Too Clever For Your Own Good (Part 3)

Eddie woke up with a raging headache, and the nagging sense that something had gone horribly wrong. It wasn’t like the other times he’d gotten home after Pigtown, when he could remember everything from the night before–instead, he could remember almost nothing at all. The last clear memory was of him and Pete arriving at Pigtown, and…talking, but he wasn’t sure what they’d been talking about. They….gone there to look for daddies, right? No–no, they’d been the daddies, and they’d gone to get cubs! He was sure of that. He opened his eyes and rolled over, and was pleased to see that, apparently, they’d been successful, because in the bed beside him was a beautiful, chubby cub. He went to snuggle closer to the boy, only to run into him sooner than he’d expected–he woke up a bit further, enough to sit up and look down at himself, where he discovered that he, too, was as much a chubby cub as the one beside him.

“W-What? No! No, this…this isn’t right,” he said to himself, his voice too high. “This isn’t right!”

His shout woke the cub beside him, and he rolled over. As soon as he saw his face, Eddie knew who it was, even if the face was very different from his last one–it was Pete. He didn’t have his beard, just a thin, blonde goatee around his mouth, and he looked at Eddie sleepily. “Eddie, shush. You’ll wake our daddies! They’re sleeping.”

“No–Pete, this isn’t right! Don’t you remember? We were supposed to be the daddies!”

Pete rolled his eyes, and sat up, “Fuck Eddie, you’re so fucking dumb. How many times do I have to remind you? We went to Pigtown to find daddies. You just had a nightmare.”

No–No, it was real,” Eddie said, “You have to believe me.”

“No Eddie–you’re wrong. You’re always wrong. You’re the one who needs to believe me. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be some piss soaked bear, you know that? What you had, was a bad dream. You’re not a daddy, you’re just a dumb, fuck hungry cub. That’s all you’ve ever been, and all you’ll ever be. It’s a good thing you like it so much, just like I do.”

Eddie couldn’t believe him, and yet…he also knew that Pete was never wrong, even though Eddie was wrong all the time. It seemed like that should be flipped around, but his head still hurt so badly, and his thoughts refused to stay organized and focused. “No, I’m not stupid, you’re the stupid one.”

“I never said I wasn’t stupid, Eddie–just that you’re way stupider than me.”

“But–”

“It was just a dream Eddie, go back to bed.”

He wanted to deny it, he really did, but the memories were already distant and hard to grasp…just like a dream. The logic of them didn’t make any sense, just like a dream. And look at him–he wasn’t a daddy! He didn’t even want to be a daddy, did he? No–he’d always wanted to be a cub, a stupid, horny cub who wanted nothing more than to get plowed by big daddy cocks, just like…like the cocks their new daddies had. He could remember then, how Pete had brought the two college kids over to their table, how they’d become the massive, hulking, leather clad daddies of their dreams, and fucked them all night long…Or even if that hadn’t happened, it sure was hot, thinking about getting fucked–it made his short cubby cock all hard. Eddie was having a hard time remembering what he’d even been thinking about, and Pete had already laid back down, so he did too–though he was too horny to sleep. He ended up jacking off, thinking about getting fucked, until he came, and then he nodded off again.

Later in the morning, he felt like himself again, in position beside his brother on their bed, while their rough daddies lubed up their cocks behind them, ready to plow their boys holes all morning long, before stopping for some lunch, and then even more fucking.

Eddie and Pete made out the whole time, stroking their tiny cocks to several orgasms while they got fucked, and neither of them could imagine being a part of a family other than this one.

Too Clever For Your Own Good (Part 2)

Even the best laid plans can hit a few snags. It turned out, that when it came to recruiting guys, Pete wasn’t much help–mostly because he had a bad habit of giving away the game, and telling the marks Eddie picked out what their plans were–and not many guys were willing to be forced into Eddie’s particular fantasy–at least, not without caveats of their own. The night was wearing down, and Eddie was feeling Pigtown…working on him. He looked down, surprised to see he’d picked up tattoos up and down his arms at some point, and that his leather uniform had become a set of biker leathers…but that wasn’t right. Pete helped talk him back from losing his place at the company and becoming a biker for good, but it was clear that he was going to have to revise his plan, if he was going to have any success. It was a risk, but Eddie was confident enough to try it, and so he parked Pete at a table in a corner of the front bar, near the door.

