My new roommate, Rick, he seemed like an alright guy, but he’s just a bit dirty, and I swear he doesn’t take showers, but he says he does. Me, well, I like being a clean guy, and it kind of bugs me that he always stinks. And then the unimaginable happened–it was the middle of summer, the hottest part of the year, and the shower broke. Even worse, the landlord was on vacation, so we were going to be without it for at least a week.

After three days, Rick and I were both sweaty and stinking, him even worse than usual, and I told him how much I wanted a shower, and he said, “Well, I can always give you one of my special showers,” he said, and gave me a smirk.

I was sitting on the couch, both of us in my underwear, and I didn’t know what he was talking about. Still, before I could respond, he was standing in front of me, whipped out his cock, and started pissing on me right there in the living room.

For a moment, I was just shocked, feeling his piss splattering against my chest, but before I could get up and tell him off, the aroma hit my nose, and my whole head just went fuzzy, my body limp, and all I could do was smell Rick’s piss on me. Distantly, I could hear him talking to me, and I know I was agreeing with him a lot, and when I finally came back to myself, I was alone on the couch.

I knew I should clean myself up, but instead I just sucked the drying piss from my shirt and jacked off, moaning the whole time, and then went into the bathroom, laid down in the tub, and pissed all over myself, before jacking off again. Needless to say, Master Rick has given me a whole lot of special showers since then, and even though I always blank out afterwards, I don’t mind it anymore. We never did get the shower fixed either, but why would we? A boy should smell like his Master’s piss anyway–I am his property after all, and I do love giving Master Rick a long tongue bath–in fact, he’s due for one now, I think.

My Apprenticeship Part 2

I stretched myself awake and looked around, a bit bleary eyed. Who’d I gone home with again? I looked around the room and eventually recognized it as Hog’s dingy studio apartment, which was fine with me. He was fuckin’ hot, and his piss so so fuckin’ manly, I loved it. Speaking of piss, I slipped my cock out of my jockstrap and hosed myself down with my morning load, feeling it run down through my beard and soak my already stinking wifebeater.

I looked around, wondering where Hog might have gotten to, and then got off his bare mattress and went into the bathroom, admiring myself in the mirror. It really was working, just like Ivan had promised. Who would have thought that the secret to manning up was just a steady diet of hot, steaming piss? I’d been on the crew for close to six months though, and work had kind of dried up this winter. Still, when I couldn’t quite make my rent payments anymore, I’d decided it would be easier to just sleep around with the rest of the crew. I wasn’t the only guy who did it either–there were three other apprentices like me who served the journeymen like Hog.

All the journeymen went by nicknames, and they all had worked with Ivan for a long time, and they all, well, they all had their quirks about them, I’ll say that. I heard the door to the studio apartment open and Hog lumbered in, his huge gut leading the way as he snorted, hauling several bags of fast food with him. “Brought breakfast,” was all he said and then he was eating, and I grabbed a bag before they all disappeared. I finished my breakfast, and then got down and sucked his cock while he ate–Hog loved sex with his mouth stuffed, and before too long he gave me a load of piss he’d been saving. After we ate, we headed over to the latest project Ivan had gotten for us to do, and I was just thankful to have an awesome master like Ivan. He was the best, and maybe he’d have a hot load of piss for me too.

To be Concluded…

“Gosh, I sure do love these chances we have to visit together, don’t you?” Ray says.

You moan in response, and shove your dirty jockstrap deeper into your mouth, sucking your piss and dried cum from it while you stroke your cock.

“We have so much more time too, now that you’ve quit that silly job you insisted on going to the past few weeks, but you don’t want to go to work now, do you? You like this so much better, just lounging around, jacking off all day, in your filthy clothing…”

You try to say something through your jockstrap, but Ray can’t understand you, and he takes it as assent. You don’t disagree with him very much anymore–most of your brain is mush by this point, so he doubts you have many thoughts going on in there at all really. Still, he liked it more when you were disagreeable, he liked pinning you down to the carpet, and shoving your face into his armpits or his ripe crotch, feeling you struggle, relishing that moment when his stench finally shut your brain down and you turned into his pig again, the pig who would do anything for his filth, beg Ray for his cum and piss and rank asscrack.

And then, when you’d wake up again, slowly, only recalling bits of what you’d done–you were horrified, but Ray always made sure you knew that every time you fell back into your piggy space there was less of you that made it back alive. That your brain died, bit by bit, every time you became disagreeable. You couldn’t stop fighting though, and now you’re just a pig, barely capable of speech at all, but you don’t need to speak really. You just spend your days wallowing in your own filth, waiting for Ray to come visit, like he visits everyone on the block, all of his piggies, in all of their own houses, their personal filthy sties. A suburban barn full of filthy animals for Ray’s personal enjoyment.

The Professor’s Club Part 2

Commissioned by Anonymous

Luis sauntered through the living room, taking a look at the well preserved and displayed antiques throughout, and wondered what sort of family the professor came from that he’d been left all of this stuff. He’d always seemed like a nice man but never particularly rich–it was a bit of a puzzle, in fact.

Luis liked puzzles–he was good at puzzles–and this one was just something new for him to figure out. He’d been initially perplexed by the professor’s invitation, and even more perplexed when he’d arrived at the same time as Derrick. Of course, Derrick and Luis had never spoken to one another, but with a glance, Luis had been able to deduce a bit about him–football jock, not particularly smart, business or maybe an economics major, and definitely gay–though he did a good job hiding it. Luis smiled–he kind of wondered what Derrick might smell like after a practice–he’d always had a thing for guys getting a bit musky before fucking.

Still, why in the world had the professor brought them together? It couldn’t be just the fact that they were gay, could it? That seemed unlikely, but not impossible. The professor had implied that there would be more people coming at some point, but who? He didn’t have enough information to deduce anything substantial, really, but that didn’t stop his mind from trying as hard as it could to find some sort of answer. The air felt stuffy all of a sudden–he wanted to get out of the house. He passed into the next room, saw a set of double doors open to the outside garden the professor had mentioned, and stepped through them out onto a large, expansive garden behind the manor.

Expansive was the word that came to mind–the garden was as large as some parks Luis had seen as a kid. It was bigger than the footprint of a few of the buildings on campus. Towards the back, he even saw a large hedge maze–he’d have started out that way, but he didn’t want to miss dinner if he got lost–though he doubted he would. Still, it felt nice outside–better than in the stuffy manor, and he decided to wander a bit down the gravel and stone paths between the beds of flowers, bushes and trees just beginning to turn color. It was the beginning of fall, but the beds were still dominated by flowers, and many of the beds he passed gave off a variety of heady scents, however, he reached one which he found to be less than pleasant–in fact, it was outright disgusting, when he first smelled it. Curious as to what it could be, he walked over to the scraggly plant of yellow blooms and saw a small plaque labelling it “Skunkweed.”

Now that he was this close to it though, it didn’t actually smell too bad. In fact, it was musky…the kind of musky he liked. He leaned over a bit further to smell one of the blossoms, and the scent was so strong that he got dizzy, and tumbled forward into the bed of flowers. The smell which had been enticing at first was suddenly overwhelming him, and he coughed and gagged on the ground, pushing himself back up and stumbling out of the bed, his eyes watering from the stench, but he couldn’t get a clear breath of air. He stumbled off a few yards, and he realized the smell was following him, it was on him, it was in him, it was everywhere. He knelt down, trying to breathe normally and get a hold of himself. Sure, it stank, it was one of the worst things he’d ever smelled, but it wasn’t that bad, he was getting used to it. Yeah, it wasn’t really that bad at all, really, in fact…in fact, it smelled kind of good, so good…he was getting kind of…horny?

Luis realized his cock was rock hard in his jeans, and lust was starting to course through him, but it was the dirty thoughts that started worming their way into his mind that terrified him the most. Sure, he’d had a few odd fetishes that he liked to indulge in on occasion, but it was like the room in his mind where he’d always hidden them had had the door ripped off it’s hinges letting them all free–they were all he could think about. He tried to calm down, but now his arms were starting to itch, and he realized he didn’t know the first thing about the plant he’d fallen into. No one would grow a poisonous plant in a garden, would they? That was crazy, but was he having some sort of allergic reaction to it then? The itch, while it started on his arms, didn’t end there though–it was actually working it’s way all over his body–even under his clothes, where there was no way the plant had touched him, so then what was going on?

He scratched a bit, but as he watched, he saw something strange was happening, that his perfectly smooth arms were getting bumpy, and then a massive number of small black hairs erupted out all over his arms. He could feel them under his shirt, on his chest too, and in a panic he ripped off his shirt and watched as his smooth, slim body grew furry all over. He ran his hands through it, feeling the dingy, greasy texture of the fur and shivered, letting out a soft moan. His hands hurt for a few moments, and he saw that they had changed as well, his fingers shortening, and a black claw topping each of them, replacing his nails.

What was happening to him? He remembered passing a still pond as he’d walked down the path and he hurried back the way he’d come, pausing once to rip away the remains of his shoes as his feet–now long, wide paws, burst through the converse he’d been wearing. He reached the edge of the pool and knelt over it, just in time to see the fur cover his entire face, his nose and mouth pushing out into a short snout tipped with a pink nose. A shock of pure white rippled through his hair, and he felt it shoot down his back in a stripe as a thickly furred tail erupted out above his ass, the white shooting down it all the way to the tip.

A skunk–he’d turned into a giant skunkman, and he stood up, looking down at himself. His slim figure had disappeared in the midst of the transformation, and he now had a pudgy gut and heavy moobs and he smelled so fucking good! He lifted one arm, shoved his new snout into the fur there and took a deep whiff of his own stink, feeling his cock throb as it pushed out of his sheath, the shaft hard and red. He was so dirty, so fucking dirty, it was so hot. But dirtier–he wanted to get even dirtier. How could he get dirtier?

Licking his lips with his tongue, feeling the sharp fangs in his mouth, he laid back on the dusty path, his hard cock jutting out over him, and he let loose with a torrent of piss, soaking down his grimy fur everywhere he could get it, spraying down his face and tail, licking it from his lips as he did. It felt so good to be dirty, to stink and reek and just enjoy himself. He’d bound himself up for too long, but there was so much he wanted to do, so much dirty stuff he’d only thought about, but that he’d never imagined doing. He was enjoying himself so much, rolling around in the dust, feeling it stick in his fur, that he didn’t see the man come down the path until he was only a few yards, away, and when he saw them, fear and embarrassment cut through him, and he stood up.

He knew him from school–his name was Kevin, he remembered, and he was cute. He’d seen him around campus, and had stalked him online to learn a bit more about him, and the two of them had developed a casual acquaintance, but he couldn’t see him like this, not like this. He turned and ran off deeper into the garden, and Kevin gave chase, shouting, “Luis! No, wait!”

Luis kept going for a few paces, and then stopped. Kevin knew who he was–but how? He didn’t look anything like how he’d looked, but that meant…

“You–what did you do to me? Did you know this was going to happen?” Luis said, turning around and facing his friend.

“No! No, it wasn’t me, look…let me explain, alright? It’s…a bit complicated. Here, let me show you.” Kevin closed his eyes and concentrated, and started to change right in front of Luis’ eyes, changing from his normal self into some strange creature, something between what looked like a dog and a dragon, and a few seconds later, when Luis was able to actually grapple with what he was seeing, he realized something else–Kevin was…really sexy like that. Sexy, but not…not dirty enough. Not dirty enough at all. Luis grinned and started walking towards Kevin, and a bit unnerved, Kevin backed up. He knew Luis a little, but damn did he stink now. It was hard to even get close to him. He was cute from a distance, but Kevin didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach sex with him.

“Kevin…did I ever tell you how fucking hot I thought you are? Stop…stop backing up, I’m so horny man, so fucking horny.”

“Luis, I’m sorry, but you–it’s just too much,” Kevin said, holding his nose, “What the hell happened to you?”

Luis, however, was in no mood to talk. He wanted to fuck–it was the only thing his mind could focus on, but Kevin was moving away from him, he needed to bring him in, bring him closer, get him to see how amazing it could be to be dirty, and then Luis knew what might work. Before Kevin could react, Luis spun around, bent over and sprayed him with his stink, and it coated him with an oily sheen, making him cough and wheeze as he fought against it.

Kevin couldn’t see, he could barely breathe, and he stumbled back a few paces, but already the smell wasn’t so bad, already it was…it was making him hornier, and he snorted out a few plumes of smoke. Horny, and…and dirty. The smell intensified, Luis coming close and pulling him into a kiss, it no longer disgusted or repulsed him, and he leaned in, dirtier and dirtier urges coming to him, and before he even really realized it, he was pissing all over Luis, and then shoved the skunk down, blasting him in the face with the stream while the skunk drank it down and then started sucking him off, but that wasn’t enough for Kevin, not right now, not in the thick of Luis’ stench.

He pushed Luis over onto all fours and then got down and rimmed the skunks crack for a few moments, the musk there intense and overwhelming, almost greasy and sweaty on the air, and then he was fucking Luis’ hole, grunting and belching smoke and flame as he did, Luis encouraging him, and pushing him onward. Kevin had only come out to tell Luis that dinner was ready, but all he could focus on at the moment was how good it felt to be balls deep in Luis’ stinking hole. Dinner could wait for bit–sometimes a nasty fuck was more important.

Curse Cards

by Beardsman and Wesley Bracken

***WARNING*** This has heavy slob TF, incontinence and dumbing down.

***

Three buddies that had just graduated from high school had little to do with their time. College didn’t start until the end of Summer for them, and they had occupied their time with video games, movies, and random events around their small town.

Jae, the oldest of the group (by only two months) was usually the instigator in whatever took place. He had the ideas, the funds, and the knowledge among the three. He looked like your typical jock; blonde spiked hair, hazel eyes, and a decent-enough frame with more of a swimmer’s build. He was rarely seen in anything fancy; just a tank and comfortable shorts.

The second of the group had been Eric. Brown hair that was just curly enough to dub him as the “jew-fro’d-dork” around the town. It didn’t help that his eyesight was impaired and he needed glasses. The only reason he wasn’t pummeled while in school was thanks to his childhood friendship with Jae and Allister.

Allister, the youngest, the most naive. Certainly the prettiest of the group without a doubt. After a long frightful rumor around his senior years that he was gay, he managed to come out strong with a delicate beauty at his arm. The rumors were founded through his impeccable hygiene and sense of fashion. Truly the hipster of the town. He even went through a phase where he grew out a moustache and curled it.

All three were friends since kindergarten, unable to avoid each other even when arguing with how close-knit the town had been. They each had plans to to stay together no matter how old they would become- but those plans went no further than college it seemed. Different career-paths in mind, they would find themselves elsewhere sooner-or-later. Jae was the first to realize this, and decided to make this Summer their greatest before ultimately being tied down with work and social-problems. On this current day, however, he was at a loss for things to do. Netflix didn’t give way for many options as their tastes all varied, and they had gone through the entire collection of B-Horror Films. With rain on the way, it made hiking or even riding their bikes more of a chore than a fun time out.

With all three settling in at Jae’s empty house–his parents being away on a cruise–Jae dug through a collection of older board games located in their family coat-closet. He ran across childhood favorites that gave a surreal effect with the boxes covered in dust and grime, forgotten in the back along with simpler times. He found a smaller stack of decks of cards. Poker decks, Uno, a matching game… but one in particular seemed to catch his fancy. He hadn’t remember a black box with silver trim containing any game before. And while pushed behind the pile, it was devoid of dust like the others.

Upon checking back to see the other two flipping through the satellite channels, he removed the contents of the box. Cards, as expected, with the same black and silver patterns adorning the backs. The fronts–mysteriously enough–were blank. His confusion held, until he saw a folded paper sticking from a slot in the side. It was the instructions.

“Guys, check this out,” Jae called. Their heads turned and looked over the couch to see him raising from his crouched stance, cards in hand, and reading the first part of the instructions.

“What’s that? Collectible poker cards or something?” Eric asked.

“It’s not Yu-Gi-Oh! is it? Kind of got tired of that when they changed all the rules up,” Allister remarked, last to join in.

“No, it’s some weird kind of Tarot thing. I mean, I dunno. It doesn’t say what they are. The instructions are kind of weird and cryptic.”

“‘Cryptic’? How so?” Eric asked, raising from the couch and grabbing the blank cards from the eldest.

