can get this gut tonight.”

Ken demolished bag after bag of food, Eddie eating his own smaller share, but spending most of the time rubbing and massaging Ken’s belly and chest, rubbing the grease into his skin as he did, telling him that it was good for making his hair grow. His sweat pants were a bit tight now, and Eddie hauled down the front of them, fished out his cock and rubbed it as well, telling Ken that he loved being a glutton, loved seeing how big he could get, loved eating in front of people like a shameless pig, making as much of a mess as he wanted to. Eventually, all the food was gone, and Ken was left groaning while Eddie massaged his much larger belly and chest, his shirt now impossible to pull down over it at all, and sure enough, even more hair had sprouted across it and down into a thick pubic bush as well. Eddie took a photo of Ken’s face and showed it to him, and sure enough, his beard was longer too–just barely long enough to brush across his chubby chest, full of grease and bits of food.

“Alright, let’s go see what’s playing, pig,” Eddie said, and drove off again. Ken just nursed his very full gut, groaning a bit, but still so hard and horny. He reached down to play with himself, only for Eddie to knock his hand away, telling him to wait. He pulled into another parking lot, and Ken was confused for a moment–there was no movie theater here, just a run down looking sex shop. “Come on, let’s get inside,” Eddie said, and Ken hauled his fat ass out, trying to get his shirt down and failing, waddling after Eddie, horrified at what this nightmare date was becoming.

Eddie knew the old man behind the counter by his first name, pulled Ken to the back of the shop where there was a row of private booths. “I like this place cause most of these are big enough for big guys like us,” he said, “Go on, get in and sit down.”

Ken went in and sat on the sticky bench, and Eddie followed, squeezing down between Ken’s thighs, his face in Ken’s crotch. He pulled the door shut, put on some gay porn, and got to work milking Ken’s cock. It wasn’t Ken’s usual porno selection, but he found himself enraptured by it anyway–and feeling Ken sucking on his cock the whole time left his own hands free to explore his new, even larger body. As disgusted as he was by the massive gut, the skin was incredibly sensitive, and the increased layer of hair made him shudder–especially when Eddie’s hands joined in. Even his longer beard was a new sensation, and not an unwelcome one. In about fifteen minutes, Eddie milked one load out of him, and when Ken went to open the door, he stopped him. 

“Now now, I know these fat fucking pig balls of yours can pump out more than one load–I’m not done with you yet, piggy.”

Eddie kept sucking, and sure enough, Ken was still hard as a rock. He made his way through three full videos, an hour and a half, with Eddie milking load after load out of his cock, leaving Ken panting and heaving, both of them sweating up a storm in the tight quarters, before Eddie finally stood up, and fed Ken the last load of cum he’d shot into his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s not…the date I was expecting, you’re a damn fine cocksucker.”

“Heh, I’ve had lots of practice,” Eddie said, “But I think it’s time you got dessert, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck, I can’t eat more man, come on.”

“Trust me, you’ll like this. It’s your favorite fucking meal. Come on.”

They left the booth, squeezing their way out, but instead of leaving the shop, they went down to the end of the booths, around behind them, and found themselves in a narrow hall behind the booths. Ken had noticed the glory hole in the booth, but hadn’t thought much of it–there was one in every booth, all the way down. A cock popped through, and Eddie shoved Ken forward. “Go on pig, get your dessert.”

Ken got down and started sucking, while Eddie encouraged him, groped him, gave him tips and pointers, and in a few minutes, he got his first load of cum–and just like Eddie said, it tasted fucking delicious. He crawled down a couple of booths to where another cock had just pushed through, and sucked that one as well, no longer needing much in the way of encouragement, letting Eddie pull down the back of his sweatpants, and slide his own cock into Ken’s hole while he sucked the stranger off. Ken lost track of how many loads he ate as he crawled from glory hole to glory hole. Eddie would occasionally take a break to suck a cock himself, and more than a few guys came around to use Ken’s hole while he was sucking, but he didn’t mind. He loved cum after all, just like Eddie said, and it didn’t matter which end it went into.