“Alright, look–you’re going to have stay here, and I’ll go in deeper, and start working on a boy for us. Once I have him…amenable, then I’ll bring him back out here and we can work on him together, alright? But I’m going to also need you to remember, really clearly, who I am–because I’m going to need you to help me remember when I come back out, like you did when I started looking like a biker, alright?”

“Of course Eddie, I can do that.”

“You have to be really focused, alright? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just sit here until I get back.”

“OK Eddie, I’ll be good.”

Could he really trust him? Did he have much of a choice? Eddie got his uniform straightened, calmed down and got focused, and headed back down into the dark, while Pete sat quietly, at least until a man who’d been watching the two of them sat down at the table, and introduced himself as Rod.

Eddie had told him not to talk to anyone, but Rod seemed nice, and it wasn’t long before he’d told the barman everything about his husbear’s plan, and how the two of them were, as he said verbatim, “Two daddies, and we’re making two cubs.”

Of course, Rod already knew what Eddie was trying to do in his bar, and he wasn’t particularly interested in having someone like Eddie trying to use the place for his own selfish ends. After all, Pigtown only served one thing–itself, and that was one thing Eddie hadn’t yet figured out. Rod had hoped that…nudging Eddie down a slightly different path would be enough, but he had been smart, bringing in a partner to help ground him. That meant, he’d have to take a different tactic. So, he kept chatting with Pete, but it wasn’t long before Pete started to feel…kind of confused. He was pretty sure about what he and Eddie had come to the bar to do, but the more Rod talked, the less sure he was. Then again, he wasn’t very smart, and he did forget things easily, so Rod drilled him until he was sure he remembered correctly. See, he and Eddie weren’t two daddies looking for cubs–no, they were two cubs, and they were here to find daddies. As a thank you, Pete got down and sucked Rod’s cock, and then waited for Eddie to return–which he did, after not too long.

Eddie had…run into a bit of trouble, and gotten cornered by a couple piss soaked rubber bears down there, and some of their…dirtier interests had worn off on him. He knew this wasn’t right, that he wasn’t supposed to be this chubby bear in a yellow jock and tank, thirsty for piss more than anything else, but he had lost the thread of himself–but not so much he couldn’t get back. He couldn’t quite remember everything, and so he headed right for the table where he’d parked Pete–only it wasn’t the Pete he remembered, sitting there. Where was his husbear, the grey bearded, cigar smoking hottie? And who was this chubby cub, with a small goatee, beaming up at him so eager to tell him how good he’d been at remembering everything they were here to do. Thankfully, Pete was more than happy to sort out Eddie, and remind him of what they’d come here to do, and Rod just smiled, as Eddie’s relieved eyes turned to surprise, his bearish body changing all over again, and he figured he wouldn’t be having trouble with the two of them again this evening–or any other evening in the future.

Too Clever For Your Own Good (Part 1)

If you’re smart enough, and focused enough, then Pigtown is pretty much the holy grail. Walk into those doors, keep your wits about you, and you can walk out as anyone you want to be, with anyone you want to fuck on your arm. At least, that’s the technique which had worked for Eddie, so far. Hell, two weeks ago, he hadn’t even been Eddie–he’d been Edward, a young, shy guy, new to the city and looking for love, or anything, really. Mostly, he just didn’t want to feel so alone. But what had happened in there–fuck, he still had a hard time believing he had any sort of relation to the young man he remembered, just because he was so…fucking different.

The next morning, he’d found himself in a whole new body. Mid fifties, muscled with a solid gut, a thick layer of hair all over him, nice full beard. He…definitely wasn’t the kind of guy that “Edward” would have ever wanted to be in his life, but who the hell cared what that old version of himself wanted? This new him, he was plenty happy with his new lot in life. He had so much confidence–he started work the next week, and discovered he’d leapt four or five rungs up the corporate ladder. By day, he was a high ranking company executive, wearing tailored suits and smoking expensive cigars over expensive fare during power lunches with his fellow. At night, he’d trade in the suits for leather gear, and prowl the streets for men to take his cock…but as much as he wanted to return to Pigtown, he also knew he wasn’t ready. He’d been lucky, before, to end up with such a good life, but he could remember other people in the bar who…hadn’t been so lucky. If he didn’t want to end up like them, he was going to need a plan, and the first part of that plan was going to require a wingman.

