Tag: pig

Master of Men (Part 3)

WARNING: Furry, Feral, and Mind Death

Craig turned back to him, and Paul screamed and snarled once more–but then continued to do so. Slowly he became aware that he was no longer doing it because he wanted to, but because he had no choice. This wasn’t him. Craig had done something to his mind, had broken in and changed him…but that wasn’t right. This rage he felt, he knew this rage. This was a rage he’d felt all his life, the rage that he’d used on his little brother whenever he’d beaten him into the dust, the rage that had pushed him into sports where he’d revelled in breaking other men and sending them from the field screaming, the rage that had propelled him to murder men he’d never met in foreign countries and cities he’d never bothered learning to pronounce. Craig had simply undone it’s chains, the chains he’d learned from society to channel his anger in acceptable directions, and now it felt like a beast was loose in his mind, rampaging around, bristling with hate and fear and loathing for everything beyond itself, including Paul. He realized too late that he had counted on those walls and chains to protect him from his own wrath as much as society had, the beast ripping through him, his memories, his thoughts and desires. It was eating his mind from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The man named Paul was no match for his own beast, and he was devoured in a matter of minutes as the men watched, his eyes growing dull, the screams and howls becoming less human, the beast’s body changing before their eyes. His body grew hairier, and was soon coated with a thick pelt all over, including his face. It remained fat, but the rage poured itself into muscle, the animal growing taller and thicker, and its face. It was no longer a human face, with a powerful set of jaws lined with teeth, something between a wolf and a bear, and two thick horns bursting from his head, turning forward, points sharp and ready to gore. They expected it to tire at some point, but the transformation only seemed to give it more power, and it fought harder against the metal binding it in place, it’s paw like hands tipped with sharp black claws tensing and untensing, trying to leap at any of them. It could smell their fear, their hatred. Their blood.

“Fear not, my Men–it cannot get loose,” the Master said, coming close to the beast, which tried to twist it’s head and snap at him. “This is rage. This is false masculinity. This is the corruption of a man’s spirit, rendered flesh. This is not a miracle–this is shockingly common. The world is filled with men like him who have allowed their rage to consume their better selves. But I am the Master of Men–I possess the true power necessary to tame this beast. Bear witness.”

The metal retracted, and the men scooted back to the edge of the dias, suddenly aware of just how high up they were from the ground below. The beast shook, and pushed itself up, revealing just how large it had grown. It was easily eight feet tall, with a huge, bright red cock emerging from a sheath running up it’s furred torso. It flexed it’s body and howled, turning to Craig, the fat, pudgy, sweaty man unafraid and facing the beast. “Fuck…you. Fuck you and eat you and tear you apart!” it screeched at Craig. It charged at him, and he stepped to the side out of the beast’s way with a surprising amount of agility.

The beast charged again, and Craig continued dodging. The men noticed that the beast was favoring one leg over the other–the remains of Jason’s damaged knee, but they knew their Master was outmatched–and when the beast had consumed him, it would take them next. Craig seemed unworried, but the beast knew it could win. It could smell him, it could smell that musk, and…and…

And it felt fear. This was no simple man. This man did not smell like the others. The beast redoubled it’s efforts, growing more crazed, when the Master slammed one fist into it’s wounded knee, bringing forth a crazed howl as the beast crumpled to the floor in pain. Before it could react, the man had shoved the beast’s long tail to one side and plunged his cock deep into the beast’s ass. It screamed, but already it could tell that it was too late, that the man had beaten him, that this man would always beat him, had beaten him before in a hundred other lifetimes. Still it fought, trying to crawl away, but the man was gentle, petting it’s hair softly. “Accept your defeat beast, and rage no further–for I am Man, and I will tame you.”

Tame. That scent, that musk. it was so close now, and the more the beast smelled it, the quieter it’s howls became, the more it began pushing it’s hole back, allowing the man to penetrate deeper, the more it felt like it’s very nature was being slowly manipulated and transformed. Indeed, the awestruck men outside the circle watched at the beast’s form began to shift once more, it’s muscled body dissolving into fat once again as it shrunk in size, becoming as large as the Master, and then even smaller, no more than five feet tall at most. That gaping maw full of teeth had softened into a pig’s snout filled with short, stubby, harmless teeth, the horns on it’s head shorter and rounded at the tips, it’s clawed paws becoming clunky trotters. Now it was grunting and squealing loudly, rage forgotten in pleasure, and it’s short, stubby cock exploded with cum, the men watching it’s balls shrink in size, pulling up into it’s belly. The master continued fucking for another moment before cumming as well, and the men cheered, unable to believe the miracle they had just witnessed. The beast, now simply a pet, turned around, grunting softly, and began sucking it’s Master’s cock clean with it’s long tongue, looking up at him lovingly as a strand of metal curled up from the floor, wrapped it’s way around it’s neck and detached from the floor, leaving it with a thick metal collar.

“Men, let us celebrate my victory!” Craig shouted, and the men revelled, an orgy erupting on the dias, their new pet crawling among them, licking their bodies clean, sucking their cocks and begging to be fucked. It lasted for hours, until the men, exhausted, climbed back down from the dais and returned to their homes, and Master’s newest pet stood on it’s hooves and followed his Master down the stairs as best it could, but the path was treacherous, and it’s knee ached. Master could see this, and knelt next to his pet, holding it’s wounded knee in his hands, a dull light coursing beneath them as the pain dissolved. “Thank you,” Craig said, “Your sacrifice was great, for my Men, but you will be happy, I promise.”

His pet grunted it’s thanks. It knew. The rage had hurt so much, all it’s life. To be rid of it was enough for him to follow his Master anywhere, until the end of it’s days.

Persistence’s Rewards – Part 4

***WARNING*** SCAT

“Fuck man, you fuckin’ reek.”

“No fuckin’, shit, Greg–fuckin’ awesome, right?”

“How many loads did you drink?”

“Lost count at thirty.”

“Damn, you’re a fuckin’ pig.”

“You complainin’?”