It was nearly three in the morning when the two of them finally stumbled out, Ken’s belly now even larger than it had been when he’d entered. He hauled his shirt off and let it all hang out, as he dug the half smoked cigar out of the truck, relit it, and sucked it down as well, while Eddie gave his full, massive gut a rub down. Eddie took him home not long after that, and Ken collapsed into bed, exhausted, knowing that come morning he would be horrified by how he’d spent the evening, but he couldn’t help but admit that part of him was thoroughly satisfied as well. He’d just have to deal with the consequences in the morning, wouldn’t he?


Don’t forget, if you want to help pick what happens in the following chapters, check out my patreon!

Caption: Truer Words #2 – Whale

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


“I can’t believe they let whales like that even stay here, it’s so fucking disgusting. He could at least have the common decency and shame to put on a fucking shirt, so the rest of us don’t have to look at all of that fat. Probably gets off on it, flaunting it, knowing how much he’s grossing everyone else out. Goes back to his room and jacks off thinking about how much of a hairy slob he is.” Kevin groused a bit, looking at the chub who was sitting by the pool in one of the deck chairs, and then laid back on the chaise, ready to work on his tan. He wouldn’t let something like that ruin his vacation, at least. The last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep was someone whispering, almost in his ear:

“Truer words were never spoken.”


Kevin woke up a little while later, and felt…a little strange, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, immediately. He hefted himself up a little, listening to the chaise underneath him creak slightly, but didn’t give it much thought. Thankfully he hadn’t slept too long, and wasn’t burnt to a crisp. He looked around, thankful that the fat pig from before was gone, and as he surveyed the crowd, he saw, well, one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen in his life.

Golden brown, heavily muscled, beautiful smile, tight ass bulging in those swim trunks. Kevin knew he had to say hello–he’d never been one to not shoot his shot, after all. He had…a little trouble getting up from where he’d been lying down, but couldn’t quite figure out why. He made his way over to his target, and only kind of noticed other people stepping out of his way, the looks he was getting from them, some disgust, some pity. He got to the object of his attraction, opened his mouth to say hello, only for the man to shoot him such a scowl that the words died on his lips, and the man passed him right by.

Not one to be deterred, he turned around, grabbed the guy’s wrist to pull him back, and saw the massive, hairy arm in disbelief, as the man whirled on him, and shook him off. 

“Who the fuck said you could touch me, pig?” the man said.

“I…I just, I wanted to say–”

“Please, I know what you want. You fat fucks are all the fucking same, think that we’re all fucking chasers, that we want to be anywhere near your disgusting body,” he said, and jabbed a finger into Kevin’s gut–a gut he swore hadn’t been there before. “Well the only guys who want to fuck you pity you, and I doubt you even get laid that much anyway. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Kevin, horrified at what had happened to his body, retreated to his room at the resort, and stared at himself in the mirror, his fat, hairy physique, and he was horrified. The words from the man kept reverberating through him, and he…he started to feel horny, thinking about how he’d been demeaned and humiliated, right there in front of everyone. He was a pig, a horny, dirty piggy, and…

He started snorting, shoving his hand down the front of his trunks and rubbed out a load from his puny cock in a matter of moments, and with it went all sense of shame and decency. Yeah, he was a pig. A whale. He loved food, he loved showing off his gluttony. He went right back down to the pool, trunks still wet with cum, and ordered some food while he relaxed, excited to gorge himself in front of everyone, and show them just how big of a whale he could become.

Flash Commission – Junior Joins the Pig Squad

This story is a “se-queal” to a story from last year called “The Pig Squad” which you can read here. I would recommend at least skimming it before you read this one, it will make a lot more sense.


Simon had never seen eye to eye with his father. Whether it was always going to be this way, or whether the death of his mother while he was a young teenager drove a wedge between them they would have been able to bridge otherwise, they didn’t know. The friction that had simmered between them during high school had recently begun to boil over, as Simon had found himself of age, but still stuck living with his dad. He was going to community college, earning credits so he could get into a better four year school, but his dad saw no good reason why he should have to pay his son’s way through life. The fact that his father was a motorcycle cop provided an easy contrast, and by the end of his first year of school, he was proudly supporting anti-police brutality protests, both earnestly, and just so he could rub it in his father’s face.