Once you enter Pigtown, you lose touch with yourself–the only thing you can rely on is your memory and your will, but the place can fuck with that too. No, you needed someone with you, someone you can work with, who can confirm for you what you’re doing, and who you are. A partner–someone watching your back. But he never found anyone suitable in the various men he fucked over the next few weeks. It was risky…but he was just going to have to make himself a partner, and the only place he could do that, was Pigtown.

He had several friends at work, none of whom were gay, but who trusted Eddie enough to meet him at an unknown bar in the evening for drinks. The one he ended up choosing was Peter–smart, witty, and always grounded, never one to panic or lose focus–he was perfect for the role, provided Eddie could convert him to his side. They didn’t venture very deep into the bar–that was too risky, but Eddie quickly discovered that the very qualities he appreciated in Peter made him…resistant to the sort of persona Eddie wanted him to become, and so, he was forced to push a bit harder than he would have liked.

The next day, he wasn’t quite satisfied with the end result. His new husbear Pete might be one hot fucking daddy bear, like him, but he definitely hadn’t kept all of Peter’s intelligence and will. Hell, he didn’t even work at the company where Eddie was anymore–he was an electrician. He made good money, sure, but not because he could think. Still, to his…slight disgust, Eddie found himself loving him all the same. Not only because he was hot, but because he was willing to do anything Eddie told him to do, and living with him for a few days…Eddie started to fantasize about having a whole family of men at his disposal, all of them under his thumb.

He started talking with Pete about it, convincing him how hot it would be if they had a couple of cubs–sons even–to fuck around with. Of course, this was an easy sell for Pete, because he wanted whatever Eddie told him to want. And so, after a few days of discussion and planning, the two of them suited up in their leather gear, and made their way back to Pigtown.

“Alright Pete–remember, we have to stay focused at all times. I can’t lose you in there–we can’t lose each other. No matter what, remember this–we’re two daddies, and we’re making two cubs. Got it?”

Pete nodded.

“Good. And don’t get lost, and don’t get separated. Stick with me at all times, got it? Just follow my lead.”

“Anything you say Eddie, you know I’ll do anything for you,” Pete said, and they shared a smoky kiss, and slipped into the bar, to fill out their family.

Every Pig in His Place (2 of 2)

My personal life started to suffer. I couldn’t get any work done, normal clothes no longer felt normal. Friends who had known me for years couldn’t even recognize me, passing them in the street. I wasn’t even sure I knew who I was anymore. Membership in our little club swelled and diminished over the weeks, and I found myself in a new role–now I was the person looking for a place there, now I was the one looking to stay, and these new men joining us, thinking they could just fly forever. Now I was the one smiling at them, knowing how fucking wrong they were too, how wrong I’d been myself.

Every night now, I went straight to the bar. It was the only place I felt alive anymore, the only place where I felt like I belonged/ I’d stopped looking at myself in mirrors months ago, whenever possible…after the tattoos had started to appear, after I couldn’t even see anything human in my eyes any longer. I started dressing in rubber, preferably with a mask. I felt more comfortable that way, without a face, without a name. In the bar, I was just an object–I’d gone from a big dicked fucker to a servicer. Drinking cum and piss, everyone helping themselves to my holes whenever they wanted me. I got to know the man I’d seen that first night, watching me–that, was Rod. The owner, the ringmaster, the warden. He never used me, but he did watch me, and every night, he’d take the pleasure of 86-ing me onto the street, personally, telling me I couldn’t stay, that I still wasn’t ready!

And I would slink back out, sucking as much cock on the way out as I could, thrown back up into the air from the pond again, but I was losing momentum fast. So one night, I found Rod first, and I begged him. I begged him to find a place for me, to let me stay, that I couldn’t live out there anymore, that I didn’t belong out there–I belonged here now, and he knew it as well as I did. So he found a place for me alright–right here, where I’ve been for…well, a good long time.