“Look at the lines here:

For those who dare to play the devil’s hand

Let caution dwell before demand.

Your life, your choices, your body and soul

Your Mind, you world, no longer your own.”

They each read the top line together, slightly intrigued by the campy warning. Jumanji came to mind, but did nothing to deter them. Before long, they had vacated the living room and made their way to Jae’s room in the basement, setting up his game table for the cards. After the cryptic warning, the instructions stated that the deck must be placed in the middle after being thoroughly shuffled. Each person would take a turn pulling a card from the top, and the rest of the instructions would reveal themselves.

Jae had searched the box for some kind of manufacturer, or date, but came up with nothing. If this was some sort of “magical” deck of cards, it would be interesting at least to see things play out.

“Who should start? Jae?” Eric asked, watching Jae suddenly show some reluctance.

“Maybe Allister. I set the game up, and you look a little scared, Eric.”

“Do not!” Eric shouted back, just before Allister took a turn without questioning.

“Both of you are pansies… First card!” Allister placed the blank card onto the table, face-up, and watched the ink start to appear. Each boy was pleasantly surprised by how realistic it seemed, and wondered if the low-light of the room had anything to do with it.

~~Sexualities Askew~~

Main Effect: All players’ sexualities are inverted. The player who drew the card must then assign one of the following options to himself and every other player.

This player becomes more attracted to men the fatter they become.
This player becomes more attracted to men the older they become.
This person falls desperately in love with the person to their left.

“That’s insane,” Eric said, reading the card again, “I’m not gay!”

“Yeah, well I’m not either,” Allister said, and yet, as he said it, he knew he was lying. In fact, he remembered that the only reason he’d dated that girl in high school at all was as a beard, so people would stop calling him a faggot. She’d been ok with it–she found other guys to fuck, and he’d paid her off with with fashion advice. Looking at his two friends, he saw that similar revelations were working their way through their minds, and they all looked at each other, and then at the cards…

“No way, fuck this.,” Jae said, and tried to stand up from the table, but one of the cards flipped over on it’s own, the ink displaying a new message in a matter of seconds.

No player may leave the game early–quitting will result in a random number of curses from the deck.

“It knows what we’re saying?” Eric whispered.

“Just sit down, Jae. It’s just a trick. Of course people would stand up after reading shit like that,” Al bargained, watching Jae take his seat reluctantly, grumbling defiantly while doing so.

“Fuck- this is some fucked up shit!” Eric said, slightly terrified. He felt as if they had toyed with a sentient Ouja Board. Allister was ignoring him and rereading the curses, hurring, trying to make up his mind. Jae was to his left–he could handle being in love with him, couldn’t he?

“Alright!” Allister declared through the silence, causing them to jump. He continued, “I’ll take the last one,” he said, and then after a moment, added, “And Jae can have the first one. Eric, you’ll get the second.”

“Dude!” Jae said, “I hate fat people, you fucking know that!”

“And people twice my age? That’s like my dad! I mean…my dad…” Eric said, his eyes glazing over for a second. He had always kind of liked how his dad looked. He was about to turn 50, but looked a little bit older actually, because of how much he’d balded, and his tendency to wear a mustache. He’d always liked kissing him, and he’d snuck a few on his dad’s lips on occasion…

Eric shivered and shook his head, clearing it. No, he wasn’t going to be like that, he wasn’t. He concentrated hard, thinking about his girlfriends, but none of them were doing it for him. Well, aside from Jenny, that time Mr Washburn had caught them making out in the chem lab, what if he’d kicked her out, and then his teacher could have…

Jae, on the other hand, was sweating bullets. He hated fat people, he’d always hated them. He’d been big as a kid, and lost a bunch of weight after he’d been bullied for it, but he didn’t find it attractive at all! Even if…even if the sight of a big guy lumbering towards him down the hall was the only thing that seemed to get his cock hard anymore. Oh, he loved big boys, the bigger the better. He always felt bad, watching them get bullied, and more than once he’d stood up for them at school, befriending them, and usually, they’d let him please them too, after a while. Yeah, he’d massage their hot, flab, rub his face in it, suck them off, fuck them…anything to be closer to them.

Allister, however, only had eyes for Jae. He loved him–really, honestly, loved him. They’d both only had girlfriends to cover up the fact that they were gay, but Jae wasn’t the least bit interested in him. It didn’t matter what he did, how many times he professed his love, Jae would end up with some massive tub of lard, and it would make him so god damn jealous. He loved Jae–why couldn’t he see that, he loved him so much, he’d do anything to be with him–anything.

Shivering, they looked back at the table and saw the second card had changed it’s lettering, Next Turn–please draw a card.

His hand shaking, Jae reached out and flipped the top card over–the blank surface swirling to life, and the three of them read it nervously.

~~Unhealthy Obsessions~~

Each of you will pick up a rather unhealthy addiction. The person who drew this card will choose one of the options below for each player.

This player becomes a binge eater, immediately gaining 100 pounds.
This player becomes a heavy smoker, but only smokes cigars. They will age 10 years.
This player becomes a sex addict, and masturbates or has sex at least 10 times a day.

Jae sighed unhappily, looking between his nervous friends. He lingered for a moment on Allister, looking at the faggy twink hipster he always kept close. He always felt that burning desire Al held for him, and felt perpetually sorry that he couldn’t return it. This card, however…maybe..

“Alright.. I’m definitely not into smoking… You okay with it, Eric?” Jae asked, watching Eric shake his head, unsure, but that seemed like the easiest option for him. He was awkward with sex, and his parents were always over his shoulder. He’d hate them catching him in the middle of a wank. The binge-eating didn’t seem any better. What about his clothes? His lithe frame?

“Whatever, Jae. Just do it,” Eric replied, cringing as Jae selected him. Within moments, his brain flooded with information he hadn’t known existed. Cigar sizes, brands, tobacco blends. He let out a hearty cough, feeling his throat burn momentarily. He brought his hand to his mouth, originally to cover it and protect the others from saliva, but found a thick stogie planting itself between his lips. Upon his surprise, he took in a strong inhale. The burning returned, but felt natural; pleasant, even. The smoke he exhaled through his clenched teeth and flared nostrils engulfed his face. When dissipating, it left light stubble on his cheeks, and gone were his curls. His fro had either fallen away or shrunk, leaving patchy growth around the sides of his head and framing a shiny scalp. Smoking the way he did took years off his life, but it tasted so fucking good. “Yeah, made the right choice,” he stated, his voice rough and aged like his appearance, and took another draw on his cigar.

Jae, unsettled by the change, looked to Allister. So hipster and metro, as he remembered, but now just a needy twink. He’d be able to fix that. He selected him for the first option, watching Allister’s frightened eyes while his frame inflated, like a gelatin-filled balloon. His clothing wasn’t part of the change, as Al was afraid of as well, and made tearing noises in several spots. Being a hipster certainly didn’t help this conundrum, the too-tight clothing simply falling away after violently splitting. His jeans were the worst, holding up more than anything else. Al could only groan and pant heavily before the growing thighs burst through.

Jae watched his previously-skinny friend, sweating, grabbing the table for support. The only clothing left on him was his briefs, still somehow holding on, and looked more like a red thong disappearing clean into Al’s ass-cheeks. Well, not for long, as the elastic gave way and the remains of his underpants fell away. Al looked up momentarily to see Jae’s suddenly needy expression, licking his lips and examining the light rolls that were taking shape. Only 100 pounds for now, but maybe Jae could feed him later.

The last option on the card disappeared, the curse adhering to Jae. As if sitting next to the sexiest hipster chub he’d ever seen weren’t enough, his increased desires made things even worse. His hand was already pushed under the waist of his shorts, and he felt his growing bulge. It felt so hot, so hard in his palm. He was trying to remain in control, but he hadn’t cum yet today. It must have been a new record for him, and his balls churned and became enlarged with extra potent seed. They had to get bigger, being used to producing so much and draining so quickly. Jae fumbled with his shorts, his cock begging to be free of its cloth confines while Al drooled with anticipation. His love for Jae and growing hunger aligned, and he wanted to see the cock he lusted after for so long. Jae, however, wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings anymore, losing his battle with his urge to play with himself.

“Fffuck! Guys, just one right now, I have to!” Jae bargained, pulling his dick free of his shorts. The pulsing mass curved upwards and seemed a tad bigger than he remembered, but nowhere near proportionate to the growth in his nuts. He wasted no time in fisting the heavy rod, watching it leak profusely. “Oh shit, so good- so fucking good…” Eric felt only a little weirded out behind his cloud of tobacco, watching one of his best friends tug one out before him, but couldn’t help admire the well-toned frame of the young athlete. He was gay, after all.

Losing himself, thrusting into his hand before them without abandon, it didn’t take him long before he (noisily) sprayed all over himself, moaning like a total bitch. The sheer volume shotgunning from his dick was unreal, painting his abs white and even some on his chin. With heavy panting, he let his arms flop to his sides, and tried to regain composure. It didn’t go down, though. While a little winded from his efforts, his horny nature hadn’t bent in any way. It didn’t help that Al was fulfilling his own needs, either.

Jae cried out in ecstasy as Al engulfed the entire engorged cock into his hungry gullet, suckling it and milking it dry, swallowing leftover globs before pulling himself off and running his tongue over the toned pecs of the sex-crazed jock. The saliva left was sticky, warm, and exactly what got Jae’s motor running. He loved fat fucks drooling all over him, and welcomed Al’s advances this time by placing a firm grip over his head, pushing him down to eat more of his cum.

Eric rolled his eyes, a tad jealous and a little disgusted by what Jae considered sexy, and grabbed the top card of the deck. His turn…maybe they could change back, or maybe he’d get some action this time. He placed the card down:

~~Hygiene Roulette~~

Staying clean isn’t going to be as important to any of you. The player that drew this will choose a non-hygienic trait for each person.

The player will forget about shaving, waxing, or even combing. Let that wild body fuzz spread!
The player will forget about showering, and will quite enjoy his natural ‘cologne’. As will the others.
The player will forget about changing his clothes daily, possibly weekly!

“Aww, that’s gross. Is this game serious?” Jae said, looking over the options. Eric however, was kind of enjoying the idea of Jae not liking it. He was always the third wheel when Jae and Al were together–the two were almost always fucking, and he just didn’t understand what Jae saw in fat guys like Al. Still, maybe he could throw some roadblocks in their way…

“Well, I don’t know about you two yet, but I’m taking the hair for myself,” Eric said, and felt his body start itching almost immediately. However, he’d underestimated just how extreme the card was, and a thick pelt sprouted all over his body–but his face too. A beard he’d never seen the likes of covered his face and descended down to his chest–it looked like he hadn’t shaved once since the day he’d gotten his first fuzz–which he realized was actually the truth. His curly hair, however, was another story altogether. He felt it grow out even bigger, and then it started yanking itself and twisting into enormous, fat dreadlocks–it was disgusting…wasn’t it? But he’d had dreads for as long as he could remember, hadn’t he? Sure, it was kind of gross, but he was so hairy, and he did like how it made him look a bit older…still, he had to work out the other two options for his friends. “Alright Al, you’re going to stop showering, and Jae–forget about changing clothes.”

“Wait, seriously?” Al said, “that’s fucking disgusting!”

“Blame the cards man, do you think I’m happy smoking these cigars?” Eric said. Well, he was, actually. He’d picked up the habit to be more like his dad–his dad was so fucking hot…

Al, however, soon realized that his fate was sealed–he was turning rank. He suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d last bathed, and he didn’t care. He lifted his arm and took a whiff of his rank armpit and gave a sigh, feeling a tingle in his cock as he did. He…liked it. He really did. Other changes swept across him as well–his face breaking out from being unwashed, and grease from his rather large meals could be seen shining down his chest.

Jae was repulsed, but he wasn’t faring much better. His tank top was growing filthy from all of the cum he’d shot over the past week on it, and his shorts were crispy and dry. He smelled like a cum rag, and hell if it wasn’t turning him on as he sat there, smelling his stench and…and Al’s. He didn’t smell so bad now, actually, he smelled kind of…rank, but a good kind of rank. He was jacking off again, and then leaned in, shoving his nose into Al’s pit, licking the sweat and musk from it, and Eric tried to keep himself from retching as the two went at it again, Al jerking Jae’s cock with one hand and his own with the other until they both came. He’d wanted to drive them apart, but it looked like he’d only pushed them closer together.

“Fuck guys, that’s disgusting–can’t you wait until I’m gone to do shit like that? You’re making me gag!”

Al scowled at him, “Hey! You’re the one who did it to us, fucker! Do you think I like being a stinking blob of fat?”

“I like you as a stinking blob of fat,” Jae said, grinding his sticky, but still hard cock in between some of the folds of Al’s body, “I wanna fuck you, fatty, I wanna fuck that ripe ass off–”

Al shoved him away, and Jae snapped out of it, realizing what he’d said, but his cock was so needy, he didn’t know how he’d be able to live like this. Well, alone. If he lived with Al, well–no, he couldn’t think about that.

Al, angry at them both, grabbed the top card and flipped it over, waiting for the lettering.

~~Youth or Experience?~~

Each player must choose between youth or experience! They can either lose points off their IQ, or gain an equal amount in years of age. The person who drew the card will assign values to each player, but they have to divide the amount however they wish.

25 points
50 points
75 points

Al grinned mischievously, but so did Eric. While Al could get his revenge, Eric couldn’t wait to see these fuckers gain some years.

“Alright, Jae? I going to go easy on you- for now. Let’s give you the 50 points,” Al stated, grinning at his love. He didn’t care if he was a little bit older, but certainly didn’t care if he was a bit dumber either. He always felt so uneducated around ‘the thinker’ as they used to call him.

Jae seemed a bit upset that he wasn’t given the lowest one, but was trying to decide how to divide the points while he tweaked one of his nipples through his grimy shirt.

“Um, well, let’s see…I don’t want to be too dumb.. College is soon…” the thought of having a dorm-mate flashed through his head, and how fed up he’d probably be finding crusted jocks and jerseys everywhere. At the same time of feeling worried, he felt a shiver of excitement run through him that he’d be marking his territory with old clothes. Shaking himself of the thought, he returned to his current predicament, “Oh! Uh…yeah..I’ll split it like this…” He took one last look at his younger body, and proclaimed his point usage: “35 points from my IQ, and 15 from my age!”

Jae’s wince was obvious as he felt the 15 years surge through his form. His body hair seemed a tad denser, but still kept short, and his skin was a bit less smooth. Probably the years he’d spent hanging around that smoking asshole Eric… A couple of wrinkled donned his forehead, and some silver hairs sprouted from his chest. In the same sweep, his head began to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. Memories were fuzzy, and the reality of the game was losing hold. He looked at his greasy blob of a boyfriend and felt the complexity of their relationship unravel. Reasons for their being together felt just a tad easier to accept. He was fat, fat is good.

Al was a bit stricken with guilt, watching the intelligence drain from Jae’s face. He didn’t think it would be so obvious, so literal, but the grin Jae was sporting said it all.

“Are you…are you alright, Jae?” He asked tentatively, and caught the horndog’s attention.

“Feeling fine, bro!” Jae exclaimed, quickening his efforts on his dick, close to spurting again in front of them. ‘Bro’ wasn’t a word Jae normally liked using. Even as a jock, it seemed too cliche. Now, he held no qualms about it. He was approaching middle-age, and kept the same vernacular he held in his younger days. Al rubbed Jae’s fuzzy pecs, helping him along with his next orgasm as he declared the next option.

“I’ll take the 75 points…”

“What? Why??” Eric asked, a bit surprised that he wasn’t stricken with such a terrible curse.

“I should have given him the smaller choice, but I acted too fast. It’s only fair. I’ll take 10 years to my age, and the rest in IQ.” Al felt the next warm spray of cum on the back of his hand, and smiled at his ill-clothed lover. Leaning down, taking a nice whiff of the grimy shirt and licking the fresh drips of seed. He felt the curse washing over him.

The aging happened so quick, the soft rolls of fat sagging just a bit further, his hair becoming a little thinner. Eric stroked his brown pelt of fur through his shirt, and lit another of his cigars, enjoying this bit a little too much. While he was particular to much older men, it was a thrill to see youth fading so quickly.

IQ was next, and Al sported the same dopey grin Jae had, only bigger. His eyes held the innocence of a child after that wave, and without his intelligence his inhibitions were drastically lowered. The obese imbecile lowered himself to suckle the drying drops of cum from the crusted cloth. Jae held him down, giggling at the hungry mass that worshipped him and his nasty attire.

