House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 3)

He stripped off his shirt and boxers he usually slept in–wearing clothes seemed…strange all of a sudden–and still with the pipe in his mouth, feeling more and more like it was some extension of his body, rather than a simple tool, he walked down the hall to Mr. Fields’s master bedroom at the end, and let himself into his room. Mr. Fields was still sound asleep, snoring gently, wearing a full set of pajamas in his bed. Eric just watched him sleep for a moment, his cock growing hard as a rock being this close to a man he’d wanted for so long, and then he walked around to his side of the bed. Mr. Fields heard him and made a groggy noise, but before he could register who was beside him, Eric had bent over him, shoved his lips to Mr. Fields, and pushed some of his smoke down his throat and into his body.

Mr. Fields shuddered for a moment, and then shoved Eric off of him, and backpedaled away from him across the surface of the bed, coughing, but none of the smoke seemed to be coming back out of him. “Eric! What–What as gotten into you?” He looked over and saw the pipe in his hand, “It’s the damn devil weed, isn’t it? I told you to never smoke in this house!”

Eric just put the stem of the pipe back in his mouth, and stroked his cock with one hand, “I want you, Mr. Fields. I’ve wanted you since I saw you, and you’re going to be mine. You already are mine, in fact, you just don’t know it yet.”

Mr. Fields was quivering slightly, and still coughing. He could taste the smoke lingering in his mouth, clouding his palate. He had…had a period of rebellion in his youth, he knew what weed tasted like, and tobacco too–but it didn’t taste like this. Still…it tasted good, and he felt the beginnings of a strange flush in his body. Eric got up on the bed, his rock hard cock jutting out, and Mr. Fields kept trying to back away, but ran out of space quickly. Eric lunged forward, and kissed him again, feeding him more smoke somehow–though Mr. Fields hadn’t seen him take another draw on the pipe he was holding in his hand. The pleasure was stronger this time, and he moaned into Eric’s mouth, his own cock responding and getting harder than it had been in years. He touched his young renter’s skin, with hesitation at first…but something about it seemed wrong, like he’d expected it to feel…different somehow. Not as soft as it was–it should be…rougher. He didn’t know what to make of the thought–he didn’t know what to make of any of his thoughts suddenly. Nothing was fitting in his mind–it felt more like the smoke was filling him up and clouding everything–his memories, his life. He leaned into Eric now, hungry for the young man’s mouth, his smoke, drawing more and more of it into himself, grinding their cocks together in his bed, knowing that lying with another man like this was a sin…but Eric wasn’t a man–or not just any man at least. He was…

“M-Master…” he muttered when their lips parted for a moment, eyes cloudy and distant, “Thank you Master, for making me yours.”

“You’re welcome slave. Now, please me–show me what you desire now, the only thing you truly desire in the whole world.”

Mr. Fields slipped lower and took Eric’s cock into his mouth, and Eric sighed, pipe back in his mouth, drawing in more smoke, feeling the desire still smoldering inside him. This was good. This was right, and what he deserved, how he deserved to be treated. Things were going to change around here, Eric was certain of that–but even he didn’t know, at that time, just how much.


They woke up together, with Mr. Fields still wrapped around his young renter in his bed. For a moment, he tried to reassert control, and demanded that the faggot harlot get out of his house, but Eric picked up the pipe from where it had landed beside him, stoked it back to life without even needing a match, and watched the man start to shake and quiver, craving…something, but not knowing what. Eric also wasn’t moving, and the room was slowly filling with the smoke pouring from his nostrils. Mr. Fields began to lose his train of thought, the words disappearing from his mind as his feet shuffled him closer to the bed, the smoke clouding him back into that comfortable space, and a moment later he was sucking down Eric’s smoke, and then rode his cock for a good long while, Eric making sure he had plenty of smoke to keep him in the proper mindset. Then, when he was back to being the kind of obedient daddy that Eric wanted, they started setting some new rules around the house.