“You fucking know I’m not,” Greg said, pushing his neighbor against the wall in the lobby of their apartment building. running his hands over his taut gut, pumped full of piss at the bathhouse they’d been at all evening, where Shane had spent his first time strapped into the urinals there, as happy as any true piss pig could be. Greg, meanwhile, had been collecting samples–he had some ideas for new beer recipes he was eager to try, now that he had a brand new hunting ground here, and a nasty pig neighbor for a willing test subject. He leaned in and gave Shane a deep kiss, sucking salty piss from his mustache and beard, feeling his ten inch cock press out against the yellow jockstrap he was wearing with rubber chaps and a yellow rubber vest–an outfit Greg had given him as a gift before they’d left for the bathhouse earlier.

Shane had had a much better morning than the last few days. He’d woken up to a piss soaked bed, but rather than find it strange, he’d unloaded a second blast of piss all over himself, making sure to get as much of it into his mouth as he could, before jacking off three times, coating his huge gut with cum. By then it had been early afternoon, but he’d already been fired, so who fucking cared what he did anyway? He sure as hell didn’t, but fuck he was horny. He got on a pair of briefs and knocked on Greg’s door, pushing his way in when he opened the door, kissing his neighbor’s filthy mouth, licking out his pits and ass crack before slamming his ten inch cock in deep, Greg begging him to fuck him harder, ordering him to fuck him harder, like a real pig. The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon fucking, before Greg ordered a few pizzas for them both, which they demolished, and then they’d headed out for the night’s festivities.

“Fuck, it was hot seeing you with that tube down your throat, all those fucker’s pissing right into you–gonna have to take you back there tomorrow, fill you up some more.”

Shane shook his head, “I gotta… look for a job. Can’t pay rent with piss.”

Greg smiled, and groped his cock some more. “Trust me. I’ve had more than a few beers with our landlord–he’ll be more than willing to take a few of your pig loads in his ass as payment.”

Shane smiled at him. Greg thought of everything, not like him. His head hadn’t seemed to be working so well today–like he was just operating on instinct and desire. It was easier just to do whatever Greg told him to do, than to try and think of anything on his own, even now, his brain felt like it was just idling in his skull–there and running, but not producing anything of note. It was…freeing, really. Not having to think so hard. He could just exist and fuck and drink piss, like he really wanted.

“Speaking of pig loads, I could use one myself,” Greg said, “Let’s get up there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shane said, but as they headed into the lobby, they peeled apart unexpectedly, as Shane headed for the stairs.

“Yo, the elevator’s over this way, you dumb fuck.”

Shane just stared at him. “I…always take the stairs though.”

“Pig, get over here and in the damn elevator with me.”

Shane didn’t move, and Greg strode over, angry that he still hadn’t managed to get rid of all of it. “I said, come on, piss pig.”

Shane just stared at the stairs, wondering what he’d been thinking, wanting to take them, and he let Greg pull him back towards the elevator. Something…he could almost remember something. About climbing, about wanting to…to be better. Thinner. Successful. But he wasn’t that person, not anymore. They got in the elevator, but Greg was fuming, the mood killed. “S-Sorry…” Shane said, though he wasn’t quite sure why he was apologizing.

“You’re such a stubborn bitch, you know that?”

“Sorry…”

He was just going to be trouble. He could tell. He would make a mess of things, if he didn’t take care of him right now, for good. He hated it though. He hated having to use it. It meant he’d failed, if he had to resort to that. They got off at the tenth floor, and Shane tried to veer off and go to his own apartment, but Greg grabbed him and pulled him next door. “No, we’re having a nightcap.”

“I don’t want a drink, Greg. I don’t need to drink anymore,” Shane said, anxiety growing in his swilling gut, “You don’t have to make me drink. I’ll…I’ll be a good pig! I’ll take the elevator, I’ll drink all the piss you want! I swear.”

He fought. Greg had to cuff his hands and feet, had to clamp his mouth open wide, before getting his most powerful brew, so dark it was almost black, and feeding it to him drop by drop. One drop, and Shane’s entire body went slack aside from his cock, which grew even larger, now longer than a foot, ball churning, cum spewing from the tip in a constant stream, but not enough, he could tell. A second drop, his hair filled in even thicker across his body, so thick his skin was barely visible, all of it slick and wet with sweat. Greg waited, eyes narrow and angry. A third drop–no one had ever needed a third drop. Shane’s body filled with fat, firm gut sagging into a heavy, hair covered apron, pecs softening into moobs, but still not enough. A fourth drop, and finally, he heard it–the loud wet fart, the stench of the pig finally losing all control of himself, of his mind dissolving to bits in his skull. Four fucking drops, but it was over. What a god-damn waste.

He uncuffed the animal, and the pig rolled over, smelled it’s shit on the floor and started eating its own mess, pissing itself at the same time, and Greg just watched it, before dragging it into the bathroom, stripping off its clothes, and chaining it around the apartment’s toilet, where it remained, groping it’s fat body and huge cock, reaching around occasionally to coat it’s hands with its shit and lick them clean. Eventually, it’s body grew tired, and it curled up on the floor. At first it dreamed of falling down an endless staircase into the depths of some unknown abyss, but even that faded into darkness before too long, and it never dreamed again.

Persistence’s Reward – Part 3

Why was he even bothering with this? What was the point? He sat down on the stairs, feeling another button pop off his shirt, as he gasped for breath in between the fourth and fifth floors. He was climbing earlier than usual today, because he’d been fired from his job. He replayed it over and over in his head, the entire day, wondering what in the world had made him do any of it. He’d woken up late again, just like the day before, and found himself in a sopping wet bed. He’d told himself that it was just night sweats, that he’d just been hot all night long, but he could smell it, he could smell it, and he knew it was piss, that he’d pissed himself in the night, and he’d…he’d jacked off. Jacked off, rolling in his own mess, and then, without even taking a shower, he’d gotten his clothes on for work, even though he knew he shouldn’t go, that he should just call out and feign illness, he went anyway. And there, right there in a meeting with his boss, it had happened. He’d pissed himself. He’d pissed himself, a full bladder, and he hadn’t been able to do anything, just stand there while Mr. Montgomery stared at him, watched the tent grow in his pants, and tell him to leave, and not bother coming back–they’d just send his things home by mail in a few days.

