Tag: raunch

The Family Farm

I’ve gotten many requests to expand this photo caption from several months ago, so I figured it might be a good way to get these Fridays started.

WARNING: Contains graphic depictions of incest, raunch and incontinence and scat. Don’t like it? Don’t fucking read it, and if you do read it, please don’t be a whiny bitch.

***

Grumbling a bit, Peter stepped out of the shower and towelled off, wishing he could just get his son and get going. He hated staying here, out on the family farm with his big brother–Louie. Well, that wasn’t entirely true–he didn’t mind the farm too much, it was really Louie he couldn’t stand. He didn’t know what had happened to make the two of them grow up so differently, they’d both had the normal suburban childhood, but something had made Louie fall in love with the country, and convinced him to move out and stay with their great uncle on the farm when Peter went off to college, and farm life had made his brother unrecognizable. Still, to each his own Peter supposed.

Peter had come out to the farm in late august to pick up his son, Sam, who had spent the summer here, living with his uncle. He was going through a bit of a rough patch, getting into trouble with alcohol and drugs, doing poorly at his first year of college. Peter had made a summer at Uncle Louie’s farm a requirement, if Sam wanted Peter to keep paying the tuition bills, and he’d hoped a summer of hard labor away from the city would help set his son back on the straight and narrow. Still, things hadn’t gone all that smoothly since he’d arrived a few hours ago. Hell, he hadn’t even seen his son yet–Louie and he had been on their way to the barn where he was working, when Louie had stumbled into Peter, knocking him over into a massive mud puddle. Louie had insisted that they head back to the house, get Peter’s clothes off him so they could go in the wash, let him shower, and he could wear something else in the meantime.

Peter hung up the towel, thankful that at least the house had been updated a bit from his memory. Running water was a nice change–he’d always hated having to get it from the well out back when he visited as a kid. He went into the bedroom and saw that Louie had already picked up all of his clothes to be washed–including his underwear–and left a set of his own, a flannel shirt, a pair of overalls, and some rubber boots–nothing else.

Peter rolled his eyes, and figured his brother must have forgotten what more civilized people wore. Still, it wasn’t like he needed to keep himself up for anyone, living out here all alone. If anything, he’d gone even more hick than when Peter had last seen him years ago. Louie was a big man–several inches over six feet tall, and thick, that mix of fat and muscle Peter only saw on powerlifters and farmhands with an appetite. He was hairy as fuck too, and Peter had no idea where he’d gotten it. Neither Peter nor their father could grow a beard to save their lives, but Louie’s was down to his chest, and very full and wiry. Still, Peter figured he didn’t have much choice, and so he pulled on the clothes Louie had laid out, finding them way too big for his slender frame, but thankful that they were at least clean, and headed downstairs, to find his brother out on the porch, drinking some strong smelling alcohol from a mason jar.

“There ya are, nice and clean,” Louie said, smiling, “Again, sorry ‘bout pushin’ ya earlier, I musta tripped over mah own feet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said, “So, is Sam back yet?”

“Nah, I guess he’s still dungin’ out the barn, though he’s probably almost done. Why don’t we head over there again? I promise not tah fall intah ya this time.”

Peter nodded, and the two of them set off again, making it to the barn without incident, and stepped inside. It stank–bad, and Peter did his best not to breathe through his nose, but Louie stepped up next to him, took in a deep breath and sighed, “Damn I love the smell of a barn, don’t you, little bro? Go on, take it in, ain’t nothin’ like it.”

Peter wasn’t about to do that, but surprised himself when he took a deep inhale, nearly gagging when he did, Louie pounding him on the back when he doubled over.

“Aw, don’t sweat it–you’ll get used tah it, trust me. Come on, Sam oughta be over here.” Peter followed his big brother past the various stalls and the animals there, until they came to one, and Peter initially thought it was a pig, naked on all fours, it’s head stuffed in a trough. “Here he is, Sam sure does love life on the farm–in fact, I don’t think he wants tah leave, do ya Sam?”

The pig looked up at the sound of the Louie saying his name, and Peter’s jaw dropped–it wasn’t a pig at all–it was his son. His son was naked, on his hands and knees in the barn stall, face covered with slop, his body covered with filth, and with an approving snort towards Louie, Sam went back to cleaning out his trough. Peter saw that his son was no longer slender like his father–but fat. Just…fat, well over 500 pounds, his belly actually brushing the straw on the ground. It was disgusting, and he looked over at Louie, only to find his brother lustily staring at his fat, filthy nephew, massaging his cock through his overalls.

“What the fuck Louie? What the fuck did you do to him?” Peter said, fear and anger shaking his body.

“Well, ya told me Sam was having trouble at home and school, so I took care of it,” Louie said, walking over and patting Sam on the back, “I gave him a new home here, with his uncle out in the barn, and he’s too stupid for school now, so no worries there. Trust me, he’s gonna be real happy here, and I have a good feeling that yer gonna be happy here too.” Peter didn’t know what Louie meant by that, but he wasn’t about to find out. He backed up a few steps, shaking his head, but Louie said, “Stop moving,” and Peter’s feet rooted to the ground where he stood.

“What…what the fuck?” Peter said, trying to move.

“You can fight all you want, it won’t work. Goodness, I sure fought it when Great Uncle Mick dressed me up in them, and Sam fought it too, trust me, but we all give in eventually. You’ll love it soon enough, bro, just trust me,” Louie said, walking over, standing close enough for Peter to smell his filthy musk, “Now kiss me bro, while that fat pig boy a yers finishes his dinner.”

Peter couldn’t fight it, and he kissed his brother, his stomach churning in disgust as it happened, keeping his eyes closed, but he could still feel Louie’s beard scraping across his face, his hard cock grinding against his own, hear Sam devouring his slop and licking the metal clean. Louie pulled away after a couple of minutes when he heard Sam finish up, and walked back over to the pig. “Please Louie, please don’t do this.”

“Oh fuck you, Peter–you’ve had this coming, thinkin’ yer so high ‘n mighty. But we belong on the farm man, this is where the family oughta be. Ya gotta let loose, give up some control. Yer way too high strung. Here, git over here ‘n fuck this pig’s ass–that’ll loosen ya up–he’s got a great hole this one, nice ‘n tight,” Louie said, and slapped Sam’s ass cheek, the pig giving a grunt of approval.

“No, no I’m not going to do this, I’m not…”

Peter took a few steps forward, his hand reaching down and unzipping the fly of his overalls.

“I’m not going to fuck my son, God damn it Louie! Louie, fucking quit it!”

His cock was hard, why in the fuck was his cock hard…and…and dripping?

“Please, please Louie, don’t make me, don’t do this…come on!”

He was there now, he could smell his son’s filthy body, see the shit caked in his ass crack. He spread the cheeks apart, his cock so damn hard, and started working it into Sam’s asshole.

“Louie! Louie, please! Don’t do this, this is so fucking wrong!”

He was fucking his son. He was fucking his fat son’s hole, driving his cock in, and it felt…so damn good. It was tight, tighter than his wife’s pussy, so damn tight.

“Yeah, that’s it little bro,” Louie said, his own cock out of his overalls, “It feels good fucking yer boy, don’t it? Yer big fat piggy son? Yer damn proud a him, ain’t ya? Isn’t he a good lookin’ pig? Ain’t his ass nice and tight, like ya want?”

Peter shuddered, listening to his big brother’s words. His mouth was so dry, he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t fight it, it felt so good.

“Ya’ve always wanted this, just let go, quit holdin’ it in, relax. Just relax, and let it all out. Trust me Peter, it’ll feel so good to just relax…”

Peter gave another shudder, and it felt like the only thing in his body with any stiffness was his cock, and then he felt it. He felt himself shit right into the back of the overalls, and then he smelled it. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I didn’t, oh fuck…”

Louie could smell it, and the grin on his face scared Peter to death, as his brother reached around and felt the load of shit in the seat of his brother’s overalls. “Oh yeah, that’s the ticket–I didn’t know ya were intah the real nasty shit bro,” Louie said, “Yer a man after mah own heart.” He leaned in and started kissing his brother, kneading the shit around in the back of Peter’s overalls as he fucked his fat son. “Yeah, now cum bro, blow that load up yer son’s filthy hole.”

Peter let out a loud groan as he came, filling his son’s ass, disgusted with himself, and yet…it was turning him on. He tried to fight it, but the clothes were too strong. They were changing him–Louie was changing him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Damn bro, that was so fuckin’ hot–get down there ‘n suck off yer big brother. I have a feelin’ the three of us are gonna be one big happy family from now on.”

It was hours later when Louie and Peter tromped back to the house. It was already past dusk, and they could barely see where they were going in the near dark. Peter stumbled inside after Louie, humiliated, disgusted with himself, and yet hornier than ever. He’d lost track of how many times Louie had made him cum–with his face buried in Sam’s filthy ass crack, with Louie’s cock crammed up his own shitty hole, while he was wallowing in Louie’s piss after he’d set his own uncontrollably, and he wanted more, oh fuck if he didn’t want more of everything. Still, he was hungry more than anything, but Louie wouldn’t feed him until he’d made the call.

He walked over to the phone and dialed his home number.

“Hello?“

“Hey Trish.”

“Oh hey Peter, what’s up? Why aren’t you home yet?”

“Well, Sam’s really enjoying himself here, actually. It’s been a real change for the better.”

“Really? Oh thank god, that’s great.”

“Yeah, he actually wants to stay for another…another week. And I forgot how peaceful it is out here, so I’m gonna stay here with him.”

“Oh, well alright. Tell Louie I said hi.”

“I will…Love…Love you…”

“I love you too.”

“Bye…” Peter said, and hung up the phone, licking his lips. Louie was already naked, sitting on the homemade rim seat, and Peter got down and crawled underneath, licking at his brother’s hole, his stomach growling, wishing he hadn’t had to tell those two lies. Truth was, he didn’t think he and Sam would be staying for just another week–he had a feeling it was going to be a much longer stay than that. And he also didn’t really love his wife, not any more, not like he loved his family. Family was the most important. Family was where he and his son really belonged.

The Book of Spirits

Commissioned by Scot158

***WARNING***

Contains raunch, watersports, scat, monster TF and castration. Grow some balls and enjoy it. 


“…larazelius moralian trabio–no…tradionominus…”

Marcus paused and looked up from the book, feeling his cheeks heat up, and looked around to make sure no one was watching him, even though he knew he was alone in the apartment. This was silly, so fucking silly, reading from a goddamn book of spells in a language he could barely read–let alone pronounce–and he actually expected it to work? Hell, spells weren’t even real, but what was the problem with trying? He ran a hand along his bare cheek, wondering what it would be like to have hair there, and bent back over the book. There were only a couple of lines left, and then he could be disappointed, and never think about it again.