First, Eric told him that he was moving into the basement–the entire basement. Mr. Fields cleaned his things out of sizable space down there over the next few days, and Eric spent his time down there, smoking his pipe, lounging about, having Mr. Fields service him whenever he desired (or sometimes he just had him stand where he could regard him, he was such a beauty, truly) and he ate, and ate, and ate. Eric had heard somewhere that smoking tended to take away your appetite, but for him, or for this pipe, the opposite was true. He was constantly hungry, and the only thing he was hungry for was meat. Mr. Fields found his day spent serving his new master, sometimes happily, and sometimes with resistance, but even when he was away from Eric and his smoke, he…thought about it, how much he craved it, and he could tell that something about him had changed, something deep inside him, but he didn’t know how to articulate what he’d even lost.

House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 2)

The rest of the evening was uneventful. He made dinner downstairs for himself after Mr. Fields was done in the kitchen, watched TV with him while he ate, chatting about his classes when Mr. Fields asked about them, then did his dishes and returned to his room. Mr. Fields went to bed early, like usual, giving Eric an opportunity to jack off again. Usually once every few days was enough for him…but he was feeling horny today for some reason. He came once, and then kept going, the scent of smoke in the room getting stronger, though Eric didn’t notice it at all anymore. He lost track of time, and discovered he’d been jacking off to a stream of old daddy bears for close to three hours when he should have been finishing this paper…but he was tired, too tired to keep at it now. He got into bed, falling asleep almost immediately, and then the dream started.

It was dark, but not a nothing dark. He was somewhere, standing somewhere dark, and cold, and damp, and empty. Very empty. It should be full, it needed to be full of something, something he wanted, and…and needed. Then, there was light, a flame of some sort, and he could see better where he was. It was a cavern of some sort, a massive one, but while he supposed he ought to be concerned about that, and want to escape, he instead found it…cozy somehow. Though it would be cozier if he wasn’t alone, if he had…if he had what he wanted with him down here, but what did he want?

Smoke appeared as the light grew a bit stronger, but it didn’t rise like Eric knew it should, it collected around him near the ground of the cavern, more and more of it, making him cough. It kept coming, and soon it was forming…something. Figures. Men. Men all around him, fat, sexy, hairy and very naked men in every direction, all of them fucking, and sucking, and he felt so happy, surrounded by them all. He reached for the nearest one, but his hands passed right through him, and all he felt was a piercing rage and despair. He grabbed for him again, but the man just dissolved, him and all of the others, and the smoke surrounded him, obscuring the cavern around him, and his coughing grew more intense until it woke him up–and he discovered that he had been coughing not because of the smoke in his dream, but because of the actual smoke filling up his room.

Eric fell out of his bed and onto the floor, looking around desperately for any sign of flames, assuming the smoke was coming from a fire that must have started somewhere in the house. However, as he woke up, he recognized the smell, the sweet and savory notes of meat from before, and then he saw the tiny bead of light on the shelf–the little pinprick of flame in the side of the pipe, where the dragon’s eye was carved into the bowl.

It couldn’t be. All of this smoke couldn’t be coming from that pipe–how was it even possible? He got up from the floor where he’d fallen, and he made his way to the shelf, grabbed the pipe, and sure enough, the smoke was gouting from the bowl and the stem, and deep inside…somewhere, he could see a dim red glow of coals inside the bowl. He looked around him, wondering if he should get it to the bathroom and try to put it out, but now that he was holding it, the dream came back to him, the smoke men dancing around him in the cavern, and how…how he’d desired them.

He could feel the sudden heat in the bowl raging, and the light that sprang up was enough to light his dark room. He did desire it–he had to admit it. He was lonely, he was so lonely, and he’d always been lonely, and he’d desired and coveted so many men, so many sexy daddies–Mr. Fields of course, but also his father and uncles, his teachers and coaches, boy scout leaders and neighbors. He wanted them, he wanted to collect them like he collected everything, but he couldn’t–but the pipe could feel it in him, and he could feel it too, feel it calling out to him, that heat, promising him that it could be his, they could be his, all of them.

