I can’t believe that homeless bum was right–it’s great living in the back of my truck. Sure, I didn’t believe him when he told me, why would I? Nobody listens to bums. In fact, I hated bums, and would yell at anyone stupid enough to try and panhandle me. I don’t know why this bum was different, but he’d said that, for some cash, he’d give me some advice on my life. Turns out it was the best advice I’d ever gotten.

Living in the back of my truck, wearing the same nasty clothes day after day, never washing myself or cutting my hair or beard–I feel fantastic. Still, every piece of advice came at a steeper cost, not that it hasn’t been worth it. I handed him over the deed to my house yesterday, and he’s been nice enough to let me keep the truck to sleep in.

Fuck I’m horny–guess I’d better pay the camp under the overpass another visit. Sucking other bums dicks is the only way I can get off these days–just another great piece of advice. He says he has one final gem for me tonight–I can’t wait to hear it.

“Please, no more, change me back.”

“Why? You sure seem to love the taste of that pit of yours. Fuck you’re ripe–I can smell you across the room. I love that in a roommate.”

“I just–I’m only fucking looking for a place! I’m not your roommate.”

“Details–before I’m done with you, ain’t no one gonna want to be your roommate other than me. Face it, your apartment hunting’s over. Now, how about some tatts? I love a man with tatts.”

“But I work in an office! They’ll fire me if I have tattoos.”

“An office? What kind of sissy are you? You’re gonna be workin’ construction with me, anyway–don’t worry.”

“No fuckin’ way is I…I ain’t gonna work somethin’ like…like that. Ya…Ya did somethin’ tah me, wha’ the fuck’d ya do!”

“Sorry, I hate having roommates smarter than me. I only got an IQ of 95, so yours is 70 now. Don’t worry–with those big muscles and big cock, you’ll be too busy workin’ out and fuckin’ to think.”

“Ha–ha ha, yeah…yeah that sounds fuckin’ hot, roomie. Could…could I suck ya now? I’s pretty horny.”

“Sure. What are roommates for?”

Continued from here:

Of course, not every convergence is beneficial, or so extreme. Others are more like seeping pools of corruption which leave a bit of slime on everything which passes through them. There is, for example, a public toilet in London, which never seems to get cleaned–the seats of the toilets crusty, the urinals reeking and brimming with cold piss. Every man who enters leaves a bit raunchier than they were. Sometimes it’s just a piercing, or a new fondness for dirty underwear. Others emerge from the toilet unsure of how much time has passed, and almost unable to recognize themselves in the cracked and splattered mirror.

Some men, however, grow addicted to the place–to the filth it spews. After their first visits, they find themselves longing to return, over and over again. They are the only ones who clean it–lapping the urine from it’s bowls and chipping away at the filthy floor with their teeth. Before too long, they begin to melt into the walls, giving the place more power–becoming tiles, sinks–even new toilets and urinals for the growing morass which might one day consume London, if it grows unhindered.

Unsuited

Commissioned by Humilisub2

***

“Just consider it an early retirement.”

“Early retirement? What retirement? Everything–all of my savings in wrapped up in this company–in my pension!” the older man shouted in Andrew’s face, who just sat there calmly in his posh desk chair.

“Oh–you were grandfathered into that? I didn’t think anyone here had those anymore. I’m sure you’ll be able to convert some of it into a 401k–”

“Fuck you and your 401ks! I’m sixty two, and you’re just going to fire me? After all these years cleaning your fucking toilets and emptying your trash?”

“It wasn’t my decision, sir. You’ll find some way, I’m sure. Now–I need you to wait outside–security will be by shortly to escort you out.”

The older man stormed to the door, face red, shouting, “You fucking suits–you don’t fucking get it. Ruining people’s lives for the fun of it–as if you’ve ever worked a day in your life. It probably gets you fucking off!” and then slammed the door shut behind him.

Andrew smirked and gave his cock a squeeze. It was a bit hard–fancy that. Maybe he did enjoy this. The company had been thick with layoffs this quarter, in an effort to cut costs and make their lackluster earnings look a bit nicer, and while some people in his position might hate this part–Andrew relished it.

Of course he’d known Bill, the old janitor, had had a pension with the company–that was one of the primary reasons Andrew had been told to fire him. Besides, the guy was sixty-two, and barely got much cleaning done anymore. He could hire two Mexicans for half the payroll to do four times the work the old bastard was putting out. He heard a ruckus outside his door–security arriving–and the din disappeared down the hall. Andrew shuffled Bill’s discharge papers around on his desk, and checked the clock–4:30, almost the end of the day–and figured it could wait until the morning, giving him a chance to sneak out early for an afternoon round of golf. He spent fifteen minutes or so getting his things together and answering one last round of emails, and then realized that he had to take a piss.

He set off down the hall, into the restroom, and headed for the urinal, but as he was getting ready to unbutton and unzip his pants, he caught a strange aroma on the air–smoke. It was almost sweet, but also a little dank–definitely was some sort of tobacco, probably a cigar. He’d certainly been to plenty of smoky poker games with executives, but had never partaken himself. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice his cock release his piss into the front of his pants, down both of his legs where it pooled in his almost new leather shoes. “Sh–Shit!” he cried, trying to stop his flow, but there was nothing he could do, as the puddle of urine around him spread wider, the smoke growing thicker in the room, giving him a headache, and making his stomach knot. He’d never felt like that around cigars before–but he could barely walk straight. He tried to get to the door, to get out, but all he could manage was to slump up against the sinks in pain and nausea.