“…trandinominus dominita rowantine gran–grandicone folicius foralion.”

That was it, the incantation was finished, and he had butchered it, but it was done. Maybe he should try again, and try to get it tight this time. Hell, he would probably never actually get it right–what sort of language was this anyway? He ran his hand against his cheek again and froze. It was scratchy–he could feel stubble. In a flurry, he grabbed up the book he’d bought from the thrift shop and rushed into the bathroom down the hall, flicking on the light and staring at himself in the mirror.

It was stubble–actual stubble. Thick too, way thicker than the peach fuzz he was used to growing. He ran his hand across it again, marveling at the sensation. Twenty-six, and Marcus had never once managed to grow anything resembling facial hair–he’d always wondered what it might be like. When he’d seen that spell in the book, well, he’d never imagined that it would actually work, but he could see the hairs lengthening and thickening right before his eyes, and less than a minute later, he could barely see his cheeks or chin. He had a beard–a real beard like he’d always imagined, and he ran his fingers through it, and realized the growth wasn’t stopping. Frozen in awe, he watched as the beard went from short and trimmed to wild and bushy, before the force of gravity became too much and dragged it down to the top of his chest.

“Fuck…fuck fuck fuck,” Marcus said under his breath. What if it didn’t stop? What if…what if it just kept going forever? He must have messed up one of the words, he must have messed up the entire spell! His eyes glued to the mirror, he thought that maybe the beard was slowing, but he couldn’t be sure. He dug around in the drawers of the bathroom, looking for the scissors he kept there. constantly shoving the expanding beard out of his way so he could keep looking, and there they were. He bundled up the beard in one hand and with the other started hacking at it with the scissors, when he heard a scream of pain–both in his ears, and in his head.

“Hey, that fucking hurts, asshole! What the hell are you doing?” Marcus paused, and looked around for the source of his voice, but he was all alone…wasn’t he? He made to close the scissors on his beard again, but before he could the voice piped up again, “Don’t even fucking think about it, or I’ll make this beard grow so fast you’ll be lost in a pile of hair for the rest of your life.”

Marcus wasn’t listening, though. In the mirror, he’d finally figured out where the voice was coming from. It was the beard. His beard. It was talking. He could see a vague face outlined in the hair there, and when it spoke, the hair moved of its own accord. The beard was alive–how was that even possible? His hand shaking, Marcus dropped the scissors to the bathroom floor.

“That’s better,” the beard said, “Now, shall we introduce ourselves? You can just call me Hairy, if you’d like–it’s easier than my real name.”

“No, no this can’t be happening. I have to…I have to reverse this…” Marcus said, grabbed the book and started flinging through the pages, looking for a counter spell.

“Whoa now, calm down man, it’s alright…Look, you don’t have to do that, don’t send me back, come on…”

Marcus found the spell and he started reading it, enunciating the words as best he could, trying to ignore his still speaking beard.

“No, please. I haven’t been out in years! No, I’m not going back in yet–just stop. Stop the damn spell man, or…fine, we’ll do it the hard way.”

As Marcus kept trying to say the spell, he found the beard twisting his mouth, forcing new sounds out which hardly resembled the spell in the book, but he kept trying. This, whatever this thing was, it had to go, he had to get rid of it. He didn’t notice the tingle creeping all over him for about a minute, when he finally reached what should have been the end of the spell, but he knew it hadn’t worked. But then…what spell had this crazy beard made him say?

He was itchy–so god damn itchy, and looking down, he felt all the color drain from his face. His body–it was hairy. He’d never been hairy, his body had always been as smooth as his face. Hell, he’d never even had much in the way of pubes, but he could see a thick coating up and down his arms now, and it was only getting worse. “No–no this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening…”

“Oh damn that feels good,” the beard said, “Get ready to be one furry mouthfucker man–I can’t believe how long you kept that spell up.”

The itch felt like he was burning now, and he stripped out of his clothes, scraping at his hairy body with his nails for any relief, but there was none. The hair just kept coming, so thick that he couldn’t even see his skin anymore, the beard creeping higher up his cheeks–almost to his eyes. He had a pelt, a fucking layer of fur all over him now. He looked like big foot, he looked like a fucking animal. “What in the hell did you do to me? Why…what is this?”

“Look, just calm down, alright, and let me explain,” the beard said, “Did you even bother reading the books introduction?”

Introduction? No, Marcus had just skipped right to the spell. It shouldn’t have even worked at all! Who in the hell believed in magic anyway? Those were the thoughts running through his head at least, but all he could manage to get out was a quiet “No…”

The beard sighed. “Look, it’s called the book of spirits for a reason, dumbass. The book is full of beings like us. We’re kept locked up until a spell releases us to change something about the caster, or whoever he’s targeting. I’m called Hairy, because–well, it should be pretty obvious what I do. There’s others in there as well. Look, I haven’t been out in a long time, alright? I’m sorry for giving you all this hair, but I…I can’t go back in between the pages yet, I just can’t.”

“This is crazy–I’m going crazy,” Marcus said. The itching had died away, and he was busy stroking the fur, trying to figure out what could cause him to hallucinate like this.

“Ha, crazy? Try living in a book for a few millennia, and then you’ll see what it’s like to be crazy,” Hairy said, “Look, just a couple of days, alright? That’s all I need, and then I’ll go back in the book, and you’ll be as hairy as you want to be–no more, no less…how does that sound?”

A beard. His beard was talking to him. The beard that was really a spirit, a spirit that had given him a massive beard and this disgustingly hairy body, and he was supposed to deal with this thing? “No, I can’t. Change me back, and then get the hell out of my body.”

“Come on man, please?”

“Fuck no–this is crazy–I just want my old self back, alright? Now change me back, and get the fuck out!”

“Well I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”

As much as Marcus didn’t want to admit it–it was true. He couldn’t make the spirit go back, but he also couldn’t walk around as this hairy monstrosity for a few days, with a talking beard. “Look…I’m…I’m sorry, alright?” Marcus said, deciding he might as well try to be friends, since he might be stuck with this guy for a while. “I just got, well, a bit scared.”

“No kidding,” Hairy said, the beard rustling in laughter, “Still, I gotta say it looks good on you. I love a furry beast, the furrier the better. Man, the last guy who let me out–what, ten years ago? He just wanted a little moustache–boring as fuck! This is way more interesting.”

“Ten years? I thought you said you were in there for millennia!”

“Ha, not me, thankfully–I get out fairly regularly. Still, some of the guys in there–dang, they haven’t seen the light of day in a long while.”

Marcus looked at the leather bound book and frowned, trying to imagine what it must be like. “I’d probably go crazy.”

“Yeah, well so do they–trust me. Now–how about we go out for a bit, get some fresh air? I want to see what’s changed since last time I was out. Is that Kennedy guy still president?”

“Kennedy? That was…like, sixty years ago. You aren’t very good with time, are you?”

“Eh, what’s a few years here or there?” Hairy said, “Come on, let’s go!”

“I can’t go out looking like this–besides, Colby will be home…oh crap,” Marcus said, realizing that Colby, his roommate, was due home any second. “Look, can you…can you make me look normal for a bit? Colby will be home any second, and…well, he’s easily surprised.”

“I can do that,” Hairy said, but then paused, “Hey…wait, this is just a trick to get me back in the book isn’t it?”

“What?” Marcus said, “No! I look like a freak, come on–quick!”

“No, I like you like this, so this is how you’re staying.”

Marcus scowled, but didn’t have time to work out a retort. Colby had come home sometime during the conversation, turned the corner and saw the hairy brute in the bathroom and screamed. “What in the fuck–oh my fucking Christ!”

Colby was frozen in place, and Marcus didn’t know how this could get worse, when his beard spoke, “Oh, is that Colby? He’d look good with a beard too. How about it?”

Colby went as white as a sheet.

“Shit,” Marcus said, “Colby–I can explain!”

His roommate, however, had already taken off into the kitchen, and when Marcus rounded the corner, Colby brandished a knife at him. “What the–what the fuck are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”

“Colby, it’s me, Marcus–just calm down for a second–”

“Get the fuck away from me!” Colby shouted, and fumbled his phone from his pocket, apparently to call the police, and Marcus knew he had to fix this somehow. He turned around and ran back into the bathroom and grabbed the book of spirits and then back to the kitchen, flipping through the pages for the immobilization spell he’d seen earlier. He opened it to the page and started reading the spell, and he heard, and felt, Hairy start to protest, the beard squirming back and forth, but he wasn’t going to be deterred this time by a bunch of sentient facial hair. He had to keep Colby from calling the police, or else he’d probably be stuck like this forever, and in a jail cell, looking like the hairiest freak on the planet. He finished the spell, directed it towards Colby, and saw him drop the phone suddenly and bend over, clutching his stomach.

“Oh god, what have you done?” Hairy said, and Marcus realized that he wasn’t sure what he’d done. The spell was supposed to immobilize him, right, so then why was Colby still moving? And…and growing? He was growing, and getting fatter, but that didn’t make any sense at all.

“I thought…I thought it was an immobilization spell–what’s happening to him?”

“You fucking idiot,” Hairy said, “It sure as hell will make him immobile–now quick, find the dismissal spell, or else you aren’t going to like who comes out.”

“I can’t…I don’t…” Marcus said, trying to take all of this in. His friend was still filling up the kitchen–already he had a massive gut. He kept trying to bend over and grab his phone, but his belly kept getting in his way, and he tumbled over onto his face, before rolling over onto his back and trying to stand again, but the fat seemed to be piling up on top of him and forcing him to stay down. Marcus was just captivated by the sight of his struggles, until he felt Hairy yank down on his beard, pulling his attention back.

“Did you fucking hear me? Find the spell!”

“No, you tell me what is going on here. What’s happening to him?”

“Look at the spell again, and maybe read past the title this time.”

Marcus found the book on the ground and read the spell, and saw what he’d missed. It was definitely an immobility spell, but not like he’d thought. It was designed to make the target so fat he’d never be able to move himself again. “Oh…fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck, but that’s not the real problem, the problem is who’s going to be coming out, now that you’ve cast the spell. He’s busy changing your friend at the moment, but that won’t last long at this rate–fuck he’s powerful. There was a time he’d need a week to pull something like this off.”

“Who? Who are you talking about?”

“Just shut up and listen for a moment, alright? Look, every spell has a spirit in the book who makes it happen, right? That’s why I came out when you cast the beard spell. Well, some spells aren’t cast nearly as often as others. I mean, some of us get out once a year or so, usually Muscles, and a few others. I usually come out a few times every century. However, some of us haven’t been out in a very, very long time. And the longer we stay in, the stronger we get, and well, the crazier we get too. And that spell, well, that spell happens to be controlled by someone I’d call Filthy, and I have a feeling he is both incredibly powerful, and incredibly insane–so hurry the fuck up and find the spell to dismiss him, or we’re gonna be really fucked.”