But this summer, something had happened to his father, something that Simon couldn’t quite understand. He’d always known that his dad wasn’t a great cop–he wasn’t that great of a person, and power like that tended to corrupt. He was short tempered and mercurial, a stickler for what Simon considered meaningless detail, and prone to micromanage as a means of asserting power every chance he could. He came home grousing one night that his squad was being sanctioned and forced to participate in some strange training seminar, and for the next few weeks, something…happened to him. He got fatter, he shaved his head, his uniforms changed from the standard cotton and poly blend to full leather ones that he would wear constantly–Simon even wondered if his father slept in them sometimes. When he asked his dad about it, his dad showed him a little video about the training. It left Simon feeling a little…strange, and he felt better about it for a while, but the worries crept back in slowly.

One night, he got up to take a piss, and on the way back from the bathroom, he heard some noises coming from his father’s room. Wondering what it might be, he snuck down, opened the door, and gasped–his dad and another officer he recognized as from his squad were on the bed, in their uniforms, the other officer pounding a sizable dildo into his father’s hole while they stared at a TV screen flashing some strange spiral pattern. Before Simon could retreat, they looked over at him when he gasped, mouths open and drooling, and they tackled him to the ground, ignoring his pleading for them to stop, cuffed him, and dragged him out of the house and into a patrol car, before speeding off into the night.

Simon had no idea where they were taking him, but he expected it to be the police station. Instead, they ended up outside of a nice suburban house, the two officers went up to knock on the door, and slipped inside. After a few minutes, they emerged again with another fellow in a robe and slippers, who came to the window with them. Simon went to beg him for help, for an explanation, for anything, but the man flashed some strange light in his eyes, and after a few moments, Simon was deep in a trance of his own.

“Alright, get him out and bring him inside, pigs,” Doctor Leoncett said, “Apparently the acceptance training wasn’t strong enough for this one.”

Simon’s father and the other officer hauled the drooling Simon out of the car and into the doctor’s home, down into the basement where he was strapped into a chair in front of a large screen, and the doctor set him up with an IV to receive a new batch of serum he’d been testing. “Alright Officer Mendel, your son is going to be staying with me for extended training. You will return home and make whatever excuses necessary with the college he attends. Otherwise, you will continue as normal, until I say otherwise, understand?”

The two pigs saluted the doctor, and left. The temporary stun was beginning to wear off for Simon, and he was starting to struggle against the bonds holding him to the chair. “What…what the fuck is this?”

“Well Simon, it would seem that you’ve seen a bit too much,” the doctor said, “The acceptance video doesn’t work on everyone, especially if they have a bit too much will. Your dad was a little willful too, it must run in the family–but don’t worry, I think this is going to work out best for everyone involved. After all, your dad’s squad has an opening at the moment…”

“No, what? Let me go!” he said, but the screen in front of him was showing that same spiral, those same flashing lights, and he felt his attention being sucked into it, unable to pull away. 

“Don’t worry, you seem like a good kid. Your dad on the other hand, a real asshole. It’ll be good to have another officer at home to keep him in line.”

That was the last thing Simon heard, before the spiral pulled him down into another trance, and the world around him melted away into nothing.


When he awoke, it took Simon a few minutes to get past the headache still throbbing in his skull, and manage to open his eyes. When he did, he was looking up at a plain white ceiling with fluorescent lighting. It wasn’t…his room. He didn’t even know where he was, actually, everything was…blurry. He could recall finding his dad doing something…and…and nothing really past that, it was too muddled to work out. Thinking about it was making the headache come back anyway, so he rolled up to a sitting position, and found himself on the edge of a small bed, facing a mirror on the wall.

Something was wrong with his reflection. Something inside him was screaming that at him, telling him that what he was looking at wasn’t right at all, but Simon was struggling to figure out what could be wrong about it. Certainly it wasn’t his face–bald head, clean shaven, double and triple chin underneath his short neck, nose turned up a little. It wasn’t his body, right? Barrel chested and bellied, firm but with plenty of jiggle, two meaty pecs with nipples pointing out, half an inch long, and very sensitive. He gave them both a little tweak, and felt his pig cock throb, drooling out a little precum onto the floor beneath him. His short, thick cock was right of course, his meaty ass, thick thighs, size fifteen feet, ham like arms. No…he…this was how he was supposed to look, this…why did he feel so strange?