And so here he was, climbing the stairs again to the tenth floor, exhausted and fat, his pants still soaked with piss and sweat. He could smell himself, he could smell himself, and his cock was so fucking hard, and as he sat there, he felt it again. That warmth, piss flowing from his dick right into his pants, soaking the seat of his pants, flowing down the stairs in a stream from where he was sitting, and all he could do was watch it. Stare at it, and think…think about getting down and licking it up, think about how…how thirsty he was, how horny he was. That was what got him up and moving again–he knew that if he stayed there, he would get down and start licking it up, he’d lick it up and jack off, and even though he wanted it, he knew something was wrong. Wrong with him.

He was fatter. He was hairier. He had a beard growing down to his chest, even as his hair was receding back past the crown of his head. He reeked and sweated non-stop. And for some reason he was still climbing these damn stairs, when he should just get in the damn elevator, but he also knew that if he did that, he would be seen. Someone would see him, and they would know what he is, they would know that he’s a nasty pig, a nasty fucking pig…He hit the seventh floor, and couldn’t stop it. The friction of his thighs, the smell of his piss soaked clothes, his sweat and musk, his cock started pumping out a massive load of cum, and he nearly fell back down the stairs from the force and pleasure of it, snorting and grunting, fighting up one step at a time. It happened again below the ninth floor, and by the time he finally emerged into his hallway, he barely even felt human. Too exhausted to stand, he fell to his hands and knees, crawling down the hall towards his apartment, snorting and grunting for breath, but Greg was there in the hall, blocking his way.

“You look like you could use another drink today,” he said, why don’t you come inside and hang out for a while?”

No. No, not that. He turned around and started crawling back towards the stairs, shaking his head, even as his cock was screaming for him to go inside.

“You really are a persistent one, aren’t you?” Greg said, following him, “I’m amazed you can still climb those damn stairs without having a heart attack, but more than that, I’m amazed you’re climbing them at all. Most people prefer sitting on their ass after one date with me, but you, you just keep on fighting.” He straddled Shane and sat down on his back, forcing him to the ground under him, listening and feeling him struggle, “Where do you keep all that gusto of yours? You’re never going to be happy as pig if you don’t let me get rid of it, you know.”

“Not…Not your…pig…” Shane huffed.

“Oh trust me, you’re most certainly a pig, and certainly mine. So what is it, Shane? What is it? If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to have to get rid of everything, you know…”

Shane kept trying to pull himself out from under him, when he felt something warm on his back. He could smell it, the pig in his head taking over and salivating. Piss, his fucking piss. Greg got up, still pissing the front of his shorts, and he pulled out his cock, walking back to his apartment, leaving a trail behind him, Shane turning around and dragging his tongue across the carpet, following him at a crawl until he was inside the apartment. In the middle of the front room Greg was standing over a dog bowl brimming with beer, and he was pissing into it, and he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it, but his body, his nasty piggy body couldn’t help itself. He crawled over and started lapping up the beer and piss, drinking it down as best he could. It took him a while, and Greg came around behind him, pulling off his soggy clothes and started fucking his ass. He licked the bowl clean, drooling from the mouth, groaning and grunting, his eyes glazed over once again.

“Don’t you worry, pig,” Greg said, “I’m sure we can get you sorted out tonight. By tomorrow, we’ll have you set as a proper pig for life.”

Rick and the Beast – Part 6

Prick hadn’t realized he’d been in the security offices for as long as he had–it was now easily eleven o’clock at night, which was a bit of a relief, because there were fewer people around to witness his walk of shame. But a new voice piped up in his head–

Why are you ashamed? You’re a pig! Everyone should know you’re a pig. Besides, doesn’t it feel kind of nice, your fat hanging out like that?

That voice made more sense than he would have liked, but he had to focus. Whatever Master had done to him, he could fight it, he could beat him if he just–

Fuck I’m hungry. I should eat something.

Prick looked around, sniffing the air. He could smell food nearby, and he followed the scent. It led him off the path to his dorm around back behind the cafeteria to the dumpsters. Without really thinking about it, he started digging in the dumpsters and trash for anything he could find, grunting and snorting as he stuffed himself. He didn’t hear the back door open, but when the older, chubby cook screamed, Prick looked up from the dumpster and saw him silhouetted in the light from inside. He could smell him too, he could smell his sweat, he could smell…cum…

The cook’s eyes dilated–he could smell Prick too. “Awww fuck, it’s just…just a piggy,” the man said. “Fat fucking pig, fuck you’re disgusting.”

Prick got down on his knees and asked the cook politely if he would feed him his cum, the cook–who had never once before considered letting a man touch his cock, leered at Prick, unzipped his fly, strutted up and skullfucked him. Prick just sucked as hard as he could, eager for cum. He could taste the precum on his tongue, but that only made him hungrier for the main course. After a minute, the cook came and Prick sucked it all down. The cook dropped the bag of trash in front of the pig and went back inside; Prick rummaged around in it for everything he could eat, and then hefted himself back up. At least he was full now–but what had he been doing? His mind was a jumble.

Why did I do that?

Fuck, that guy’s cum was delicious! I wonder if he’d give me seconds?

Fuck, I’m disgusting, I’m so fucking gross, and I can’t even stop myself, I can’t do anything right, I don’t know what to do–

Fuck, my hole could use a fuck.

Do I smell piss? Piss would be good too.

I need to get home, I need to get home, and think.

I need some more cock.

Back to his room, that made the most sense, didn’t it? Prick walked back around the cafeteria. He passed a few men on the way, and all of them looked down at him as soon as they caught a whiff of him, but none of them needed service, and Prick just wanted to get home, he just wanted to be alone, he just wanted to think for a second, and sort out all of his thoughts, and try and figure out what Master did. He fumbled with the lock, finally throwing open the door, and found his roommate, Josh, sitting on his bed reading a comic book.