Marcus looked over and saw that where Colby was, there was little more than a giant heap of fat attached to a screaming head pushed up against the counter, the fat overflowing now and knocking over furniture. How heavy was he now? He must be well over five or six hundred–could he be a thousand already? Heavier? How heavy did someone have to be to be unable to move? Another yank on his beard, and Marcus grabbed up the book, thumbing through for the dismissal spell, but he was having a hard time finding it. He was close when he heard a new voice, a deep rumbling laugh, and looking over, he saw that in the folds of Colby’s massively fat body a face had manifested–and it didn’t look particularly friendly. “Well Hairy, what do you think? Sure is nice being out after all these years.”

“Ha, yeah…no kidding,” Hairy said, while Marcus kept looking, “How long has it been, Filthy? A millenium?”

“Ha, no…try four millennia. Four millennia, seven centuries, eight decades, three years, five months and twenty-six days, as the calendar goes at the moment.”

“Wow…that’s…that’s a long time.”

“No kidding,” Filthy said, the folds curling up into a wicked smile.

“Marcus? Marcus, are you there? What’s going on? Why…why did I get so fat, and what’s this…this voice in my head, Marcus…It’s so loud…so…so dirty…”

“Hold on Colby, I’m trying to fix this,” Marcus said, but Filthy laughed.

“Oh, the dismissal spell? But I’ve only just come out! Don’t you think we ought to play for a bit before I go away again?” Filthy said, and before Marcus could react, the folds of Colby’s fat that formed Filthy’s mouth parted, and a long, slimy tongue whipped out, wrapped itself around the Book of Spirits and Filthy swallowed it whole.

Marcus just stared at the grinning face, and he felt Hairy say, “Well fuck.”

“So what now?” Marcus said.

“Well, I’d suggest running, to be honest.”

“Marcus, no, you have to help me, help…” Colby said, and Filthy laughed.

“My goodness, so much knowledge in here, so many spells, so many spirits…You know Hairy, I think you need to go away for a bit,” Filthy said, and quickly rambled off a spell. Marcus felt the spirit being hauled out of his hair and drawn back into Filthy’s gullet, and into the book which now resided there, leaving Marcus all alone, and faced with a massive problem.

“Marcus? Marcus, where are you? What is this thing? What’s going on?” Colby was saying, wheezing a bit. His body was so massive, and he fallen at such an angle, that he couldn’t see much besides his fat chest and the floor. He was so tired all of a sudden–just lifting up his head was a massive effort, and the voices, all of the voices in his head. The loudest one, the nastiest one though, it kept…telling him to do things, to enjoy it, to revel in being this fat, to imagine himself filthy, to imagine himself shitting and pissing himself, to imagine himself unshowered for years. The voice was terrifying, and he couldn’t get away from it.

Marcus skirted around his friend’s massive frame towards his face, “Don’t worry Colby, I’ll figure out…something.”

Filthy laughed, “Ha, fat chance, unless you managed to memorize that dismissal spell, you’re stuck with me until I’m good and done with this world, which I don’t think will be for quite a while. Still though, you’re a bit of a bother–why don’t I find someone else to keep you company while Colby and I have some fun together?”

“Now hold on, isn’t there some way we can work this out? Look, I didn’t mean to summon you, I just didn’t want Colby to call the cops or something.”

“Well maybe I should have!” Colby shouted, “Look at what you fucking did to me.”

“Well I damn well didn’t mean to.”

“This is touching, really, but I don’t understand how reminding me of the fact that you were going to leave me trapped in that book for the rest of eternity can be a good way of starting a discussion,” Filthy said.

“Look, I just mean, that maybe we can work something out where we’re all happy, alright?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. See, I know I can convince Colby here to see things my way, and that just leaves the question of what to do with you. Now, I think that with all that fur of yours, you’d make quite a lovely little pet, don’t you agree Colby?” Filthy said.

“What?” Colby said his voice weak, the voice growing louder in his head, “I don’t…I mean, sure–so…so loud…”

“Colby, come on man, you have to fight it,” Marcus said, but Colby didn’t answer. He was losing this fight, and should probably bail, but before he could turn and run, he heard Filthy spew another spell in his direction, but unlike before where he’d barely felt anything as Hairy entered him after the spell, this one hit him physically like a train, an invisible force plowing into him, hurling him to the floor and sending him flying across the room into the wall.

“Have fun Beast. Now Colby, why don’t we continue our little talk? I have so much to tell you.”

“Beast? What?” Marcus said, picking himself up off the ground slowly. He could feel something inside him, something rampaging around in his veins, the heat building in his body, and he was panting and huffing. He lumbered over into the bathroom, every step strange and looked at himself in the mirror. Difficult as it was to make it out through his hair, he was changing again, and it wasn’t going to be pretty, he could tell. His nose…it was flattening, looking almost ape like, and when he opened his mouth to gasp, he saw that his teeth had sharpened into carnivorous fangs. He looked down at his hands, seeing his fingers pull in, shortening as his nails grew dark, sharp and vicious, the palms becoming tough pads.

“No…No no no,” Marcus said, even that simplest of words mangled by his new mouth, but the rampage was only just starting, he could feel the heat growing fiercer, the flood racing to every inch of his body, burrowing into his marrow, and the pain, it started as an ache and erupted into flaming bones, Marcus letting out a roar as his frame grew, packing on pound after pound of brutal muscle, his shoulders hunching over as his arms lengthened, his hands settling down on the ground. Even with his new posture, he still managed to outgrow the bathroom, and he squeezed out, cracking open the door frame as he shoved his way through. If he could stand upright, he’d have been over twelve feet tall, but in his new position on all fours, he merely crested nine, and was so wide he’d never be able to navigate this apartment, but strength and power and fury and anger and so much more rushed through him at frantic paces.

Marcus did his best to steel himself for the spirit’s assault, but it was not the kind of assault he’d expected. Beastly did not have a mind, or a voice. It had instinct, it had rage, it had greed. It appealed to every one of Marcus’ own worst instincts. Lust–he shifted his balance to three paws, one hand crudely gripping his shaft as it emerged from the sheath running up his belly and began stroking, a call somewhere between an ape and a cur coming from his mouth. Wrath–the claws raking their way across his tender shaft, the sensation new and thrilling and pleasing in ways he could have never imagined. Pride–he saw himself in the mirror, his narrow eyes, teeth bared, the power he held now, he was strong, he was alpha, he was a dominator, he would rule those beneath him. He snarled as he came, his foul, rich seed soaking the carpet in a swath before him, his musk, his territory, his right, his rule.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Colby was still trying to process what had happened to him. The events of the last few minutes had happened so rapidly that he still had a hard time believing that all of this was real. In fact, there was no way this could be real–just no way. He was probably just asleep somewhere, and he’d wake up, and he wouldn’t be this massive blob of fat, and Marcus would be normal, and none of this would have ever happened.

“You can keep telling yourself that, but it’s never going to be true,” Filthy said, and Colby whimpered, still not used to the fact that the spirit inside him could read his thoughts. “You know Colby, there’s really no reason for you to fight me here, if you simply cooperated, we could have so much fun together. Frankly, the way you keep fighting me, it’s starting to annoy me.”

“No, this is crazy. Get out of my body–get out of my head, just get out!”

“Aww, but I like it in here so much! Still, I must say that we need to make a few more changes here, now so I can feel a bit more at home–how does that sound?”

A stench–something stank, like a locker room, or a toilet, or an outhouse, or something equally ripe and horrid, and after a moment of gasping for breath, Colby realized it was him. He managed to shift himself up a bit, using all of his little remaining strength, and he could see that his entire body was coated in filth, a thick layer of sweat, mud, grime and who knew what else. He wanted to vomit, and yet…something about it…Was his cock hard?

“Yes…yes it is,” Filthy said, “I think you like being dirtier than you let on.”

“No, no you’re messing with my head.”

“Aww, just a little, but come on, admit it–you like it. It’s getting you so horny, that stench of yours, that filth.”

Colby let out a groan, and with a great effort, he found he could rock his body back and forth, the folds of nasty fat rubbing his cock and making him shiver with lust. Filthy was helping too, tightening the folds to make it even more pleasurable, and Colby took in a deep sniff of his own stench, thrilled by it.

“Think about it, Colby–between you and me, we could rule this world. You could be a king of kings, imagine all the world coming to worship you, serve you and your filthy, fat body–doesn’t that just thrill you? Doesn’t that make you happier than anything?”

Colby knew he should say no, but it was tempting–oh, so tempting. And it felt so good, thrusting his cock into his fat, the precum leaking all over his gunt, the copious amounts actually puddling under his fat ass. It was this scene that Marcus found when he came around the corner, snarling. An intruder, Marcus thought, imagining all the cruelties he could inflict upon him, all of the depravities. The beast in him hadn’t robbed away his intellect, it had honed it on the whetstone of instinct. Everything was so clear, so simple. Dominate, or be dominated, and he would rule, he would, he could feel it pulsing in his heart now, resting there, the beast at his core. How could he have been scared of this? He had been set free, he could see the world for what it was now. His senses were heightened, he could smell…just smell. Humans couldn’t smell, they had no idea what it was truly like, and my, what he could smell in the kitchen. The closer he came, the ranker it became, filthier than he could have imagined. Still, he would win, he would rule.

He sat back, ready to pounce, but Filthy was ready for him. Before Marcus could even begin his pounce, before he could open up that massive belly with his claws, he felt words draw the beast from him, and the confidence of instinct was suddenly replaced by horror crashing in upon him. He was a freak, a monster. He tried to speak, to plead for his life and sanity and freedom, but the noise he made were hardly recognizable as speech, though its pitiful tone communicated plenty. And now, now Marcus could see what Filthy had wrought while he was otherwise occupied. It was the stench rolling off Colby that he couldn’t get past, it assaulted his sensitive nose and refused to let up, and from the sighs and groans coming from Colby, it sounded like he was…enjoying it.

“Glad you could join us Marcus, you’re looking…well,” Filthy said. Marcus let out a whimper of fear, and backed away, doing his best to make his massive frame look as small and non-threatening as possible, but Filthy just laughed. “That’s the spirit, but still, I think a little time with my friend Submission will help clarify how things will be working from now on.” Filthy worked another spell, and for a moment, Marcus thought nothing had happened…and yet…

Doubt. It started as doubt, questioning his resolve from earlier. Who was he to have been so presumptuous? How could he have thought it was his right–his privilege, to rule? How could he have imagined himself as an alpha? No…No, that wasn’t his place, that wasn’t his place at all, he was lower than that. He was…a…a pet…

Marcus shook his head, trying to sort out the spirit’s work from his own thoughts, but it was working through his mind too quickly. He could smell that horrific musk, but rather than disgust him, it…it was a sign that the massive blob in there was stronger than him. He was weak, he was so weak and powerless, he lived…no, he existed to serve his better…his…his master, his Master. He came forward, head bowed, honored to be in the presence of so magnificent a being as his Master, and Filthy let out a booming laugh. “Well Colby? What do you say we help your new pet understand it’s new place?”