He held his head in his hands, letting the headache pass again. God he was stupid fucking pig, he should be able to figure this out, but it was gone. He stood up from the bed and saw his uniform hanging beside the door. He took it down and pulled it on one piece at a time. It felt strange as he did it. He knew it wasn’t the first time he’d worn it, couldn’t be the first time, but the sensation of the leather against his smooth skin was so erotic, so new, that he felt like it was his first time all over again. By the time the leather shirt, breeches, boots gloves and cap were on, his pig cock was hard and leaking–he had to resist the urge to haul it out and rub out a load right there, snorting and looking at his hot pig body in the mirror, but he had something else he needed to do first. He needed to go see the doctor of course.

He went to the door, the creak of the leather, the scent of it already putting him in a hornier mood, if that was possible. He stepped out of the room and went down the hall, where he saw the doctor was standing, working on some project or other. It wasn’t important. Pigs like him couldn’t understand things like that anyway. Doctor Leoncett looked up from his work and smiled. “Ah, Mendel Junior, you’re awake. Feeling alright, I hope?”

“Yeah, just…have this pounding headache,” he said. His voice seemed deeper than he recalled, but again, it didn’t seem wrong, just…like everything else, he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. “Uh, doc? Where am I exactly? I can’t seem to remember anything.”

“Oh, just a routine training, nothing to be concerned about. I wanted you to make sure you and your father were properly adjusted. You finished up first, and he should be done soon–come on, let’s go check on him.”

They went back down the hall to another room, the doctor opened a door, and Junior found himself looking at a very similar scene to the one he could no longer recall, his dad in full leather, riding a massive dildo, staring at a pulsing screen, drool running down his chins as he fucked himself, cock throbbing. But where before Simon had been horrified, all he could feel now was an intense desire and pride. Fuck, his Dad was such a hot pig. The two of them were two peas in a pod really. Mostly, at least. There was no mistaking it when they were side by side that they were related. The doctor hit a switch, and the screen faded out, the music stopped, and the lights in the room came up slowly. Mendel Senior shook his head, spittle flying as he did, and fell forward onto hands and knees, snorting, looking around a bit confused. Junior walked over, shoved one of his boots in front of his dad’s face, and while it took him a moment to focus on it, he gave a little squeal and started licking at the leather, polishing it as best he could with his tongue.

“Fuck dad, you’re such a fuckin’ pig,” Junior said, groping his leaking pig cock through the front of his leather pants.

Senior was still recovering from his recent mindfuck, but he looked up at his son, at his new son, and couldn’t be more proud. He was big and thick and smelled like leather and musk, and he was so much smarter than his Daddy, so much better in so many ways. Senior was more than happy to service his boy in whatever way he required.

Junior let his dad suck his boots shiny for a couple of minutes, as he came out of his trance, and then he went around behind him, and probed his smooth ass and hole with a few gloved fingers, feeling his dad’s piggy hole throb and shudder at the touch of his leather gloves. “Fuck, you’re such a piggy slut,” he said.

“Anything for my hot pigson, fuckin’ plow me boy, come on…”

Of course, all of the pigs on the squad had cocks too small to fuck, other than the sergeant of course, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find other solutions. He saw on a little table his usual instrument of choice, a strap-on dildo, nearly ten inches long and almost as thick as his fist, that he fastened over the top of his uniform pants, lined up with his father’s hole, and drove it in, making him squeal. He grabbed hold of his father’s leather shirt in his gloved hands, thrusting in deeper and deeper until the dildo was buried up to the hilt, and proceeded to fuck his father nice and rough, how they both liked it. Neither of them noticed the lights fading out, the screen coming back up with a pulsing spiral, the music throbbing in their ears. They just focused on it, unable to look away while they fucked, cementing their new programming, and new relationship, in as deep as the doctor could, ensuring that Junior and Senior, as they were now exclusively known, would be his kinky pig cop slaves for the rest of their lives.

Caption: Daddy Issues #4 – Jace the Lout

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caption: Daddy Issues #2 – Evan the Bully

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



James’s father, Paul, was a health freak. He went to the gym five days a week, ran each morning before work, prepared only the healthiest of food, and had used all of this to rule over James’s body like a tyrant. James’s body, on the other hand, had never taken to his father’s rule well, and he’d struggled all his life trying to conform to Paul’s expectations for how he should look, and what he should do to get there. There was always just a bit too much fat, not enough muscle, why couldn’t he work harder. The question of sexuality was complicated by the fact his father essentially demanded a family from James, something he had no intention of giving him, of course. 