It was difficult to see himself in the mirror, between his double vision and the growing cloud of haze in the room, but he looked–odd. There was something wrong with his face…no, there was something growing on his face. He reached up with a hand and felt a beard filling in all across his chin, as his hair started pulling back, making him look ten years older than he was, but other things were wrong too. His clothes felt so tight and constrictive all of a sudden, and he started clawing at his tailored suit but it was too late. The fabric began tearing apart at the seams, buttons flying away across the room. When he got the clothes off of him, all that remained were tatters. Looking down at his naked body, he saw that he was growing a large gut covered with hair. He had to stop this–it had to be the smoke, it had to. He started busting into the stalls, finding them empty until the final handicapped stall, where he found a muscular young man, pants off, grinning around a smouldering cigar.

“I was wondering when you’d find your way in here, asshole,” the man said, stroking his dick, and as he took a big inhale off his cigar, Andrew watched as the man’s cock started to grow, increasing in length and girth with every pull, soon passing nine, then ten inches in length. Andrew’s gaze was locked on it, his now bare feet stumbling forward until he fell to his knees and began licking up and down the massive shaft.

“Yeah, you like that big dick, don’t ya?” the man said, grabbing the hair remaining on Andrew’s head and slamming the massive cock down his throat making him gag, “If you like it so much, why don’t you choke on it?” Andrew did his best to oblige him, and after a few minutes was rewarded with a blast of cum shot acros his now heavily bearded face. Andrew gasped for a second, trying to catch his breath, as the man got up, shoved his face down into the toilet with his booted foot, and started pissing all over the back of his head, the stream running down his face and over his eyes and mouth, and the man left, without another word, leaving Andrew soaked and still trying to digest the suddenness of the assault.

The smoke was clearing as the fans worked the room, and Andrew felt some clarity return to him, enough to cough and sputter on the ground, staring down at his changed body and wondering what in the world had happened to him. He heard the door to the bathroom open, as some of his co-workers came in, and he quickly locked the stall door shut, realizing it wouldn’t be good to be found naked in the bathroom. Checking under the partitions, he didn’t see any of his clothes–the smoking man must have taken them as he’d left. Andrew was essentially trapped–he couldn’t go out like this. Perhaps luckily, he’d just fired the janitor, so he’d be safe as the floor emptied for the night. Maybe then he’d be able to sneak out.

The next few hours didn’t pass quickly, and Andrew found his new body had some…unhealthy fascinations. He was so horny now, but he could only get hard when he was smelling or drinking piss. He couldn’t resist lapping up his own mess from the floor, followed by the spunk he shot doing so, and then he cleaned all of the urinals for good measure. The entire time, he tried to stop, telling himself this was wrong, but his body was running on autopilot. His brain kept saying that he needed to do this. He felt guilty, but for what, he didn’t know, and this was almost some sort of…penance.

He didn’t notice the door open as a pile of clothing that was dropped on the floor with a note telling him to get dressed and come down to the shipping bays. What he did notice was the smell–the same smoke from earlier permeated everything, and Andrew felt himself slip back into the fog from before, dressing himself in the dirty jeans, boots and cap (there wasn’t a shirt) and followed the scent of smoke all the way down to the back of the building, where he found the same man smoking what looked like the same cigar, though it looked no shorter.

“Who–Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” Andrew said, his voice sounding strange, so deep and slurred.

The man didn’t say anything immediately–he just dropped his pants and as soon as Andrew laid eyes on his huge dick again, he got down and started sucking it, helpless. After a chuckle, the man finally spoke:

“Me? My name’s Dustin Leaver–you might recognize the last name, since you fired my dad last week. A year before retirement even. Well, when I heard about all the layoffs you’ve been making, I got to thinking that you weren’t suited for your job, so I’m helping you find a new one.

“Now, these cigars are nice, but I think I’ve reached the limit of what I can do to you–I think you’re going to have to do the rest yourself. See, you know you’ve done wrong–I can tell. You know you deserve punishment for the suffering you’ve caused. So I’m gonna give you this cigar, and you’re gonna smoke it, and we’re just gonna see what happens. How does that sound? Because I haven’t done anything to you–this is all you, and I can’t wait to see what happens when you get a good dose of this smoke. Though thanks for the big dick, I wasn’t expecting to get anything out of this. I bet it’ll feel damn good up your ass once you’re all finished.”

Andrew didn’t understand anything that Dustin had said, but he let out a moan of dismay when the cock was pulled from his mouth. The younger man hauled him up to his feet and shoved the cigar between his teeth, forcing Andrew to take a deep drag of smoke deep into himself…and then he understood–he understood all of it. He’d done bad things–horrible things to people. Destroyed lives, ruined retirements, all for the sake of making more money. He needed to be punished–and bad. He felt a quiver in his dirty jeans and pulled out his cock, finding it rapidly shrinking to less than an inch long, as his balls swelled up. There was a sharp pain as metal appeared in his cock and both nipples, but he deserved more–so much more.

He pulled in more smoke, fueling his own latent guilt, feeling his gut balloon out even further into a ball which slowly softened and sagged down over his crotch, a thick layer of gunt absorbing his new nub of a cock. The fur on his body thickened and started losing color, becoming a dingy grey, his beard growing out until it rested on his new moobs, his hair receding back to a wispy fringe of long, greasy hairs. Tattoos blossomed on his body, images of filthy sex acts and degrading names, more piercings springing from his flesh in his ears and face, making him look like a freak. As a final tough, his big balls descended, the sack stretching until it reached his knees, the flesh in between a riot of metal rings and studs. He’d never be able to wear underwear again, and he’d have to keep his balls dangling down one of his pant legs, crushing them with every stride. The cigar in his mouth crumbled to ash, and he licked his lips, feeling around his rotten teeth badly chipped by their collisions with his tongue stud. He fell back down onto his knees in front of Dustin, wincing as his balls smacked against the concrete. “Please sir, use me like the filthy whore I am. Punish me, I deserve it.”