Colby let out a groan and shudder of joy, and a new scent flooded the air. Urine–Master was marking it’s place–it’s property. Marcus was it’s property, so it would only be right…Marcus took a step forward, to where he could see a puddle growing on the tile floor. But no, not just piss, there was shit too, he could see it piling out from between Colby’s massive legs– how could Colby have so much inside him? It looked like enough to overflow several toilets, and yet it kept coming, and from Colby’s shudders he was enjoying it far more than Marcus would have thought, but that wasn’t important. The animal got down and rolled in the muck, taking on it’s Master’s scent, submitting to his rule, and as he rolled, and before he could help himself he was feasting on it, drinking and licking and eating it down, a shudder coursing through him and he came once more, but not the torrent from earlier. The cum leaked from the sheath and Marcus felt so ashamed. How could he have done that? How could he have allowed that pleasure for himself, when he had not pleased his master first?

“Oh what a naughty little beast,” Filthy said, “What do you think Colby, wasn’t your pet naughty for cumming without permission?”

“Yeah…Yeah, that was a bad thing! Bad beast!” Colby said, and Marcus wanted to just curl up and die. How could he have disappointed his Master like that?

“I think we’ll have to punish him, don’t you? I don’t think such a naughty beast should have the privilege of cumming ever again, do you Colby? What do we do to naughty pets who can’t control their urges, Colby?”

“We…we cut their balls off,” Colby wheezed, and laughed, “We cut their fuckin’ balls off, is what we do.”

“That’s right, Colby, we cut their fuckin’ balls off. Have at them Subby.”

Marcus pleaded, he begged, but he could already feel Subby working away at his sack, feel it shrinking, and…and he didn’t deserve them, anyway. He had been a bad beast, a very bad beast indeed, and he should know better. The crushing pain as his balls were shrunk away further and further collapsed Marcus to the ground, wallowing in Colby’s filth, but soon it was overtaken by a sense of calm. He felt so…empty, and with one paw he explored his sack and found nothing…but that emptiness–he could fill it with something else. With adoration, with love for his Master. He crawled over and started licking his Master’s folds, thanking him without words for the honor of serving him, apologizing for his indiscretion, and admitting that his Master had made the right choice. Marcus felt so much better neutered, now he could focus on what was really important–serving his Master.

“That’s a good beast,” Colby said, one fat hand stroking Marcus’ shoulder and joy like he’d never felt erupted inside the animal, “Now, I went and made a big mess–and it made me damn hard. Get in there and suck me off like a good bitch.”

“Without a moment of hesitation, Marcus dug in under his Master’s folds of fat, careful of his claws, and began licking, lapping and sucking at the ripe shaft, Filthy urging both of them on, dragging them deeper into the sick and twisted fantasy of a long trapped spirit, and Filthy wondered what other sorts of terror he could wreak upon the world which had denied him freedom for so long. Colby could see in their mind’s eye what he had planned. He could see himself, so huge now, as massive as a house, his musk carried on the winds for miles, the sign of his reign. The world below him, the men caught in orgies of filth, his hordes of pets among them. Yes, Marcus was only the first, but there would be more, so many more abominations, each stranger and more hideous than the last. So many spirits had been trapped in that book for far too long–they deserved a chance to be free, a chance to shape the world–provided it fit in with Filthy’s vision–of course. With a powerful shudder and moan, he came, feeling Marcus’ raspy tongue lapping up his dirty seed, and he was no longer fighting Filthy’s vision–now, he was a part of it–a willing part, and as he felt his body begin growing once more, the apartment building cracking and crumbling around him as he filled the rooms to capacity, he couldn’t wait to see it come to fruition.

You look around the rest area…what are you doing here again? You were on a trip, or something, and…and what were you driving? Where were you going? Huh…that’s an odd thing to forget, you suppose. Still, it’ll come back to you…right?

You head into the restroom to take a piss–damn your ass hurts. You must have just had something a bit too spicy at that Flying J, when you were last on the road with…with someone, right? But with who? You shake your head and finish pissing, figuring it isn’t important. Right now you just have to go wait…yeah, wait for someone. You take a look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. When was the last time you shaved? Or had a shower? You take a sniff of your pits and recoil a bit. Fuck you stink–is that piss? You notice your shirt is damp…but you don’t remember why. Too bad there isn’t a shower here. Oh well, best to just go wait.

You sit down at a picnic bench by the trucks parked at the rest area, waiting. It’s a bit cold, and the hi-viz vest you’re wearing doesn’t do much to fend it off. You don’t know why you’re wearing it–only that it’s important. If he didn’t have it on, the man he’s waiting for won’t be able to find him. You hope whoever you’re waiting for comes by soon. There’s a trucker approaching–a bit cautiously–and as he comes closer he asks, “Need a lift?”

“Need a lift”–the words resonate in your head, unlocking all sorts of doors. “Sure thing, daddy,” you say–the sex rolling off your tongue. “I’ll go anywhere you’re going.”

“Get in the cab, bitch.”

You rush to obey, climbing up into his cab behind him. You have his dick down your throat as fast as you can, hungry for him, for your daddy. You love your daddy so much. He fucks you then, calling you a dirty filthy whore and you thank him for his cum. When he finishes, the two of you drive for a bit, you suck his cock whenever he has a load for you, and drink his piss for good measure as well, because you want to be the best trucker whore out there. This daddy is a nice one–he buys you a meal like he’s required to, but even lets you shower when you stop, and then he says the words, the words you hate–“I’m finished, fuck off whore.”

You forget again, you always forget. Wandering off, your ass tender, you look around for your car. How long has it been like this? You don’t remember. Still, you wait. Wait for the next guy to give you a lift. Wait for your next trucker daddy to come along and whisk you away down the road.

I don’t get it, why won’t he take a fucking shower? It’s been two weeks–he’s stinking up the whole apartment. Just use some fucking deodorant or something, but fuck, I can’t…Gotta just sniff it, sniff it a bit. I mean, just…

Fucking smell him in there, in his room, workin’ out, yeah, workin’ out sweating, fuck, can smell him in there, gotta sniff sniff, fucking snif it, bury my fuckin’ face in his pit, lick it, fuckin’ yeah Fuck fuck fuck!

Again, I fucking came again, god fucking damn it, what the hell is going on. I need to get out of here, get some fresh air…just gotta…why won’t the door open? What the hell? And none…none of the windows either? I mean…I mean it does smell…I gotta…gotta smell it, gotta smell him, right, fuck–I have to get out of here, I have to.

There he is, he’s so sweaty, I can see the stains, see the sheen of it on him, he’s so nasty, so fuckin’ nasty, gotta…gotta go sniff him, yeah, sniff it, fuckin’ lick it all, lick it like a pig good pig, pig fuck, yeah…

Source: mansmells

When most people find out that the water company is going to be tearing their street up for the next two weeks, they’re probably pissed off. Granted, it’s been loud while they work but man, the eye candy! I love a guy in work gear, getting dusty and dirty. Still, none of the guys were really as filthy as I like, so, being the nice neighbor, I’ve been offering them a special lunch each day.

I hear the project has been extended another week because the men keep taking extremely long lunches, and there’s been complaints about their collective hygiene. One of my neighbors even caught them having sex in her backyard–that was hilarious. I’ve definitely found my favorite though, and he’s getting some special treatment. Gareth just goes under so easy–I think he likes it. I’m gonna push him and see how far he’ll go. By the end of the week, he’s gonna be pissing and shitting himself as he’s working, not even noticing until someone else points it out to him. Sure, he’ll feel humiliated, but love the stench too much to even clean himself up. By the end of the week, he’ll be happily incontinent for life.

It was happening again, only this time he felt his cock snake out another two inches, as his balls nearly doubled in size. The changes were more and more frequent now, and more and more extreme. Nathan excused himself from the business meeting, desperately trying to hide his obscene bulge, and hurried to the restroom.

There he unzipped his trousers and let his cock and balls out, grunting and jacking off, unable to help himself. He’d expected that spell he’d had cast for him to be a one off, not a fucking chronic condition! Another tingle was building, his cock pushing out past a foot long, his balls once again doubling, and a heat flushed through his body, a massive load of testosterone and hormones in quantities his body had never seen.

The hair was the most immediate change, a five o’ clock shadow developing over his face, his hair receding back into advanced baldness, the hair spreading all over his body and back, growing into a thick pelt. He was so focused on jacking off now he didn’t notice his clothes start ripping apart, his muscles quickly growing over developed, his bones aching as they entered another growth spurt. Finally he came in a massive torrent, nearly filling the sink in front of him to the brim with sperm, and he felt some of his mind return to him.

It was so hard for him to think about anything other than sex now–it was like he was going through puberty all over again, only a hundred times worse, and he didn’t think this was going to fade as he got older. The smell of himself filling the room though, that was good. This place was his now, he’d marked it with his seed, the air full of his musk. He ripped off the clothes confining him, proud of his new body, snorting at the stench of pheromones coming from his arm pits, and he knew what he needed, what would make him feel all better. 

A fuck. He needed someone to fuck, a man to fuck, a man to dominate. He didn’t need to wait long. Gregory from finance stopped by to take a piss on the way to a meeting, and only got two feet into the door before the massive neanderthal had pinned him up against the wall, ripping off his clothes and impaling him on his nearly two foot long cock. This would be a fine specimen for his herd, if it survived, Nathan’s now simple brain thought. He hoped it would live through the conversion, he loved the way the small, screaming creature’s ass clung to his giant cock. Nathan had thought that having a bigger cock would help him become a bigger man–and he had no idea how right he was.

Fairytale – Part 3

This story got put on hiatus a while back, but I went ahead and finished it up. Here are parts 1 and 2. 

***WARNING*** This story contains watersports, scat, raunch and incontinence. Like, a ton of it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

As they left the theater and emerged into the hallway, Jeff turned to Harry and asked, “So, what sort of plans did you have for after the movie?”

“Well, I was thinking we could head back to my place and have a little fun, if you don’t mind hanging around a filthy minded redneck like me,” Harry replied, coming a little closer and sensing Jeff still raging attraction to him.

“Sounds like one hell of a plan to me, but after that drink you brought me, this daddy needs to go take a piss before any of that.”

“You managed to drink that?” Harry asked, “When?”