Eric laughed triumphantly, gaining the last value, and chose to take off 5 from his IQ, and place 20 years to his age. The filthy dreads had swirls and streaks of silver rushing through them, already previously aged thanks to his intense smoking. He had to feel about 50 at this point, and he sucked happily at his stogie. The IQ loss wasn’t truly enough to destroy him, or impair his judgment in this game. The years taken away from him and gave his smoking quite the effect, darkening his teeth, his nails turning yellow, and his skin becoming a bit cragged.

“Hey, Jock-boy!” Eric called to Jae, “It’s your turn.”

Jae nodded like a cocky idiot, and drew from the deck, careful not to let the fat sack of shit raise himself off his dick.

~~One Big Happy Family~~

All the players are now related, and the youngest in the family has to obey his elders. In addition, as chosen by the drawer:

One player ages 50 years.
One player ages 20 years.
One player regresses 20 years.

“Aww…what?” Jae said, reading the card again, “Dang, that’s…kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t want to be old do you?” Eric said, “I’ll take the big one, I don’t mind.” He really didn’t mind being that old, in fact, especially if that meant the other two would have to obey him. He was already a bit older, but if Jae did something different…

“No, hold on…” Jae said, “I don’t want to be that old, sure, but I don’t want to get younger. I kind of like where I am…I’ll give it to Al!”

“Wha?” Al said around Jae’s cock, but it was too late, as the fat dude, the youngest at 27, started to age rapidly. Eric could only watch, enthralled, as the binge eating took an even greater toll on his friend’s body, ballooning him up to over 500 pounds, where he plateaued, his fat sagging as his hair balded back, and a light, silver beard filled in over his face. He was…beautiful, and the fact that Eric couldn’t see him any other way now disturbed him, but fuck, if he didn’t want to fuck him now, so badly. Now he was just jealous of Jae more than anything. “Oh fuck, that’s so hot…” he groaned, moaning around his cigar and rubbing his crotch. Jae watched Eric, sizing him up. He didn’t want competition–what had he done? Maybe if he could make Eric like him too…

“Alright,” Jae said, “I’m going to age 20 years then.”

“Eric turned to him, “What? No!” but it was too late. Jae, at 32, quickly aged to 52, just past the threshold of Eric’s compulsive attraction, and suddenly here he was with two beautiful old men, and he was getting younger. Looking down, he lost ten of the twenty years he’d just gained, falling back to 27–a young adult, but half the age of his father and grandfather.

No! No, that was wrong, he wasn’t related to these fat dirty fucks, he wasn’t! But he had been lusting after his dad forever, hadn’t he? Especially now that he was greying and balding more heavily, the two of them would spend afternoons just watching porn together, and Eric always ended up riding his dad’s cock. His dad wanted him bigger though, Jae liked his men big. His stomach gave a grumble, and started to expand, his hairy body blimping out until he was over three hundred as well. Fuck he was hungry, and his dad was massaging his cock like he wanted him.

“Boy, get over here,” Jae said, “Your grandpa’s leaking again–take care of it, would you?”

“Sure Pa,” Eric said, happy to help. He got down in front of his dumb, fat grandpa, dug around for his cock and started sucking, and then his dad got down behind him and shoved his fingers in his fat hole, making Eric squeal a bit.

“Yeah boy, that’s so hot, I love watching you two fat pigs go down on each other,” Jae said, “You want my cock son? You want me to fuck this dirty shit chute of yours?”

Jae didn’t wait for a response–he knew what his boy wanted, and he fucked him rough and quick–he was too horny to make it long, and he managed to cum twice before Al gave a dull moan and shot his load across his grandson’s bearded face. Eric got up, feeling a shadow of humiliation, though he didn’t know why exactly, and then returned to his seat.

“Well son? It’s your turn, draw a card.”

Eric gulped, and drew a card, placing it on the table, and then read it.

~~Key Holder~~

The person who drew the card is the key holder. Of the following options, the key holder gets none, one other player will receive two options, and the last player will receive one.

Chastity device – The player may only cum with the key holder’s permission.
Fist mitts and muzzle – player can be compelled to behave like a dog at the will of the keyholder.
Butt plug – Player can get hard if and only if they are being fucked. The buttplug can only be inserted or removed by the keyholder.

Eric looked at his daddy, a look of confusion at his luck to draw such a card. As soon as control was taken away from him, he had the option of getting it back. Daddy Jae looked his boy in the eyes, still filled with hungry abandon, but was ready for anything that might happen.

“Pa, I have to do what the card says, right?”

“Seems so. You better not fuck this up, boy.” Jae scowled at his good-for-nothing son, drawing such a terrible turn-around card. Allister had no regrets, taking in deep whiffs of his old daddy-pits and rubbing the leftover cum from his last orgasm into his rolls, awaiting the next terrible fate to befall him. “You got your ol’ grandpa worked up for more, so just choose already.”

“Uh, alright, I-…Pa, you like being a top dog, right? A real alpha…”

“You son of a bitch! Give me the Butt-Plug!”

“Son of a bitch, eh? Not helping your case here, Dad… Let’s give you the Mitts and Muzzle,” Eric stifled a grin, watching the black mitts encase his Daddy’s hands. Jae’s fingers pulled in tight and curled into fists inside, unable to move freely from the hand. The wrists wrapped securely with a thick leather strap, fastened with a shiny buckle. Around his balding head, Jae felt the muzzle materialize and cover his nose and mouth- even his ears. He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, seeing the muzzle as somewhat of a hood, with floppy rubber ears atop his scalp. He shook, trying to break free of his muzzle, but only jostled his brain around a bit. He felt fuzzy, anger lingering and unable to stand. He was at least able to breathe, the muzzle broken in the middle with a fake dog-tongue and a nice opening for inserting a juicy cock.

“Aww, who’s a sexy fuck-puppy??” Eric teased, watching Jae’s anger slip away from his face. A rush of euphoria came in waves through his old body at being called a puppy. The humiliation, the shame, it all translated to pure sex. His mitted hands started toying with his never-ending-erection, trying to grip it as best as possible. In his state, he couldn’t form words. Only whimpers and the frustrated fussing of a horny puppy.

“Cute puppy!” Al stated dumbly, watching his son degrade himself and hump his mitts. He couldn’t resist reaching out to scratch the puppy’s head. Eric almost couldn’t stop himself from laughing out. He was still a sexy old fucker, but he made such a wonderful pet. He’d have to take care of his bad habit, though.

“Now now, Pa. We can’t have a horn-dog like you messing the house. I’m going to give you the Chastity Device, too.”

Jae would have struggled, or protested, but he had to obey the key holder. For the first time since his obsession with sex and masturbation had started, his cock softened, and shrunk into a too-tight chastity device. He whimpered louder, pawing at his dick, and watched the drips of pre leak from the opening in the clear shell. Al was intrigued, reaching down to jostle the sealed crotch, and watched the puppy squirm.

“That leaves you, Grandpa. You get the Butt Plug.” Eric pointed at Al, and watched the slob gain an expression of discomfort. A searing pain pierced his backside, a phantom length driving into his rectum. His greasy fat jiggled and he struggled to reach under himself, finding a hard material poking from between his cavernous cheeks. Eric looked over the table to see clear pink object peeking out, very thick and nearly splitting the old fart in two. “Yeah, old fucks like you need SOMETHING to keep them hard, right Gramps? Why not a rubber man hose to keep you satisfied?”

Al felt the pain starting to turn as he jiggled the foreign object in his ass. Each little vibration made his pudgy dick throb and squirt more fluids under his draping stomach. He never felt so hard in his 72 years of age. He pushed grimy hands under his sagging belly and gripped what he could find of himself, spreading his musky pre into his thighs and slightly bouncing on the artificial cock. Jae was frisky, and annoyed with the attention pulled away from him. He brought his “paws” to his chest, and made begging noises towards his son.

“Puppy feeling lonely? Come on boy, here’s a bone for ya!” Eric pulled his hairy cock from his pants, flaunting it under the table. Jae was quick to retreat underneath the game and crawl on his mitts and knees to his new Owner. Just as the muzzle was supposed to, it allowed Eric’s manhood to slip easily inside. The fake rubber tongue massaged the length, but it certainly didn’t feel as good as his Puppy-Pa’s actual tongue and mouth pleasuring him. Grasping the floppy ears, he skull-fucked the puppy and until he shot thick ropes down Jae’s throat.

The puppy cringed, tasting the tang of tobacco and nicotine on his Master. He couldn’t love it any less, wagging his bare ass and showing obvious joy in obeying. Eric ruffled his receding hair, feeling a sense of pride at owning such an obedient pup. “I think it’s your turn, Big Pa. Flip that card!” Eric had to control the urge to order him around too much, still lusting after the aging slob.

Al was only able to pull his hand away from his cock, still pulling the dildo in and out of his ass, and flipped the card:

~~Auction~~

Each player must put in a bid. This number represents the number of years they are willing to regress, and IQ points they are willing to lose. No one’s age may drop below 17.

The winner of the auction becomes the new key holder after paying their bid. If they were already the key holder, nothing happens. If a new key holder is chosen, they may reassign the gear according to their desires.
The second highest bid gains a number of pounds equal to their bid times five.
The lowest bid receives a previous change of which affected the winner. The winner is no longer affected by that change.

The card started counting down from a minute, the letters swirling as the seconds passed, and each player, to the best of their abilities, came up with a bid that they thought they could manage to pay, and when the card reached zero, it went blank for a moment. They weren’t sure if they were just supposed to say their bids out loud, but the card revealed the first result for them: The second highest bidder was Al, with 47 points. He will gain 235 pounds.

Al watched in horror as his already massive frame started to bloat even further. He had already crested 500 pounds after aging into his seventies, but as he watched, his bulbous gut pushed forward ever further, angry red stretch marks covering his body as it did. The gut pushed his thighs apart, so he was forced to splay them wide, but he didn’t even know if he had the energy to stand, much the less fuck himself. Still, he found that he was able to rock back and forth well enough on the dildo, and his mass of fat actually pressed in on his cock. It felt–surprisingly good, and he soon zoned out, focusing more on his ass than on the cards.

Of course, Eric and Jae knew their bids, and knew their fates before the card even revealed them next. Jae is the winner with a bid of 50. Pay your bid.

“I’ll pay 35 years of my age, and 15 points off my IQ,” Jae said in reply. He had a moment to regret the fact that he’d won–with his already low IQ he was going to be nearly as stupid as Al–who was, he realized, now his father as well as Eric’s. Still, he didn’t have much time to think about it, as his brain drained away. The only thing left, it seemed, was an endless repository of porn stars, sex acts, and the endless compulsion to fuck and masturbate. He drooled a little bit out of the muzzle, but it disappeared a moment later along with the chastity device, and he took the opportunity to jack his cock, cumming in a matter of seconds, relieved to be free again. His asshole older brother–he hated him for that, for making him his fucking pet. Well he’d show him.

“As the new, uh… key guy, I want Eric to have the puppy stuff, Pa to have the chastity device, and Eric can have the butt plug, too!”

Eric tried to object, but he didn’t get a word out before the muzzle wrapped his mouth, and his hands became encased in the mitts that he’d forced on his brother in the last round. He let out something that resembled more of a yip than a shout, when he felt the plug force it’s way into his ass. Looking over his shoulder, from where he was on his hands and knees now, he saw his tail there, and he gave it a wag, panting as he felt the thick, nine inch dildo it was attached to wiggle in his ass, his puppy cock leaking on the floor.

“‘N lastly, I want Eric to take that…that youth or experience point thing from me.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and the card swirled with ink. The game cannot regress you any younger. However, the game can still restore your IQ, and have both the age and IQ drop affect Eric. Is this fine with you?

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever,” Jae said, “Just make him stupid would you? Whoa, hey, I can…kinda think again…” Jae felt the mental cloud hanging over him lift a bit. His head wasn’t working as well as it had at first, but it was certainly better than before, but his puppy, well, he was simply staring up at him dumbly, panting, wagging it’s dildo tail and whining at him. He had put on quite a few years as well, looking to be in his fifties now. He realized that he was now the son, and Eric his father, but he didn’t mind the change.

“What is it dad, do you need a fucking?”

From the look on Eric’s face, he did, but it was something else, too. He put a mitt up on the table and nudged his cigars, and kept whining.

“Oh, right. Well, how about I fuck you while you smoke, dad?”

Eric jumped up and down, barking, and presented his tail to Jae, who lit a cigar, shoved it in Eric’s muzzle, and then pulled out his tail and went to town. His dad’s hole was so loose, after being plugged up all the time, he loved it, and he creamed it three times in quick succession, before sliding the tail back in and returning to the table. Al, through it all, had just sat there dumbly, his cock now caged. He was starving, and the game had conjured a pile of junk food which he was slowly demolishing, his cock leaking the entire time into his gunt.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn again, eh?” Jae said, flipping over the second to last card.

~~“What Are You Wearing?”~~

The drawer must choose one of the three options for each player.

The player now wears diapers 24/7. They generally act like a baby, even in public.
The player can only wear clothes made out of rubber or leather.
The player can only wear dirty laundry which has been worn by someone else.

Jae looked down at his puppy-father, still delightfully dumb and messing his legs and the floor with his doggy cum. He was already wearing some nice leather gear, so why let him have all the fun? “I’ll take the rubber and leather one. A pup has to match his owner, right?” The crusty tank he had been sporting nearly the entire game started to smooth out, the yellowing spots dissipating as it became a solid rubber tank. The white sheen glistened in the low light of the basement, and his erect nipples stuck straight through the material. He tweaked them, moaning as his shorts fell away, leaving a leather jock in its place. A solid silver zipper ran down the seam of the pouch, holding in his leaking cock. From there, his forearms became encased in leather bands with thick straps tying the ends closed. Atop his head, he felt a muir cap settle. The feeling was oh-so familiar, as if he’d worn it his entire life. His previous curse of never washing his clothes was still in-effect, and constant fuck sessions and perspiration from activity in his gear filled the room with stank.

Finally, his toes wiggled happily in a flawless pair of pitch-black boots with enormous rubber soles. He looked at his blob of a Grandpa, snickering, remembering the first time he’d dug through the sick old man’s closet and found the gear. Must have been from his younger days when he could play with the big boys.

Yeah, the big boys… “Hey, Big Pa, I think you should sport a fancy diaper, right? Relive some of that lost youth.” Al heard the tell-tale crinkle of the giant diaper forming around his fat form. It was uncanny that such a size of diaper existed, but he felt no different about it than his chastity device. Of course he wore a diaper! It went so well with his binky. He pulled from the remains of junk-food trash a pink rubber pacifier, plopping it in his drooling maw and suckled happily, settling his fat back against the creaking chair. So relaxing, so endearing to just give in to the old days. The younger bears loved cradling him in a reinforced sling, feeding him, and even changing his diaper after he messed himself.

“Nnngg…” Al started to struggled, shifting in his seat, and suddenly remember how much cola he had chugged down. Without another thought (if any remained), he felt the flood-gates open and the delightful warmth spread through him. His thighs were dripping, his crack quickly filling with musky liquid gold. He had been a good boy, relieving himself like that in front of the others. He wasn’t ashamed, not even as he poked his diaper and sloshed the contents around.

Jae wanted to be disgusted, he wanted to retch, but seeing his Grandpa regress so much only made his cock explode inside the jock. He reached under the strap to spread the cum around, only pulling it out to feed to his obedient pup.

“I guess that leaves the recycled clothing for you, boy.”

Eric slurped his Master’s hand clean before tilting his head in confusion, suddenly weighed down by a new sensation. His naked body was covered in the filthy clothes Jae was wearing before turning into the perfect Gear-stud. On top of that, a grimy jean-jacket from an unknown place. All Eric knew was how rank it smelled. He raised an arm to sniff the denim through his muzzle, gagging, but still leaking and needy from the very thought of soaking in someone else’s leftover attire. His feet (or back paws as he began to think of them) nestled into a pair of stiff dress socks.

Jae caught the pup’s attention, shoving his heavy boot into his dad’s balls. The force was subtle at first, slowly increasing, and making the obedient bitch whimper louder and more high-pitched. After spurting once more, dirtying the spotless boots, Jae compelled the pup to clean them right away. The muzzle could open enough for his tongue to reach the delicious leather, cleaning away the dirty globs while he savored the tang of cow-hide. In the same motion, Jae reached over to his Big Pa and squeezed the disgusting adult baby’s chastity cage through the diaper, forcing more piss to leak from between his legs as the pressure was reallocated.