Fuck.

Josh looked at him for a moment, confused, until Prick’s musk washed over him, and his eyes glazed over, one hand reaching down, groping his cock through the pajamas he was wearing.

Don’t do it, don’t do it

Prick licked his lips, shut the door behind him, and waddled over to his roommates bed. He could tell he wanted it slow, and so he started edging him, but after a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. Prick and Josh ignored it the first couple of times, but eventually Josh ordered him to see who it was, and it was several men from their floor, who had been lured to their room by the smell of Prick wafting down the hallway. Prick was so fucking excited, seeing all the men he could service right there, wanting him–

No! No, you don’t want this, you don’t! Run, fucking Run!

But why would he run? He really needed to shut that voice up, it was telling him to do so many bad things. He went back to sucking Josh off, presenting his ass for the steady stream of men who came in to use their floor pig’s services. After an hour of edging, Josh finally rewarded him with a massive load, and any men on the floor who’d needed his services had come by, pumping at least a dozen loads in his now loose, sloppy hole. Prick considered getting in bed, but pigs don’t get to sleep in beds. He asked Josh if he could use some of his dirty clothes to make a bed, and Josh allowed it, after Prick cleaned his feet for him, and the pig curled up, his nose shoved into some of Josh’s dirty underwear, snoring and snorting in his sleep, at least until Josh woke him up by shoving his morning wood into his mouth, fucking a load of cum down his throat, and chasing it with a blast of sour morning piss, before he got dressed and headed for class.

Prick woke with a clearer head. In the mirror, he was happy to see that some of the changes which had happened the night before had worn off. He had hair again, for instance, but it had grown back in lighter in color and thinner than before. He also had lost some weight, but not nearly enough to make much of a difference, and he still couldn’t feel anything from his tiny, worthless cock. And yet, part of him was also sad–sad to see that beautiful body gone, sad to feel shame and doubt and fear once more. His phone buzzed, it was his master, summoning him to the frat house. Prick found the biggest clothes of his he could, pulled them on, and headed out, turning plenty of men’s heads as he passed with his weakened musk, but none of them could bring themselves to use the pig in the light of day.

At least, not yet.

(To be continued eventually)

Rick and the Beast – Part 5

Pike picked up the pieces of his uniform and left, shutting the door behind him, and The Beast crouched down next to where Rick was still licking piss mindlessly from the floor, “Now, what am I going to do to you? You know, I’ve really been on the fence about you,” The Beast said. He walked around Rick, who was still slurping up Pike’s piss, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down on it. It fit him about as well as a kindergarten chair would have fit an adult, his legs splayed wide, his cock flopping down off the chair over halfway to the floor. “After ignoring me, I thought I’d settled on making you a lowly pig, but really, over the past few weeks, you’d shown me that you could have made a great jock, cleaning up my sweaty body every day, but then you have to go and pull a stunt like this. You have to try and challenge me. So I’m done with your games. You can kiss that little bit of will you’ve still got goodbye, because there’s going to be no turning back for you, pig, I can promise you that.”

“F–Fuck you,” Rick managed to say, in a moment between having his tongue plastered to the piss soaked floor.

“Excuse me?”

“F–Fuck you. You can’t get away with this, someone will find out, I’ll make sure of it. You’re a fucking rapist, you fucking raped me, you fucker, and–”

Get up. Kneel in front of me.” Rick tried to resist, he tried to scream, but his body did as The Beast ordered. “Look me in the eye.” He did, and he tried to remain resolute, but the force of looking right into his eyes, it was only a few moments before he tried to look away again…but he couldn’t. He couldn’t pull his head away, he couldn’t blink, and he started to panic. The gaze was searing him, he felt like he was burning–burning with humiliation, with awe, with admiration, with hatred. It took him quite a while to realize that The Beast’s mouth was moving, that he was speaking to Rick…and that he was saying things back, but even that became lost in the gaze. Soon, all there was in his mind were those two eyes, until the Beast finally blinked, and he was allowed to look away.

“What…what was that? What did you do to me?”

The Beast smiled. “You see Pig, you had a bad memory. I was just reminding you how things actually happened that night, in the frat house–you remember now, don’t you?”

Of course he remembered. He’d been drunk, and he’d seen The Beast there, the man whose cock he’d wanted all night long. Rick had fallen to his knees, begged him for a rough fuck, right there in the hallway, pleaded with him, and his master had given it to him, had fucked him then and there in the bedroom, just like he’d always…always wanted…

He shook his head. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t what had happened, The Beast had raped him, but all of his memories were different, and he couldn’t tell which was wrong or right. Had he pursued The Beast for weeks, before finally finding him in the cafeteria, crawling under the table to nurse his cock in public, before eagerly following his Master out to be fed from the kitchen dumpsters? What else could have happened? He couldn’t even imagine something else anymore. He was a slut, a whore, a desperate faggot.

“Pigs shouldn’t try to tell lies.”

“Yes…Sir. I know, but I didn’t–”

“Shut up!”

Rick fell silent, eyes on the ground, kneeling before his master, the master he’d always wanted, but then why was he so afraid? Then again, who wasn’t terrified of their god?

“It’s time you learned what it meant to be one of my pigs,” The Beast said, and started stroking his cock, the foot and a half long shaft hardening again, “You’re going to drink my cum, pig–my real cum–and you’re going to keep drinking until I decide you’ve had enough–got it?”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.”