He brought the stem to his lips, and then paused. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew this was something strange, something unnatural, but the desire was so great, he didn’t care what it cost. He didn’t care what he might lose. He wanted them, all of them, he wanted to own them–and so he took the stem in his mouth, and he inhaled–or rather, the smoke forced it’s way down into his lungs, as he struggled to keep up. He didn’t know how it could keep rushing into him at the pace it was coming, and with wide eyes, he saw the smoke around him in the room drawing closer to him, back into the bowl of the pipe, and back into him. Finally, when he was certain that his lungs, or his entire body, was going to explode, it stopped–or rather, there was no more for him to take in, and he could finally exhale, pushing three thick plumes of grey smoke from his nostrils and mouth, watching it curl around him…and the desire in his heart was burning with a fierceness he’d never experienced before.

He took another draw from the pipe, the smoke as natural, and perhaps as necessary, as air, and knew what he wanted. What he’d wanted, and coveted from the moment he’d stepped into this house. Eric knew also, that this was the night he would finally take it.

House of Marvels – Episode 1 (Part 1)

“I saw it in the window, and I couldn’t resist,” Jamie said, as he handed him the little gift wrapped in newspaper he’d purchased for his friend, Eric. “I know your birthday isn’t for a few days, but I can’t make it to the game this week since I have to go see my sister get married this weekend, and I wanted to get it to you before at least.”

Eric took it, turning it over in his hands, and trying to imagine what could account for the odd shape of the package, tapered at one end, and round at the other. He found the bit of tape holding the wrapping together, tore it off, and unrolled it until the contents rolled out into his hand, and he found himself looking down at an old smoking pipe, the bowl and stem carved on one side into the image of a roaring dragon. He grinned, “Dang, that’s really cool!”

“Right?” Jamie said, glad his friend liked it, “Not that you smoke of course, but it fits in your collection at least.”

Eric collected dragons–well, Eric collected lots of things really. Board games, collectible card games, figurines, action figures from his favorite shows–but his largest collection by far was his collection of dragon related things–most of it just odd and strange curios in the shape of a dragon, just like this pipe. It was kind of perfect, actually. “Where did you find it?”

“Some weird little shop downtown, called…House of Marvels or something? Had never seen it before, and honestly, it was a lot cheaper than I expected. It doesn’t have a signature though–my mom says that things like that that aren’t signed are usually made by a machine or something, so maybe it isn’t worth much. Still, it looks cool!”

Eric nodded, and then said goodbye to Jamie. They both had a bit too much homework to contend with, since their college midterms were right around the corner, so their usual afternoon of video games was just going to have to wait. Jamie headed down the stairs, said goodbye to Mr. Fields as he left, the old, retired widower that Eric rented from. Jamie was a bit jealous, actually–Mr. Fields let Jamie do pretty much anything he wanted in his house–he even let him host their weekly game nights on the weekend with their two other friends from college, and he didn’t complain a bit. He thought about asking Mr. Fields if he might have another room he could rent himself next year, but he’d wait and see.

Upstairs, Eric set the pipe with the rest of his collection on a shelf, but as he did, he caught an odd whiff of smoke. He leaned in closer and gave the bowl of the pipe another sniff, but he didn’t catch another smell–but it had smelled kind of good, though now that it was gone, he couldn’t quite described how it had smelled good, exactly. He went back to his desk and got back to the paper he was trying to write, but every time he got into a decent flow, that smell would catch his attention again, and he’d be back to smelling the pipe, and wondering where in the world it was coming from exactly. It was one of those moments, when he was holding the pipe, that Mr. Fields passed by his open door.

“Is that a pipe, young man?” he asked, “You know I don’t want any smoking in here, ever.”

“Of course Mr. Fields, it’s just decorative. I don’t even own any tobacco or anything. It’s just a gift Jamie got me, because it looks like a dragon.”

His landlord scowled at him, and then kept going towards his own room. Eric liked Mr. Fields, and he was generous–but he had a lot of rules, and he was a total homophobe. Eric was just lucky he’d figured that out before mistakenly coming out to him when he’d been looking at the apartment. He couldn’t have anyone in his room–hell, he couldn’t even have his door closed, or his landlord would knock and make sure nothing “disgusting” was happening between him and his hands. Still, the rent was cheap, and the room was large–and for whatever reason he didn’t object to Eric and his friends playing their games downstairs in the basement, so all in all, it was alright, he supposed.