At college, finally free of his father’s strict hand, James had really let go, and already gained close to the Freshman 15 without even trying. He was terrified of what his father would say when he saw him, as he went up to the door and into the house, but his father wasn’t anywhere to be found. He eventually went up into the bedroom, after he heard someone grunting and groaning in there, and what he found made his jaw drop to the floor.

It was his dad, right? It had to be his dad. He could still see some of the resemblance there, but so much of it was…well, it was how fat he was, first of all. He was struggling where he was tied to the chair, and he was so heavy, he could hear the wood creaking under him, his father’s eyes horrified at what had happened to him. James felt a bit dizzy, and retreated from the room and into the bathroom, his body heating up, muscles cramping, after once the discomfort had subsided, he stood up, looked in the mirror, and was staring at a body just as unfamiliar to him as his father’s now was.

Fuck–he was…hot. He was really hot. He ran his hands over his muscled body, groped his bulge through the jockstrap he now had on, and gave a little smirk, before going back out to where his father was still tied up.

“Fuck dad, look at you, really let yourself go while I was at school, eh?” he said, walked up, and started groping and teasing his dad’s massive body. Paul squirmed and jiggled away as best he could, but James could see the confusion in his eyes, and with a little digging under his massive gut, he found out why–his dad was rock hard. “Fuck, is this turning you on old man? You fucking pig? Having your hot jock son play with your fat and tease you is getting you off?” He pulled his hand out, covered with his dad’s precum, took out his gag and fed it to him off his fingers.

“Please, I…I’m so fucking hungry, but I don’t know what’s wrong with us. Please son, we need to get help.”

“I’ll tell you what we need to get,” James said, picking his dad’s phone up off the counter. “We need five extra large pizzas here ASAP, and I’m going to feed every one of them to you. Then, when you’re good and stuffed, pig, I’m gonna bend you over and fuck that fat ass of yours. I have a feeling you’re gonna love it.”

Caption: Daddy Issues #1 – Conrad the Disciplinarian

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



Four freshmen in college met during a meeting of the college’s queer group, and quickly bonded over a common problem they shared–their fathers. It wasn’t uncommon for young gay guys to have daddy issues of course, but for them, coming out at home was still an impossibility. While each of their fathers was different, what tied them all together was their desire to control their son’s lives, and an unwillingness to accept anything other than the straightest of behavior from all of them. As they shared their woes, and prepared to go home for winter break, a mischievous little sprite was listening in on their discussion. It didn’t seem fair to the sprite, not at all. But magic always came with a cost. They could have fathers who were more agreeable, sure, but they too, would have to change as well.

Conrad’s father, Harry, was a cop, in just about every sense of the word. He worked on the police force of the city, but lived in the outlying suburbs. He was a real piece of work, and he’d ridden Conrad every moment of his life, trying to “man him up” and get him to follow in his footsteps, train him into what he considered to be a proper young man, and none of it had stuck. Now he was off to college and studying literature–what a waste in his opinion. He’d refused to pay for any of it, and Conrad was currently relying on loans to make it though. He couldn’t find somewhere to stay on break, and so, he resigned himself to going home for a few weeks. He arrived, stepped inside, and was greeted by a sight so strange, it took him a moment to understand what he was looking at.

It was his father, naked, wrestling with a leather harness that seemed to have a life of its own. “God damn it, what the fuck is this shit? Conrad, help!” he shouted when he saw his son, but Conrad just gawked, then looked around, and saw a box by the door addressed to his father. As he watched, something crawled out, scuttled across the floor, flew and shoved itself into Harry’s mouth, wrapping around his head–a ball gag and head harness. It distracted him long enough the harness could crawl onto him, followed by a pair of boots, and a butt plug with a curly black tail on the end, that flew into his father’s ass, making him howl as he crawled around, in distress.