“While you had your face buried in my gunt, boy,” Jeff said with a grin, but Harry hadn’t really been interested in an answer–he’d only asked it to keep Jeff around for a second, while the spell took effect, forcing Jeff’s bladder to empty itself in the hallway as they stood there. Jeff felt the warmth in his crotch and running down his pant leg a moment later, and his face turned bright red with horror, as Harry grinned wide and quickly pulled him through a couple of doors leading into an empty side hallway, leaving a wet trail of piss behind them.

“Smells like someone couldn’t hold it in,” Harry said.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe…I…oh fuck, are you really…oh fuck, you nasty pig…” Jeff said as Harry got down, buried his face up under his gut and started sucking the piss from the fabric of Jeff’s crotch. Jeff’s hand wrapped around the back of Harry’s head and forced him in deeper, and the sudden assertion of control startled Harry, but also turned him on. Apparently Jeff was already getting dirty enough to assert some dominance in their relationship, but Harry was eager for more of that from him. He worked his way out and back up to standing, and gave Jeff a kiss, before pulling him towards the door out of the movie theater, but Jeff pulled him back and shoved him up against the wall. “Oh no, I pissed myself–I want you to do the same boy…I think that’s only fair.”

“But I already took a piss earlier–”

“Shut up and let it loose–show daddy what you’ve got.” Harry grinned, and decided there was no reason the spell couldn’t work on him as well, and a second later, piss was streaming out of his cock and soaking the front of his shorts, running down his legs and pooling in his boots. Jeff shoved his own leg up against Harry’s, sharing the piss and the two of them made out for a moment longer, before breaking apart and heading for the door, both of them soaked.

They took a moment to get oriented in the parking lot, and before heading for his vehicle, Harry decided it was time to give another one of the fairy’s spells a try. This one could would change the date of the last time the subject changed their clothes and showered, making them either cleaner or dirtier depending on which direction one went–but Harry knew there was only one way for Jeff to head. He decided, for a bit of fun, to make it so Jeff’s “wash date” moved back a day for every pace he took as they walked to Harry’s car…or what had been a car when they arrived.

Suddenly Harry could only ever recall owning a rusted out pick up truck, it’s bed heaped with junk and the cab filthy with trash and who knew what else. Still, they set off in that direction, Harry kept track of their steps as they went–and it took them longer than he’d expected–ninety paces, making it now three months since Jeff had last changed his clothes or showered, and when they climbed into the cab–he definitely looked like it. His shirt and pants were absolutely filthy, the wet sweat marks from earlier now dried under his pits and colored a brownish yellow. The front of his shirt was marked with grease and food stains from his meals, and his navy pants, were stiff with precum and piss. His beard had grown rather unruly as well, and when Jeff closed the door to the passenger side, the suddenly enclosed space was filled with the two men’s combined musk, making them both let out a moan and lick their lips.

“Well daddy, what say we head home and have some fun?” Harry said, went to turn the keys but Jeff lashed out and caught his wrist, stopping him cold. Jeff let go long enough to shove the smaller, younger man up against the side of the pick up, his musk overwhelming Harry’s senses, and making him suddenly feel…like he needed to obey and service this man more than anything else in the world. How powerful was that first spell exactly?

“First boy, I think you and I need to get a few things straight–there’s something funny going on here, and we aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on here. I don’t just accidentally piss myself in hallways very often, and I know I wasn’t think dirty when we left the theater. Now you’re going to fucking tell me, or we’re going to have some problems–got it?” Harry screwed up his lips, trying to keep the truth under wraps, but the sheer dominance Jeff was exuding was too powerful.

“Alright…alright, I’ll tell you everything…sir,” Harry said, “but it’s kind of a long story, so how about I tell you on the way back to my place?”

Jeff stared Harry down for a moment, but relaxed back into his seat, giving Harry a nod of agreement, and so he started up the truck, and drove off to wherever his new home was, and told Jeff everything. About who they’d been, about his trip to the restroom and his run in with the Fairy Grungefather, his own transformation and the dawn time limit, the spells the fairy had given him to use, and how he’d manipulated Jeff with them all night long. Throughout the story, Jeff was mostly quiet, occasionally asking for a point of clarification but little else, and Harry couldn’t tell whether he believed him or not. As he drove, he realized he was heading out of town proper, and after a half hour drive, they turned into a trailer park, and pulled up in front of a rickety and rusted single wide which Harry knew was his home. “That’s…that’s the whole story sir, like you asked for.”

“You realize that sounds utterly ridiculous, right? I mean, how in the hell am I supposed to believe any of that?”

“Well…uh…I could show you. I mean, I could use a spell on you, and you might notice it happening, now that you know about it.”

Jeff thought for a moment, then said, “Fine, give me your cock, boy. You’re not going to be needing it, the way this night is heading.”

“A–All of it? Can’t I–”

“Shut the fuck up, and give it to me,” Jeff said, and Jeff couldn’t resist the order, so he reached over, grabbed Jeff’s hand and swapped their cocks, leaving himself with a half inch nub, and Jeff with a huge cock a little over a foot long. Jeff rummaged around in his gunt in surprise, amazed not only that the spell had worked, but that he’d also noticed it happening. “Holy fuck, it actually worked…” Jeff said, then turned back to Harry, “Alright, now make me dirtier. Make it so I haven’t showered in a year.”

“I don’t…is that a good idea, sir? I mean–” Harry said, mostly worried that if that happened, there would be no way for him to resist Jeff’s sudden dominance.

“Just shut the fuck up, boy, and do as your daddy says, or you’re going to get it.”

So Harry did it, and he wanted to do it. He wanted to see what Jeff would look like if he were that filthy–he needed to see it. And so Jeff felt himself grow filthier, his clothes nearly turning to grungy rags hanging off his body, his pants torn, his shirt missing buttons. As the change progressed, Harry felt his will to resist simply withering away and eventually disappeared altogether. He needed to serve this man, to obey him. It was truly the most important thing for him to do. When it finished, Jeff looked over at the devoted eyes of Harry next to him, and knew he had his date right where he ought to be.

“Alright boy, now…you said that spell could transfer qualities, right? Was it only limited to physical ones?”

“I…I don’t know, sir. I only used it on physical ones, sir, so I’m not sure.”

“Alright, now here’s what I want you to do. I want you to try and transfer your ability to cast those spells from you to me, so that I can cast them all, and you can’t. After all, I think you’d agree that I’m the one who should have all the power in this relationship, isn’t that right?”

“Ye–Yes sir, of course sir!” Harry said, eager to agree, and so he he touched Jeff’s hand again and with all his might, willed the spells to transfer to Jeff, however, he had no idea whether it had worked or not, and neither did Jeff, apparently.

“Alright, how about we give this a try? I’m tired of these fucking business rags anyway–how about something a little more commanding?” Jeff concentrated and tried casting one of the spells Harry hadn’t used earlier, which allowed for the caster to change the subject’s clothes, and in turn, some of their behaviors, based on what they wore. As Harry watched, Jeff’s business casual started to twist and write, turning into a green and brown camouflage fatigues which were in relatively good shape, despite being well worn, with the name “Daddy Sarge” printed over one pocket. Even though his fat frame was stretching the fabric to its limits, Jeff laughed, amazed that it had actually worked, and Harry was next to him, awestruck. “Damn, I can’t believe that actually worked. How about you, cadet? You like the look of your new sergeant?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Harry shouted, not even noticing that his own clothes had suddenly shifted in a pair of similar fatigues and boots, though his name tag read “Cadet Pigboy.”

“Well why don’t you show off some of that enthusiasm and suck your sergeant’s massive cock,” Jeff ordered, and Harry immediately leapt to, and as soon as Jeff had his monstrous cock out, Harry did his best to choke it down, but with the extra gag reflex he’d taken earlier, he could barely get half of the shaft in his mouth, but he tried his hardest just the same. However, Jeff soon reversed that change, and Harry found himself able to deepthroat the cock with no resistance at all, as Jeff started swapping around their attributes once more.

He decided he liked being older, so he kept their ages the same, but he had to do something about this fat–he didn’t feel like it suited him. He dumped off most of the poundage onto Harry, taking his muscle, but leaving himself with a firm gut over his hard abs. He decided that if Harry was going to be his pigboy, then he was going to be smooth, and so he took all of his body hair, expanding his already thick pelt, and also took away Harry’s thick beard and hair, leaving him with a clean shaven, chubby face and a high ‘n tight haircut. To further cement himself as the leader, he stole several inches off of Harry’s height, bringing him down to five foot six, and bringing himself up to six foot seven, and to make sure Harry wouldn’t find some clever way to regain control anytime soon, he stole forty points off his IQ score, raising Harry a bit past genius and making Harry a certifiable, drooling dunce.

Happy with their new looks, Jeff said, “Alright Cadet, that’s enough sucking. Get out of the truck and stand at attention,” but Harry ignored him–and Jeff felt a sudden anger. He shoved Harry off his cock with enough force to slam him back against the side of the truck, and yelled, “I gave you a fucking order, now get out and stand at fucking attention, you piece of shit!”

“Ye–Yes sir!” Harry stuttered out, popping open the door and tumbling out onto the gravel drive below him. He scrambled back up and managed to get into attention just as Jeff came around the front of the vehicle, shaking his head.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? No discipline, no fucking brain–I mean, look at you, you fucking mouthbreather, you’re drooling on your goddamn uniform!” Jeff shouted, closing Harry’s gaping mouth with one hand, and wiping his slobber off on his shirt. “Hell, I bet you aren’t even potty-trained…”

Harry suddenly felt a pressure on his bowels, and a massive load of shit flooded the back of his fatigues, and his face went red with humiliation, even as his tiny cock tried to get hard from the sheer stench of it, and there was just…so much of it. He felt it pack the back of his pants and then start running down his legs, and then he was pissing himself again, the front of his new fatigues soaked, and he did his very best to hold himself at attention, but his body shook with humiliation and arousal. Sarge came close to him and the sheer stench rolling off him brought Harry to his knees, head bowed, face slammed into his musky crotch, and when he started pissing, Harry started sucking it out through the fabric, lamenting every drop he couldn’t get through the fabric. “Look at you, you fucking piece of work. I don’t think you even deserve the respect of that fuckin’ uniform you have on–how about we give you something a bit more fitting?

Harry shivered suddenly, the cold night air directly against most of his fat body. In fact, the only clothes he was wearing now was a thick, heavy metal collar around his neck, a tag on it reading “Pigboy Baby Slave” and a thick padded diaper, sagging down with the weight of his massive load of shit and piss. As a final tough, Jeff added a pacifier with a six inch cock for a nipple shoved down his throat, and he laughed at Harry’s new look, the idiot just grinning as he sucked the rubber cock in his mouth, his thick mind unable of comprehending what was happening to him. He just felt so happy, on his knees before his stinking Master, his diaper full of piss and shit, this was all he knew, all he wanted. “Come on piglet, we’re gonna go have some more fun,” Jeff said, and walked over to the trailer. Harry tried to get to his feet, but found that he couldn’t walk anymore, and was forced to crawl after his master, oinking and grunting uncontrollably as they went inside.