Mr. Fields passed back by the other direction, coat and hat in hand. “Gonna run a few errands,” he said, and left through the garage, and Eric decided this was an opportunity to take a break from his paper and jack off–so he pulled up some of his favorite videos and started playing them. It was a bit funny, he supposed, that his landlord was exactly his type–big bellied, older, gruff, hairy–it was a bit of a perk in its own way, and he’d had to learn how to master his erections in front of his chubby daddy crush. Eric, on the other hand, was a twink–or he could be a twink, if that sort of thing interested him in the slightest. He didn’t really have time for other people, or relationships. He had his friends, and his collections, and his games, and that was more than enough to keep him occupied. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but most of the sex he’d had was…uninteresting, mostly because he’d never been with a man he really found attractive, just other guys his age, and it had always been pretty disappointing.

The smell of smoke found its way to his nose again as he masturbated, but he didn’t really notice it this time–or it wasn’t noticeable enough for him to stop what he was doing and investigate it. It wasn’t a bad smell by any means–as far as smoke could smell, he supposed. It was a little sweet, and a little like roasting meat. He came into the cumrag he kept hidden next to the desk, and then closed everything up and got back to work on his paper. Mr. Fields was never gone long–usually just an hour or so, because he was quite a homebody. He was going to have to find somewhere else to live next year, he thought–the old man was nice, but he did want some privacy on occasion, and it would be nice if he would stop treating him like he was his son.

My Town (Part 4)

His dad left the stall and looked at his new figure and clothes in the grungy mirror, and true to his son’s words…it didn’t bother him at all. He knew it should, and he felt humiliated, but his small cock was rock hard in his jeans at the sight of the big bellied trucker he’d become in less than a minute.

“Something is still missing, I think–ah, of course! An old fuck like you, I bet you’d be smoking something like this,” Todd said, and again, his glove whipped out a small curved pipe, which he slipped into the pocket of his vest, “That’s for later–for now, why don’t we go have some real fun?” Todd said, with one hand on his father’s shoulder, he leaned in and started whispering into his dad’s ear, a grin twisting on his face as he did. All Edwin could do was listen, his jaw dropping in horror at what his son was telling him to do–at what his son was going to make him do–but by the time Todd was finished speaking…he wanted to do it too, and he groped his puny dicklet a couple of times, hiked the ass of his grimy jeans up, turned around and left the bathroom.

He surveyed the bar for a moment–it was much busier than it had been when he and his son had arrived, so many more…options. For a moment he looked at a table of rough construction workers enjoying some beers after work, but his eyes drew him to what he knew he wanted–what his son knew he wanted too. The thicket of bikers who had come in an hour ago, now quite drunk and clustered around the pool table after a long day’s ride. They were no group of hobbyists either–and looking at the grizzled fuckers over there, Edwin knew what he wanted–what he needed, and walked over to them.

Todd just watched as his father waded into the gang, and begged biker after biker to drag him into the bathroom and fuck his dirty trucker hole, loud enough so the whole bar could hear what was going on. The bikers didn’t know what to think about it, for a moment, and just ignored him, but Edwin didn’t like that, so he pushed things further, and started groping them, egging them on. That, it turned out, was a bad idea. Two bikers grabbed him under the arms and hauled him out the front door, the rest of the clientele giving them plenty of room as the rest of the gang followed them out, ready to give the faggot a proper beating in the parking lot. After they left, the bar picked up where things left off, and Todd slipped out, taking a spot on the porch of the bar, where he could see the ring of bikers form around his father, see him fall to his knees and beg for their cocks again, helplessly, terrified out of his mind, and then the first punch connected with his face.