I tried to deny it, I tried to take it back. I wasn’t supposed to be here, in the bathroom, I wasn’t a toilet…was I? He had to chain me down for a while, keep me in place, until I understood, until I felt it in my bones. Until the time he let me try to leave, and the thought of leaving…terrified me. I wasn’t worthy of leaving, this is where I belong–and it’s where you belong too. Yeah, you can struggle against those chains all you want, but they aren’t what’s really keeping you here–it’s you, pig. It’s who you are. Who we both are. Don’t worry, we’ll have lots of fun together. It’s been lonely, all by myself, and Rod promised me I’d have a friend soon…and now I do! I have you.

Every Pig in His Place (1 of 2)

It’s a rush–there’s nothing else like it–there’s no place like it. You go in there, and fuck, it’s like you’re in some other world, some twisted up version of our own, but twisted in the best fucking way. I don’t know how long it’s been there–everyone just calls it Pigtown, because there’s a bar at the center of it, at the heart of it. The first time I went in, I didn’t know that the place was really…different. I just skirted the edge of it, ended up meeting some kinky looking rubber freak in an alley, and fuck! It was the best fucking sex I’d ever had, right there on the concrete. Guy had no limits, did whatever the fuck I wanted, took everything I gave him, and when dawn came, when I was back here, in the real world, I felt different.

I was still me, but I’d changed. My cock was bigger. My nose was pierced. The clothes I’d been wearing (a tank and jeans, my usual club gear) were rubber and leather, and when I got home, I must have jacked off…fuck, I lost count. I didn’t know his name, I hadn’t even seen his face, but I knew I needed more. I went back to work, I tried to fit in with the world again as best I could–but it wasn’t easy, those first few days in particular. Everything felt so…dull. Just the sight of a woman would disgust me. Every night, I had to find some guy to fuck, the kinkier the better. I felt normal-er, eventually, but I’d already known that I’d have to go back in, and soon.

It became a game for me. I’d slip into Pigtown, and back out again. There were a few guys like me, and we formed a…club of sorts, but none of them were really like me, I don’t think. We all knew, that anyone who went into Pigtown were meant to stay in Pigtown. Most of my compatriots, they wanted in, but they hadn’t yet found their place. Me? I didn’t want a place–I wanted to be the rock skipping across the surface of the pond, gliding across the top of the place every few days, slaps of pleasure against the surface of the water, in between moments in the normal air. I thought, if I kept up my momentum, I would keep flying forever, but maybe I got greedy. I wasn’t satisfied with the alleys, I wanted…I wanted to go deeper, too.

The first time I made it into the bar…it made every back alley session feel like a pale imitation. The place was…alive, with energy. It was the first time that I hesitated, before leaving–but I did, knowing I’d come back again, that I could always come back. But I saw someone watching me leave too…and I started to wonder how many more skips across the pond this stone might have before I got sucked under for good.

A Study in Flannel (2 of 2)

*RRRIIPPP*

“There we are! Right at the seam. Let me just tug this sleeve off–we’ll have you feeling more comfortable in no time, Wallflower.”

“The tattoos? Where do you think they came from, dumbass? Nice and trashy, just how I like my rednecks.”

“You don’t wanna be a redneck? Then I guess you should have looked at the calendar! Hear that everyone? Wallflower here didn’t want to a redneck but he didn’t even check the calendar!”

*Laughter*

“Now Wallflower. No one thinks they want to be a redneck. But trust me, once you go there, you’d be surprised how few of ‘em wanna go back. Now give me that other sleeve, let’s see what we can do here…”

*RRIPPPP”

“There we are–you’re looking better already, Wallflower. Look at those new sleeves of yours, all those tattoos…You’re gonna be a real sleazy fucker, ain’t ya? Now one last thing, Wallflower…”

*Pop..PopPop..Pop*

There we are-no more buttons on that shirt–just let that dirty, hairy bubba gut of yours hang out. Got some rings in those tits Wallflower! You’re kinkier than I thought. Oh? That feel good Bubba? You like having me play with those tit rings of yours? You know I get first go with every new boy, right? So lean in here, and shove some of that cigar smoke in my maw, you nasty fuck.”

…

“Fuck Bubba, that’s a nice mouth you got. Love the feel of that beard too–and damn fucker, a mullet? Whose 80’s fantasy did you come stumbling out of? Yeah, I see you grinning at yourself in the mirror–you do like it, don’t you? Just fucking admit it.”