Al could only suck harder on his binky, moaning, writhing, and relishing in the feeling of being so wet and turned on. If only his pudgy dick wasn’t encased as it was, he’d fill his diaper with another surprise.

Jae looked down at his hungry, eager slut-pup, and smirked. “It’s your turn, isn’t it? You able to draw, fuck-puppy? Eric whined and pawed at Jae’s cock with his mitts, barking in excitement. “Yeah, I guess I can draw for you. Be a good boy and hump Big Pa’s leg while I take of your turn.

~~Life Goes On~~

All three players will vote on their new lives. The one with the most votes will be carried out, and the game will end.

Daddy’s Den – Jae is the daddy of a bear bar, his father, Eric acting as his guard-dog and lover. Grandpa Al is a paid attraction for patrons of the bar to visit, babysit, and fuck as they please in a giant playroom in the back.
Hog Wild – The family become the heads of a travelling bike gang, with Jae as the leader. Eric will act as the gang’s fuck-toy, and Grandpa Al is the “trainer” for new recruits.

Like the auction prior, the three of them only had to think about their vote for the card to start writing again, giving each of their votes in turn. and the card started with Eric. Eric: Daddy’s Den. As much as Eric disliked Jae, he thought life would be a bit easier as a guard dog in a bar, than riding around all over the place. The card then added below that, Al: Hog Wild. As much as Al…enjoyed being a baby, he didn’t really find the idea of being a permanent attraction all that thrilling. That made it a tie, and the two of them turned to Jae, who smiled as the card added Jae: Daddy’s Den. He was happy to be 17 again–but to be honest, he’d liked how it had felt to be a bit older. He wasn’t sure how the cards would make him into a “Daddy” of course, but he was surprisingly eager to find out.

His question was answered soon enough–he felt his body start itching a bit as he furred up by an impressive margin–not as furry as his puppy Pa, of course–though Jae noticed that Eric’s hair was actually coming in thicker. In fact, by the time this was all finished, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his body ended up with as much hair as dog’s usually had. However, while Al and Eric remained massive fat–just how Jae liked them both–he was bulking up in a different way–muscles pushing out against his well worn leather gear. He realized he wasn’t actually aging a day over seventeen though, and he realized that ten years down the road, he was going to be an absolute beast, probably like his dad.

The room was vibrating now, at first just slow enough to make him seasick if he tried to keep an eye on it, but soon it was going by so fast it was just a blur, and then he was seated at a table in a moderately sized bar, and Al and Eric were nowhere to be found. Well, Eric was easy–his old dog was right where he’d left him, in the metal dog-house he’d built for his dad to live in. The bar was actually his, but Jae was taking over for him. He’d progressed far enough in his obedience classes that he was ready and eager to live as Jae’s dog full time now, and he couldn’t be more excited. Collared and wearing his master’s filthy cast off clothing, Eric padded out in his mitts, muzzle and collar, picked up a massive dildo in his mouth and crawled over to Jae, setting it down in front of him, whimpering.

“I know you want to play Eric, but I gotta get the bar ready for tonight.”

Eric barked, but Jae just stared him down, and a bit downtrodden and disappointed, he picked up his dildo and padded back over to his doghouse where he laid down in a bit of a huff.

Jae could still remember a bit of what had happened to all of them, but it was fading rather quick, becoming more like a dream than his actual life. He stood up from the table when he heard someone start crying, and he stepped into a back room which had been completely redecorated into a nursery, where in a massive playpen, Al was sitting on his fat ass, bawling his eyes out.

“I know you need your diaper changed Al, but you have to wait. I have you rented out to a biker gang tonight, and they want you dirty tonight–it’s in the agreement,” Jae said, and then he pulled a massive baby bottle over and handed it to his grandpa, “here, drink your gainer shake, it’ll make you feel better.”

He hefted up the bottle and shoved it in Al’s mouth, and the massive man started suckling on it, his eyes dulling and glazing over as he drank down the fattening shake from his grandson. Figuring that would probably keep him occupied, and that the laxatives he’d added would make sure the bikers would be having plenty of fun later, he went out and started setting up for happy hour, but Eric wouldn’t stop whining and looking at him in despair. He checked the clock and gave a sigh–he did need to play with his dog, he hadn’t fucked him all day, and he knew how Eric got when he hadn’t had a load of his master’s cum up his ass in a while. “Alright, alright boy, I’m coming!” Jae said, and Eric started jumping and woofing, before turning around and presenting his ass for his son. Sure, it wasn’t exactly easy owning two slaves and running a bar at 17, but Jae realized as he fucked his dad’s sloppy hole, listening to him yip and yowl, that there wasn’t anything else in the world he’d rather be doing.

Identity Crises (Part 1)

Commissioned by Scot158f

Down in the den, Terry heard the front door open, and his son Caleb call out, “Dad! I’m home!”

“Hey Caleb,” he called back, “I’m down in the den,” His son appeared at the top of the stairs in the kitchen with his backpack, looking down at his dad lounging in his recliner, relaxing on his Saturday. “How was the mall?”

“Oh, good–you know, just hanging out with some friends…nothing too big.”

“Sounds good. You want dinner soon? I can order some pizza or something.”

“Nah, I’m not really hungry right now. I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit.”

Terry raised an eyebrow and shrugged, but Caleb didn’t see–he had already bounded off and up the stairs to his bedroom, and Terry knew something was up. Caleb was always hungry–hell, the kid was fat, though Terry wasn’t exactly one to talk–he was plenty big himself, and only seemed to get bigger these days. He sighed, knowing that the pretty constant diet of pizza and soda was the main culprit for them both–he’d never been a very good cook, and ever since Fran had left–

No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. The wounds were still a bit too fresh, even after all these years, when she’d run off with some other man and left him alone with Caleb. It had been hard, raising a teenager all by himself, but he was a good kid–still, Terry knew his son was lying about something. He didn’t have any friends for one thing, or at least no friends Terry had seen over at their house, and he knew Caleb hated the mall. He’d obviously been out somewhere, but where, and with who? His son was keeping secrets, and Terry wasn’t sure whether to try and pry them away, or let Caleb have his private life. He was seventeen after all–old enough that he could make his own mistakes, but Terry still worried about him–how could he not? Dads worried about their sons–it was natural. Still, he needed to talk to Caleb about something else too, he just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject yet, which made it worse.

A couple weeks earlier, while he’d been digging through Caleb’s clothes, putting together a load of laundry, he’d jostled his son’s computer by accident, and seen that Caleb had left it on–and the site on the screen had shocked him a bit. He’d expected his son to have discovered porn by now–hell, he’d had quite the stash of pilfered magazines by the time he was seventeen, but the site wasn’t what he’d expected, and it had taken him some research one night to understand what exactly gay bears were, and what a chub was.

Now Terry didn’t have any real problem with his son being gay–he didn’t understand it, that was for sure, but he was still going to love him just the same. Mostly, he wanted to make sure that Caleb knew that he could talk to him about anything–and the fact that Caleb hadn’t talked to him about it at all worried him more than anything. But how exactly was he supposed to broach the subject now? “Hey son, I accidentally got a look at the porn sites you’ve been looking at–funny how the guys you’re jacking off to kind of look like your dad, eh?” For some reason, he didn’t think that would go over very well with his teenage son.

The show he was watching came to an end, and he decided that even if Caleb wasn’t hungry, he was–so he was going to go ask him what he’d like for dinner. He hefted himself up the first flight of stairs and into the kitchen, angry that he’d let himself go. He’d been quite the looker back in the day, but since Fran had left, he’d slacked off big time. He was afraid to weigh himself, but the last time he’d gone to the doctor, he’d been nearly three hundred pounds, and he was fairly certain that he’d gone past that point of no return by now, and unlike his son, he didn’t really find being this size all that attractive. He hefted himself up the second flight to the bedrooms and down the hall to his son’s room at the end, where the door was shut. He gave it a knock, and immediately his son called out, a bit panicked, “Hang on a sec!”

Terry rolled his eyes–great, and now he’d probably interrupted him masturbating. He gave him a few seconds to get himself together and change the screen, and then opened the door–only to run right smack into–something. It was the strangest sensation, like he was at the ocean, and a massive wave was rolling over and through him, but while he felt the pressure of it, it didn’t push him back–it just folded itself around him, and for a second he was encased in something that felt like a crush of air, but it wasn’t air–it was like reality itself was bending around him, pulling him into it, and then it eased away, leaving him trying to catch his breath right inside his son’s room. Only an instant had passed, the amount of time it took him to open the door and step into the room, but it had felt like ages. He blinked a few times, sorting himself out, and then looked up and saw his son at his computer.

No, it wasn’t his son, it was a stranger. No, it was his son, of course it was his son, it was just, his son didn’t look like his son…should? His head hurt, like he had too many brains trying to occupy the same space, and he let out a grunt. No, it was his son–of course it was. Why had he thought otherwise? He just felt so…weird, all of a sudden. He looked over at where his son sat at the computer wearing a tanktop and boxers like he always did, but even though he knew it was his son, it was almost like he was looking at someone completely new. In his memory, he almost remembered his son as being pudgy, probably over two hundred and fifty pounds, well on his way to where he was at three hundred, but now…well, his son was still chubby, sure, but most of the mass packed on his frame was muscle. He almost had the look of a power lifter, thick arms and legs with a tight gut, but on top of that, his son was hairy. Terry was relatively smooth himself–he couldn’t even grow a very good beard–but his son, well, hirsute was nearly an understatement. His arms were covered all the way down to his palms, he had a thicket emerging from the top of his low collar, which crawled up his neck to join the thick, half inch long beard covering his face. When Caleb reached up to scratch his armpit, he saw it was equally dense there as well. It took him a second to break his gaze, when he finally realized that his son was talking to him.

“Dad? Hey, you alright?”

Terry shook his head, still trying to sort everything out, but his head seemed to be settling down a bit. “yeah, yeah–sorry, I guess I just, uh, spaced out there for a second. Um, I…what did I come up here for?”

He scratched his head, but couldn’t remember. He’d been down in the den, thinking about…about that bear site he’d found…but he hadn’t actually come up here to talk about that, had he? There had to have been something else…but he supposed there was no time like the present. “Look, do you have a few minutes, Caleb? There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Sure dad, what is it?” Caleb asked, spinning his chair around to where his dad took a seat on his bed, and Terry saw that something else was new too–his son’s crotch was bulging–hell, the gaps in his buttoned boxers were straining to hold it in, and for some reason, Terry couldn’t take his eyes off it…and his cock was getting hard. He shook his head–what was he doing? His son was hot, sure, but that was just wrong. “Look, I was in here the other day, picking up your gym clothes for the laundry, when I accidentally knocked your computer. You’d left it on, but the screen lit up, and I saw…well…I saw the kind of porn you were looking at, son, and I just wanted you to know that I love you no matter what, and if you want to talk about it, I’m here, alright?”

He’d expected his son to blush, or yell at him, or run from the room, but what he didn’t expect was Caleb to raise one eyebrow and smirk a bit, “Talk about what? That I’m gay? Dad, you’ve known I was gay for years–I told you when I was thirteen.”

“Yeah, I know, but…wait…” Terry said, “I…no you didn’t…”

“Yeah I did. You were downstairs, and I came home, and I told you in a rush, and then you told me you were gay too–as for bears, hell, most of the sites I browse I got from you anyway,” he said with a smile, and Terry just gaped at him.

But it was true, it was all true. How could he have forgotten that? Still everything his son had just said, it just felt so…wrong. He wasn’t gay, he’d always liked girls, but then why was it that the only porn he could remember looking at all these years was men–bears and chubs in particular. Hell, no wonder he was so attracted to his son–he was fucking handsome as fuck, but he couldn’t cross that line–he knew that.

“Are you sure there wasn’t something else you wanted to talk to me about, dad?” Caleb asked, leaning back, one hand drifting down and squeezing his crotch, “You haven’t taken your eyes off it since you sat down you know.”

“Caleb, look, you know how I feel, but I’m your dad, alright? I just…I came up to ask you what you wanted for dinner.”

“Fuck dinner,” Caleb said, and leaned forward, giving Terry a deep kiss, pushing his dad over and climbing onto him, pinning his hands to the mattress as they kissed. Terry fought him for a moment or two, then just sighed and enjoyed the feeling of his son kissing him, of his son’s beard on his own stubbly cheeks, and he ground his crotch against Caleb’s, and he was so fucking horny he could barely stand it. “Fuck dad, I’ve wanted you for so fucking long, I can’t wait anymore,” Caleb said, pulling away, reaching down the front of his dad’s boxers and pulling out his cock, “Now I want a taste of this cock of yours.”

“Caleb, no–we can’t…” Terry started to say, but his protests dissolved into groans as soon as his son swallowed his cock to the hilt in one fell swoop, and he struggled to keep up with what was going on. He’d just come up to ask about dinner, hadn’t he? Or had he come up because he’d finally decided to go all the way with his son? Had he always been gay, and if he had, then what about Fran? The name was there, and yet all of the memories which should have been attached to it weren’t. Fran was just some hooker he’d had sex with on a drunken dare, and when Caleb had been left on his doorstep all those years ago, he’d raised him happily. He was thankful his son was gay too, actually–plus he’d apparently been practicing, because he was giving Terry one of the best blowjobs he’d ever gotten…but still, this was wrong. It almost hurt him physically to do it, but he pushed his son away and crawled back up the bed away from him. “Caleb, I can’t we just can’t–it’s wrong, ok?” He saw the hurt in his son’s eyes, and turned away and left the room without another word, shutting himself in his bedroom, and trying to put his thoughts back together.

Everything was a jumble, and it had all started when he’d stepped into Caleb’s room, and that strange—wave had hit him. He couldn’t quite remember it happening, it felt like it was right at the edge, like a dream that desperately wanted to fade, but the more he clung to it, the more real it felt. He began to feel like that memory, that wave, was a wall, a wall of glass that he couldn’t budge, no matter how hard he fought it, but if he tried hard enough, and looked long enough, he could see bits beyond it, still hanging in the blackness. Fran was one thing, and his old son’s fat frame was another, and his heterosexuality, and yet they all felt imagined, like they simply couldn’t possibly be real. He sat down on his bed, cradling his head in his hands, ashamed that he’d lost control like that. He’d told himself many times that he wouldn’t do it, even if Caleb asked him to, and he’d broken that promise–how could he have done that? He sighed, not wanting to leave the room and confront it, but he had to–but it could wait until his hardon went away, he thought, blushing.

He sat there for a few more minutes, trying to relax and think about what he was going to say, when there came a knock on his door. “Hey dad? Are you in there? Can we talk?”

Terry covered himself up, and said, “Yeah Caleb, come on in.”

The door opened, and as soon as it did, he saw the wave come rushing towards him–it pushed it’s way across the room, the walls almost bending out from the force of it, and then it hit him again, engulfing him once more, but this time it worked…faster. Like it knew him, knew what to expect, what sort of defenses he had, and before he could even really register what had happened it was gone, and there his son was, standing in the doorway, buck naked. He strode into Terry’s room, ducking and turning to the side since he was a little too wide to go through them normally, and smirked, “Well dad, my birthday’s finally here–that was the deal, wasn’t it?”

Terry didn’t know what his son was talking about for a second, but as soon as he started trying to figure it out, the memory was there, like it had been all along. At thirteen, when his son had first come out him, when he’d first tried to convince his dad to have sex with him, Terry had made him promise that he wouldn’t ask again, but that when he turned eighteen, if he still wanted to, well, then Terry would be all for it. He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to something like that, but looking back, he’d known his son was going to be one hot piece of bear beef by the time he came of age–why wouldn’t he make a promise like that? Hell, at fifteen, Caleb had had a full beard going, though it had taken him a few more years to rival his dad’s, Terry thought, stroking his beard which had grown down to his chest. In the back of his head, he thought that he shouldn’t be this hairy–that he’d been smooth just seconds before, but he’d been growing his beard ever since he’d gotten his first whiskers…right?

“Yeah, that was the deal. And from that hard on of yours, I think I know what you’re looking for,” Terry said, stroking his own cock.