The punch–the gloves shivered, and unable to stop himself, they took control of Todd’s hands, forcing open the front of his pants, one glove stroking his cock roughly, the other tugging at his balls, pulling them away from his body hard enough that he could almost hear the skin stretching. He deserved this, he thought, watching the bikers beat his father, his now faggot father, and still he was begging for a fuck–but he couldn’t stop. Todd knew he could do nothing–if he did nothing, the bikers would probably kill him, but that was better than his father deserved, it wasn’t…enough. The hand on his sack pulled away, took the cigar from his mouth, and whistled, loud and piercing, and every biker froze in place, turning to the stranger on the porch of the bar.

“Gentlemen,” Todd said, stepping down, feeling…taller. More imposing. Even a bit…older. His cock was still out, and he was still stroking it with his free hand, but none of the bikers seemed to mind this. “No, not gentlemen, nothing gentle about you lot, right?”

The bikers all laughed. It sounded forced, compelled from their lips.

“This has been a good show, I must say, but don’t you think it would be better for everyone if you simply gave the faggot what it wants? After all, what’s a gay biker gang without a sex slave pig to haul around with you, right?”

The bikers felt a wave pass through them. It left them feeling uneasy, and unsure of themselves–Todd could tell it wasn’t quite enough. He made eye contact with his father, eyes swollen, bloody mouth, a tooth lost on the ground beside him, and Edwin knew what he needed to do, what he had to say. “Please, I’m just a stupid faggot trucker. I’m worthless, with a tiny fuckin’ dick. I was made…to serve you, please let me be your biker bitch.”

“Come on guys, if one of you rough fucks hasn’t got a hardon, hearing that, then kill the pig.”

As it turned out, none of them were soft. With a few whoops, they headed for their bikes parked along the front of the bar, a couple dragging Edwin over and tossing him into a bitch seat. He glanced over at his son, eyes wide with terror, but Todd just sneered at him. “Don’t worry dad, you’ll be back home in a few days, probably.”

Edwin tried to shout something, but it was lost over the sound of the roaring engines. The gang took off, leaving Todd in the dust and smoke of his cigar, and with one more rough tug, his cock exploded all over the ground in front of him, his body shuddering. He fell to his knees, out of breath, mind heady with the rush of power he’d just wielded, to bend the wills of so many men, all at once–he’d known it would be possible, but the act of doing it was something else entirely. It was a minute before he could stand again, and when he did, he looked different. Taller by a few inches, shoulders wider, chest inflated with some muscle, a bit of grey in his beard. He went back to his father’s car and climbed in–he needed some sleep, and then, in the morning, he’d pay his brother a long overdue visit.

I’ll Change for You (Part 9)

It was only half an hour or so, but it felt like an eternity. When the door to the bedroom next opened, the butler was there, now naked and wearing a set of leather manacles, and Burt entered the room, clad head to toe in a perfectly tailored leather suit, gloves and hat–though it was distinctly crotchless, allowing his massive, ten inch cock to hang free. “Now boy, why don’t the two of us pick up where we left off?”

Herman got on his knees before the dean, before his…Master, at least for the night, and sucked his cock, and once again, like before, Burt could feel the arousal welling up inside him, the pendant he had on under the leather shirt almost hot against his skin. But there was no fantasy running through his mind, not this time. Instead, everything around him became more and more vivid, every flick of Herman’s tongue across the head of his cock sending shivers running through his gut, massive thighs, and second and third chins. He knew what he wanted. He knew what they both needed.

“On the bed boy–that’s enough sucking. Daddy wants to see how his new boy’s hole feels.”

Herman was all too eager. Despite the pain in his gut, he got up and laid on his back, as Burt ordered him to do, legs in the air. Burt got up as well, pushed his legs back, and slowly slid the head of his cock into Herman’s ass. It was larger than anything he’d ever taken before, but somehow it slid right into him like it belonged there–because in Burt’s mind, it did. But it more than belonged in there, Burt could…see Herman now, the true version of him, at least a hundred pounds heavier than he was now, clean shaven from face to toe, his boy cock caged up, looking at his daddy while he fucked him with desperate desire…but beyond lust, he felt…love.