“I’d be happy to, bitch–but I have a few friends who’d love to play too. See, I thought we’d throw you a little party, to break you in–and I think you’ve met all of them before. Come on out, guys!” Dustin shouted, and a crowd of men filed into the room, Andrew vaguely recognizing them as a collection of men he’d fired from the company over the last few months–including the janitor he’d fired just hours ago. He serviced them all night long, drinking down their piss and cum, cleaning out their dirty holes while they tortured his balls and ridiculed his miniscule dick. As the night wore on, Andrew felt his old life drifting further and further away, his mind growing feeble and weak to match his new body. When Dustin offered him a new job in the shipping department the next morning, Andrew was overwhelmed with thanks. He didn’t deserve such kindness, not that he got much of it in his new job.

He was at the bottom of the totem pole now, just a freight worker, but he didn’t do much heavy lifting. He spent most of his days cleaning the bathrooms with his tongue, and chain smoking cigars while he begged the men to use their massive cocks on both his holes. That, it seemed, was his one gift–every dick he saw grew enormous–all the better to rip apart his holes. It was the least he could do. He was far more suited for this position, he knew–and while he wouldn’t say he was happy, he knew it was what he’d earned.

Ned hadn’t had a very happy birthday yesterday. You see, as a greedy child, Ned had been cursed to receive a gift from everyone he met on his birthday–only it was never something Ned wanted. Well, he’d managed to avoid going out on his birthday–but this year had been a mistake. See–he’d paid a gypsy to protect him from the curse, and it had worked for a while–until he’d accidentally wandered past a gay leather bar.

The sheer force of desire had overcome the gypsy’s protections, and before Ned could escape, he’d taken on so many gifts he could barely process them. Some were small, but others, like a fascination with piss and shit, or the need to have his mouth and face stuffed with filthy dildos–those were going to be harder to manage. He was definitely getting a refund–but that could wait until he’d found his master. He’d picked up a collar from some unhappy sub–and now all Ned could think about was servicing a Master Jordan. He didn’t look forward to finding out why the sub hadn’t liked his master–but Ned knew he was about to find out.

Fairytale – Part 2

***WARNING***

This story contains heavy raunch and watersports. Don’t be a pussy–just fucking enjoy it.

*************

“There you are,” Jeff said, as Harry squeezed past him and back into his seat, “I was wondering if you fell in or…” His voice trailed off, as he got a better sense of the filthy man taking the seat next to him–and the stench rolling off him, and he had a strange sensation that this wasn’t the man he’d agreed to go out with…or was it? His momentary unease didn’t seem to have any basis in his memory–it was the same filthy, incredibly hairy, obese slob who he watched stuff himself silly at dinner…wasn’t it? Why in the hell had he agreed to this date in the first place? This guy was disgusting.

Harry could see the confusion in Jeff’s eyes in the dim light from the screen, and he grinned. Just like the Fairy Grungefather had written, Jeff had no idea that he’d changed so much in the last half hour. “Here boy,” he said handing Jeff a large soda, “I got you another drink, after I plowed through the last one.”

“Oh…uh, thanks,” Jeff said, and took a drink, still unable to figure out why in the world he was out with this disgusting man. Harry could sense his rising disgust, but he already had the first of the three spells from the fairy in his mind, and he mumbled the chant under his breath. The spell would make his chosen target irresistibly attracted to filth, and hopelessly subservient to any man dirtier than him, though, as a twist, as the subject becomes dirty himself he will, in turn, become more and more dominant. However, Jeff was so clean right now, Harry wasn’t too worried about that just yet. He felt the power in his words burn his lips slightly as the spell wrapped its way around Jeff, and to give it a test, he reached out and put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders and pulled him close, his face dangerously close to his disgustingly ripe pit.

Jeff felt the spell hit him, but had no idea of what to make of it. He was happy when the wave of nausea he’d felt in Harry’s presence dissipated, but when it was replaced by an equal, and very forceful attraction, he tried to resist, but the spell was too strong. Suddenly, his memories of this giant slob from the past few hours were ones of giddy excitement at the other man’s filthy body. How he’d sat, agape, watching the man stuff himself at dinner, Jeff’s cock rock hard the whole time. How he’d kept trying to catch whiffs of Harry’s musk on the way to the theater. The stench of his armpit played into his new, deep fantasies, and he leaned in closer, taking a deep sniff, getting close enough for the hairs to graze his nose.

When Harry’s hand contracted and shoved him into it, he struggled with him out of reflex more than anything else. “Shush boy,” Harry said, “I know you’ve been wanting this all night, so here’s your chance–now lick it good and clean, like I know you want to.” He did. He really did want to, so he buried his face in and started licking at the funk, inhaling deep and feeling Harry’s belly jiggle as he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it.” Harry continued, “Doesn’t that taste like heaven? Go on boy, take out your cock–show me how turned on that nasty funk has gotten you. Here, I’ll take out mine too.” Harry dug around in his camo shorts, pulling out his five inch, thick cock with ample, cheesy foreskin, and without removing his face from Harry’s pit, Jeff did the same, pulling out his eight inch, rock hard cock, which he started milking.