Caleb didn’t reply, he just strode over and started kissing his dad, running his massive hands through his thickly furred chest, their beards tangling together as they made out roughly. Caleb ran his hands over his dad’s muscular body, and something about it just felt wrong–not the fact that he was about to have sex with his son–he’d wanted that for years now–but his body. It just didn’t feel…right. In his minds eye, for some reason, he kept picturing himself as being fat, and over three hundred pounds. Well, he did weight over three hundred pounds, but most of that was muscle, like Caleb. Hell, the two of them spent tons of time working out together, smelling each other’s musky sweat, jacking off together on the benches, fantasizing about Caleb’s eighteenth birthday, which was finally–finally here…he’d waited so long for this, the last few months had been torture for them both, but now they were together, and Terry didn’t think that would be changing for a long time.

Caleb wrapped his hand around Terry’s thick, long cock–nine inches long and nearly the thickness of a beer can with a thick foreskin. His head was already wet with precum, and he growled, “Don’t just play with it boy, swallow that fucking cock–taste the seed that made you.”

“I thought you’d never fucking ask,” Caleb said, got down and started sucking on his dad’s cock, like he had a few minutes earlier…or had he? Whatever, it didn’t matter. Terry wrapped both hands around his son’s head and started fucking his face, grunting, Caleb taking all nine inches down his throat without a single gag. Fuck, his son was such a hot lay, they were going to have to do more of this…in fact, Terry thought, it might be easier for the two of them to just share a bed from now on, and then the two of them can fuck all night long.

Caleb broke his dad’s grip and pulled up, smirking, precum clinging to his beard, “Not yet dad, I want to feel this cock of yours deep in my ass.”

“Oh fuck son, are you sure? I got a damn big tool for your first time.”

“First time? Come on dad, I’ve had half the football team’s cocks up my ass, and I’ve fucked even more of them back. Did you really think I was going to go into my birthday without a little experience under my belt? Hell, most of the guys can’t wait until the party tomorrow–I hope you’re ready for a massive fucking orgy.”

“Aww shit boy, that sounds fucking fantastic–you know how much I love those hot teammates of yours. Well go on then, climb up here–I want to see you plow yourself on my fuckstick.”

Caleb climbed up on the bed, the mattress sagging under their combined weight, and Terry figured that he was going to have to get a new mattress for both of them this week. A bit gingerly, Caleb squatted down and started working his dad’s cock into his ass, and Terry did his best to resist the urge to grab his son’s hips and ram his cock home in one pound. Still, Caleb did good–he had had some practice, and before too long he was bouncing up and down on his dad’s cock, both of them groaning and grunting together, and Terry started working one of his big fingers under his son’s own massive foreskin, watching his boy shiver in pleasure. He started stroking it then, and Caleb didn’t last more than a minute, shooting a massive load of cum up and down his dad’s hairy chest and face, before Terry gave a roar and unloaded into his son’s ass.

Caleb collapsed onto him, the two of them rubbing Caleb’s cum between them, Terry’s cock slowly slipping out of his son’s hole as they kissed. “Happy birthday, son,” Terry whispered.

“Thanks dad, it’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Terry laughed, “well just wait until you see what I’m getting you for Christmas,” he said, smirking, “You’re gonna be sore for weeks.”

Caleb laughed too, and then groaned as Terry’s cock finally popped out of his hole, his cum seeping out after it.

“Well, how about the two of us hit the shower, and then go make some dinner?” Terry said, “We’re pretty ripe after that, I gotta say.”

“Heh, I kind of like it,” Caleb said, burying his nose in his dad’s pit and taking a whiff, “Like how you smell after a hard workout.”

“Ha, you mean how I reek?” Terry said, “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

“No, come on, later–it’s my birthday after all.”

Terry rolled his eyes, “Oh alright, if you want me stinking like a bathhouse than so be it. I’m going to go make dinner anyway, are you coming?”

In a second–I think I have do some work in my room first,” Caleb said coyly, and got up off his dad, “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Terry said, a bit puzzled, but the two of them went their separate ways in the hallway, and he headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where he opened the cabinets, and perplexed, realizing that there wasn’t much in there to eat. That was odd, since he and Caleb had to eat pretty much non-stop, day and night, in order to keep their bodies putting on weight. The sudden shock was enough to make him think back on the other strange things that had been going on since Caleb had come home from the mall, and now this? He could still remember himself down in the den, an obese, middle aged man, not this massive, muscular bear he was now. And how his son had tried to seduce him, but that wasn’t right, since they’d had sex moments later for his birthday present. Nothing seemed to line up at all, almost like he’d been stepping into different dimensions where everything was a bit different each time. Still, he was starving, so he went to the stairs and shouted up, “Hey Caleb–we’re, uh, out of food? I think we should go out, and maybe go for a shopping run after.”

He didn’t hear anything for a few moments, and then Caleb shouted back, “Uh…alright. Hmm…I’ll be down in a second.”

Terry went back into the kitchen, and stared at the empty cabinets again. Was it really all that strange? He didn’t really cook all that much, after all, but on the other hand, he knew he and his son were on a massive diet to make sure they kept packing on muscle. Nothing was making sense, or lining up quite right, almost as if he was looking at some other kitchen that wasn’t actually his.

The wave struck him from behind this time, but this time he almost welcomed it–it was a familiar sensation now, reality pressing in around him, propelling him forward, and when his head caught up to him, he was at the stove juggling the massive amount of food that he was cooking, and he looked over his shoulder at his son in the doorway–his massive, butch boy–fuck, he was so sexy with that massive pelt of hair, and that big firm gut of his. “Sorry Caleb, dinner’s not for a few more minutes. Go ahead and have a seat, and you can snack on the bread I baked earlier.”

“Sounds good dad,” Caleb said, ripping off a thick chunk of one of the baguettes Terry had baked earlier, and grinned, “Fuck it’s nice having a gourmet chef for a dad–have I ever told you that?”

“Only once or twice a day…” Terry said, and then stopped stirring his sauce for a second. Something still seemed off, but everything his son had said was right…wasn’t it? He was a chef, after all, and he had the nicest, and biggest, kitchen in the entire neighborhood, and he loved feeding both his son and himself. That’s when he actually bothered to look down, and saw that the muscled, strongman physique he’d been expected wasn’t there–instead, he just saw flab–pounds and heaps of it, a massive, smooth apron hanging down past his crotch, two huge moobs sagging there as well with massive nipples. He was naked, of course–he always cooked in the buff at home, where his son could watch him and admire him. He loved having a fat ass chef for a dad, almost as much as Terry loved being a fat ass chef, and yet…had he always looked like this?

As he worked, something about this just didn’t sit right with Terry, almost as though he wasn’t quite used to the size of his belly, but he avoided doing anything disastrous–even though he did get close to burning his moobs on some steam when he leaned over too far. He kept checking back, admiring his son, who’d already plowed his way through half the bread Terry had set out, and then he started laying out the spread. All of his son’s meals were carb and protein heavy–everything a growing boy could ever need to keep up his physique, and Caleb tore into the feast that could have easily fed ten or twelve people, including a roasted turkey Terry pulled from the oven…even though he couldn’t quite recall ever stuffing it and setting it in there to cook. Still, all the food was finally out and on the table, and Terry joined in the meal, neither of them talking, but as they ate, they kept stealing glances at each other, and Terry soon realized that gorging on his meal–and watching his son stuff himself, was turning him on big time.

“Hey dad,” Caleb said, “Could you pass the gravy?” Caleb asked, and Terry grinned. He had a better idea.

He picked up the massive gravy boat and instead of passing it, started pouring the thick sauce over his own body. “If you want it, why don’t you come over here and get it?”

Caleb didn’t need any more encouragement than that, and he tackled his father to the ground, licking him clean as Terry moaned, but that couldn’t pull them away from the table for long. Pretty soon, the two were simply standing next to the table, shoving food into each other’s gaping mouths, both of them covered in food, before long, but for some reason, Terry just couldn’t get over how amazing his son smelled–musky and sweaty, like he hadn’t showered in a few days, and he spent a lot of time licking his son’s armpits clear in between bites.

“Oh fuck son, you’re so goddamn ripe, I love that.”

“I know dad–you’re the one who asked me to stop showering. I’m good with that as long as you keep me clean.”

“Fuck yeah son, I’ll lick your salty pits and ass clean any day, you know that.”

Caleb couldn’t hold off anymore, and he pushed his dad face down on the table, lubed his cock with some spit and started fucking his dad’s ass with his ten inch cock, watching the fat ripple and jiggle, but Terry simply couldn’t stop eating. On one hand, he could never remember being this hungry ever in his life, but on another–this was what he and his son did, wasn’t it? Three massive meals a day? Hell, he was almost never out of the kitchen with the way they ate, but he loved cooking as much as he loved eating–but not as much as he loved having his son fuck his fat ass. He realized that he was getting close too, his fat apron massaging his two inch cock which he couldn’t even reach anymore, but it was enough for him to cum with a violent shudder, groaning through a mouthful of food, feeling the massive load from his big balls dribble down between his fat thighs. “Are you ready for dessert, dad?” Caleb said, panting.

“Oh fuck yeah, give it to me son,” Terry said, and Caleb pulled out, stroking his cock quick as his dad got down on his knees in front of him, and then he shot, covering his dad with another load…wait, another load? They hadn’t fucked earlier, Terry though, he’d been cooking all afternoon, and Terry knows better than to fuck which he’s cooking…but he could dimly remember fucking his son’s ass…hadn’t he? But how? His cock was too small to fuck anything–it was a good thing Terry was a power bottom, or he would have hated it. Whatever, it didn’t matter, he figured, as he scooped up his son’s massive load and shoveled it into his mouth, Caleb getting down to lick up some that he fed to his dad through some kisses. One hand snuck between his dad’s fat legs and probed his open hole with a few semen slick fingers, listening to the fat man moan and beg. “Fist me, fucking shove it all in there son,” Terry begged.

Caleb smiled, and slipped his fist in easy, Terry widening his stance as Caleb started milking his prostate, and after a couple of minutes, Terry gave another shudder and shot another load, this one dribbling down and puddling on the floor below him. “Damn dad, you have such a slutty hole.”

“Ha, only for my boy, you know that,” Terry said, kissing him, clenching on his son’s fist for a few more moments, before allowing him to pull it out. Caleb helped his dad stand shakily, and the two of them surveyed the table, finding a few bits and pieces they hadn’t finished off, but they’d eaten pretty much everything in sight, like usual.

“Alright dad, I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up–why don’t you head down to the den and relax?” Caleb said.

“Sounds good to me,” Terry said, stretching, “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway,” he gave his son a kiss as he cleared the table, and then hobbled down the steps, careful not to trip, and settled down into his recliner, kneading his full belly and moobs a bit as he watched the food channel, trying not to drool at the food they were showing. As he sat and watched, however, doubts were beginning to creep in, which the meal and cooking had kept at bay. He was a gourmet chef, his head and memories told him that…but he couldn’t remember ever working in a restaurant, or even getting training. Just, as far back as he could remember, he’d been cooking these huge meals for his son, helping him grow big and strong…and that was good, right? But…what about that memory of him fucking his son that he’d had earlier? And…

His head was hurting again, and it felt like too many things were vying for the privilege of existing. It was better just to focus on the here and now. He’d just had a fabulous dinner with his son after all, and a real good fucking. He could relax for a bit, and start thinking about what he was going to make for breakfast. Fuck, he loved breakfast–maybe pancakes. His stomach gave a growl, and he jiggled it happily, loving the sensation of his massive body, like always. He couldn’t imagine ever not being fat…right? But hadn’t…hadn’t he worked out with his son before? No, that couldn’t be right, he’d never lifted a weight in his life. He wasn’t even sure how to do it. And he knew for sure he’d never fucked Caleb–sure, Caleb had sucked him off before, a couple of times, but in the end Terry always preferred a rough fuck from his son’s massive cock–it was just so much hotter and better–and required a lot less effort on his part. Hell, he had a hard enough time getting up the stairs, how would he ever have the energy to fuck his son?

And yet…and yet, hadn’t he laid back on his bed, his son on his big cock, both of them a bit smaller than before, and more muscular…and hairier…

Maybe it was just a dream–that seemed like the most reasonable possibility. He could hear Caleb working in the kitchen, but then he stopped suddenly and headed upstairs for a few minutes. Terry wasn’t sure what he was doing up there, but when he heard him coming back down the stairs, he sounded…bigger. Or at least heavier than usual, which was strange. From where he was sitting in his recliner, he looked up, curious, but before he could get a good look, another wave washed over him as soon as his son turned the corner at the top of the stairs.

Wait, his son? No, not his son, that was silly, that was his daddy at the top of the stairs…wasn’t it?

To be Continued

When Jared bought the house in foreclosure, the bank forgot to mention that none of the previous owner’s possessions had been moved out, and when he arrived to inspect the property, he discovered that the place was filthy. Apparently, this house flip was going to be a bit more difficult than he’d imagined, and so he started throwing shit out.

Things were going fine until he discovered the piles and piles of gear in the basement, and for some reason, he found himself compelled to put on the rubber gear…and service it. Over the next few weeks, his obsession grew until he couldn’t bear to wear anything else, and then he arrived.

The knock on the door came as a surprise–Jared hadn’t been expecting anyone, especially not the fat, hairy, stinking man on his doorstep, the man wearing nothing but some rubber waders, and Jared lost it, down on his knees, licking the filthy rubber clean right there on the porch.

The man hadn’t ever really planned on giving up his house after all, and now he had a new slave with enough capital to keep the mortgage paid off for years to come.

Source: pitstainsandpas

The Audition

Commissioned by Seamus

“Patrick and Aaron? You’re up!” The voice called from inside the room, and the two friends got up, giving each other a nervous glance, and headed into the audition. The two college friends had a week earlier picked up a flyer on campus advertising open auditions for porn films, and later that evening, when the two of them were quite drunk, they had called the studio as a joke more than anything, but to their surprise they had been called in for an audition by someone named Mr. Thompson, and the next day, even though they were nervous as hell, they hopped in Aaron’s car and drove to the seedy LA address where they were now.

After a few minutes in a waiting room, manned only by a bored, and rather normal looking receptionist, with nothing to do but feel nervous, they were now auditioning, and neither of them knew what to expect–or why they were being called in together–but in they went, finding themselves on a small, undressed sound stage, except for a ratty looking couch and coffee table in the middle. Back by the cameras, there was a folding table set up and two older men seated there, flipping through forms. One of them looked up and said, “Go ahead and have a seat there,” he said, pointing to a couple of folding chairs off stage, and Patrick and Aaron took their places. “So, the two of you are interested in the porn business?” the man asked. Neither Patrick nor Aaron really knew what to say to that, and after a second, the man looked down at the paper in front of him and mumbled, “Both shy…gonna have to do something about that…”

“How about we start with some introductions?” the second man said, “This is Mr. Thompson–he says he spoke briefly to you both over the phone. He’s the director here at RockCock studios, I’m Mr. Lewis–I’m the producer. Now, which of you is Aaron and who is Patrick?”

“I’m Patrick,” the first guy said.

“Alright, hmm…brown hair, green eyes, decent build. Could you take off your shirt for me?”

“What? I don’t…”

“Take off your shirt please,” Mr. Thompson said, and before Patrick could question it, he stripped it off.

“Well, not quite the build I had in mind, a bit too…lanky. Guess we might need to fix that. And you, you’re Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I love the blonde hair, and very beautiful green eyes, but we have so many blondes already…hmm…Your shirt too please.”

Aaron, less intimidated now that Patrick had shed his own, pulled his off, giving the men a chance to look him over as well. “Nice, do you go to the gym?”

“Off and on, I guess.”

“How many times a week would you guess?”

“Maybe two? Sometimes none?”

“Hmmm, alright.”

While Mr. Lewis asked his questions, Mr. Thompson was looking over his shoulder towards a second entry way onto the set. “Do you know where Hank is? I explicitly told him to be here at one o’clock to help with an audition.”

“Maybe shooting is just taking a little longer than expected.”

Mr. Thompson turned back around and looked at the shirtless men, “Alright, let me explain how this will work. We’re going to have you both work with Hank Bruin–he’s going to star in “Dirty Dudes Volume Three”. We want to see how your on screen chemistry works with him, if he would get here already…”

“Wait, Hank?” Patrick asked, looking at Aaron, “Hold on guys, we’re both straight–we aren’t interested in guys.”