Love. A deep, unrelenting affection. This was more than he had with Jules, Jules was a meer mirage of this. No–he loved this boy. Loved him to the ends of the earth, loved him so dearly he would do anything for him, be anyone his boy desired him to be. And if his lovely, lovely boy desired nothing more than he be a short, obese, pipe smoking daddy bear with a ten inch cock, mercilessly ramming it deep into his ass while he cried out for more, and more, and more–well, then Burt was going to give it to him. He was going to give this boy everything he’d ever desired.

He came. He came, and he saw the shape of the boy’s moans resting in the air, he heard the color of his smooth skin, he felt their wills bending together, their fates melding into some singular strain of life. He felt a yes–a grand, all abiding yes resonating in their bones, tuned together as his boy came as well, a massive volley of cum erupting from his caged cock and up onto his heaving belly. He felt a mighty love warping them into shapes neither of them could have imagined, a terrible love, a horrific love, and he was left weak and trembling, tears streaming down his face from the beauty of it, and the sight of his daddy’s crying filled Hermy with great unease.

“Daddy? Daddy, what’s the matter?”

Burton gave his head a little shake, his eyes refocusing on the boy before him, and he smiled. He was happy. He was so…enormously happy. So happy, he could forgive the boy cumming without permission, all he wanted was to hold him tight to him for hours–and so he did. Jules came by a couple hours later, silently slipping open the door to see, and saw his two masters sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms, the lights still on in the room. He didn’t begrudge them, not anymore, though he had been so fiercely jealous of the boy those fifteen years ago, when the dean had met the newest member of the faculty and fallen deeply, inexplicably in love.

But now–now he couldn’t hold it against them, either of them. There was a place for him here as well, in service, but he could never come between them. There was no space there, they were…inseparable, somehow, in a way Jules couldn’t explain, not even after serving them all this time. It was a beautiful love, but also terrifying. Looking at them, he was crying without even knowing why, shaking as he turned out the lights, and retreated down to his small room in the basement, where he was safe, and alone.

It was a couple of weeks later now, and Spring had begun to shake itself from a dull and dreary Winter at long last. Burton and Hermy were striding down the street, hand in hand, discussing the work of the day. Unable to maintain a relationship at the college, Hermy had instead begun teaching at a local private school. It wasn’t his passion, and he did miss the research, but he knew it was for the best, so he could be with his daddy. He felt, at times, like he’d lost something, a piece of himself he hadn’t even been aware of having. It wasn’t his anymore–he’d given it away, and there was no getting it back.

He looked over and saw a strange old man, standing outside a shop somehow wedged impossibly between a bodega and old electronics shop. He was grinning, and watching them walk down the street together. He looked over at daddy, and he too had noticed him, and Daddy gave to old man the slightest of nods, like an old friend from another life, and then suggested they returned home for dinner.

I’ll Change for You (Part 7)

He looked up and down the sidewalk, planning on following Herman and making him accept the ride he’d offered, but it was no worry, really. After all, he’d just find him in his office later–watching the younger professor eat his lunch today…he’d decided what his next step was going to be. He drove back to class in his luxury sedan and rode the elevator up to his own office. No longer an adjunct professor, he was a fully tenured professor. He taught a seminar that afternoon, and had a few productive meetings with some of his teaching assistants and graduate students. Herman was never far from his mind, however, and he hadn’t seen the object of his interest return to the office after lunch. He was, in fact, a bit worried that he’d missed him, or worse, scared him off by being a bit too forward. Still, it was clear that the man had enjoyed himself–as had Burt. The pendant…it was getting closer, and he took a moment to examine it while he was alone.

The light was brighter now–quite a bit brighter in fact–but somehow he knew it wasn’t finished with them yet. It was nearly four by the time Herman tried to slip past his door to his own office, but Burt saw him, and called out, “Herman! A moment please?”

Sheepishly, Herman stepped back and into the office, Burt smiling kindly at him. “What is it, sir?”

Sir. That caught him off guard, but Burt very much enjoyed the sound of it. “I was wondering, Herman, if you had any plans this evening.”