Rick inched forward on his knees, and took the massive head of The Beast’s cock in his mouth. Now that he was hard, Jim reached underneath, grabbed his balls in both hands and started pumping them–immediately, Rick’s mouth was flooded with a torrent of cum. He tried to keep up as best he could, but he could feel it running down his chin and onto his body. Like he’d watched happen to Pike, he could feel his body changing as well, his gut, which had been growing larger since first meeting The Beast, was suddenly expanding rapidly, the hair on his body and face thinning out and finally disappearing completely, leaving him completely smooth, aside from a thinning amount on his head, which lightened to a blonde, thinned further, and eventually withered away altogether, leaving him completely hairless. Distantly, as though muffled by cloth, he heard the clink of metal on the floor–it took him a moment to realize it was his cock cage falling off him–his cock and balls had grown too small for it to remain on, especially as his new fat had expanded. Still, it didn’t matter. He somehow knew that his cock wouldn’t work normally anyway. He’d be able to piss, but he’d never cum again–He was meant to eat cum, not produce it, after all. His mind was dulling and changing, a new sensation forming in his mind which began crowding out everything else. A hunger. A hunger for food and cum more than anything else, no matter how he might be able to get it. The voice of dissidence, telling him to fight back, was also buried–under his hunger, under his fat, and when The Beast took the head of his cock from Rick’s mouth, he tried to follow it. He needed more, he’d always need more, from now on.

The Beast stood up, took a few moments, and reduced himself back down to his normal size., before putting his clothes back on. “That’s enough for now, Prick,” The Beast said, “That’s your name now, isn’t it, piggy?”

“Yes sir.”

“And you’re going to get as many people to call you that as you can, right?”

“Of course, sir–it’s my name. The name you gave me, sir.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he added, and left the room. Prick stood up, discovering that in addition to growing fatter, he’d also grown shorter. He started at his new body in the one way mirror for quite a while, wondering what, exactly, he was going to do. What, in the end, was there to do? He fit himself back into his clothes as best he could, though he had to leave the button on his jeans undone, and his shirt couldn’t cover his apron no matter how hard he tried to pull it down, and Pike escorted him from the station, back into a reality he no longer was certain existed, or perhaps it was him, who no longer seemed to fit inside it. Fuck, he was hungry. He waddled off, belching up some of his master’s cum, and wondered where he might be able to get something else to eat this late a night.

Rick and the Beast – Part 3

It’s been a while since I started this one. Here’s parts one and two as a refresher.

The next couple of weeks were a new kind of hell for Rick, as he fell under the tighter and tighter control of Jim Newman, known around campus simply as “The Beast”. He no longer had the option of ignoring the texts he received, at least, not if he wanted to cum again. The Beast took full advantage of this, and regularly forced Rick to excuse himself from his classes in order to go pleasure his master wherever he happened to be at the moment. More often than not, the need for Rick’s holes would arise somewhere public, usually the bathroom, locker room, or even out on an athletic field behind the bleachers. He lived in constant terror that someone would see what was happening, and yet discovery would also have brought some relief–at least then his secret would be out; he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to keep it burning inside him at this rate.

His moments away from his master were just as terrible for different reasons. He lived in constant fear that someone would discover his chastity, which required him to shower very late at night, and experiment with a variety of different ways to try and keep his roommate, Josh, from seeing him naked. As such, his hygiene began to slip. Wearing the same clothes for days on end–even sleeping in them, became easier than daring to change underwear. The same with showering–it became much easier to simply not bother at all. But, he discovered that he was beginning to pick up new habits, the more he interacted with The Beast. The most obvious was his appetite–it seemed like ever since his feeding out behind the kitchens that night, it was now impossible for him to be full. Each week, The Beast would text him late at night, demanding that he return to the dumpsters, where he would again be stuffed. Those were the only moments he’d felt the least bit full, and he was growing increasingly terrified that The Beast was turning him into someone he had no interest in being. It was that fear that finally pushed him over the edge–he simply had no choice anymore. He would have to report what was happening to him.

But who should he tell? His first thought was a teacher, but given his poor attendance and shoddy work, he hadn’t developed a close relationship with any of them. In fact, they all seemed to rather despise him, including his advisor. A friend? He had no friends. Besides, who could even understand what he was going through? They also wouldn’t have any power, and if The Beast found out that he’d told a student, he feared for their safety almost as much as his own. That left one final possibility in his mind–he would have to go to campus security and talk to someone there, and then go to the police. It took him a few days to work up the courage to go into the building, and finally say to the young man working at the desk that he needed to report a rape. Much to his surprise, he was very understanding, and escorted him into a small interview room, asked him a few basic questions about himself, and then left, telling him that someone would be with him shortly to talk to him.

For the next several minutes, Rick allowed himself to feel relieved. It was all going to be ok after all. He’d just tell them what had happened, and he’d be free at last. And then the door opened, and in there in the doorway was a man so large he had to stoop slightly and turn to the side to enter the room. He was older, with short greying hair, dressed in a security uniform stretched tight across his muscular physique, and for some reason Rick couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s crotch as he walked around to the other side of the table. He sat down across from Rick, introduced himself as Officer Pike, and began asking him questions about the rape–Rick did his best to answer him, but it was getting harder and harder for him to focus. The questions became more intimate and personal, and Rick was feeling uncomfortable answering them, in part because he didn’t quite like the answers that were coming out of his mouth.

“And how did it feel, when Mr. Newman thrust his big, fat cock inside you? Did it hurt?”

“Yes sir…Yes, it hurt more than anything.”

“But it was worth it, in the end, wasn’t it? Because that big cock ended up fucking the cum right out of you.”

“”I mean, I came sir, but I didn’t–”

“I suppose, my main concern is–how can it have been rape if you came? I mean, that means you must have enjoyed it on some level.”

“I mean, it did feel kind of good, but…but I didn’t want him…to…”

“You didn’t what, what him to make you feel good?”

“No! I mean, that’s not…”

The officer leaned back, and put his hands back behind his head. Rick found himself staring at the sweat stains in the pits of his uniform, and licked his lips.

“Have you had any contact with Mr. Newman since that initial incident?”

“I mean, yeah…I gave him my phone number–”

“You gave your alleged rapist your phone number?”

“Not…I mean, not because I wanted to, sir, but because he made me…”

“Why didn’t you just give him a fake number?”

Why hadn’t he done that? That made so much sense, but it hadn’t occured to him at the time. “I…I don’t know.”