It was many hours later when Harry, exhausted, finally collapsed and fell asleep. Harry didn’t notice immediately–he was too busy pounding his slave’s filthy hole with his massive cock for the third time, the feel, sound and stench of his slave’s shit squelching around his cock taking up all of his attention. He’d cut open Pigboy’s diaper once they’d gotten inside and forced his nasty slave to slather himself with the contents, before begging his daddy to fuck and fist his loose, incontinent hole, and Jeff had only been too happy to oblige. He came once more with a forceful shudder and heard Harry’s snores, and decided his boy had earned a few hours rest, before Jeff woke him up to eat his master’s morning shit. Fuck–morning–was it coming already? Looking out one of the trailer’s filthy panes, he could see the sky had started lightening, and as the first rays of the sun crested the horizon, Jeff looked back over his shoulder and saw that he was no longer alone.

“Ah, so, Harry, I see you enjoyed yourself tonight,” the fairy said, giving Jeff a wink, “Dang, you sure did do a number on your date, didn’t you?”

Jeff looked down at Harry, and realized the fairy hadn’t noticed the role switch that had happened halfway through the night. Hell, of course he’d think Jeff was Harry–he was the one with the spells as well. Did this mean that their time was already up? Jeff thought about it, and realized he didn’t want to go back to the prissy, uptight cub he’d been just a few hours ago–this sense of freedom, of power and dominance, it was too wonderful to cast aside now. “Is…Look, I don’t want to change back, I don’t want either of us to change back–can’t we stay like this?”

“That wasn’t the deal, Harry.”

“So then make it a deal, what do you want in exchange?”

The fairy cocked an eyebrow, “Well, I mean, since it seems like the two of you are enjoying yourselves, I suppose I could come up with an agreement of some sort. Here’s what I want. First, I want neither one of you to ever shower or clean yourselves in any way ever again. Second, I’ll leave you access to your spells, but only if, every day, you use them to make at least one man filthier and grungier than he was when he began the day. If you don’t follow through on either point, the contract is broken, and your magic will disappear, leaving you trapped in whatever form you might be in at the moment. Is that agreeable to you?”

“I’ll take it,” Jeff said, without a second of hesitation, and the fairy laughed.

“Very well, ‘Sarge’, enjoy yourself now–and I look forward to seeing your work,” with a flash, the fairy was gone, and Jeff grinned, looking over at his pig–this was going to be the start of a whole new life, even if it wasn’t the happily ever after he’d been expecting.

“So? How was my famous ‘Beefcake’? You enjoy it? Sure looks like it–there ain’t none left!” the chubby chef of the small roadside diner said, taking away Robbie’s plate.

“Don’ know…Feel…real strange. Is–Is I bigger?”

“Sounds like those ‘dumb-dumb shrimp’ ya had fer an appetizer are workin’ hard too!” the chef said. Now just hold on, dessert’s on its way, boy.“

Robbie looked around, his eyes dull. He hadn’t seen anyone else come into the dinner since he stopped…was that weird? He felt his body, the firm muscle covered with a thick layer of fat. He barely fit in the booth anymore…or had he never fit in it? And what was with this singlet? There were so many strange things going on, but his brain…it felt so empty now. He flexed his arms, watching his biceps and deltoids bulge out in the mirror behind the counter, and laughed loudly. He was big, like, big-big. And hairy–he could see the pelt on his chest and arms growing in thicker every moment, a thick bush underneath each armpit, and the shadow of a beard darkening across his face. He shouldn’t look like this…but why did he think that? Why did he think anything? It was easier–better, not to think at all, he remembered, and went back to just flexing.

"Here you go boy, my favorite dessert, my Homo’shake’sual!” the cook said, putting the milkshake down in front of Robbie. “Well? Go on, suck it all down like good little beefcake.”

Robbie expected the cook to return to the kitchen, but he just stood there, waiting and watching. Robbie wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked, the shake oddly salty, but still good. As he sucked it down, he found his eyes drawn up to the cook looming over him, his big belly covered with his soiled apron, his fat greasy face leering down at him. If Robbie had been smarter, he would have felt scared, but he was just feeling warm…and horny. He sucked down the last of the shake suddenly, surprised how fast he’d gone through it, and licked his lips. He was still thirsty, but for what?

The cook had taken off his apron, revealing clothes that looked like he hadn’t changed them in several days, if not longer, unzipped the fly of his jeans and pulled out a thick, smelly cock. “Well go on, my dumb-dumb beefcake homosexual. Give me a good blow job, and I’ll jack you off in that tight singlet of yours.”

Robbie let out a guffaw, and without a thought, inhaled the cook’s cock, flexing his muscles as he sucked him off. He was a dumb-dumb beekcake homosexual, wasn’t he? Guess he should have been more careful when the cook had warned him that he was what he ate.

Halloween at Pigtown #2

Warning: this story contains scat and incest. 