“Oh, uh…I just have some work to get done, is all.”

“I’d like you to join me for dinner this evening, at my home. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

He could see the conflict in Herman’s eyes. He…knew it was inappropriate, what the two of them had engaged in at lunch, and yet nothing had even happened. But dinner? At Burt’s home? The two of them alone? “I…I don’t know if that would be appropriate…”

Burt smiled, “I assure you, Herman,” he said as he hauled himself up from his chair, “it can be entirely appropriate if you so desire. Just two colleagues having a nice meal, and nothing more,” he walked over to where Herman was standing and shut the door, sealing them in the office, “But perhaps you’d like something more than appropriate?” Before Herman could object, Burt pressed him to the wall, firmly yet gently, and began kissing him, tasting a bit of their sweet dessert still on his breath. Herman squirmed a moment, but relented, kissing him back, hungrily. Burt, the fantasy from the bathroom stall returning to him vividly, pressed Herman down on the shoulder, and felt him collapse down onto his knees in front of him, and the professor rubbed and kissed at his suited gut with one hand, while the other was openly groping himself. He…desperately wanted to go further, but not yet–he had to…wait. Burt pulled away, smoothing down his shirt, which had a few wet spots from where Herman had licked him. On his knees, he looked…horrified by what he’d just done, and yet he couldn’t hide his arousal–not from Burt. “Dinner this evening.” he said. “I won’t take no for an answer. Six sharp.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Herman said, blushing a bit at that formality.

“Good boy,” Burt said, the word slipping out without much thought, and he saw Herman’s eyes go wide, and he slipped out of the office, the tent apparent in the front of his slacks. Still–that didn’t bother him really. So what if someone saw it? He felt so confident and self-assured, it was a feeling he had never really known before, but then again, as a young man, it was difficult to gain this sort of confidence after years of living. Burt went back down to his sedan and climbed in–he had a couple of hours until dinner at least–and he realized he didn’t actually have dinner planned out at all! There was a moment of panic, but it was washed away by something else, a sense that everything was going to be just fine–all he needed to do, was trust that everything was going according to the amulet’s plan. He drove home, to a sizable house not too far from campus, parked and went inside. His hard on hadn’t diminished at all, since he’d left Herman’s office–it was clear that it was time for another step closer to who he needed to be, for Herman’s sake.

He went into his study and sat down at his desk, already thinking of Herman, thinking of him on his knees there, in the office–no! No, not, in the office, here. Here in his home, right there in the middle of the room on his knees, and naked. There was…a smell in the room, but it was difficult for Burt to place right away, until he felt the thing in his hand–the hand not presently stroking his cock. It was…his pipe. One of his many pipes. He slid the stem into his mouth and took a draw, the smoke filling his mouth, and he stood up in his mind, crossing to where Herman was, and blowing the smoke into his face, covering him with it, while the boy moaned in lust.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Please sir–please fuck me.”

He thought he was naked–but no. Burt looked down and saw that he was wearing a set of leather clothing, perfectly tailored to fit his even wider frame. His cock had no problem responding, and his massive gut couldn’t hide the ten inch member, either. He ordered Herman into position, and just the sight of his plugged hole was enough to drive Burt over the edge. He grabbed at a handkerchief he kept on his desk for just such an event, and carefully caught his cum in it. A gift for Herman later, perhaps. He heaved a sigh, and looked around at his study, surprised to discover it was…larger than then he’d entered it a few minutes earlier, and the walls lined with several racks of pipes, along with a full sized humidor, should he be more in the mood for a cigar. He leaned back in his chair, his gut shifting around him, though whether it was more a gut, or had begun to sag too far, was a different question. In any case, it felt wonderful, and he stroked it idly, excited for dinner with Herman, and wondering how Jules was coming along with the preparations.

Biker Trip (Sketch)

“Sure you don’t want to come? Rides like this are always better with a buddy,” Colt said, as he washed his Harley, while Neil watched from his own driveway next door.

“I don’t even have a bike, Colt.”

“That’s not a problem. I can find you a loaner.”