“So, you have seen him since. Have you had sex on any of those occasions?”

Rick was silent. He suddenly didn’t want to talk anymore. “I think…I think I should go, I don’t feel good.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Officer Pike said, “Stand up and strip.”

Rick wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but his body was already moving, getting up from the table and removing all of his clothes, until he was completely naked, aside from his metal chastity device around his cock, which was desperately trying to harden within the confines.

“Tell me what you want to do right now.”

“I want to lick your pits sir. I want to lick your sweaty body clean, and I want to suck your cock, and I want you to fuck me sir, I want you to fuck me rough.” Rick kept trying to tell his mouth to stop talking, but it just fell from him, all the fantasies that had been flying through his mind since Officer Pike had entered the room.

“Get down here and lick my boots clean, pig, and if you do a good job, maybe I’ll put my big cock in your hole.”

Rick got down without a question, crawled across the tile floor and began licking the Officer’s boots clean. This close to him the smell of him was overwhelming, but it wasn’t until he was bent over the table, the officer’s cock buried in his ass, that he finally realized what he was smelling. He was smelling The Beast. It was the same smell–if he closed his eyes, he could smell his master behind him fucking him deep, except Officer Pike’s cock was slightly shorter, but quite a bit thicker. After he came, he ordered Rick to sit down in a chair, handcuffed him to the back, and left the room, telling him that he’d receive the rest of his punishment in a few hours, when their Master finished with practice and came to deal with Rick himself.

It’s not that Alex was a prude–hell, he masturbated plenty. There wasn’t any reason why Harry couldn’t jack off too. The problem was the damn smell of it! Ever since the day he’d moved into the house with him, the whole house stank of it. Sure, he hadn’t known what the smell was at first, only that it had come largely from Harry’s room and the bathroom. It wasn’t until Alex had caught him at it (well, “caught him” was one way of phrasing it–really, he’d been crouching outside the slightly open door, watching his housemate tug on his cock while he was on the bed, well positioned to give him a view) and as soon as he’d shot, the smell had smacked him in the face like a ton of bricks.

Of course, the real problem wasn’t that he could smell it–the problem was how it smelled. It smelled amazing. It smelled like cum, sure–rank and a bit cheesy–but for some reason, it made his mouth water. It made him want to jack off too. He couldn’t let Harry know, of course–Harry would probably think he’s a fag, if he knew how much he wanted his cum. If he knew that he’d snuck into his room while he wasn’t home, and stolen his still wet cumrag, and sucked on it for a few hours, milking his own cock for all it was worth. That was something a fag would totally do, right? But he wasn’t a fag. He couldn’t help it if Larry’s cum just smelled really good to him. He was hoping that if he could just taste it enough, he could stop thinking about it, but if fact, getting a taste only made it worse. It was starting to become the only thing he could think about. He started watching Larry more often through the cracked door, still pretending to himself that his roommate had no idea he was watching, even though he spent most of his time watching Alex. Finally, one night, Larry came, but instead of shooting into the rag like usual, he shot it into his hand, and held it out to the door, “Well come on pig, if you want it so badly, get in here and eat it all up.”

Alex tried to resist, but the scent was overwhelming. He crawled into the room and licked all the fresh cum from his roommate’s hand, jacking off his own cock as he did, and the taste of it fresh–his head couldn’t take it. He just kept licking Larry’s fingers clean, his entire mind focusing in on that single act. Off in the distance, he could sense that Larry was talking to him, telling him things, but he couldn’t think about anything beyond licking those fingers. And when he finally stopped licking, he crawled back to his room (for some reason, he wasn’t quite able to stand up and walk, an odder still, he didn’t find that fact the least bit strange) sat on the floor and started jacking off, over and over again, eating every load of cum that he produced, until it hurt to even touch his cock anymore. Then and only then was he able to heft himself up into bed and collapse from exhaustion, his arms burning, though when Larry came in and skull fucked him, he didn’t object. Why would he object to another opportunity to taste his delicious cum?

From that day on, it became harder and harder for Alex to deny that he was anything but a faggot at heart. He would beg Larry for his cum, he would do anything for another taste of it. He took over the household chores, he cooked dinner, he gave him massages and foot rubs, all so he might have the privilege of sucking a load of cum from Larry’s cock. Still, he told himself that it couldn’t get worse than this, right? At least, until it did. Suddenly, it wasn’t just Larry’s cum he smelled, but everyone’s cum. And they all smelled different, and they all smelled delicious. It was getting harder and harder for him to think about anything other than cum, and Larry only made it worse by dressing him up in his leather gear, driving them to the fetish clubs in the city, and making him beg for cum all night long. The words CUM PIG scrawled across his forehead (Larry had told him that once he’d earned enough money as a cum dump, he’d get it tattooed on there properly) and who knew what else drawn on him, all the men would laugh, and he’d drink cum from any cock, because he wasn’t just a cum pig–he was Cum Pig–or at least that’s what Larry called him. And before too long, it was the only name he could remember, as he crawled around the house, oinking and grunting, sniffing around for his next load of cum.

Mr. Drake’s Games – Part 3

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, boy,” Mr. Drake said, “Or rather, what you’re gonna do. I want to see you jack off, lard ass. I wanna see you pump a load of cum out into those massive rolls of fat you have now. And what I’m gonna do, is every minute you spend trying to cum, I’m gonna change something about you. Alright? See that clock on the wall? In fifteen seconds, that second hand is gonna hit the twelve, and then you can start–heh, well why don’t I give you a head start? You might need it.”

Jay didn’t need any encouragement or direction beyond that. He started digging around under his fat with both hands, desperately searching for his half sized cock. He could find his balls relatively easily, and they were really very huge, but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite reach his cock. He kept trying, pushing up into his fat as hard as he could, occasionally brushing his hand across the head, but he couldn’t get a grip.

“That’s your first minute–How about he give you some more hair? Hell, how about a lot more hair? I like my fatties hairy as hell.”