“Yeah–that’s what I thought, Bubba. Now get down there and blow my rod–and then I’ll be turning you over to crowd here. Don’t think you’ll get away with being a wallflower the rest of the night–I think that pretty mouth of yours can look forward to being front and center.”

Source: mesquitebehr

A Study in Flannel (1 of 2)

“Hello, Wallflower.”

“Yes, I’m talking to you. Did you think no one had noticed you in here? Everyone’s been talking about you, but everyone gets talked about, their first time in Pigtown. Everyone wants to know, who’s that handsome young man going to be, sipping that beer all by himself against the wall?”

“If you really want to hide that blush, you shouldn’t turn away–just grow a better beard, Wallflower.”

“Wallflower, everyone can tell that you’re trying to. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Look at you–we all know what you want to be. Those jeans, those boots, that…*sigh* flannel shirt. Flannel, such a tired fabric, but it means so much to all of us here, I suppose. No one wants to hear The Beatles, but everyone knows the words when it come on. We all know what you want.”

“Don’t be coy with me–you know what this place is. I know how far the reputation of my bar spreads.”

“Oh, you just now noticed that facial hair of yours? I know I suggested you grow a beard, but that flush in your cheeks is too cute to hide just yet. Shame about the color though…”

“A mirror? Right over there, Wallflower. Go take a look?”

“Not too bad, eh? That mop makes a pretty good flat top, I have to say, and you’re filling out that flannel of yours nicely. How’s that cigar taste? Heh, looks like you hadn’t even noticed it. Big package in the front of those jeans daddy, you’re filling out nice and thick, just how we like them. Still, as handsome as you are, I’m afraid you just don’t quite fit our theme tonight.”

“Didn’t you notice? Second Friday of every month is the hoedown! Got dirty fucks coming from five counties to have some fun around here. Don’t worry, we can get you all fixed up here in a jiffy–won’t take much more than a few tweaks, and you’ll be feeling right at home.”

“Don’t shake your head at me! Don’t you understand the importance of theme nights? Honestly, it’s like why keep a calendar at all, if men can just show up and be whoever they want to be. Now hold still, Wallflower–let’s rip some seams.”

You never gave up on him. What father could give up on his son? The police all said their was no hope of finding him if he didn’t want to be found, but that just wasn’t your boy–you knew he would never run away like that. It was the cities fault. He’d been a small town kid–innocent and trusting–he didn’t know how rough things could get in the city. No–something had happened to him, and you were sure of it, but you also couldn’t prove it.

When the police hadn’t been able to find anything, you’d taken a leave of absence from the shop you owned, and headed for the city to try and find him yourself. You interviewed his roommate from college–he told you that your son had seemed happy and good for the first few months, but one night he didn’t come home to the dorm until the next morning, and something had seemed different about him. Distant. Aggressive. He’d started smoking and drinking heavily, and he was hanging out with a group of guys off campus. He missed class regularly, and then one day he just stopped showing up at all. But that didn’t sound like your boy–what had those guys done to him?

Other people on campus you interviewed gave you similar stories, but no real details you could actually call a lead–that is, until someone dropped the name of some club on the other side of the city–some place called Pigtown. You went there, took one look at the place, and left–utterly disgusted. That was some faggot place! Your son would never have been caught dead in a place like that–he wasn’t a faggot! He’d had a girlfriend and everything all through school, and so you keep looking for clues, but every once in awhile, you feel…like you’re being watched.

Because while you were out looking for your son, your son found you. He doesn’t quite…remember who you are, or who you were to him, but he does know you. He hates you. Hates you for never seeing him. Hates you because so much of him hates now, so much of him lives to cause pain, to humiliate, to abuse. He lurks in the shadows, following you around the city as you search for him, rubbing his ten inch cock through his pants, thinking about you. About what a good pig you’ll be when he gets his hands on you. About how you’ll be getting everything you deserve tonight, when him and a few of his slaves catch you, and drag you into Pigtown kicking and screaming for a night you won’t soon forget.

He’s deep in the pits of Pigtown, taking a break from the mass of men around him, pumping his dick to new sizes, staring at it through the plastic tube, panting a bit, wondering how big it can get, what it might feel like shoved up some faggots loose cunt. He looks to the side, and catches the eye of someone across the room, in the dark. He can’t make out much of him, but in those eyes, what is it about those eyes?