Neil shook his head, a bit confused why his neighbor was even offering. Well, a bit put off, really. He was pretty sure Colt was gay…and inviting him on a two week cross country bike ride? That seemed a bit…sketchy. “Hope you have a good time, Colt,” he said, and went into his house.

Colt chuckled–he was going to get one of his sexy daddy neighbors to ride with him, whether they wanted to or not. He rinsed off his bike, and then went into his house, found his special pipe and tobacco blend, and lit it.

Then, he went back out onto the porch, sat in his chair, and let the smoke waft away through the neighborhood, waiting for anyone to take the bait.


“Gah, fuck!” Neil said, standing at his desk where he’d been doing some work with the window open, looking down at the massive wad he’d just shot all over the papers laid out in front of him.

He’d been working just fine, and then…he’d smelled that…whatever that scent was, and he’d just…he’d never thought about anything like that before, on his knees in front of Colt, wearing biker leathers, begging him for his cock. Something…something was tugging at him, telling him to go back down and outside, but he resisted, got his clothes back on and sat back down, trying to make sense of the odd event. He could still…smell that odor, whatever it was. Was it smoke? He got up and went to the window to shut it, but froze, looking down at what was happening in Colt’s driveway.

On the other side of Colt’s house, that was where Blake lived. They weren’t close–he was another corporate fellow, working at another company in town, but they were good acquaintances. There in the driveway, however…was Blake and Colt. Colt was in his full leather gear, like Neil had seen in his fantasy, and Blake was on his hands and knees next to the bike, one hand under Colt’s boot, and his tongue making long, sweeping licks across the tire of Colt’s motorcycle.

He was horrified, yes, but more than that–he was jealous. Before he could really think about why, he bolted from his office and down to the front of his house, hurrying over to where Colt and Blake were on the driveway. “Wait…wait…I…I do have some vacation time, Colt, I could go!”

Colt just smiled around his pipe. “Thanks, but Blake’s going with me, right Blake? He’s been telling me how eager he is to get a taste of life on the road.”

Blake nodded, and looking at him, Neil noticed that Blake…looked different. A thin beard on his face, his body filling out slightly, a leather vest appearing over his shoulders from one moment to the next. Was…was it really too late? No–no, he wanted to go. He wanted to taste it, just once. He hurried over, hands shaking, dropped to his knees and started fighting with the zipper on Colt’s leather pants. He would show him. He’d show him how much he wanted this–but Colt pushed him back onto his ass with one gloved hand. “Pig, what makes you think you have permission to suck my cock?”

Neil gave a snort. Pig. Was…was he a pig? He didn’t care–as long as Colt was looking at him, as long as he could smell that sweet smoke. “Please sir, please let his pig suck your cock, let me show you I’m worthy, please…”

Colt grinned, squatted down, took a long draw off his pipe, and blew the smoke into Neil’s face, watching it go slack, the front of his pants darkening as he pissed himself, snorting and grunting in sudden excitement. “I suppose you can come too–but since I already have myself a roadboy–you’re going to have to settle for the role of filthy biker pig.”


One week into their trip, and they’d reached their destination. To Squeal–it was fucking heaven. Nothing but filthy bikers as far as the eye could see. Colt and his roadboy, Flake, were off introducing themselves, Colt smoking his pipe, the bikers around them pawing at his boy, before bending him over one of the hogs nearby and plugging him at both ends. Squeal…couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. Flake got so many good fucks, and as horny as Squeal was, he knew he was only ever going to get the leftovers–sometimes literally.

He’d been packing on weight ever since they’d left, and Colt had told him, while Squeal was eagerly eating out his crusty asshole one night, that by the time they got home, he was going to have Squeal so fat he’d be too big of a pig to ride ever again. As horrified as that made him, it also…fuck, thinking of being that big was making him horny, and hungry. He let off a long fart, and felt a little wetness in the back of his stinking, piss soaked underwear…and he knew he needed a fuck quick. A short distance away were a couple of fat, ugly pig bikers–but he bet they’d know how to treat him just right.