Conrad took a step forward, only for more gear to crawl out of the box and start crawling across the floor towards him. He backed up, but before he could get out the front door, the arms of a rubber cat suit wrapped their way around his legs and pulled them out from under him. He fought them off as long as he could, but something…was wrong with them. He could hear something, hear a voice, soothing him, relaxing him, telling him all sorts of filthy, wicked thoughts.

He stood up after a few moments, fully clothed in his gear, and he felt different. Taller, more muscular. He walked past his father, still struggling on the floor with his gear, went to his humidor, took out a cigar and lit it for himself, before walking back, kicking him over and putting a boot on his father’s neck.

“There’s going to be some changes around here, piggy,” Conrad said, his usually meek voice now full of confidence. “Yeah…gonna…gonna train you into a proper little pig slut, yeah. You tried to make a man out of me, pig, well what do you think? Is this man enough for you?”

He pressed down, and saw his father go a little limp, aside from his cock, which was rock hard and leaking. 

“I’m the man who’s gonna make a proper pig out of you, and I’ll love every second of it. You will too, soon enough. Now, I wanna hear you squeal.”

(Caption) Two Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (12/31)

It was hard not to feel self conscious. 

Taking selfies helped. Aaron usually took a couple before leaving, just to help psyche himself up. They weren’t…great photos, but it helped a little. He always felt a little silly going to Pigtown looking like this, dressed like he was going to some business conference or something, but he didn’t exactly have any of the gear that he saw a lot of guys wearing in the bar and the neighborhood. Why did he keep going back there? He knew he didn’t belong, but he wanted to. That was it, wasn’t it. He wanted to belong there, so badly, but he knew he never would, not really.

It didn’t stop him from going. He still went to the bars, to the shops, to the events. He went to see what he could have if he was less afraid, if he just…let go. 

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe he would do more than stand and stare, and then slip into the glory holes, and suck cocks where no one could see him, and then wake up back home, with no memory of how he had gotten there. 

Then, he saw him–or rather, he was seen by him. That was more important.

A handsome muscle bear, smoking a cigar. He smelled of fresh musk and light beer. Aaron looked away, embarrassed, but the man came up to him and started talking to him, asking him how he’d been, like he was just an old friend, and they were getting reacquainted. Talking to him like he’d known him forever. Talking to Aaron like he belonged there.

It was only natural to drink a bit too much. And the more he drank, the harder it became to really focus on his fellow. He realized he didn’t quite know his name, that his face was just as slippery as all the things he was learning about him, but despite all of that, he still craved the acknowledgement, and so, it was only natural to bring him home. What happened after that, was less clear.

And then in the morning, things were much, much too clear.

Aaron woke to the smell of rough cigars and rancid musk–not the same as the man he’d met outside the bar, the man who had known him so well. He was already awake and had made himself coffee, smoking a cigar in a filthy undershirt he had not been wearing the night before. Aaron was sure of it, wasn’t he?

“Mornin’,” he said. The voice was right, almost.

“What…who are you?”

“Come on, after that nice time last night, pig, ya gonna pretend ya don’t even remember?”

He didn’t remember, did he? But looking back, all of the memories of that handsome bear were gone, replaced by this lout, this slob, this pig. How had he been so wrong? 

“Gotta say pig, you were delicious. Best meal I’ve had in ages. Might as well give ya something yummy in return, eh? Ya want yer breakfast?”

“I want ya out of my apartment, is what I want,” Aaron said, but his voice–it was wrong too. And his arm, had he had those tattoos? And he was fatter, and…and what the fuck had happened to him? And to his apartment? His well kept two bedroom was just a filthy studio now, and from the sound outside, he wasn’t in the quiet suburban neighborhood from before. 

“In a minute, piggy–come on now, drink up,” the man said, shoved his cock in Aaron’s mouth, and let loose a stream of piss. He choked on it, feeling it dribble down into his beard and the filthy bed below him, and it was…delicious. He tried to remember who he’d been, his job, his life, but it was…gone. This man, this shifter, had stolen it all from him, and left him with this. With that, the stranger left, leaving Aaron on his knees, horrified, with no clue what to do. And at night, his hunger led him back to the bar. He only lived a few blocks away now, and he had a gloryhole reserved for him. It was his place. He finally belonged, somewhere here. Even if most only knew him as a cundump or a urinal. It was something, at least. He could be happy with that.