Now Harry didn’t begrudge his date his big cock, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous–and given how submissive Jeff would be for the moment–at least until Harry had him good and filthy–he figured this might be a good time to try out another spell of the Fairy Grungefather’s. Until dawn, the fairy had granted Harry the power to trade physical attributes with any man he was touching–and Jeff’s tongue and face against his pit certainly counted as touching. Harry concentrated, and watched as Jeff’s cock started shrinking in his hand, growing tinier and tinier until it was barely an inch long, and Harry was suddenly grasping a foot long monster cock thicker than a beer can. He decided to take what he could from Jeff’s balls as well, and soon he had an orange resting below his huge member, leaving Jeff with almost no manhood at all.

“Fuck boy, is that all you got to work with? Here, play with mine, and find out what a real cock feels like,” Harry said, and guided Jeff’s hand away from his miniscule cock onto his, both of them trying to suppress groans in the sparsely occupied theater. Jeff was in heaven–he hated his small cock, but given how much he loved bottoming for filthy men, he didn’t mind too much–especially when he was on a date with a monster like Harry. Jeff could barely contain himself, when he felt his tiny cock suddenly start leaking precum uncontrollably. He’d never been much of a leaker, what with his tiny balls, but now–he already could feel it running down the sides of his cock and onto his boxers.

Of course, Jeff didn’t know that his sudden leakage was the result of another one of the fairy’s spells. Harry had been given the ability to control the quantity of any kind of fluid excreted by any man he wanted–and there were all sorts of fluids Harry felt like toying with. He was going to make Jeff leak precum spontaneously for as long as he wanted him to–he hoped he would have a stinking wet spot on his crotch by the end of the film. Jeff’s attention didn’t stay on his cock for long, as he went back to admiring Jeff’s huge, nasty cock, and he felt Harry hand start guiding his face down into his crotch. “Go on boy, suck it–I want to feel that nasty shaft buried down your throat–and make sure you get all that cheese under my foreskin–I know that will drive you wild…”

Jeff struggled for a moment as he resisted the multitude of changes in the world around him, but the fairy’s magic shut him down at every turn. He knew this wasn’t what he wanted, that his cock wasn’t supposed to be an inch long straw leaking precum like a faucet, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything about it, and the more time passed, the more he just felt crazy. And he did want that cock, and that cheesy foreskin. When Harry’s hand pushed him down, he didn’t resist, and swallowed as much of the cock as he could, though he could take more than he’d expected, thanks to the small boost in jaw flexibility and throat size Harry gave him. In fact, he could take it all the way to the hilt without gagging once.

In the dim light, Harry watched the boy work, and decided that there needed to be a few more swaps here and there–just for some added fun. Never in his life had Harry ever had the chance to be muscular, and he’d always wondered what it would be like–so he gave Jeff a large percentage of his own body fat, while removing as much muscle as he could without endangering him. Jeff himself was already a bit chunky, but he had to keep adjusting his position as his gut grew out, his chins expanded, and his gunt swallowed his tiny cock whole. Harry was a bit worried, when he realized his planned change would make Jeff grow out of his clothes, but they seemed to expand with him–his button down shirt expanding to fit his massive gut, his khakis doubling in size to match Jeff’s wide ass and thighs.

Harry himself felt the fat melt off of him, as his body showed off muscles he’d never seen. Neither he nor Jeff had been particularly muscled, but between the two of them, Harry had managed to pick up enough to look like a decent hunk, with well defined pecs, ridged abs and thick arms, not to mention it showed off his cock really damn well, and gave him a great view of Jeff’s fat face chowing down on his filthy cock, but Harry still felt really old, with his greying hair. He decided that if Jeff was going to hold onto his fat for a while, he could hold onto some of Harry’s years as well. He decided to drop back to the age of twenty one, which would give Jeff close to thirty years, bringing him up to the ripe old age of fifty six.

He watched as his beard and hair suddenly lightened, and his new muscles suddenly filled with a new, remarkable vigor. He felt amazing, and his cock! He was so horny it took all of his effort to not cum the next time Jeff deep throated him. Looking down in the dim light, he could see that Jeff had grown up just as quickly–his hair receding back, face lined with wrinkles, and the blow job was starting to wind him. Harry decided to give Jeff a bit off his own beard, and also took Jeff’s hair, leaving him with an inch long beard and a perfectly smooth, bald head, Harry’s own hair growing a bit longer past his shoulders. To finish Jeff’s transformation into an old, chubby bear, Harry reluctantly sacrificed most of his thick pelt, watching it sprout all over Jeff’s new fatty rolls instead. Watching the bearded old man suck his cock was too much, and Harry unloaded down Jeff’s throat, cumming harder than he had in years–though that didn’t make sense. He was just twenty one after all, every cum shot felt like that.

He saw Jeff swallowing his cum eagerly, and when the flow stopped, Jeff started to come off the cock, but with one hand Harry pushed him back down and a second later, Jeff’s mouth was flooded with piss. He’d never tasted anything so rank, and he choked a bit at first, getting some on Harry’s clothes and on his new beard, but he caught onto the rhythm and was soon drinking that down just as eagerly, his new love of filth urging him on, not to mention his attraction to the hot, muscular redneck who he still couldn’t believe had agreed to go out on a date with a fat geezer like himself. After he finished pissing, Harry finally allowed Jeff up, but only after he’d sucked whatever piss he could get from the front of his shorts, and then let Harry lick the piss from his beard, and Harry decided it was time for Jeff to start getting dirtier.

While they made out, one of Harry’s hands snaked down under Jeff’s massive gut, and found the sticky mess of precum his earlier spell had generated, and he started feeding it to Jeff on his fingers, Jeff happily sucking the filth off them as well. Harry also wanted Jeff to start getting musky, so he used his spell to kick Harry’s sweat production into high gear. Beads started dotting Jeff’s suddenly red face, and sweat stains started formed under his armpits. Harry wanted to get in the middle of it, so he worked his head under Jeff’s sweaty gut and into his humid crotch, rubbing his face in the cum and sweat, listening to Jeff’s muffled groans as he licked away at his tiny cock. Harry must have lost track of time in there, because he was caught off guard by Jeff hauling him out by the back of his shirt, back into the fully lighted theater.