“I can’t fucking reach it. I can’t fucking reach my cock!” His body was itching as hair grew in, dense across his entire body, and the thick bush accumulating at his groin didn’t make it any easier to reach his cock either.

“Well, then I guess I’m gonna be changing you a whole lot then, aren’t I?”

Jay kept trying, one hand working his nipples, keeping himself hard, but it was no use.

“Another minute down–how about a big beard to go with that hairy body of yours? I want to see that head shaved, though.”

“Please, there’s nothing I can fucking do!”

Mr. Drake wrapped his hand in the long beard pushing it’s way out of Jay’s chin, and he leaned in closer, “I just don’t think you’re being very imaginative, is all. I don’t think you really want to cum, is your problem.”

Jay did his best to calm down, and tried to think. If he couldn’t reach his cock, then he was going to have to try something else to stimulate himself. He rolled his body, and felt a shiver of pleasure, and then shoved his hips forward, feeling his cock working its way in and out of his fatpad. With a grunt, he started tugging at his nipples, feeling his arousal growing higher, bucking his cock into his fat. Closer, he was getting closer now.

“Still taking too long, boy. How about we see what happens when we make you a bit dirtier, eh? No more showers, no more baths, just a stinking pile of fat, and you fucking love it.”

The sweat building up as he tried to fuck himself suddenly reeked, and as much as Jay wanted it to disgust him, it didn’t. It only made him hornier, and he lifted one arm, taking a long snort of his hairy pit, licking up his own fat sweat. But he was getting tired, he had to find a better way to rub his cock off. Maybe if he tried a different position. He rolled over and dropped off the couch onto his knees, facing the seat, bucking his hips as hard as he could into his fatpad, but it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Poor little piggy, it seems like you’re still having some trouble there. Maybe you should go ahead and start making some sexy pig noises too?”

His face hurt, like his nose was pushing into his face, and suddenly he was snorting and grunting, unable to help himself. “Please, I can’t, *grunt* I need help…” he managed to get out between gasps.

“Do you want me to help you? I could probably do that, but you’d better ask me nicely. You’d better beg.”

“Please, please help me, I *snort* need to cum so bad, I can’t do it, I need you to help me.”

Mr. Drake helped Jay stand up and bend over the sofa, presenting his ass away towards Mr. Drake. Of course, all of this had cost another minute, and he could feel the heavy septum ring now hanging from his nose, feel the studs in his nipples, the rings in his scrotum which Mr. Drake added. Mr Drake worked his cock into his fat hole, and it was unlike anything Jay had ever felt before. He was squealing, desperately trying to get as much of the old man’s cock in him as he could, and he was cumming, he was finally cumming, and he huffed and puffed and collapsed into the couch while Mr. Drake kept pounding his fat hole, shooting his own load deep inside his ass.

“Well done, pig–too bad that still took you an extra minute. But watching that performance, I know just the thing, right pigslave? Yeah, Pigslave. Owned by your fat, nasty dad, and he lends you out to all the perverts in the neighborhood, and you fucking love it. You love it because you’re too dumb to know any better. You love it because seeing someone look at you like you’re less than human makes that little piggy cock of your hard. You love it because it gives you an excuse to belly up to your trough and get even fatter, isn’t that right, Pigslave?”

He tried to say no, but all he could do was grunt and squeal–after all, he wasn’t allowed to talk. Pigs were never supposed to talk like men. Something tight was around his neck, and he recognized it as his collar. It felt good, actually, a reminder that he was owned. That he was just an animal for men’s pleasure. Mr. Drake clipped the leash onto it, and led him out the door and across the asphalt, back towards his house. He knew he should be embarrassed, but he also wasn’t quite sure why. Why would a pig like him be embarrassed? This is just what he is. His dad–no, his Master–was happy to get him back, and made sure he’d done a good job pleasing Mr. Drake. As a reward, Jay got his dinner an hour early. He crawled over to the trough in the kitchen, and his dad poured in his slop, and he lost himself in his feast. By the time he’d finished, Jay was dead and gone, and all that remained was the neighborhood pigslave, exactly what he’d always wanted to be.

The Fall of Troy (Part 4)

***WARNING*** Still somewhat filthy.

He didn’t have to look far; Leo was waiting for him in the living room, wearing only a pair of boxers. He smiled when he saw Troy emerge from the basement stairs, give his asscrack a scratch with his full hand, and then give them a sniff. “Hey dad, ya got anything to eat?”

“Well, I’m not cooking, but the fridge and pantry are pretty packed. You feelin’ better after some private time?”

Troy grinned, “Fuck dad, you know I love my time on the shitter. Still, I hungry as fuck, I’m gonna find something to eat.”

“Well hold on,” Leo said, and hefted himself up off the couch, “Before you do that, I got something to ask you.” He walked over, blinked, his eyes flashing brightly for a moment, leaving spots in Troy’s vision, “What do you think of yourself now, piggy?”

The stench.

His stench.

He gagged. Leo was laughing at him, and he barely managed to keep himself from vomiting. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, what the fuck did you do, you fucker?”

“You think I didn’t hear you, every time you called me a slob? You think I didn’t see you grimace every time I let loose a fart or a belch? You think I couldn’t feel your disgust? Well son, good to know I’m not the filthiest one in this house anymore–I think that title has passed to you.”

He had to fix this, he had to do something, but it was overwhelming. His hands were trembling, he had to calm down. He pushed past Leo and hurried to the living room table, where he grabbed a cigar, and lit it, but it wasn’t enough, so he chugged a warm beer, dulling the edge of his anxiety, but that only made things worse. Why had he done that? He could have run and taken a shower. He could have punched Leo in the face. Instead…instead he’d gotten a drink and smoke, but…but why wouldn’t he do that? “Please…please, I don’t…just change me back, I’ll do anything. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again, I promise.”

“Oh Troy, but where in the world would you go? You’re too stupid to hold down a job, not to mention no one would hire someone as filthy as you. No, I think you’re stuck living with your dad and stepmom for a good while longer I think.”