“Pigtown? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh come on, I’ve heard it’s one of the best bathhouses ever.”

“You told me you weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“I’m…look, I like to have fun. This is one of the ways I have fun. I just thought, if you came along, maybe you’d enjoy yourself! I brought some E–you had a blast last time–”

“No, I’m done with this, I’m done with you–go get lost in there, or whatever the fuck you want to do with your life, I’m fucking done.”

How long had he been down here? There were no clocks anywhere–hadn’t he arrived a few hours earlier? He looked down at himself, the filthy jockstrap, his rubber boots–hadn’t he been…wearing something else? Wearing more? It seemed…so long ago, for some reason. Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the man make a beeline for him across the room.

“Jack…oh fuck, Jack, I can’t believe I found you–we have to go, please…”

Those eyes, now that they were so close…he did know them, but not the body they were attached to. The head shouldn’t be shaved. The body was too…thin, like it had lost some mass and wasted away, and he’d grown older–years older. The beard was wrong, and there shouldn’t be a piercing in his nose, or those tattoos. “You came in after all–looks like…you’re having fun…” He had trouble getting the words out, and he couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d bothered using words.

“Jack, it’s been weeks! You’ve been in here for weeks. I…I’m losing it, Jack. But I know how to get out, I can get us out, I can get us better!”

Jack just smirked, released the pump, and hauled out his massive cock, wrapping it tight, keeping it full, hefting it, those eyes latched onto it, unable to look away. “Just give it a chance–you’ll like it, I promise.”

He fought. He fought hard, but he collapsed, the knees of his bleached jeans in a puddle of piss and cum, as he explored the massive cock with his hands and mouth, losing himself in the pit, like all the other pigs around him had already.

Source: studio-mineshaft-berlin

Sometime later from this caption.

I can’t stop. If I stop, Rod will take me. Has Rod already taken me? Aren’t I his already? I can hear him screaming in my basement dungeon now. Pull on the last of my leather gear–this shit I always thought was so disgusting is so…damn comfortable now. Pull on a hood, because I don’t want him to know it’s me, not that it’ll matter much soon, if he sees my face or not. I suppose some of it just my own shame, my own embarrassment, but that’s waning now too. Light a cigar–have to have a cigar, of course. One last look, and head downstairs.

“What the fuck is this fucking shit! This some fucking pervert thing? You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with–I’m very important! People will notice I’m missing!”

People would notice, but no one would expect to find a man like him in Pigtown. But only for a few days, and then it would be like he’d never even existed, just like all of them. He’d lost count, now. Rod needed one a week…and he’d tried to resist taking this one for a while now, but he needed him in a way he couldn’t exactly explain.

Down the stairs, and there he was. Ropes tied meticulously over his suit, tie over the top, bound to a post behind his back. Legs wide. Eyes wide with anger…and a bit of fear. I didn’t want to see the eyes, I hate the fucking eyes. I go over to the toolkit Rod’s provided me with, a present that came with the dungeon, pull out a hood, walk over and pull it down over his head, watching the leather suck against his skull, clamping under his chin and around his neck, shutting his mouth. He struggles, I watch. stubble growing along his bare mouth…I tease it with my bearded lips, listen to him let out a deep, guttural moan of desire, and kiss him, feed him smoke for a few minutes. He begs for a few minutes, pleading with me to not take his mind, but then…just grunts, bucking against the post.

I’m horny now. I tear open the front of his suit, find a cock ring and fit it around his short thick cock and big balls, and they start to inflate inside–I get down and start sucking. I missed a drop off once–need the cum now, all the fucking time. Mine, or anyone else’s, or I feel sick.

“Yeah pig, suck it…” the man’s mouth says, “Suck daddy bear’s big dick.”

I don’t want to do this anymore, but I don’t know how to stop. The man is thrusting down my throat now, his cock longer than a foot, but I have no problem taking it all, somehow. A…daddy would be nice, I suppose. I don’t owe him to Rod until Monday, so we have all weekend. Yeah, some daddy time would make me feel better, I’m sure of it.

Source: thee-domasan