In the sudden light, Harry was struck by how much he had changed Jeff in the dark theater. Where a young cub had sat when the movie started, there was now an elderly, obese bear, dressed in a shirt and tie with a nicely trimmed grey beard and completely bald head–thought the shirt was nearly soaked through with ripe sweat. Harry couldn’t see himself, but he could sense from how Jeff was looking back at him that he was a fine piece of muscular redneck, though maybe it was just his funk making Jeff look at him like that–not that it mattered. They saw the ushers come into the theater, and Jeff said in a deep voice, “well young man, what say you and I zip up and skedaddle?”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing,” Harry said, tucked his cock back into his tight camo shorts and helped Jeff stand up, and together they made their way out of the theater, Harry flaunting his shorts damp with piss and the muscles stretching against his sleeveless tee, and enjoying the stench of cum and sweat rolling off Jeff next to him. Harry felt sexier, and hornier, than he’d ever felt before, and the night was still young. Jeff and him had plenty more to do before dawn, and he hadn’t even tried all of the fairy’s spells yet. Things were only going to get hotter, and filthier, from here on out.

Fairytale – Part 1 (Interactive Story)

***WARNING***
This story contains raunch, watersports and scat. Don’t like it? Don’t read it, or don’t complain later.

*****

Why do I always do this to myself? Harry thought as he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, and glanced over at his date next to him, who was engrossed in the movie playing on the screen. He’d met Jeff online, and was still amazed the cute cub had agreed to come out with him, even if it was only for dinner and a movie, and on the implied condition that Harry pay for everything. But now…now he’d guzzled his god damn mega-sized drink, he had to piss like a racehorse, and the movie was only half over. He didn’t want to be that guy, that “guy who disturbs everyone by going to the bathroom in the middle of a movie,” but it was starting to look like he wasn’t going to have a choice.

The whole night, really, had been going like this. Jeff had been perfectly sociable, while Harry had spent the entire time tripping over his words like a schoolgirl. He already could tell that Jeff wasn’t happy with him–probably because Harry hadn’t been completely honest. Sure, the picture he posted was a few years old…well, ten years. He was a lot greyer and quite a bit fatter in real life, and he hadn’t exactly shown off his best side at dinner, shoveling down a giant plate of spaghetti and getting sauce down the front of his shirt. Jeff had been nice enough about it, but, well, Harry had ruined his chance for anything aside from a handjob in the movie parking lot…maybe…if he was lucky.

God, he had to go, he didn’t have a choice. He stood up, and with a hushed, “Sorry…” squeezed his chubby ass past Jeff’s face, and hurried out of the theater, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Of course, before he could get to the urinal, he had to look at his face and body in the mirror, and he cringed a bit–no wonder Jeff had no interest in him. Sure, he’d showered before the date, but he’d forgotten his deodorant, and his hair was a couple of weeks overdue for a trim–not that his balding hair looked great cut back, either. And he really was a lot fatter than his pictures on the site–probably by a good fifty pounds, though he did his best to avoid weighing himself and finding out for sure. He heaved a sigh and said under his breath, “I wish someone would…help me figure this shit out…” and his face turned red as he said it. How stupid, a wish? That was ridiculous. But no sooner did the words leave his lips than a sudden wind erupted in the restroom, whipping Harry’s hair and clothes about, and when he turned around, he found that he was no longer alone.

There in the middle of the room, was a muscular, older man wearing nothing other than a pair of black boots and some grandfatherly glasses perched on his nose. In place of clothing, his entire body was covered in a series of intricate tattoos which Harry swore were dancing and shifting in front of his eyes, though whenever he looked at one straight on it stayed perfectly still. “Hello Harry. You wished for help?” the man said, smiling warmly, “I think I can be of some assistance here.”

“Who…who are you?” Harry said, backing up against the sink as the man approached him.

“Me? I’m the Fairy Godfather. Did you really need to wait so long? I’ve been getting all antsy, watching you flounder here,” the man said, cracking his knuckles, “Shall we get started?” with twirl of the wrist, a wand of some dark, slender wood appeared in his hand, and pointing it at Harry, he felt a strange force press into him, and a moment later, he too was naked, and blushing further, he rushed to cover himself.

“How…what are you doing? Bring me back my clothes,” he said.

“Those things?” the fairy said, “Oh no, those were far too classy for your true tastes, don’t you think? I mean, a polo shirt and khaki shorts? Did you really feel good in those? Sexy? Happy? I didn’t think so. I’m here to help the real you shine through, the more honest and comfortable you, because that’s the only way you’ll be able to relax and have a great time with Jeff. Now hold still, I’m thinking.”

This is insane, Harry thought, I have to get out of here, but when he tried to move, he found himself glued to where he stood. Apparently, when the fairy said to stand still, he meant it. As the man approached, Harry began to notice that he wasn’t all that…clean. He could smell him from a few feet away, in fact, and the ripe musky smell was overpowering. But…he was a fairy right? Maybe he really could make Harry’s dreams come true–and it was beginning to look like he wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter, considering he couldn’t get away.

“Hmm…yes, exactly as I’d thought,” the fairy said, whirling his wand once more, “a young man in denial of his true desires, and his ideal form. Well, the easiest solution to that is to bring the ideal form out! What do you say?” he said, and before Harry could answer, he’d waved the wand and a shower of sparks shot out, slamming right into Harry’s belly, winding him and making him double over.