On his way home from work, on Halloween night, Robert found himself in a neighborhood he had never been in before. He had been spacing out, thinking about the new account he was managing, when he noticed that he had turned off the freeway at some point and was now driving through downtown, or more likely, through the warehouse district. Even stranger, even though he had noticed what was going on, he still couldn’t bring himself to turn around; it was like his body had decided to go somewhere, and his mind had no idea what it was doing. Before long, he parked his expensive Audi next to a meter, climbed out, and started walking towards a large crowd surrounding a bar he didn’t recognize. Soon, he saw in neon lights the words Pigtown, and remembered the invitation he had received in the mail not too long ago.
It had been an invite to a Halloween party, but after some research, Robert had discovered it was a seedy looking gay bar downtown, and had thrown it away. He had a wife and two kids; there was no way he was gay, he told himself everyday, as he oogled his young male secretary at work. Having been raised in a very conservative Catholic home, Robert had long sense suppressed his homosexuality, instead committing himself to an unhappy marriage, and a constant rage which he took out on his inferiors at work. He was not a happy person, though he tried to tell himself otherwise. However, the fact that he was being drawn to this place beyond his control terrified him more than anything. He thought he was going insane, that the desires he had buried so long were no going to explode out of him uncontrollably.
As he stepped into the parking lot however, the feeling stopped, and he was in control of his body once again. There was a large line waiting to get into the club, but Robert decided it would be best to just walk away before anyone saw him. Still, there was some part of him which told him he should go in there, but that was the voice of sin speaking, which he had blocked out for too long to succumb to now. Still, they made him hesitate for long enough that someone at the doorway saw him, and walked over. He was a large, muscular man with a full beard and short cropped hair. He was dressed all in black, the cloth catching and reflecting no light at all. “Why Mr. Barrett, I’m so happy to see that you got our invitation. Are you coming to the party?”
Robert wanted to say no more than anything, but the compulsion arose again, and pulled the invitation he swore he had thrown away from his pocket, “I sure am. I even have my invitation right here,” he said, and followed the man past the line, through the doorway, and into the club. Again, he asked himself what he was doing, but was powerless to stop himself from waiting while the man rustled through a pile of clothing, and pulled out some old, worn denim, socks, boots, and a hat, and handed them to Robert, who just stared at the stuff in his arms.
“What, you expect me to wear this?” he said, his personality reasserting itself.
“Think of it as a chance to try something new,” Rod said, and pointed him towards a dressing room, “Now go change.”
Robert tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t resist the direct order, and marched himself into the nearest dressing room. Still unable to control himself, he stripped out of his business wear, leaving them on the floor as they fell. Robert had thus far waged a rather unsuccessful fight with his family’s Italian genetics. In his middle age, he had filled out considerably, with a large gut and substantial ass. However, as he began investigating the pile of clothing before him, he saw that even at his size not even he would be able to fit into this stuff easily. Most of the pile was taken up by a pair of very large, and not very clean, overalls. Along with that was a sleeveless, gray T-shirt, though he couldn’t tell if it was the fabric itself was colored or if it was just from the grime which had apparently accumulated over the years. Regardless, both pieces smelled rank like they hadn’t been washed in ages, but he happily pulled the shirt over his head, and the overalls on next, securing both straps over his shoulders. Next came a pair of grimy socks and muddy work boots on his feet, and then the hat. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but the trucker hat had a wig attached, with long stringy hair falling down the back, and a set of thick sideburns coming down the side, which adhered to the side of his face with a bit of tape on the back. Under the hat, he found a set of those fake redneck teeth, full of black caps and crooked things, which he fit into his mouth as well. When everything was on, the door opened again, and Robert marched himself out into the throng of the party, leaving his business suit behind in the dressing room.
However, where he exited the room was not the same place where he came in. He immediately turned towards where the exit had been a moment before, but all that extended in that direction was a hallway full of revelers. Assuming that he had simply left out the wrong door, he turned around, but found that where there had been a door moments before, there was now a blank, empty wall. He would have gaped a bit longer, but suddenly he was pushed along by a crowd, and rather than fall on his face, he stumbled down the hall along with them, looking for any sign out of the devilish place.
He walked along hallway after hallway, often convinced that he was going in circles, but somehow he managed to never come out into the same room twice. Many of the rooms were decorated with different themes, though the costumes were just as varied as the locales. The crowd was also decidedly gay, which terrified Robert more than anything. More than once he had stumbled upon a group of men kissing, or worse, sucking each other off, and he had turned around and fled before, heaven forbid, they asked him to join.
Occasionally, in the hallways, he would pass by an ornate grandfather clock, ticking off the minutes towards midnight, however, it seemed like every time he passed one, the time was drastically different than he would have imagined. Several times it had actually gone backward, once more than an hour, but always they chimed with the same deep, resonant tone, and ticked with a restless urgency which pushed him onward through the bar, and into another room.
Robert, however, was quickly becoming exhausted, and knew he would have to stop somewhere to catch his breath. He found a somewhat empty room, modeled on a fifty’s diner, and took a seat at the bar.
“What can I get for ya?” The bartender asked as Robert sat down.
“Just a glass of water, if you’d be so kind,” Robert replied, and the bartender whipped off, leaving him to mop his forehead with the collar of his undershirt. The man returned a moment later and set down a shot glass filled with some filthy brown liquid, which Robert just stared at.
“What the hell is this? I asked for water, you stupid shit!” he shouted, but the man had disappeared, leaving Robert alone with his shot. He sighed, but without really thinking about it, took the glass and threw back the entire contents, which burned its way all the way down to his stomach, making him cough and sputter. Robert didn’t know why he had done that, but he hadn’t been able to even think about not doing it.
“Another?” the bartender asked, as he poured another shot, “Here, I’ll just leave you the bottle,” he added, and disappeared again.
Robert knew he should get up and keep looking for a way out, but he downed the shot in front of him and poured another, before drinking that one too. After that, he ignored the glass and just started taking swigs from the bottle. Before long, he was feeling very drunk, but very good. In the distance, he became aware of the clocks in the room chiming midnight, and vaguely wondered what his wife was doing. He should have been home hours ago, had she called the police? No one knew he was here, and he certainly had no idea how he was going to get out. Did he really want to get out? He was happy with his booze he thought, as he took another swig.
“There ya are Pa! I been lookin’ everywhere fer ya,” a voice said behind him, and a muscular construction worker sat down on the bar stool next to him.
Robert just stared at him for a moment, and felt like he should recognize him, but couldn’t. “Wh…Who the hell’er you?” he slurred, and almost slid off the stool to the ground, but the man caught him mid step and hefted him back onto the seat, all four hundred and fifty pounds of him. Robert was by no means a small man, with fat packed into his oversized overalls wherever it could fit, and his massive tits stretched his shirt to the limit and clearly outlined his nipples through the gray fabric. He had three chins on a good day which covered the collar of his shirt, and his bushy sideburns made his fat, bright red cheeks look even bigger. He took off his hat for a moment and scratched his bald head, and ran his hand through the stringy hair still left on his head. The word “skullet” flashed through his mind, but he couldn’t really make sense of it. He was too drunk to make sense of anything.
“Come on Pa, Ya had too much tah drink. Let’s get ya home,” He got a hold on Robert’s arm, but he yanked it away.
“I can get up myself, thank you very much!” he said, and stumbled up, lumbering across the bar, occasionally falling against a table for support.
He made it all the way to a doorway before he heard the man call out behind him, “The truck’s this way, Pa,”
“How do you know? I been all over this place, and it’s all a maze. We ain’t ever gonna get out!”
The man walked over, grabbed Robert by the arm, and dragged him over in the other direction, “Alright, ya had enough, now let’s get goin’,”
Robert tried to pull away, but the man was too strong and too insistent, while Robert was too drunk to know better. As he followed behind, it occurred to him that he had no idea who he was following, “Wait now,” Robert said, “Who are you again?”
“Damn it pa, I hate it when ya drink—now come on. Now we need tah get ya home. I have work in the mornin’.”
“But ya don’ even know where I live,” Robert mumbled.
“Of course I do—ya live with me! Geeze yer thick tonight.”
Robert couldn’t make heads or tails of that, but figured that this guy must be one of his kids, sent by his wife to take him home. It didn’t really make a lot of sense, but then, nothing was making much sense tonight. He didn’t really care though, as long as he got out of this crazy place.
Sure enough, his son led him down some stairs, and before Robert knew it, they were outside in the parking lot, or at least a parking lot. He tried to walk off in the direction he thought his car was, but his son was pulling him in the wrong direction. “Damn it boy,” he cried, “We done parked over there!”
“Pa, the truck’s right here,” he said, and popped open the door of an old beat up pickup. He helped his old man into the passenger door, and climbed in the driver’s side. “Ya all set Pa?” he asked, and when Robert nodded his fat face, he started the truck with a clunk, and took off down the road.
Robert figured that they would be heading home, but instead of heading towards the suburbs, his son got onto the highway and left town, instead heading into the country. Robert knew something was wrong, but he was too drunk really to think about much. Instead, he felt something else begin to brew inside of him. Looking over at his son next to him, he was suddenly struck by how handsome he was. He hadn’t really bothered looking at him in the club, but suddenly he was taking in every detail, from the close cropped hair on his head, the bushy goatee framing his adorable mouth, and his rough calloused hands. He was also very muscular, and Robert felt his dick begin to harden in his overalls. Unable to stop himself, he reached over and started groping his boy’s crotch, surprised by the size of the cock he found in the well worn jeans.
“Come on Pa, you’re too drunk for that right now,” he said.
Robert just kept groping, feeling his son’s cock begin to harden, “Come on Jimmy boy, I can’t help it if you’re the hottest guy around,” Jimmy, that was his son’s name. Why hadn’t he been able to remember that earlier? Now overwhelmed with lust, he leaned over and began licking Jimmy’s neck, causing him to swerve a bit on the road.
“Dammit Pa! I’m tryin’ tah drive, can’t it wait ‘til we get home?”
“Oh hush boy,” Robert whispered in his ear, “I know ya don’t want tah wait ‘til we’re home…”
        Jimmy drove for a moment longer, and then steered the car off the rural highway, and then a ways into the underbrush, the truck bouncing wildly. Before he could even get the car into park, be was kissing his Pa madly, forcing the fat man back against the window, pinning him there. Robert immediately began unbuttoning Jimmy’s flannel shirt, rubbing his hands through the thick forest of hair beneath. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a few days, but that just made Robert hotter. He buried his nose in his son’s pit and started licking up as much sweat as he could. “Yeah pig daddy, lick out my nasty pit, ya like that funk?” Jimmy said.
        “Hell yeah boy, ya know I’ll do anythin’ tah lick out yer pits. Hell, I’ll lick all ya if ya give me a chance. But what I really want is in here,” Robert said, and groped Jimmy’s cock some more.
        “Well, there ain’t enough room in here fer that. Get out, and we’ll have some fun in the back,” Jimmy said, and both of them climbed out and walked around to the back. It took some work, but they managed to get Robert’s massive frame up into the bed. The entire truck sagged with the weight of him, but he crawled forward anyway, giving Jimmy room to heft himself up after him. Once they were both up, they began undressing each other. Soon, Jimmy was naked, but he wanted Robert to leave his overalls on. “You know how hot I get with my Pigdaddy in his overalls,” he said, and the thought made Robert shiver. He loved being Jimmy’s Pigdaddy so much.
        “Well if yer so horny, get over here n’ fuck me already, boy!” Robert said on his hands and knees, “Fuck this Pigdaddy of yours.”
        “Ya want me tah stick this big, fat cock up your butthole?” Jimmy asked, as he got behind him. He spread apart Robert’s ass, exposed through the large hole in the seat of his overalls and chuckled, “Damn Pa, ya sure got yerself a dirty crack!”
        “Not like yers is much cleaner boy, now get on with it,”
        “Not so fast,” Jimmy said, as he lubed up some of his fingers with spit, “Ya ain’t quite warmed up fer me yet,” and he started worming his middle finger into Robert’s hole.
        “Oh fuck yeah,” Robert said, pushing against his son’s hand, “Get all those fuckers in there!”
        “All of them? Alright, you asked for it,” Jimmy said, and after lubing up with some more spit, worked his entire fist into Robert’s ass.
        It hurt like hell, but the drunkenness dulled the pain, and just made Robert hornier. He began to snort loudly as his sphincter closed around Jimmy’s wrist, and the hand worked deeper into his colon.
        “Yeah you fuckin’ pig! How’s that feel?” Jimmy said as he massaged his daddy’s prostate, making him pant and snort louder. Before he could stop himself, Robert felt his cock explode, cum spurting out in massive bursts, soaking the crotch of his overalls as he squealed. Jimmy reached under and laughed, “Yeah, that got you all wet, didn’t it? Now, how about I give you a good fuck?” He pulled out his fist and quickly replaced it with his cock, which slipped easily into the already wrecked hole. Even with the warm up, Jimmy’s ten inch cock stretched Robert to the limit, and all he could do was hang on to the truck while his son fucked him wildly. Despite having cum once already, he could feel his cock already hardening again, and he was struck for a moment by the wrongness of what he was doing. Not only was he having sex with a man, his own son was fucking the daylights out of him, and Robert was practically begging him for more. It still felt so right though, and he pushed back harder, relishing the feeling of his massive amounts of fat shaking with every thrust. Honestly, he couldn’t be more proud of his son, and the great fucker he had grown up to be. Before too long, he heard his boy grunt behind him and unload deep inside of him. He wrapped his arms as far as they could go around his father’s rotund form, staying inside until he had gone completely soft.
He sat back, allowing Robert to turn around and join him with their backs against the window. Robert was panting loudly from the exercise, though it hadn’t made him any less drunk, and only a little less horny. He couldn’t resist lowering his fly, which was still sopping with his cum from moments before, fishing out his cock, and jacking off.
“Damn Pa, yer still horny after that?”
“Fuck son, you know yer dad is always horny. How about you help me out with this thing?”
“Nah, I got a better idea,” Jimmy said, and held his hand, still shitty from their earlier fisting, under Robert’s nose, who took a good sniff, and sucked the index finger into his mouth. The taste of shit made him moan, and got his dick even harder. Before long he had cleaned off his son’s whole hand, who then stood up and rammed his shit smeared cock down his father’s throat. Robert just sucked as hard as he could, hotter than he had ever been in his life.
He was no longer appalled that he was sucking his own shit of his son’s cock, this is what he was supposed to be doing. He loved the taste of ass, especially his own, and Jimmy knew that. When he pulled it out a minute or two later, his cock was spotless, and Robert licked his lips. “Please, I need more, boy,” Robert gasped, still jacking his cock.
“Then eat out my crack, ya fuckin’ pig,” Jimmy said, spread his ass wide open, and pushed it up against his father’s face. Robert immediately groaned with lust and began lapping at the mix of dry and wet shit. From the amount of it, he hadn’t wiped at least for a day or two, and it was driving Robert wild. He felt his orgasm begin to build, and let loose another torrent of cum while his son cheered him on. The last thing Robert remembered before he passed out was Jimmy turning around, stroking his hard cock a couple of times and blowing another load all over his father’s face. Happy and somewhat satisfied, Robert felt himself drift off into a drunken slumber.