Neither Mr. Thompson nor Mr. Lewis said anything in reply, and both Patrick and Aaron tried to get up to leave, but for some reason, neither of them could get up from the chairs Mr. Thompson had directed them into. A moment later, a man they presumed to be Hank ran onto the set, and the sight of him didn’t make Patrick nor Aaron feel much better. He was quite tall, and muscular, though not overly so, and was wearing nothing beyond a jockstrap and wifebeater, giving both of them a view of his hairy body and his sizable package. “Oh God, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, I got over here as fast as I could, but Mr. Willis wanted the shot from two angles, and so I had to hold it, and–”

“Hank, please–I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ll speak to Mr. Willis and see if there is call for any disciplinary action. For now, we have Patrick and Aaron here–they’re auditioning for roles in “Dirty Dudes Volume Three” with you. Now be a good boy and take a seat on the couch while I give them their direction, alright?” Hank passed by the two shirtless students and shot them a look, something between regret and pity which made them both feel rather uneasy, and sat down on the couch. “Alright Mr. Lewis, have you decided on the roles for our two newcomers here?”

“Yes, I think I have. I’d like Patrick to take Dirty Dude Two, and Aaron to be Dirty Dude Three.”

“Alright, then that means Patrick, we’ll start with you. Stand up and try not to look so nervous. Now, here’s your motivation. Hank here has invited you over to his house, and you’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. He’s just such a handsome top, and the pig in you, it just wants to worship his sweaty, hairy body so badly. Now, go ahead and take a seat on the couch, and lets see where you take it.”

Aaron expected his friend to just bolt out of the studio–hell, he would have, but to his utter shock, he walked up onto the stage and plopped down on the couch next to Hank–right next to Hank, so close their thighs were touching. There was an unmistakable look of terror in his eyes, like a man who’d lost all control of himself, and he turned to Hank and said, “Hey man, I just wanted to thank you for inviting me over.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Hank said back and looked over at Patrick, and fuck if their eyes weren’t smouldering for each other, and then, Patrick leaned in and started kissing Hank, his hands all over the porn actor’s sweaty body, and Aaron wanted to vomit.

“Yes Patrick, I love the energy, great job–keep going!” Mr. Thompson said.

“What the fuck–what the fuck are you doing to him? How are you doing this? Let us go!” Aaron said, again struggling in his seat.

Mr. Thompson looked over at him, angry, and snapped, “Quiet on the set Aaron, you’ll get to join in soon enough. Now go on Patrick, go on and start licking Hank clean, worship that body you’ve been lusting after for so long, it’s finally yours–go ahead and take it!”

Patrick moved down, licking and nibbling the sweat from Hank’s stubbly neck, before shoving his face into Hank’s armpit, licking with the entire surface of his tongue, making sure to turn enough for the cameras to catch his lust, even if his eyes were still confused and angry and…horny. Hank had one hand on his groin now and was massaging it, a cocky grin on his face as he watched him worship his pit. “Damn Pat, I had no idea you were such a fuckin’ slut–how long have you been after my sweaty body?”

“Oh fuck, so god damn long Hank,” Patrick moaned, “I…I even stole your underwear a couple of times, just to smell you, fuck, you’re a fuckin’ god Hank. Can…Can I smell your jock Hank? Please, can I?”

“Oh, great improv, keep going!”

“Sure thing bud, I can see how bad you need it,” Hank said, and like a hungry beast, Pat dove into Hank’s crotch, burying his nose in the crack between his cock and his thigh, lapping up all the sweat he could find, moaning and groaning, grinding his rock hard cock into the sofa cushions.

Off to the side, Aaron was trying to scream, to get away to do anything, but he was frozen, and his voice–his voice wouldn’t work. Even worse, he could tell he was next, that he would be as helpless as his friend in a matter of minutes.

Patrick was now sucking on the jock, taking as much of it in his mouth as he could, tasting the stale cum and sweat which had soaked into it, and even though the taste was rank he couldn’t help but act like he was enjoying it. However, this character, he could feel it beginning to overcome him–it was becoming more and more natural, he was starting to really think that Hank was a god worth worshipping, that he liked the taste of his sweaty body, that this was really what he wanted, and in a panic, he fought against the direction, but couldn’t escape the compulsion.

“Alright, that’s good Pat, but not really what we had in mind, see, you have a foot fetish. You fucking love feet, the sweatier and smellier the better. In fact, you’d rather suck toes than cock any day of the fuckin week, isn’t that right?”

“Oh fuck, can I Hank? Can I clean your filthy feet, man? Fuck, that’d make me so fuckin’ hot for you, please…”

“Get down there you fuckin’ pig, but I gotta warn you, they’re pretty rank, and they’d better be fucking spotless by the time you’re done with them.” Hank put his bare feet up on the coffee table, and it was all Patrick could do to keep from diving on them and taking as much of them as he could in his mouth, but he held off. He wanted to fucking savor them, he wanted to enjoy this, he wanted…he wanted to put on a show, yeah, he wanted the cameras to see how much of a pig he was for a guy’s filthy feet, it felt so hot having the cameras on him, so fucking exciting…he started by sucking on all of the toes, one by one, and then started licking the soles clean in long strokes of his tongue, Hank massaging his cock while Patrick worked.

“How damn, how about that? I think we have a natural,” Mr Thompson said.

“Hmm, yeah, he does have plenty of spirit, but I’m just not sold on his look quite yet,” Mr. Lewis said. “Do you mind if I work on him for a bit?”

“Certainly, Mr. Lewis. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind, as always.”

“Alright let’s see. I definitely like Pat better than Patrick, but still not a perfect name…oh of course, Pat the Pig, I love the alliteration. Yeah, that’s a great name for you–direct, the audience knows just what to expect from you. Still, you don’t quite look like a pig, do you? Let’s go ahead and fix that, I think. Let’s see, you’re going to have to put on some weight for the role, so how about…325 pounds? Yeah, enough to give you a nice, piggy gut, let’s see it.”

On his hands and knees, still savoring Hank’s sweaty feet, Pat felt his body changing, growing, his belly sagging down with fat as he fought against the director’s orders. He didn’t want to be a fucking pig! He just wanted to keep cleaning Hank’s sweaty fucking feet, fuck they were so hot. With one hand, he was able to feel his changing body, his gut sagging down, two fat piggy tits where his pecs had been, and he gave a little snort of pleasure as he grazed one of his nipples.

“Yeah, that’s good. And hair–you’re gonna be a hairy bear of a man I think, all over, front and back, a fuckin’ pelt. A pig like you doesn’t need that big of a cock either–after all, we aren’t going to have you topping anyone in this film, but maybe some big fucking balls, yeah, your loads are gonna be massive.” Mr. Lewis got down, and watched Pat’s cock shrink as his balls grew, “Ha, fuck, look at this tiny cock, you can barely see it through the fuckin’ pubes–now that’s a pig.”

Patrick couldn’t look around to see himself, but he could feel his skin crawling with hairs now, including across his face, as a scruffy beard filled in around his now chubby face. Now as he felt himself with his hand, it felt almost like he was touching an animal, yeah, just an animal, just a pig, a pig desperate for dirty feet and sweaty bodies. Pat was snorting even more now, and his little cock was so hard, but he knew better than to touch it without Mr. Thompson’s explicit permission.

“Yeah, that’s damn fine. Still, how about a little edge? I’m thinking…mohawk. And red, I love a good firetop, and with a name like Pat, why the hell not? Still, since we can’t see any tattoos through all that fur, how about some piercings?” The hair on Pat’s body turned a brilliant red, the sides of his heads shaved, leaving him with a short, spiky mohawk. The pain in his ears as the gauges grew in, and the horseshoe in his septum caused his eyes to water. Mr. Lewis ran has hand along Pat’s furred back, feeling Pat shiver at his touch. He knew he had to try and fight back against these feelings, that this was wrong, but it was so hard to think outside the direction Mr. Thompson had given him. “What do you think, Mr. Thompson? Isn’t that a much hotter pig?”

“Fuck, now that’s a pig! He’s going to be very popular I think. We’re going to have to include him in our next bear flick too, I think.”

“Oh yeah, he’s going to be very versatile I think, well, except for the fact that he’s a total bottom,” Mr. Lewis said with a chuckle, as he took his seat.

“Alright, that sounds like a nice plan. Alright, Aaron, why don’t you go ahead and join in? Here’s your direction–”

“Please!” Aaron sputtered, forcing his way past the director’s insistence on silence, “Please, no, don’t make me clean anyone’s feet, that’s so fucking disgusting! Don’t make me a pig like that!”

There was silence for a moment, and then the two men laughed, “Oh please Aaron, do you really think we’d do the same thing twice?” Mr Lewis said.

“Trust us, one foot fetishist is plenty for a single film, no, we’d rather have you go in a different direction. Now, you’re Hank’s roommate, and at the moment, you are drunk off your ass. Now, you’re going to walk in on these two and discover Pat worshipping Hank’s feet like a dirty whore, and while you’re going to be grossed out a first, when Pat begs you to give him your feet to clean too, you’ll give into curiosity, and find it very…relaxing.”

Aaron knew he wasn’t really drunk, but the performance he found himself giving, as he stumbled up onto the stage, slurring his words, would have been good enough to convince anyone watching, he imagined. “What the hell are you two doing?” he said, “Is that faggot seriously licking your feet Hank? That’s fucking sick!”

“Hey, the pig fucking loves it, don’t you Pat?”

“Oh fuck yeah, nothing gets me harder than sucking on a sweaty, smelly foot.”

“Dudes, that’s fucking nasty.”

“Actually, it feels pretty good,” Hank said, “Why don’t you have a seat and let Pat the Pig work yours over?”

“Oh yeah, come on man, let me get a whiff of those feet of yours–I bet they’re so fuckin’ ripe!” Pat said, and Aaron just wanted to shout at him, tell him to cut the act, that the two of them had to get out of here, but he couldn’t break character either.

“Alright, I guess I could give it a shot,” Aaron said and sat down on the couch, allowing Pat to rip off his shoes and socks before slurping away at his feet, and like the director said, Aaron let out a groan, and felt himself sink into the couch, suddenly very relaxed, but Mr. Lewis wasn’t happy.

“Aaron’s feet are too small for this role, I just don’t think our pig here is going to enjoy it enough. What do you think, Pat? Do you think Aaron’s feet are too small?”

Pat nodded eagerly, but then again, he thought everyone’s feet were too small, and not nearly rank enough.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking, size seventeen, and a fine coat of hair on top, just for accent.”

On the couch, Aaron watched and felt his feet start to contort and twist as Pat lciked them clean, until they had nearly doubled in size, and his stomach turned. Apparently Pat wasn’t the only one with a few changes in store.

“Yeah, that’s good, I agree. Now Aaron, you’re drunk, and feeling Pat licking your feet is just making you feel so relaxed, and then you start pissing your fucking pants, right there on the couch. Hank, you’re going to notice after a few seconds, and tell him to stop, but Aaron, you’re just going to moan like you’re enjoying the hell out of pissing your jeans, and keep going, because you do love pissing yourself. You love the stench, the feel of sopping denim against your crotch, and you love the taste of it too, but Hank doesn’t know that until you confess it to him, and ask him to piss down your throat.”

Aaron fought–he fought hard. No way was he actually just going to sit there, and let his best friend worship his feet (even if it did feel really good) and start pissing himself right on the couch. “Damn Hank, it does feel good, and it’s kind of relaxing.”

“Ha, I know right? Better than you thought it was going to be, right?”

“Hell yeah, fuck I’m gonna, oh yeah, oh there–there it goes–shit…”

Too late. He felt the warmth envelop his crotch, and inside he was screaming, but outside it felt so good just to relax, and god he did love pissing his pants, hell, getting drunk was sometimes just an excuse for some piss play in front of his friends. He started rubbing the dark crotch of his jeans with one hand, feeling his cock start hardening against his inner will, when Hank looked over, “Holy fuck dude, did you just fucking piss your pants?”

“Oh fuck yeah I did, feels so fucking good too…”

“Wait, you fucking like it?”

Aaron paused, unable to believe he was about to tell his roommate about his secret fetish, but no, that wasn’t even true! What was that fucking director doing to him? “Fuck, I guess there’s no hiding it now,” Aaron said, “I fuckin’ love piss dude, I love pissin’ my pants, I love the fucking stench of it, fuck this…this one time, in the bathroom, you forgot to flush, and I blew a wad just from the stench of your piss dude, it was so fucking hot.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Mr. Thompson said, “Nice detail Aaron, you’re such a dirty dude. Now bring it home, beg for it, beg for your roommate’s piss like the wannabe urinal you are.”

“Hank, I’m so fuckin’ thirsty man, be a pal and give me your piss, please? I’ll do anything for it, I just gotta taste it, fresh, just fuckin’ once.”

Hank shoved his jock into Aaron’s face and released his piss, and he felt it dribble down his face and onto his chest even though he drank down as much of it as he could. When Hank finished, Aaron pulled the jock to one side with his teeth, releasing Hank’s cock, swallowing it to the hilt, sucking down the last bit of piss from the head as he did, unable to believe he was actually sucking cock and loving it. “Yeah Aaron, that’s a good cocksucker, make Hank feel real good. Now hold on Hank, we don’t want you shooting just yet, so hold on, alright?”

“Hmm, while they’re going at it, I want to make a few more changes I think,” Mr. Lewis said, “As much as I love blondes, I just don’t think we need another one, do you, Mr. Thompson?”

“No, we don’t really–what did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking…Angelo,” Mr. Lewis said, and as the two men watched, Aaron’s skin began to darken, taking on a deep olive complexion, his blonde hair darkening to a deep black, and where a white college kid had sat moments before, there was now a hunky, latin wolf, moaning as he sucked Hank’s hard cock.

“Oh, wonderful choice Mr. Lewis, we were just talking last week about how we could use a bit more exoticism in our casting.”

“I know, I figured this was the perfect opportunity. Still, I don’t want two chubby pigs at once, so how about we make our pissslut a muscleman, eh?” As Angelo sat there, he felt body heat up and expand, the muscles spasming as they exploded in size, giving him the look of an out of season bodybuilder. “Yeah, that’s much better, but you need some fur too, though not as much as the pig down there.” Angelo couldn’t see from where he was sucking Hank off, but he ran his hands over his hard, ridged body, and he felt…sexy. Yeah, he was soaked in piss, sucking cock, where else would a latin piss slut like him ever want to be?

As for your look, I’m thinking…thug. Shaved head, but with a few days growth. A chinstrap beard, and then tattoos–lots of tattoos. Nothing too violent or sexual, but I think it’ll play well with our demographics.”

“Mr. Thompson, I–” Hank said, but the director shot him a withering glance, and he shut up.

“Don’t interrupt Hank, you know better.”

“But–” Hank groaned.

“Silence, don’t speak again until I say you can. Sorry, Mr. Lewis, I love watching you work your magic,” Mr. Thompson said, “They’re fucking perfect.”

“Ha, well, I don’t know about perfect,” Mr. Lewis said as he returned to his seat, examining Angelo at a distance, watching his hair pull into his head, beard fill in, and a riot of colorful tattoos make their way all over his body, until he was about half covered. “They might still need a few tweaks later on before we shoot for real, but for now, it’s good enough.”

Hank was sweating and groaning, bucking his hips, pounding his cock down Angelo’s throat. He couldn’t stop, but he was so close to cumming, and Angelo was surprisingly skilled at giving head. He wanted to cum so bad, and he stopped fighting it, grabbing the back of the latin wolf’s head and giving him a proper skull fucking, which drew Mr. Thompson’s attention.

“Hank? Hank! You still with me man? Don’t you fucking shoot that load dude, don’t–” but Mr. Thompson knew it was too late. Hank gave a stuttering gasp and blew his wad down Angelo’s throat and he sucked that down too, rubbing the piss into his dark chest as he did, utterly disgusted with his display, and yet knowing that he was putting on a fantastic show for the cameras, and loving it.

“God fucking damn it, Hank!” Mr. Thompson shouted, storming onto the set and dragging Hank off, “I thought we sorted that fucking issue out?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, I was just so horny, and–”

“Oh fucking save it, you sorry bitch. Mr. Lewis, I think we just found out next star for Chastity Pain Slave Nine.”

“Oh god, not that, please not that.”