His ideal form? Did that mean he would be young and muscular? Or at least attractive again? Hell he’d settle for the picture he’d taken ten years ago, if nothing else. He managed to stand back up and turn around to face the mirror, and gasped. “What in the fuck did you do to me?” he shouted, appalled at his new image staring back at him in the mirror. His hair and beard had grown longer and tangled, looking like he hadn’t bothered to care for them in months, if not years. He was even fatter than before, with a massive apron hanging down past his groin which was covered in dense, matted hair, and beneath it he could make out crude tattoos which covered him from the top of his neck down to his wrists and ankles. He made the mistake of opening his mouth in horror, spying the rotten, yellowed and crooked teeth in his mouth, and he whirled back around to face the smiling fairy, and said, “Well? This is my ‘ideal image’? What the fuck?”

“Well, what did you expect? I am the Fairy Grungefather after all.”

“Grunge…what? I thought you said Godfather!”

“Then you thought wrong–you really shouldn’t make assumptions like that.”

“Wha–but…You shouldn’t make fucking assumptions that I want to look like this!” Harry cried, “Change me back!”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal come dawn.”

“Dawn? But I’m on a fucking date!”

“Oh would you calm down? Do you think I haven’t watched you all these years? Watched all those jack off sessions in that filthy, unwashed jock of yours, while you smell your ripe pits? Sensed that tingle of pleasure you get when when you don’t wipe your ass after you take a shit? That self-satisfaction when you piss a bit in your underwear ‘on accident’?”

That’s…I mean…” Harry said, but the blush gave him away–he did have a thing for raunch, but so what? That didn’t mean he wanted to look like this!

“Yeah, cat got your tongue? Well I have a better use for it anyway,” the fairy said, and held up one arm, the reeking pit inching closer to Harry’s face. “Go on, lick it. I know you want to.”

“Fuck…Fuck no,” Harry said, “I’m not gonna lick out your nasty pit.”

“No? Hmm…Maybe I underestimated just how stubborn you are. You know what you need? You need to loosen up, so how about I take all those inhibitions of yours, sexual and otherwise, and hold onto them for the night, hmm?”

Harry tried to shield himself, but he was helpless as the fairy raised his wand once more, and Harry felt all of the walls of resistance, of social pressure, and of proper etiquette simply disappear. And a moment later, when the fairy raised his arm again, all Harry could do was grin and lunge forward, lapping up all the filthy sweat he could find. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck, you’re so fuckin’ nasty man, I can’t fuckin’ take it,” he heard himself say, but on the inside, he was panicking. It felt like all of the brakes had been ripped out of his head–there was literally no stopping himself now. He felt the urge to piss suddenly reassert itself, and before he even realized it, he released his bladder, soaking the underside of his grimy apron, feeling it run down his legs and start puddling on the floor around him, and he tore himself away from the fairy’s ripe pit, got down on all fours and started lapping up as much of it as he could from the filthy tile floor.

Worst of all, Harry realized that his cock was rock hard through all of this, because…he wanted to do it. Deep down, he’d always wanted to do something like this, and this rush, this freedom was unlike anything he’d thought possible, and it only made him hornier. He let go at some point, stopped trying to put his feet on the brakes and just rode along, relishing the taste of his own piss, and the stench of his own filthy puts he could smell every time he bent down. Sure, he’d pissed on himself in the shower a few times, even tasted it once, but this…this was filthy. This was raunchy. This was so fucking hot. His licking was interrupted by a sharp, cutting whistle from across the bathroom, and Harry whipped his face up, wet hair throwing piss across the room, and he saw the fairy over by the urinals, his boot up on the small one, presenting his ass in Harry’s direction.

The piss no longer interested him. He crawled across the floor, loving the sensation of his hairy belly scraping across the tile, licking his lips the whole way. With no fear or trepidation, he dove into the crack, licking and chewing at the filth caught in the fairy’s ass hair, his tongue probing as deep as it could into the hole, and a moment later, he found his reward approach. “Go on Harry, I know you’ve fantasized about this. All those pictures you keep hidden deep on your computer? Those ones you can only bring yourself to look at when you’re drunk? Time to be one of them, Harry–time to take the big leap, pig.”

Harry felt himself cum as he took it in his mouth, chewed in a few times and swallowed, thankful when the fairy turned around and helped him wash it down with some of his piss, before nutting his own load onto Harry’s tangled beard. Exhausted from the thrill and exertion, Harry collapsed back onto the cold tile, panting, and when he finally managed to roll over and pick himself up, he was alone again. Suddenly afraid, he hurried back to the mirror and let out a sigh of relief when he saw he hadn’t changed back into his old self–the freedom from worry and inhibition was too amazing to let go of just yet. He looked at the piss puddle still on the floor, but held back–after all, he needed to get back to his date. Besides, leaving it there for someone else to find…oh fuck, that was damn hot too. On the counter, he saw a pile of clothing–though not the crap he’d worn when he came in. The fairy had been right, after all, he hated wearing classy stuff like that. The tattered army shorts worn commando, yellow stained wife beater, and black work boots were a much better choice, and he saw a letter underneath them, written in rough, but legible, script.

Harry–

I realize that your date tonight probably will not be as interested in your new self as we are, so I’m lending you a few, small spells to help out. Again, these will only last until dawn, so enjoy yourselves. By the way, your pumpkin is out in the parking lot, and your castle awaits you two after the movie.

Sincerely,
Your Fairy Grungefather

On the rest of the sheet, Harry saw several spells scribbled out, along with directions for how to use them, and he grinned wide–maybe he could turn this date around after all.