The Boys (Part 2)

***WARNING–Contains scat. Don’t like it? Not my responsibility.***

“Yeah Daddy, you look so hot with that beard, sucking my cock. You like it, don’t you? Do you like sucking your boy’s cock?”
“Oh yeah,” Jim moaned, running the shaft through his beard, “I like it a lot boy. I love your cock in my mouth,” he said, and then went back to taking the long dick as far into his throat as he could.
Damn, you two are fucking hot,” Gus said when he came back in, carrying a fifth of whisky in his hand, “Give it a rest for a moment. Our daddy has a bit of growing up to do,” he screwed off the cap, and handed it to Jim, who looked at it, puzzled.
“Go on,” Billy said, “Every daddy likes whisky. It’ll put some hair on your chest, too.”
Jim took a tentative taste—he had never had straight liquor before, and even though it burned, it didn’t taste half bad. He took a few more shots, and he felt the burning feeling begin to radiate, and make him itch. Before his eyes, a thick mat of hair began erupting all over his body, obscuring his chest in a forest of brown hair. Even his arms, all the way to his knuckles, were hairy. Then, he watched as some of the hairs began to lighten to white, as he felt some of his youthful strength and vigor ebb away. His hair receded from the front, leaving him with a long, horseshoe of mostly white hair, and a thick white beard with a few strands of dark blonde. Gus took the half empty bottle away, and Jim listed a bit, already feeling the high grade alcohol rush into his system. “That’s…that’s some good shit,” he slurred a little, and then went back to sucking on Billy’s cock.
“Dang Gus, you were right. He did shape up into a good looking daddy,” Billy said.
“Yeah, but he ain’t done yet. Not by quite a bit. He might look like a daddy, but he don’t really act like one yet. He’s too smart, for one thing.”
Jim pulled his mouth off of Billy’s cock and said, “What do you mean, ‘too smart’?”
“Well, any good daddy didn’t go to a fancy college or nothing. Hell, the best daddies dropped out before they got into high school! You do want to be a good daddy, don’t ya?”
“Of course, boy.”
Gus pushed Billy to the side, and sat down next to Jim. “Then here’s what ya have to do. First look at the fire. You remember the fire, don’t ya? How calming it is?”
“Yeah, real calming.” Jim droned, as he fell back into his deep trance, assisted by the earlier alcohol.
“Then here’s what ya have to do. I want you to pretend that you are holding a stack of photographs. All of them are from your life. The one on top shows you graduating from college, doesn’t it?”
“Ya. I see my mom and dad are there, cheering me as I walked across the stage.”
“That’s what’s on the picture sure, but that didn’t really happen, did it?”
“It didn’t?”
“How could it? You’re our daddy, and our daddy never went to college.”
“But—“
“No buts. It isn’t a real memory, is it?”
“I…I guess not.”
“Then throw it on the fire, and forget all about it.”
Jim mimed throwing a piece of paper onto the flames, and then Gus said, “So, daddy, did you graduate from college?”
“Of course not, boy.”
“I didn’t think so. The next few pictures are from college too, aren’t they? But that didn’t happen either. You might as well throw the next few on the fire as well.”
Jim pretended to throw a few more things on the fire, and then said, “Ok, they’re all gone.”
“Then the next pictures are all from high school, aren’t they? But those didn’t happen either. With each one, you can see all of those false memories from school, but they aren’t real. You should burn them and forget them.”
One by one, Jim threw the pictures onto the fire, erasing them from his past. And when he was done, part of him felt empty and gone. “What now?”
“Now, we fill in what really happened,” Gus said, “Now you have a new set of pictures. These are all ones that really happened. In the first one, you can see yourself in grade school, failing the third grade for the second time.”
“Wow, was I that dumb?”
“You were that dumb, and you still are, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
“Well, you didn’t go to high school, or to college. You must be pretty dumb then.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“The next one shows you in the fifth grade, trying to read from a book, but you can’t, because you never learned how.”
“I never learned to read? At all?”
“Nope. You can write your name, but that’s it.”
Jim looked sad, but Billy piped in, “Don’t worry daddy, you don’t have to read here. We can’t read either! Well, I can’t, but Gus can.”
“And the next picture shows you skipping class in the seventh grade so you could go suck dick at the local glory hole.”
“Now wait…I didn’t really do that.”
“Sure ya did, all the time. You thought dick was much better than school.”
“But I liked school.”
“No you didn’t. You hated to learn things. I mean, you can’t even add!”
“I can too!” Jim yelled, and Gus grinned.
“Alright, prove it. What’s two plus three?”
“Uh…” Jim said, but for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with an answer. He looked down at his fingers, and held up two on one hand, and three on the other. “It’s uh…five?”
Gus looked impressed, “Well done, but here’s a hard one. What’s five plus seven?”
Jim looked back down at his fingers, but it was impossible. He couldn’t get that many fingers on his hands, all he could get was ten. “Uh…ten?”
“Nope, twelve.”
“But ten is all the fingers I got.”
“Don’t worry about it daddy. Now do you see why you were sucking cocks? Sucking cocks is what you’re good at.”
“I am good at it.”
“See? That’s why you’re going to be a great daddy.”
Jim beamed. He may not be smart, but he had the two best boys in the whole world. “Thanks boy. Now, can I suck your cock some more?”
“Soon, but there’s a few more things you have to do to be a good daddy for us.”
“What?” Jim asked.
“Well, we like our daddies to be dirty.”
“Oh yeah,” Billy chimed it, “Dirty like us!”
“Yeah, you have to like being dirty too.”
“But…how am I supposed to like it?”
“Here,” Gus said, “I’ll show you daddy. First, ya gotta stand up.”
It took some effort, but eventually Jim managed to hoist himself off of the couch so that he was standing before Gus. He was surprised at how weak he suddenly felt, and realized that he was shorter than he had been. Where he had been several inches taller than both boys earlier, he now stood at eye level with their chins. “Ok, now what?”
“Now, smell,” Gus said, and lifted his arm up, revealing his damp, sweaty pit. Jim took a sniff, but the rank scent overwhelmed him before he got too close.
“Damn boy, you reek!” Jim said, but Gus just grabbed the back of his head, and thrust his face into the smell.
“You may not like it at first, but it’ll grow on ya,” Gus said, as Jim struggled, but the more he breathed, the more he liked it. Soon, he extended his tongue and took a lick, and then began licking it whole heartedly, moaning as he did, “Damn boy, you were right. This is nice.”
He then moved to the other side, and licked that one clean too, and then did the same for Billy’s. When he was finished, he picked a hair out of his mouth, and then Gus and Billy each took a side, and lifted up one of his arms. “Now, it’s your turn,” Gus said, and then they both began slurping up and down Jim’s pits. A moment later, they surfaced, and Gus said, “Now you have some nice daddy pits. Smell those fuckers.”
Jim leaned in close, and took a deep whiff of the sweaty fuck coming off of them, and sighed, “Damn boys, you did a nice job on those.”
“ We ain’t done yet. Now get on our knees, daddy.”
Again, it was a bit of a struggle, but Jim made it down alright. As soon as he was down. Gus and Billy both took their cocks and started pissing on him. At first, Jim was disgusted, but soon he was trying to get as much of the golden liquid down his throat as he could, but the boys kept moving their streams, soaking every inch of his body. Without realizing it, Jim even began to empty his own load of piss right into his overalls. Eventually, their streams slowed to a trickle, and amazingly, Jim realized that he was nearly dry a few moments later. However, that is not to say he was without changes. His hair and beard were now tangled and knotted, as though they hadn’t seen a comb in ages, and his mouth now tasted like he had been sucking on a jockstrap. He also ran his tongue around in his mouth, and found that half the teeth in them had just dissolved away, and the rest all hurt like they were partially rotten. The rest of him smelt to high heaven, though the worst still came from his armpits, and what had been a fairly clean set of overalls were now ragged and filthy, with many holes. One of the straps had broken entirely, and one of the knees was ripped clean through.
“Now, you’re a good looking daddy,” Gus said, and Billy beamed.
“Fuck that,” Jim said, “I don’t want to be a good looking daddy, I want to be the hottest daddy there ever was! Make me dirtier.”
Gus laughed, “Now daddy, there ain’t no need—“
“I said, make me dirtier boy!” Jim yelled, and Gus shrugged.
“Well, since you’re asking for it,” Gus said, “We can make it so.” Gus stripped out of his overalls, and then bent over the arm of the couch, pushing his ass towards Jim, “Eat it out, if you want to be a fucking pig about it,”
Jim got down on his knees, and immediately dug into his boy’s ass, eating up all of the lose specks of shit he could find. Before long, it was perfectly spotless, and Jim sat back, a good part of his beard brown. Gus turned around, and pushed Jim back, until he was lying on the floor.
“You want to be the dirtiest fucking daddy there is? Fine. Here it comes then,” Gus said, and then squatted over Jims face, and let lose a spray of shit all over him. He moved down and repeated the process, until Jim was covered from head to toe in brown muck, which dried almost immediately, leaving him with shit caked up and down his body, and an insatiable hunger for ass.
He hadn’t seen Billy return from the kitchen with a plate, nor did he see him squat over it in the corner. But when Billy handed him the plate, piled high with several fat logs, he devoured them one by one, and then licked the plate clean.
“Only one more thing, I think,” Gus said, “If you really want to be as dirty as you can be,”
Jim nodded, “Hell ya boy, lay it on me.”
“Then stand up, and bend over.”
Jim did as he was told, bending over the arm of the couch as Gus had done. Gus ripped open the seat of Jim’s overalls, and then said, “Ok? Here it comes,” and then pushed his fist up into Jim’s ass.
Jim yelled in pain as he felt his sphincters loosen, and a moment later, when Gus pulled his hand out, He found that he couldn’t retighten them, and he felt a turd just makes its way out of his hole and, instinctively, he clamped down on it with his ass, mushing it between them. “Damn boy, what the fuck did you just do?”
“I made you a pants-shitter, daddy. The dirtiest of them all.”
“Well…fuck,” Jim said, as he felt another turd escape out his ass, though it just got caught in the mess the last one made, leaving his ass covered in shit. “Well, aren’t ya gonna clean it up, or something?”
Gus laughed, “No, you asked for it. But don’t you like how it feels, daddy? The warm shit in your crack, doesn’t it feel good?”
Just as suddenly, Jim felt his dick release a spray of urine, soaking the underside of his gut, and running down the insides of his legs. “Oh Jesus Christ, what have I become? Who am I?”
“Hush now,” Billy said, “You’re our daddy, that’s all you need to know.”
“No. No, I was someone else. Who was I? What did you do to me?” Jim said, slowly backing away from the two of them. However, before he could get very far, the two of them sprang on him, and dragged him back in front of the fire, where he closed his eyes tight, to avoid looking at the burning flames. However, Billy pulled his eyes open, and as soon as he caught sight of the dancing reds and oranges, Jim’s mouth went slack, and he forgot what had been so urgent only moments ago.
“Now daddy, what are you still hiding from me?”
“I don’t want to be a dirty hick,” Jim said, and it was true, but Gus just shook his head.
“But you asked to be our daddy. You asked to be dirty. This is what you wanted.”
“It was?”
“Of course it was. I wouldn’t do anything to you that you didn’t want.”
“But, then why do I still hate this?”
“Let’s do this daddy. Why don’t you take that part of you that hates being our daddy, and put it in your hands, and now wad it up.”
Jim did as he was told, and when he looked down at his hands, he saw a collection of things that he all seemed to remember, but not very clearly. They looked important.
“Now throw them in the fire,” Gus said, but Jim didn’t move, “Throw them!” he said again, and, almost as though it was a reflex, Jim threw it into the fire, and felt part of him scream and die, and a second later, he shit himself again, this time thrilled at the fact that he couldn’t stop it if he wanted to.
“Feel better daddy?” Billy asked.
“Sure as fuck do boys, now how about you give your daddy’s shitty ass a good fuck?”