“Oh yes, I think that’s a marvelous idea–Gareth has been needing a new bitch, and he’s gonna love shaving Hank down on camera, I bet.”

“I think so too,” Mr. Thompson said, then shoved Hank away, “Now get out of my fucking sight, and think about how you’re going to perform better next time, when we’re shooting for real.”

Mr. Thompson walked back to his seat, calming himself back down as Hank left the set, crying, and turned his attention back to Pat and Angelo, the first still cleaning his friend’s feet while the other was reveling over his piss soaked body. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to finish the scene off with you two. Pat, I want to see how that hole of yours works. Angelo, leave your foot there, I want to see Pat fuck himself on it.”

Pat got up, and finally could see his friend past his new, massive feet–or at least the man who had been his friend, and also looked down at himself, his thick, red furred body, and he knew it was too late for them to escape now. Now, all he could do was enjoy this, oh yeah, he was going to put on such a great show for Mr. Thompson and Mr. Lewis. He squatted down over Angelo’s spit lubed foot and started working it into his asshole, and it felt amazing, his puny cock rock hard, though only the head could be seen easily beyond his thick pubic bush.

“Oh yeah Pat, that’s real good, take that whole fucking foot up there–you love getting fucked by big feet, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah Mr. Thompson,” Pat said, “It feels so damn good having Angelo’s foot crammed up my hole.”

“Yeah, that’s good, now take that puny cock of yours, and I want you to arc your piss and soak Angelo down. How does that sound, you thug whore? You want that fat pig to drench you in his piss?”

“Oh fuck yeah dude,” Angelo said, “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

Pat did as he was told, pushing the piss out as hard as he could, and amazingly he made it over the intervening space and all the way up to Angelo’s face and hair, soaking him down, and when his bladder emptied, he focused on fucking himself on his costar’s massive foot, moaning and grunting like a complete whore, listening to Mr. Thompson and Mr. Lewis encourage them both nearer to orgasm. They came simultaneously, shooting the gap, Angelo’s cum splattering across Pat’s hairy gut, and Pat’s mixing into the piss coating Angelo’s ridged abs.

“Hot damn, you are two dirty dudes!” Mr. Lewis said, “We’re going to have to duplicate those cumshots when we shoot, don’t you think, Mr. Thompson?”

“I think we can manage that, and I certainly enjoyed the rest of their show as well. Plus, directing them’s a dream, especially compared to Hank. How about it you two? I think you’re going to enjoy being a couple of filthy, dirty fuckers on set, right? In fact, why don’t we go ahead and make you two the stars of the film? I think Hank lost that privilege today.”

“Oh hell yeah Mr. Thompson, especially if I get to clean a bunch of nasty feet before fucking myself on them,” Pat said, lifting himself off Angelo’s big foot.

“Fuck yeah, and as long as I’m soaked in a bunch of stinking piss I’ll be happy,” Angelo said.

“Well, then I have a couple of lifetime contracts for the two of you to sign over here, but first, you two got both of us all hot and bothered,” Mr. Thompson said, hauling out his cock, “Angelo, get over here and suck me off, and I know Mr. Lewis would love to fuck that wide open hole of yours Pat.”

The two friends, no longer even able to consider refusing their director’s demands, did as they were told, moaning like the couple of dirty porn stars they were, eager to start filming their debut, as well as all the rest they would be acting and fucking in for the rest of their lives.

Gator Nights

Commissioned by Anonymous

Warning: Contains furry TF (gator), watersports, raunch and incest. Don’t like it? Don’t read it.

***

“Nonsense, I insist. Us swamp men git such a bad rap these days. Besides–it’s the middle a the night–the two a ya ain’t goin’ nowhere til mornin’ anyway,” Daryl said, as he turned the tow truck onto a winding dirt road which wove through the dark swamp, Kent and Howie watching the twisted trees engulf them. Kent and Howie shared a look, but didn’t object. The two frat brothers had been on their way to Spring Break in Miami when their car had broken down out here, somewhere in the swamps of Alabama or Mississippi. Luckily, there had been a gas station within a short walk, but the only tow truck who would come out to meet them was a local who’d come rumbling up after dusk, and he’d been everything Kent and Howie hadn’t wanted. Big beard, hefty gut, missing and rotten teeth, bad BO, grimy clothes–but they hadn’t had much of a choice, and so all three of them had climbed into the cab together and off they’d gone. Now, however, it looked like they were going to lose at least a day, if not more, depending on how long it might take to have their car fixed by a mechanic.

The drive down the road took around half an hour of uncomfortable silence, Daryl occasionally trying to make small talk–asking where the boys were from and where they were going, who they might be meeting, but neither Kent nor Howie felt like sharing more than the most basic information, until all that was left were the sounds of the swamp outside the truck windows. Even if it was early spring, the air was still hot and quite humid, neither of which helped with the stink rolling off Daryl. Howie was getting the worst of it, having taken the middle seat, but Kent, with his head nearly out the window, gave his friend as much space as he could.

It was a relief when they saw the lights through the trees. The building was something between a shack and a house–large, but still rather ramshackle, established but uncared for. On three sides, it was flanked by water–the road being the only way out. Daryl parked the truck and the three of them hopped out, Howie the most eager to get away from Daryl so he could breathe again.

“God damn, that guy smells like ass!” he said to Kent, quietly, but not quiet enough that Daryl couldn’t hear him on the other side, and Kent elbowed him in the side, reminding him to be at least a little polite. After all, Daryl was now their only ticket back to the road, unless they planned on hiking through the swamp all night long.

“Well, thanks for giving us a place to stay, sir,” Kent said, as they followed Daryl to the door.

“Yer welcome,” he said to Kent, “It isn’t much, and it might not be up tah the standards of a couple a city boys like you–” he shot Howie a glare, “But it’s our home.”

“Our home? Who else lives here?” Howie asked.

“Oh, my brother–he’s out at the moment–probably finding some dinner.”

“Where at? There isn’t a store for miles.”

“Oh, the swamp gives us most everything we need,” Daryl said with a grin. “Have a seat boys–I’ll git us some drink. Ya’ll could probably use somethin’ after yer long day.”

Howie and Kent took a seat on the treadbare couch by the banked fire, and Kent said, “You know, you don’t have to be such as asshole.”

“At least I don’t smell like one–I mean, you didn’t have to sit next to the guy dude–it was gross.”

“Still, he’s trying to be nice, and you’re throwing it in his face. Don’t forget we need his help.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Howie said, and leaned back, “What a fucking pain in the ass.”

“You’re the one who didn’t take your car in for an inspection.”

“Oh will you shut up about that? I said I was sorry, alright?”

Kent rolled his eyes, and Daryl came over carrying a ceramic jug in his hand. “Yer both in college, right? I bet ya’ll can drink. This here’s the moonshine mah bro ‘n I brew–I’d like tah know what ya think.”

“Oh, that’s nice, but uh…I’ll pass,” Kent said.

“Well, I’ll take some,” Howie said, and Daryl smirked at him as he handed over the jug. “Alright, well let me see if I can rustle up some grub fer ya. Neither a ya is a vegetarian ‘r anything, right? We only have meat eaters in this here house,” he said with a laugh.

“Dude,” Kent said, as Howie look a drink from the jug, “You know shit like that can kill you, right?”

“Oh? What happened to not throwing people’s generosity back in their face?” Howie said, stuck his tongue out at Kent and drank some more. “It actually isn’t bad–besides, it’s Spring Break! I thought we were going to party?”

“Yeah, with some chicks on Miami Beach, not with these hicks in Buttfuck, Swampland,” Kent said, shifting uncomfortably. “Damn it, I gotta shit.”

“Ha, have fun with that–I don’t think this place has indoor plumbing,” Howie said, then held out the jug, “You sure you don’t want any?”

“Nah, you go ahead–one of us should stay sober around this place I think.”

“Suit yourself.”

Kent got up and walked into the kitchen where Daryl was. “Hey, uh, Sir–where’s the bathroom?”

“I told ya, ain’t no need tah call me sir, boy,” Daryl said, “and we ain’t got no fancy bathroom–just an outhouse out back ya’ll have tah use, though I promise it won’t kill ya.”

Kent felt kind of bad then, realizing he’d been just as much a jerk as Howie had earlier, even if it might have been for a better reason. Still, what could he say? He left, found the back door and headed for the outhouse, leaving Howie inside with Daryl.

“So? What do ya think, boy?” Daryl asked Howie after Kent had left, “You enjoyin’ the drink?” He plopped down on the couch next to Howie, took the jug from his hand and had a swig himself.

“Yeah, it…it isn’t bad…” Howie said, slurring his words a bit, the room swirling awkwardly, “Though it…hits kinda hard…fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick…” He tried to lurch up and make his way outside to puke, but Dylan grabbed his hand and pulled him back down onto the couch. Howie turned to tell the man off, when he say his eyes. His gold irises, and the pupils…were they slits? “Your…eyes are all…weird…” Howie slurred.

“Really boy? Why don’t you keep on looking at them and make sure?”

Howie kept staring into Dylan’s eyes, and he realized, as the room spun around him, what they looked like–they were reptilian. The redneck grinned, showing a few too many pointed teeth, and Howie tried to bolt back, but those eyes–he couldn’t look away from them, and with the room spinning around him he wasn’t sure he could even stand up. “What…what are you? What are…what was that stuff…” Howie slurred, as the tension in his body released, causing him to slump back, though his eyes remained glued to Dylan’s.

“Like I said, it’s just a moonshine me and my brother brew for ourselves…and our family. Now son, you sure are lookin’ uncomfortable, in all of those clothes–how about we do something about that? It’s so hot in here, after all–wouldn’t you be more comfortable naked, with your daddy, just lounging on the couch?” Dylan took one of his hands, the skin cracking apart into scales and already tinged green, the nails now hard, long and black, and started ripping away Howie’s clothes, first his shirt, and then his pants and boxers, Dylan kicking off his shoes and socks, compelled by the redneck’s stare, the gator removing his own clothes as well. “There, isn’t that better?” Dylan asked, putting his arm around Howie’s shoulders, “Just you and yer daddy, hangin’ out?”

“Not…Not my…daddy…” Howie managed to eek out, but he was feeling so strange now. He could feel the liquor pulsing through him, heating him up from the inside, but his throat and mouth were tingling and aching. Dylan took one scaly hand and ran it along Howie’s jawline, smiling watching the young man’s skull start stretching into a snout, the skin growing dry and cracking apart like his own, the teeth multiplying and growing sharper.

“Ha, maybe not yet, son, but soon enough–here, have another drink,” Dylan put the jug to his lips and poured, Howie helpless in his gaze, the heat increasing in his gut, and then he realized that the liquor was doing more to him than making him sick. “Yeah, that’s it. Now, what did you say about yer Pa outside boy? Go ahead and refresh my memory, if ya would.”

“I…I said that you…you smell like ass,” Howie said, and started giggling, the drink slowly choking off his inhibitions and rational thought. Everything just seemed so…easy. He just needed to go with the flow, and have fun, and enjoy himself. “‘Cause you do kinda stink.”

“Ha, yeah, I suppose I do, don’t I?” Dylan said, taking a whiff of his own armpit, “Yeah, I sure do, but ya wanna know somethin’?” he said, then leaned in close to Howie, keeping his eye contact, “I kinda like it, ‘n ya know somethin’ else? I bet a son like you’ll love it too. Yeah, sittin’ next tah me in that truck, drivin’ over here–it was hard to resist just shovin’ that face a yers into my dirty, nasty pit, wasn’t it? I bet my funk had ya hard the whole ride over here, just like it has ya hard right now.”

Howie didn’t know if it was true or not, but in his drunk state he was in no condition to resist. His head just didn’t seem to work right, and he couldn’t quite remember what he’d been doing in the truck. Still, he was hard now, wasn’t he? And he could smell Dylan, and…and he did smell rank, but it was kind of…good? He kind of liked it? Dylan wrapped his scaly hand around Howie’s cock and started stroking it slowly, making the boy moan loudly, and watched his last bit of resistance crumble, as he lurched over and started licking out his armpit.

“Yeah, that’s good son–just let go ‘n trust yer Pa–I wouldn’t steer you wrong after all. You love my fuckin’ stink so much–just enjoy it.”

Howie felt his face ache as his bones stretched and grew, his snout crammed into Dylan’s pit, the rest of his body slowly catching up as the liquor flooded his system. His skin was the most noticeable, as his belly slowly dried out, the skin darkening, and his vision blurred slightly as his eyes changed to match Dylan’s…no his…Pa’s? What was wrong with him? He needed to get out of here, but he loved licking out Pa’s pits so much, and now Pa was running his claws along the base of the shaft of his cock and it felt so damn good, maybe he could just stick around for…a bit longer.

“Heh, so I smell like ass, eh? Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I have a boy who loves ass stink then, eh?” Dylan said, “You wanna clean yer Pa’s ass son? We ain’t got no toilet paper, so I sure could use a good cleanin’ back there. I know how much ya love cleanin’ up yer daddy’s rear end. Go on, lay down on the floor there.”

He had to help Howie up of the couch, and he didn’t have much choice but to lay down, since his head was spinning too wildly for him to stand for long. Looking up from the floor he saw that Dylan had fully transformed, a nearly seven foot tall, chubby gatorman standing over him, looking down at his son over his fat gut, long tail swinging behind him, and then he straddled Howie’s head and sat down on his face. The stench was horrendous, but no longer disgusting–Howie craved it, and he let out a loud moan as his long tongue started clicking the crack clean, probing his Pa’s hole as the big gator jacked his boy’s cock, giving him words of encouragement, watching Howie’s body continue to shift–growing larger, his fairly healthy gut filling out further, his long, thick tail shoving out of his lower back and down between his legs, his hands and feet thickening, the nails becoming claws, and he idly wondered what was taking the other boy so much time in the outhouse–and what was taking Al, his brother, so long in the swamp?

***

Kent wasn’t going to have that–no way, no how. The outhouse was filthy–little more than a hole in the ground, and on closer inspection, he saw that there wasn’t even anything for him to wipe with. Instead, he hiked over to the road, deciding he might as well drop his pants and do his business over there, and just use some leaves to wipe out in the dark. Unfortunately, he hadn’t expected the land to drop off into the water quite as fast as it did, and Kent tumbled down the slope and right into the murky water below, where he came up sputtering and grasping for earth. He scrambled up onto a sandbar, sopping wet, and looked around for the light of the shack, but there was nothing–just darkness. He couldn’t even tell where he’d fallen in, or where the road was. He shivered, and but there was nothing he could use to warm up, and he hunkered down for a moment to figure out what to do.

As he crouched, he realized just how loud the swamp around him was–but rather than being much of a comfort, he found it was only fueling his imagination. He pulled his phone from his pocket and was relieved when it lit up, allowing him to illuminate a small area around him. He swung it around to the side, looking for the slope up the road, but froze when the blue light illuminated something which quickly slithered out of sight and back into the darkness.

He froze, and after a few moments, his phone light went out, plunging him back into darkness, but now he was listening even more intently than before, for any sign that what he’d seen might be approaching him, swimming towards him. Had he even seen anything? Had he just imagined it? Maybe it was just a shadow, or a branch, or–

“What’s wrong little boy–what’re ya doin’ down here?” a voice said behind him, sounding so close that he was certain something’s claws were about to rip into him. The voice–it wasn’t human. It had an almost serpentine quality to it, and Kent nearly bolted back out into the water, but held himself perfectly still instead. It had to be his imagination. There weren’t really swamp monsters or anything like that, those were just tall tales.

“It’s just my imagination, he whispered to himself, “there aren’t really monsters, I’m just hearing things.”

“Oh trust me, I’m as real as you are, boy,” the voice said again, “Here, let me show ya…”

This time, he did feel the claws on him, grabbing the cloth of his shirt and ripping it off his body. Kent screamed then, and flung himself into the water, but the beast was on him before he could even start paddling, fat scaly arms wrapping their way around him, and he thought it was going to drag him under water. “Oh, don’t worry boy–I’m not ready tah kill ya yet, I like tah play with mah food first…” the voice said, and a hot, slimy tongue scraped its way across Kent’s face, and he felt something firm pressing against his asshole.

“Howie! Dylan! Help!” Kent called out, hoping his friend and the redneck would hear him, and to his surprise, a moment later the beast released his grip, allowing Kent to wriggle away and swim forward, scrambling up the slope which he crested and saw the shack right in front of him. Safe–he was safe. He ran for the door and burst inside, still sopping wet, but stopped short when he saw the scene in the living room.