*****

What? More interaction? Yeah, I might as well take some spell suggestions from you guys. Send me them a message, and if I like one, I’ll try and work it into the story’s conclusion on Friday.

Vignette: Welcome Home, Bro

***Warning: This post contains references to incest. Don’t like it, don’t read it. ***

Taylor parked the car on the street, happy to finally be home for a break from college. Sure, his school was only a few hours away, but between his classes and football, he had barely had a chance to even talk to his dad in the past few weeks, and it would be a nice chance to spend some time with him. Too bad his brother, Sam, was still at home, the slacker. He’d dropped out of high school a few months ago, as soon as he turned eighteen, but refused to get a job and move out of the house. It was embarrassing that a guy like that could even be related to him, the hotshot all star jock, successful in classes and with the ladies. He knew that Sam was gay as well, since he’d found him with some really disgusting porn a few times, but he’d never told his dad. For whatever reason, his dad had always tried to support Sam, but Taylor knew there wasn’t anything he could do. Some people just couldn’t be helped.

He unloaded his bags from the back and headed up to the front door, which he unlocked with his key. The front door opened right onto the living room, and he was greeted by the sight of his short fat, hairy brother in his dad’s armchair naked, with some fat old man kneeling before him, sucking him off!

“What the…What the fuck is this! Does dad know what–” Taylor started to say, when his brother raised up a gun and fired it at him, a prismatic ray filling his entire vision, and sending him crashing to the floor, staring ahead blankly, a bit of drool leaking out the side of his mouth.

“Dang, he got here sooner than I thought he would,” Sam said to himself, then pushed the man off his cock, “Go get dressed for a night at the club, slave. Put on that nice new harness of yours, and don’t forget your collar.”

The older man nodded quickly, adding a curt “Yes, sir,” before walking out of the living room.

Sam got up out of the chair and walked over to where his brother lay on the ground, fiddling with some of the controls on the side of the gun as he did. “Taylor, can you hear me?”

“…Yes…” Taylor said, his voice a straight monotone.

“When I release you from your trance, you will stand up, close the door, and then stand at attention until I tell you otherwise. You will obey all of my commands from this moment onward, regardless of whether you want to or not. You will not be able to attack me or try to cause me any kind of harm, nor will you try and take the gun. Do you understand all of these orders?”

“…Yes…”

Sam shot his brother with the gun again, this time with a beam of pure white, and a second later, Taylor blinked, stood up, closed the door, and then stood at attention in front of his brother. From the look on his face, he was obviously trying to resist, but his body wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do, not anymore.

“Welcome home, Taylor, how’s college going? Putting those scholarships to good use?” Sam said, sneering. He barely came up to his brother’s chest, even though he was only a year younger than him. In fact, he was almost as big around as he was tall, weighing in at nearly 300 pounds, although to Taylor, it looked like he had grown since he’d left for college.

“Fuck you, Sam. What the hell did you shoot me with?”

“What, this?” Sam said, holding up the ray gun, “Just a little something which got shipped here accidentally. The federal agents who came to retrieve it said it was being used for secret military testing. Of course, when they left they all knew that all of this had been a great, big, misunderstanding. See, this is a hypnoray, or at least a prototype of one. Who cares? It works damn well.”

“That’s a pile of bullshit.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that,” Sam said, “Strip bro, all the way down. From now on, you are forbidden from wearing clothing in the house unless I say otherwise.”

Taylor wanted to cuss out Sam. He wanted to punch him, and beat him to death, but instead, he pulled off his shirt, the dropped his pants, and pulled off his briefs, socks and shoes, trying not to blush. Sam just looked on, licking his lips a couple of times, making Taylor shiver in disgust.

“Dang, you know, if I actually had a thing for muscular jocks like you, I might actually find you attractive,” Sam said, “Though I have to ask–is the reason you went through so many girlfriends because of your tiny cock? I mean, you sure did get the shit end of the stick there.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam!” Taylor shouted, tried to lunge at his brother, but returned to standing at attention, his body unresponsive.

His brother said nothing in reply for a moment, just came over and started rubbing his body along the contours of Taylor’s muscles. “You got the best of everything else though, I gotta admit that,” Sam finally said, “Pity it won’t be around for too much longer.”

“What?”

“Oh Taylor, I have such big plans for you!” Sam said, tweaking one of his brother’s nipples, “See, you really have treated me like shit all of these years. All those names you called me, all because I was short, fat and lazy–which I must say are really my best qualities. So I think the best way for you to realize just how wrong you were is to become as much like me as possible.”

Taylor just stared at his brother. Was he fucking serious?

“I can see from that look on your face that you don’t believe me. Well here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take this hypnogun, and I’m going to use it on you. When you head back to school, you’re going to be a whole new person. You’ll stop working out, you eat junk food all the time, skip class, jack off at all hours of the day, hit on all your teammates–anything I want you to do really.”

“You’re lying. There’s no way you could do something like that.”

“Oh? Well, perhaps a demonstration,” Sam said, and shot Taylor with the gun once more, sending him back into his trance. “Now, Taylor, tell me the name of the biggest, dirtiest guy on the football team. One of the defensive line, the bigger the better.”

“Max…Max Carpenter.”

“Tell me about Max.”

“He’s…really big. Fat and muscular. Probably 250 pounds. He’s really loud too, and kind of obnoxious. Tells lots of jokes, but they aren’t funny. He also doesn’t wear deodorant at all, which is really disgusting, and refuses to wash his jockstraps.”