Dad and Stepmom? “No…No, that’s not right…you’re my stepdad…”

“Well, I was your stepdad,” Leo said, “But after that little session of yours, with all that DNA of mine…well, I think your paternity might have gone and switched.”

“No, I have a dad, a different dad…” Leo said, but he couldn’t dredge a face from his memory. It was just Leo, always Leo. “No, you can’t do this, I won’t just give in this time, I’ll fucking fight you.” He put out the cigar in the ashtray, but immediately regretted it. He needed it. He needed smoke, fuck, what the fuck did he even do that for? He fought the urge, but it was painful. Leo laughed some more, turned, and started walking away.

“Heh, suit yourself, son, but your dad here has to take a shit and a piss–I’ll go ahead and leave the door open in case you want to join me–you know, like you usually do.”

He winked, and Troy’s mind filled in the blanks. How he worshiped his father’s body while he sat on the toilet, how he drank his piss, licked his fat body clean, sucked on his feet…He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but he couldn’t quite get his hand out of his piss soaked briefs, couldn’t quite stop stroking his cock. He had to think, he had to figure out a way out of this, but how was he going to do that? He was a fucking dunce after all. Fuck, he could barely read, much less right, much less think. Thinking was fucking hard, thinking ‘bout his cock was easy though. Thinkin’ ‘bout his dad, sittin’ on the toilet, gettin’ ready to shit…He licked his lips, heard himself say, “Hold on dad, I’m…I’m comin’,” and he started after him.

He wasn’t really going to do this, was he?

Leo was already sitting on the toilet. “Fuck son, you almost missed it. Hurry up ‘n get down here, if you want to watch.”

He got down on his knees, and stuck his head down between his dad’s thighs and down into the bowl as far as he could, the bottom of his beard dragging into the water, his dad’s balls resting on his head. A loud fart, and the shit started coming out. It was so rank he could almost taste it. Something warm and wet hit the back of his head–Leo was pissing, arcing it up in a stream and back down onto Troy’s head and neck, and then he aimed it further out, soaking his son’s back, listening to the pig grunt and moan as he tugged on his cock in front of the toilet. Done shitting, he put legs up on Troy’s shoulders, rolling his ass forward, and his pig son, resistance forgotten, dove in and started licking and sucking at his shithole, cleaning him up, before licking at Leo’s balls and finally swallowing his cock. Leo had saved some piss–he fed it right into Troy’s mouth, and chased it with a blast of cum, and then he swung his legs off and stood up.

“I got some errands to run, pig–I’ll probably be back late. Make sure you clean up in here when you’re finished–I don’t want it looking like the sty you have going downstairs in here.”

Troy was only half listening–he had his face shoved in the bowl, his hand jacking at rapid pace, and he he finally shot across the base of the toilet. Leo shook his head went and got dressed and headed out. Troy stayed in the bathroom for a while longer, cleaning up–licking the piss off the floor and the toilet seat, making sure he got his cum off the toilet base, and finally, with a bit of regret, he flushed the toilet–at least he had his stash downstairs if he felt the need for some more private time, but now, it was time to eat.

The rest of the evening was spent watching porn on TV, making frequent trips to and from the fridge and the pantry. By the time Leo returned, carrying bags and boxes in from his truck, Troy was passed out, dildo shoved in his hole, deep asleep. One more day, Leo thought to himself, and started hauling things down into the basement. Of course, it would be Troy’s choice whether he’d fall the rest of the way, but Leo had a feeling his son would see things his way more likely than not.

(I felt like doing some short captions today. There will be two of them. Hope you enjoy them!)

Caption Day (1 of 2)

The note on the unlocked front door said he was waiting for you in the basement. You’d never been to his house before, but he’d left a trail of discarded clothes down the hall leading to a door down the hall, but when you opened it, you couldn’t see anything. Not because it was dark—but because the entire room had been filled with fog…no, now that you could smell it, it was smoke. Sweet smoke, like a pipe, but how in the world had he made so much of it?

Now you were at your most terrified. Who knew what this guy had planned? But you had to go down there…right? You took the first step.

It actually smells…pretty good. In fact, it’s making your cock hard in your pants. You can smell, something else, too. Like…musk. Find the next step.

Fuck, it’s hot in here too, it’s making you sweat, and itch. You run one hand through your hair, not noticing it come away in clumps, leaving behind a perfectly smooth scalp. Find the next step.

Sweating like a pig. One hand runs over your hairy gut. Is it swelling? It…it is swelling. But when did it get so…small? Shouldn’t you be even fatter? And when did you take off your clothes anyway? It felt good to be naked though, it was cooler. You find the next step with your bare foot.

Panting now. Taking a moment to feel yourself. Soft, flabby gut. Hair everywhere. That feels more right. You look back over your shoulder, one hand pulling at your beard. You can’t even see the door up there anymore. You consider going back, but take another step down.

Why would you want to go back up, anyway? He—He’s down here. Somewhere. Waiting for you in all this sexy smoke. Waiting for…for his pig. Yeah, pig fucker, fuck. Such a fucking pig. You pause, reach around behind and finger your hole while you grope your short, pig cock, snorting and grunting. But you can cum later, you need to get down to him now. Take another step.

You can’t feel the wood on your feet anymore…but of course you can’t, you’re in your gear. Rubber stretched tight across your body, making you sweat even more, making you pant, making you stroke your piggy cock faster, hurry down another step.

Can’t wait to see him, can’t wait to see your master, can’t wait to taste his cock, feel his piss in your beard, can’t wait to serve him, the last step, now, feel the concrete, but fall to your knees because there he is, waiting with his pipe for his pig to arrive, but you’re here now, you’re here and you’ll never leave. He comes closer to you, and some small part of you is scared. Something just happened to you, something wrong, but what? You’re mind is too slow, too focused on the collar glinting in the smoke. He puts the leather around your neck, and you can feel the terror in you reaching a fever pitch. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t you doing anything, why—

The collar cinches tight. Your mind is empty. Master’s cock is there, and you salivate, drool running down into your beard.

“May I sir?”

“Of course, slave.”