“Gonna fart boy–ya wanna smell yer daddy’s ass gas?”

“Oh fuck yeah, daddy–give it to me! Give it to me!”

Howie–it was Howie’s voice–almost. That same hiss, and Kent went around the couch just as Dylan ripped off a wet fart right in Howie’s face, the younger gator sighing and shooting his second load of the night all over his new gut, Dylan rubbing his son’s gator cum into his scales, and using it to lubricate his cock as he jacked off, and he looked over at Kent, those gold irises, and he wanted to run, he really did, but he couldn’t move. Paralyzed with fear, he felt an odd warmth in his crotch, and he realized that the piss he’d been holding in had released, forming a small puddle around his feet on the floor.

“Heh, Dylan, what did I tell ya ‘bout bringin’ more guys intah the family?” the voice from the swamp said behind Kent, and if he could have turned around, he would have found himself face to face with Al, Dylan’s older brother, his beard and scales gleaming with swamp water.

“I’m sorry bro–but I was horny, ‘n this boy a mine said I smell like ass.”

“Ya do smell like ass, Dylan.”

“Well I know that! But it was the way he said it, Al–I just thought I’d teach ‘em a lesson is all, ‘n he’s doin’ real good now, ain’t ya son?”

“Oh yeah daddy, give me another fart daddy–they smell so good…”

“See he’s fine,” Dylan said, patting Howie’s belly, “This one though–I figured we’d just eat ‘em. He didn’t want any moonshine–he was afraid it’d make ‘em sick,” Dylan said.

“Ha, well he was right, wasn’t he?” Al said, “putting his clawed hand on Kent’s shoulder. He was still caught up in Dylan’s gaze, but Al turned him around and caught him up in his own, “Still, this one’s smarter than that one–smart enough to be scared,” Al said, sniffing the air, “though doesn’t smell like you could hold it in, eh?”

“Please…please don’t eat me,” Kent managed to stutter out.

“Aww, but you’d be so delicious,” Al said, grinning, “Yer gonna have tah give me some good reason not tah–show ya can be useful…” The hand on Kent’s shoulder pushed him down, and his knees buckled, bringing him face to face with Al’s thick, scaly cock and full balls. He didn’t want to, but what choice did he have? He tentatively took the head of the gatorman’s cock in his mouth, and was caught off guard when Al wrapped a hand around the back of his head and drove it down his throat. Kent tried to pry himself off, but he was no match for the gator’s raw power, and a moment later, he caught the bitter taste of piss as Al released. “Aw yeah, how about we have one son for the front, and one for the back?” Al said to Dylan, and the two gators laughed, as Kent struggled, trying to gag the piss back up. However, from the burn in his gut, he could tell that the piss he was taking in had a good amount of alcohol in it, and the only place that might have come from was…

“Here, this might help him along too,” Dylan said, getting up off Howie’s face, grabbing the jug and sticking his cock in the neck, filling the half empty container back up with his piss. Al pulled his cock out of Kent’s throat, and he doubled over, sick to his stomach.

“Hey boy,” Al said, and Kent looked up at the big gator looming over him, but for some reason, the big gator wasn’t staying still, as his vision kept spinning. “Here, I bet you’re real thirsty, aren’t you? Yeah, this’ll help ya become a big man like me and yer Uncle Dylan, drink up.”

He felt so weak. He knew he shouldn’t drink it, that he should fight back, but when Al helped him up and Dylan put the jug up to his lips, he started drinking anyway, both of the gators giving him plenty of encouragement, telling him how much he loved drinking piss, how much he loved pleasing his family and didn’t want to disappoint them. Soon Kent had drained the jug, his face already starting to reshape, and he licked his lips, before Al shoved his cock back down Kent’s throat, face fucking him while Howie crawled over and resumed licking Dylan’s ass.

“Nah son,” Dylan said, pulling Howie back, “I got somethin’ else fer ya to do. All that hole lickin’ has got me all excited–how about ya fuck daddy’s hole like a real man?” Dylan sat on the couch, his legs up and tail down, giving Howie permission to ram his rock hard cock up his new daddy’s ass. “Aw yeah, that’s it son, how’s it feel tah have yer cock up yer daddy’s hole?”

“Feels…feels great daddy, oh fuck…” Howie moaned, driving his cock in deeper.

“Ha, look at those two go, son–” Al said, but Kent couldn’t see anything beyond the underside of his own daddy’s gut. “Aw yeah, just lookin’ at those two fuck–can’t fuckin’ hold it–” He pulled his cock out of his son’s maw and with a couple of strokes shot his load all over Kent’s face, before getting down and licking it off with his slimy tongue, Kent groaning as his bones shifted and grew, his skin turning scaly and a deep green just like his daddy’s.

“Yeah, that’s it son!” Dylan growled, “Shoot yer fuckin’ load deep in yer daddy’s hole!”

Howie , snorting and grunting, slammed his cock in deeper and deeper, before unleashing his own load up Dylan’s ass. Kent looked at Howie and couldn’t really recognize him anymore–his goofy demeanor was replaced by–this hunger, and licking his lips, Howie got down on his knees and started licking Dylan’s ass, felching his own cum from the loose hole.

“Yeah son, you like watching your big cousin go to town on your uncle like that, don’t you?” Al said, and Kent looked up at his Pa, finding himself enraptured with those gold iris once more.

“No, please…please don’t do this.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fucking weakling–be more like your cousin! In fact, since he’s a few years older than you, I suppose you probably do everything he says. Yeah, you’re gonna be the baby of the family I think–hell, you can’t even control your own piss.” With a groan, Kent felt something shoot out of his cock, and it was so pleasurable he thought it was an orgasm at first, but the stench of urine hit his nostrils a second later, and he realized he’d pissed uncontrollably for the second time that evening. “Oh, what a naughty fuckin’ gator–get down there and clean up your mess, son.”

Humiliated, Kent got down and started lapping up his own piss, but it tasted so good he didn’t really complain. Besides, his Pa was right, he was the baby of the family, not that he minded. It meant he got fucked more than anyone else, and he did love getting fucked…right? Some other voice was telling him to resist, but it was slowly being devoured alive by his new instincts. Family came first, and he needed to obey his family if he wanted to grow up big and strong like Pa, Unc and Howie.

Howie finished cleaning his own Pa’s hole out, and stood up, strutting over to where Kent was on his hands and knees, and started pissing on him, Dylan joining his son a moment later, the two sharing a kiss while the soaked him down. It was too much for Kent, who felt his cock unload again–this time a wad of gator cum into the puddle of piss growing underneath him, which he happily lapped up as well, his head dimming as thinking became more and more difficult. When he sat back a few minutes later, the floor clean, he was just another gator–a bit smaller than chubbier than the rest of his family, and let out a loud, satisfied belch.

“Well boys, that was damn hot, but it’s a bit too late for boy’s like you to be up. Besides, I think you’re daddies need some alone time,” Al said, groping his brother’s ass. “Why don’t the two of you bunk up together in the bedroom tonight? We’re gonna have to expand the house again, dang it.”

Kent and Howie headed into the large bedroom, and before Kent knew what was happening, Howie had him bent over the side of the bed and was shoving his tongue deep into his asshole. He shivered, and couldn’t resist pushing back, eager for his big cousin to fuck him with his big cock. Still, doubts lingered, but he could already tell they would be gone by morning. Besides, he was so happy here, with his family. The swamp was his home–and he never wanted to leave.

Roleplay

Alright, it looks like our little chat conversation from last week was the most popular, so let’s extend it a bit.

***

DukeofDukes: Hey. I saw you were looking to chat.

Daddysboy34: Yeah, hey–what’s up?

DukeofDukes: Not too much. Horny mostly 😉

Daddysboy34: Ha, well that’s my favorite kind of guy. You want to RP?

DukeofDukes: Sure, I guess. What kind of RP?

Daddysboy34: Well, I love chatting up a hot daddy, while acting like a little sexpot boy for him to abuse, if that interests you. How about it, you want to be my daddy for a while?

DukeofDukes: Ha, well, I’ve never tried that before.

Daddysboy34: Oh don’t worry, I bet you’ll be a natural.

DukeofDukes: I’m not really into cam chats.

Daddysboy34: Aww, come on daddy, do it for your boy, he wants to see you while you tell him all the nasty things you’re going to do to him.

DukeofDukes: Well dang, you don’t waste much time. Alright, I suppose.

Daddysboy34: Hmm, not bad, not bad. How old are you?

DukeofDukes: 28.

I know, not much of a daddy.

Daddysboy34: Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, I can help there. How about we make that 58?

DukeofDukes: You do like them older, eh?

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah, and hairy, with a big beard…yeah, you’re looking hotter already daddy.

DukeofDukes: What do you mean?

Daddysboy34: Oh shoot, I forgot I kept on the reality adjustment–hold on…

DukeofDukes: Oh holy shit, what did you do? I have a fucking beard, and I’m furry as fuck!

Daddysboy34: You mean sexy as fuck. Now, how about we grow you a bit? I like my daddies to have nice, healthy guts on them.

Yeah, look at that thing, ballooning up, you’re going to be a big one, I think 350, but I want that gut tight, like a fucking beach ball.

Shit, that shirt just ripped right off you! That was so damn hot, and look at all that fur, so damn sexy.

DukeofDukes: Fuck, how are you doing this? Fucking change me back, boy!

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah, call me boy, that’s so hot.

DukeofDukes: I’m fucking serious, boy.

Why the fuck do I keep writing that? Are you messing with my head too? How in the hell are you doing this? If you don’t change me back boy, you’re gonna regret it.

Daddysboy34: Oh, I’m not finished with you yet. Why don’t you lean back, take some deep drags off that big cigar of yours, and rub your hairy belly for me? Show off what a fine piece of daddy meat you are?

And I hate that fucking screen name–what the fuck is that even, yeah, BearmanXXXL is so much hotter.

Yeah, now go on, stroke that cock for me, twiddle those fat, sensitive nips. I love how you’re groaning, that’s so damn hot–I’m getting close daddy. Now tell me what you want to do to your naughty boy.

BearmanXXXL: I fucking want you to change me back, boy! Fucking change me back, or I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna fuck you so hard

No, I’m done, I’m not playing this game anymore.

Daddysboy34: If you close this window, then you won’t like what I do next, daddy. Now talk dirty to me, tell me what you want to do to me.

Come on daddy, I know you want to…

BearmanXXXL: I’d fucking find you, boy, and I’d fucking kill you.

Daddysboy34: I’m not into snuff daddy, be serious. Now, I’m just going to keep changing you until you get me off. Now, I’ve always been fond of dirty guys, myself. Guys who don’t feel a need to shower, or use deodorant…

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Don’t you fucking dare, boy.

Wait, DirtyDaddyXXL? What the fuck?

No, come on, I’m not…why the fuck

Daddysboy34: Yeah, you like how those pits smell now, don’t you? Nice and ripe? Bet there’s something else a dirty guy like you loves doing. Go get a glass, daddy, a nice big one, and keep smelling those stinky pits of yours.

Got it? Oh yeah, that’s real nice. Now piss in it. Stand up, so I can see you do it.

Yeah, that’s good, look at all that fucking daddy piss. If I was there, I’d drink it all down for you, but since you’re all alone, I guess you’re going to have to drink it. Go on daddy, drink it all down, but enjoy it, you love drinking piss as much as you love smoking those big cigars of yours.

Halfway there, you’re doing great daddy, and look at how hard that cock of yours is. What a piss thirsty daddy I’ve got on my hands.

Go ahead and pour the rest of that piss all over your fat belly, feel it run down through your fur, yeah, that’s it.

How was it daddy, was that hot? It sure looked like you were enjoying that.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: I’m serious now, please, I’m begging you, just change me back.

Daddysboy34: But you’re the one who’s been having all the fun daddy! I think it’s time you help your boy get off a bit. Who knows, if you do a good enough job, I might change you back…

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Please boy, I don’t want to do this anymore.

Daddysboy34: Do you want me to change you some more? Because I’m good with that too.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: No, look…alright. I’ll play, boy.

Daddysboy34: That’s a good daddy. Now, you have this sexy boy all to yourself, what do you want to do a naughty boy like me?

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Well, the first thing I’d fuckin’ do boy is haul you over my fuckin’ knee and give you a fuckin’ spanking.

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah daddy, I bet you’d pummel my ass.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Damn right, I’d get it good and fucking red, you’d be fuckin’ begging me to stop, boy.

Daddysboy34: Oh fuck daddy, it fuckin’ hurts, but my boy cock is so damn hard…

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Yeah boy, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?

Daddysboy34: You are! You’re my daddy, my filthy fucking daddy.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Oh, you like my fithy body? Well how about I make you clean it? You can fucking lick out these pits, and my crusty ass crack.

Daddysboy34: Eww, that’s fucking gross, I wouldn’t do that.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: Hell yeah you would boy, you’d clean your daddy and you’d fucking like it.

Daddysboy34: No, here’s how it would fucking work, you fucker. You would be the one cleaning me. You’d lay me down on the bed, and you’d clean out my pits, and fucking suck on my toes, and then you’d beg me to let you lick my ass clean. Go on, fucking beg.

DirtyDaddyXXXL: I’m not going to beg for that, that’s disgusting.

Daddysboy34: Fine, then I guess you can start with yours.

DaddyRimmerXXXL: No, come on, please don’t change me any more.

Daddysboy34: Yeah, you’re a real filthy daddy now, with that long, grungy beard. I bet you haven’t showered in fucking months. Looks like that cigar of yours is done, go ahead and get a new one, and shove it up that dirty hole of yours, all the fucking way, and leave it up there for a while.

Yeah, that’s it, twist those inch long nipples, lick those dirty lips of yours, thinking about how good that shitty cigar is going to taste in a bit, but first, go get one of those filthy, muddy boots of yours from that construction site where you work.

That’s good, now lick it, lick it clean–fucking relish it.

Let me see that tongue, get all that mud and grit off them, yeah, I bet that tastes real good. That’s what daddy’s tongues are for, cleaning all the filth their boys tell them to.

Alright, enough of that, now get that cigar out. Yeah, look at that, got a nice coating on that. Now smoke it.

That taste good? You like smoking the scum from your nasty hole? How do you feel about my ass now?

DaddyRimmerXXXL: Oh fuck boy, I hope it’s so damn dirty…

No, I mean, fuck. I don’t want this, this is so fucking wrong.

Daddysboy34: You do want it, you want it so bad.

Go on, my butt is in your nasty face, what do you want daddy…

DaddyRimmerXXXL: Fuck, I’d clean that nasty crack boy, I’d lick it clean, can you fuckin’ feel my bread scraping across it? My fuckin’ tongue buried up your hole?

Daddysboy34: Oh yeah daddy, it feels so damn hot, feeling you worship my boybutt.

DaddyRimmerXXXL: Oh yeah boy, I love boybutts so much, can I fuck it boy? Can I fuck your nasty hole?

Daddysboy34: Oh no, I don’t think so. You haven’t been the most cooperative daddy this evening. I don’t think you’ve earned the right to fuck my boy hole.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Oh please boy, please fuck my hole?

Wait, what did I just write, of no, please, not that.

Daddysboy34: You want me to fuck your hole, daddy?

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Oh please, come on, I’m begging you.

Daddysboy34: All right, I guess you can fuck yourself with that big dildo there. Go on, shove it up that hungry hole of yours.

Oh fuck yeah, daddy, look at you moan, bet you wish that was my cock, don’t you? Too bad that two inch cock of yours can’t get hard anymore…oh yeah, that would be hot too…

How about that? Now that cock of yours is locked up nice and tight. No cumming for you until I want you to. Oh yeah, I’m getting real close daddy, watch your boy cum, and imagine how hot it would be taking it up that hole of yours!

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Fuck boy, that was huge fuckin’ load, wish I could have gotten it.

Daddysboy34: I bet you do. Now I gotta get going, I’m late for dinner with my boyfriend.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: Wait, what? You can’t just leave me like this, come on. Change me back!

Daddysboy34: But then how will I have more hot RP sessions with you, my filthy daddy pig? No, you stay there and fuck yourself on that big dildo, and think about how you’ve been a naughty daddy, until I come back.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: No, wait, come back, please.

FilthyOldBtmXXXL: No, boy, please…please don’t do this to me. Please!