“Now Taylor, I’m going to tell you somethings about Max, and what you think of him. When you hear these things, you will know them to be true. You will remember how you used to think, but that will seem obviously wrong to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You are very attracted to Max, Taylor. You find him to be one of the more attractive men you have ever seen. You want Max to like you, so you are always trying to hang around him. You laugh at all of his jokes, and agree with anything he says. You fantasize about servicing him in the locker room, think about sucking his cock or being fucked by him. He is the focus of all of your masturbation fantasies. You imagine yourself licking his pits clean, filling yourself up with his masculine scent, and then you cum, every time. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Sam shot him with the gun again, and Taylor came back to awareness. “You…You did something. What did you do? What was that?”

“Tell me something Taylor, what do you think about your teammate Max?”

“Max Carpenter? Oh man, that guy is so hot!” Taylor said, feeling his heart beat faster at just the thought of his hunky teammate, “God, I’d do anything to suck his cock, or feel it up my ass. I’ve seen it in the showers, and its fucking massive, Sam. Huge. God, and he’s just the funniest guy I’ve ever met! I…No, no this isn’t right, is it? What did you do!?”

“I just made a little tweak is all, nothing big. Nothing like what I’m going to do to you this weekend. When you get back to campus, you won’t be able to stop yourself from begging Max to fuck you in front of all of your teammates, as soon as you see him. Won’t be able to think about anything other than how amazing he smells after a long practice.”

“No…No, please don’t.” Taylor said, his cock rock hard and jutting out in front of him. Sam reached out and started stroking it, making his big brother whimper.

“Yeah, imagine how great he smells, all those times he got close to you in the locker room, in that dirty jockstrap of his. You want to smell that jock, don’t you? You want him to grind your face into his crotch, and make you his bitch!”

With a groan, Taylor shot a massive load of cum all over his brother’s hand. God, he did want Max so badly, he couldn’t help himself. San chuckled again, and shoved his cum soaked hand up to Taylor’s mouth. “Please Sam, please don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Lick it.”

Taylor couldn’t stop himself from sucking his own cum off every one of his brother’s fingers, as Sam spoke, “Of course you’re sorry, Taylor. But really, I’m doing you a favor! You’re going to be so hot soon, once we get rid of all those muscles and replace them with fat, and when you stop shaving and cutting your hair, and maybe you’ll stop taking showers and washing your jockstraps too, like Max. That would be hot, don’t you think?”

“No! That’s fucking disgusting,” Taylor said, but his cock had twitched again at the mention of Max, and he began to panic. Sam couldn’t really do this, could he?

“Well, you’ll agree soon enough,” Sam said, as the older man from earlier came hurrying into the living room. He had put some clothes on, if you could call them clothes even. His big belly was strapped into a leather harness, and he had on a pair of leather shorts stretched tight across his thick thighs. A metal collar was secured around his neck with a padlock. The man’s entire body and head was shaved smooth, from head to toe, aside from a bushy beard on his face.

“I’m ready for the club, master,” the man said, eagerly, “When are we going?”

“Who the fuck is that, anyway?” Taylor asked, and Sam looked at him funnily, and laughed.

“Wait, you really don’t recognize him? Your own father? I mean, sure, he’s made some changes to his life, but he’s still the same guy, deep down, isn’t that right? You love your sons, don’t you dad?”

“Yes son, I love you very much,” his dad said, and then walked over and started kissing Sam, who shoved his tongue into his father’s mouth. Taylor felt the knot in his stomach tighten and he tried to not throw up. He didn’t want it to be true, but now that it had been pointed out to him, he could see it. It was his dad. Sam had turned him into some sort of perverse leather slave! What the hell was going on?

“Yeah, dear old dad here has been discovering a few things about himself over the past couple months, like how much he loves being fat, for one. And another, how much he loves having anything shoved up his ass.” Sam pushed one of his fingers up his dad’s hole, making the older man shiver with delight. “He just loves going to the gay clubs around town and begging men to fuck him, use him like the fat cumdump he is, isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir, I’m your dirty cumdump, sir! I love having a hard cock up my ass more than anything!”

Taylor felt himself getting a bit light headed. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be real.

“Alright dad,” Sam said, giving his slave a kiss on the cheek, “I’m not gonna go with you tonight–you’re on your own. I want you to find some rough, abusive top and go home with him, and do whatever he wants. You want him to beat you, and humiliate you, and dump his cum in you, because that’s all your good for, right?”

“Yes sir, I will sir!” his dad said, and hurried out the door and into his car, eager to get his night started.

“You’re a monster,” Taylor said.

“No, I’m your brother, silly. And you’re my slave.” Sam said, sitting back down in his armchair, his cock erect. “Now get sucking on this cock and finish up what dad started earlier, which you so rudely interrupted. Suck me off like you fantasize sucking off Max. If you do a good job tonight, maybe I’ll let you suck all the cum out of your dad’s ass tomorrow morning when he gets home.”

Taylor tried to scream and fight, but he just walked over, got down on his knees and started sucking off his brother’s cock. He screamed inside, but all he could think about was Max, and what it would be like sucking his teammates sweaty cock after practice, and he started sucking harder.

A few days later, a very different Taylor climbed into the car, waved goodbye to his brother and father, and headed back to college. He didn’t know why he’d been wasting so much of his life with sports and girls. All he really wanted to do now was gorge himself, watch porn, play video games, and have sex with as many men as he possibly could. Yeah, and as soon as he got to campus, he was going to find Max and beg him to fuck his face with that big cock of his, he couldn’t wait. He let out a large burp, feeling his taut stomach from the massive amount of food Sam had forced down his throat this morning, his cock already hard, imagining what he’ll look like when he’s his brother’s size. He’d really been wrong about his brother all these years–he was a great guy. No, Sam was more than that. Sam was his master, and Taylor knew he would serve his brother for the rest of his life.